With the exception of the great Banker himself,who made few comments,Theodore Watling was accorded the most deference;as one of the leaders of that indomitable group of senators who had dared to stand up against popular clamour,his opinions were of great value,and his tactical advice was listened to with respect.I felt more pride than ever in my former chief,who had lost none of his charm.While in no way minimizing the seriousness of the situation,his wisdom was tempered,as always,with humour;he managed,as it were,to neutralize the acid injected into the atmosphere by other gentlemen present;he alone seemed to bear no animus against the Author of our troubles;suave and calm,good natured,he sometimes brought the company into roars of laughter and even succeeded in bringing occasional smiles to the face of the man who had summoned us--when relating some characteristic story of the queer genius whom the fates (undoubtedly as a practical joke)had made the chief magistrate of the United States of America.All geniuses have weaknesses;Mr.Wading had made a study of the President's,and more than once had lured him into an impasse.The case had been appealed to the Supreme Court,and Mr.Wading,with remarkable conciseness and penetration,reviewed the characteristics of each and every member of that tribunal,all of whom he knew intimately.They were,of course,not subject to "advice,"as were some of the gentlemen who sat on our state courts;no sane and self-respecting American would presume to "approach"them.Nevertheless they were human,and it were wise to take account,in the conduct of the case,of the probable bias of each individual.
The President,overstepping his constitutional,Newtonian limits,might propose laws,Congress might acquiesce in them,but the Supreme Court,after listening to lawyers like Grolier (and he bowed to the attorney),made them:made them,he might have added,without responsibility to any man in our unique Republic that scorned kings and apotheosized lawyers.
A Martian with a sense of humour witnessing a stormy session of Congress would have giggled at the thought of a few tranquil gentlemen in another room of the Capitol waiting to decide what the people's representatives meant--or whether they meant anything....
For the first time since I had known Theodore Watling,however,I saw him in the shadow of another individual;a man who,like a powerful magnet,continually drew our glances.When we spoke,we almost invariably addressed him,his rare words fell like bolts upon the consciousness.
There was no apparent rift in that personality.
When,about five o'clock,the conference was ended and we were dismissed,United States Senator,railroad presidents,field-marshals of the law,the great banker fell into an eager conversation with Grolier over the Canon on Divorce,the subject of warm debate in the convention that day.
Grolier,it appeared,had led his party against the theological liberals.
He believed that law was static,but none knew better its plasticity;that it was infallible,but none so well as he could find a text on either side.His reputation was not of the popular,newspaper sort,but was known to connoisseurs,editors,financiers,statesmen and judges,--to those,in short,whose business it is to make themselves familiar with the instruments of power.He was the banker's chief legal adviser,the banker's rapier of tempered steel,sheathed from the vulgar view save when it flashed forth on a swift errand.
"I'm glad to be associated with you in this case,Mr.Paret,"Mr.Grolier said modestly,as we emerged into the maelstrom of Wall Street."If you can make it convenient to call at my office in the morning,we'll go over it a little.And I'll see you in a day or two in Washington,Watling.
Keep your eye on the bull,"he added,with a twinkle,"and don't let him break any more china than you can help.I don't know where we'd be if it weren't for you fellows."By "you fellows,"he meant Mr.Watling's distinguished associates in the Senate....
Mr.Watling and I dined together at a New York club.It was not a dinner of herbs.There was something exceedingly comfortable about that club,where the art of catering to those who had earned the right to be catered to came as near perfection as human things attain.From the great,heavily curtