CHAPTER XX.
IN THE ENEMY'S STRONGHOLD.
After an absence of weeks, during which time Harvey Trueman carries the war into the very heart of the Magnates' strongholds, he returns to Chicago. His first mission is to visit Sister Martha. She had been kept in touch with his movements by short notes and aggravatingly brief telegrams, which he sent her as occasion permitted. In the papers she finds but meagre notice of the progress which the Independence party is making, for the censor of the press has effectually silenced all the important mediums. The News Associations, even, are brought under the ban and are given to understand that a violation of the orders of the Plutocratic Party will mean a forfeiture of all privileges of transportation to papers using the offensive news.
The meeting of these two ardent patriots is fraught with emotion. Trueman is the more moved by reason of the knowledge that he is regarded by Martha as the embodiment of all virtue, wisdom and power. He feels his incapacity to fill this exalted role, especially as the unrequited love he bears for Ethel Purdy is still burning in his heart.
"You do not seem yourself to-night," Martha tells him frankly.
"No, that is true; I have so much to think about; so many details to keep in mind that I suffer from abstraction when I am not under the stress of actual labor."
Trueman is seated beside a table in the centre of the Sisters' Home, which has come to be the only haven of rest he knows in the whole world. He is in a communicative mood, and appreciating that the woman before him is an interested listener he is ready to review the events of the campaign.
"I have so many evidences of treachery in my own camp that at times I despair of the result of the struggle," he says, half despondently.
"It is the accursed power of gold that is fighting you," Martha breaks in vehemently. "O, if we could only have a few thousand dollars to fight them with their own weapon."
At the mention of so paltry a sum to be pitted against the unlimited millions of the Magnates, Trueman cannot repress a smile.
"I know it may seem ludicrous for a woman to talk politics," continues his gentle adviser, apologetically. "Yet it would not take as much as you imagine to nullify the effect of the millions of bribe money and tribute money that the Plutocrats are spending.
"What would you have me do with the money?"
"Use it in enlightening the people as to their true condition. It is impossible to conceive of men who would knowingly sell their birthright. The perfidy of the press is the sin of sins in this age of unbridled iniquity," she declares, her face flushing with indignation. "Free speech has not yet been totally interdicted. Speak to the people; tell them to emancipate themselves."
"You make me wish, almost, that your sex was not debarred from the exercise of suffrage," Trueman declares. "If I receive as staunch support from the men of the land as I have already been accorded by the women I shall triumph at the polls.
"Let me recount the events of the past few days that I have only hinted at in my letters. It will make you glad that you were born a woman.
"When I reached Milwaukee, ten days ago," continues Trueman, "I found that the committee of coercion had anticipated my arrival and had issued its edict against the citizens turning out to see me. The police had received their instructions to keep the streets clear, and they were untiring in their efforts to earn the approbation of their masters. The train arrived at one-thirty in the afternoon. Ordinarily there would have been a large crowd at the depot; to our surprise we found the depot and the adjoining streets practically deserted.
"As our party moved in the direction of the hotel, I noticed that a woman was keeping pace with us on the opposite side of the street. She was dressed in a modest gown and would not have attracted attention had she not continually turned her head to look behind her.
"Yielding to an impulse of curiosity I turned my head and saw that at the distance of a block a squad of police was following us. Then it dawned upon me that the woman was endeavoring to give our party the cue. When the steps of the hotel were reached I felt impelled to see where the woman would go. She stood on the corner of the street for half a minute and then disappeared around the corner.
"Half an hour later I was handed the card of a 'Mrs. Walton.' Upon going to the reception room I found that the strange woman had come to see me.
"Her first words, 'Are we alone?' made me feel that I should have a new element to meet. I suspected a trap of the enemy. When I assured her that she was at liberty to speak, Mrs. Walton went directly to the point.
"'I have come to offer you the support of the women of Milwaukee,' she began, 'and that means a great deal at a time when the men are afraid to say their souls are their own.
"'The women of this city are not under the yoke and they trust to you to put off the day of their subjugation, if you cannot put them in safety for all time.
"'We have realized that the hour for woman to assert her power has come; she cannot vote, nor does she aspire to that questionable right, but she can influence the votes of the men with whom she comes in contact.
"'You have come to a city that is as effectually closed to you as if it were walled and the gates were shut in your face. The press, the police, the labor organizations, every power has been subsidized to work against you. I know every move that has been made. For there's not a word uttered that is not brought to the council of women's clubs.
"'The moment it was known that you were to visit this city the order went forth that you were not to be permitted to hold a public meeting. You were not to be refused the right to speak; that would have been too bold and brazen an act for even the Plutocrats to carry out. It was decided that the same ends could be accomplished by preventing the army of mercenaries and wage-slaves to parade the streets. The corps of "spotters" were sent out.
"'You are a witness to what end. The streets were deserted. They will remain so during your stay.'
"I was on the point of interrupting the woman, but she exclaimed, 'Don't interrupt me.'
"'I was appointed a committee of one to wait upon you and extend you the offices of the Women's League,' she continued. 'While waiting in the depot I overheard the orders of the Captain of Police to the Sergeant. He told his subordinate not to allow you to collect a crowd on the street, and detailed a squad to follow you to your hotel.
"'If you have any message to deliver to the men of Milwaukee you may depend upon the seven thousand women who are enrolled in the League to scatter it for you. I can tell you that there is no other way open to you.'
"I was too surprised to reply for a moment. When I finally formulated a response, I told her that the facts she had just furnished me were of such an extraordinary nature that I should be obliged to give them my most careful consideration, and that if she would call again in an hour I should be able to tell her what use I could make of her offer.
"When I was alone I hastened to rejoin the members of the Committee who had accompanied me on my trip.
"I asked them if they were aware of the conditions that existed in the city. They told me that the Chief of Police had just informed them that we could not hold a meeting outside of a hall. 'Public safety' was given as the cause of this order.
"Then I hastily recounted the incident of the visit of Mrs. Walton. Some of the committeemen were skeptical and advised me not to have any dealings with the woman. I, however, was favorably impressed with her.
"At the expiration of two hours she returned. I had a long talk with her, in which I told her how her League could be of benefit to me if it would impress upon the men the necessity of voting for their rights. She assured me that my messages would be carried into every mill and factory in the city.
"I held a meeting in the hall that the local Independence party had secured. The attendance was made up exclusively of staunch party men. Outside of the hall stood a dozen policemen and a half dozen spotters.
"None of the workmen of the city dared to attend the meeting."
"And this is Free America!" exclaims Martha, under her breath.
"Yes, this is America; but, is it free?" asks Trueman.
"From Milwaukee I went to St. Paul and Minneapolis. The same condition existed in these places. I turned to Detroit; the result was the same.
"I resolved to advance into the one State that the Magnates believe they control absolutely. From Detroit I went to Philadelphia. The reception that awaited me there is one that I shall never forget. My native State is so utterly dominated by the Trust Magnates that the free-born citizens do not dare to attend public meetings."
"What is the use of the secret ballot if men cannot go to the polls and register there the opinion they hold?" Martha asks, with irony in her voice.
"Ah, the secret ballot is but another of the illusive baits which the rich wisely throw out to the poor to keep them in submission. It is secret only in name. The results of an election are what count. The Magnates have so intimidated the masses that they are no longer possessed of the spirit to vote according to their thoughts," Trueman replies sadly.
"The Pharisees have preached the doctrine of the sacredness of 'vested rights' until the people, in many sections of the country, have come to regard the right of property as paramount to the right of mankind to life and liberty.
"Every act that would alleviate the sufferings of the people is at once stigmatized as anarchistic; while the aggressions of the men of money in the legislatures, and through executives, are upheld as justifiable means for the proper protection of property.
"My trip to the West and East has made me doubtful as to the result of the election. In New York City alone is there a tendency to support me."
"Oh, do not say that you have lost hope," expostulates Sister Martha.
"It is not my intention to intimate that I have done so, to any one, other than to you."
"Ah, I cannot believe that a just God will see you defeated!"
"As matters stand now it will take almost a miracle to elect me. I have studied all the elements that enter into this campaign. It will be the last one that can be conducted with the semblance of order. Four years from now, if not before then, the conditions will be ripe for a revolution; the oligarchy of American manufacturers and bankers will have reached its height and will be on the point of dissolution. The perfected mechanism of government that it will have established, will be in readiness to be turned over to the people.
"Socialism of a rational sort will result from the sudden and sharp revolution. History will not be enriched by a new chapter, but be marked by the repetition of its most frequent story—the fall of empire and the establishment of a new government. In the end of all governments at the same point, is the strongest argument in support of the theory of reincarnation; a state, as a being, has its birth, mature age, and decay. None seemingly is endowed with the attribute of immutability. It was the fond hope of our forefathers that the United States should prove the exception. Imperialism was the reef on which the classic empires were wrecked; commercialism is the danger that threatens our ship of state."
"You must take a brighter view of the situation," insists the sensitive woman, to whom these lugubrious words are as dagger thrusts. "You must fight as if there was not the shadow of a doubt but that you will be successful. I have a premonition (woman's intuition, if you prefer), that you will be the victor in this struggle."
With these words of encouragement ringing in his ears, Trueman departs. He has yielded to the human weakness which prompts a man to confide his inmost thoughts to woman. Kingdoms have been destroyed, empires have crumbled in a day; the world's greatest generals have seen their carefully designed campaigns fall flat, all through the treachery of women in failing to keep secret the confessions of their confidants.
The admission that Trueman has made of his misgivings as to the result of the election, if it were made public, would shatter his every chance. The world will not lend its support to a man or a cause that admits its hopelessness. A forlorn hope, however forlorn, has never wanted volunteers.
Fortunately Trueman has made a confidant of a woman unselfishly and devotedly his friend, and who has the good sense to realize that his untrammeled utterances to her are for her alone.
It is eleven o'clock when Trueman reaches his party's headquarters. He finds his supporters working with the feverish energy that attaches to a desperate situation. The soldiers of a beleaguered fortress man the guns with a disregard to fatigue and danger that is inspiring; the men at the pumps, when the word goes forth that the ship is sinking, work with a frenzy that defies nature; so it is with the leaders of the Independence party. They are fighting against appalling odds, yet they do not stop to question the result. "Work, work, work!" is the command they obey.
"The indications from the Southern States are brighter than ever," one of the committeemen tells Trueman.
"Judge for yourself," adds another, and he hands the candidate a telegram. It is from New Orleans. Trueman reads it aloud:
"CHAIRMAN BAILEY, National Headquarters, Independence
Party, Chicago, Ill.:
From a canvass of the cotton belt the indications are that our party will carry all the Southern States with the possible exception of Louisiana. This doubtful state can be carried if speakers are sent there.
(Signed) EDWARD B. MASON."
"Is there any way of complying with this request?" Trueman asks.
"We may be able to send three speakers down there the latter part of the week," says the Chairman of the Speakers Committee, after consulting his schedule.
"Have you heard from New York to-day?" Trueman is asked by the Treasurer. "You know we have been expecting to hear the result of the forecast there."
"No, I have had no word. It is barely possible that the message has been intercepted."
As Trueman speaks the telegraph operator approaches and hands him a message.
"Here is the message!" cries Trueman. "It is from Faulkner. He says that the city of New York will be about evenly divided; and that in the state we can rely upon the counties along the canal. He ends up by stating that the result in Greater New York may be assured if I can go there and fight in person."
"Then you will go?" inquires Mr. Bailey.
"Yes, I shall go there at once and try to be there for the close of the campaign."
The routine of the night's work is resumed. Trueman leaves to take a much needed rest.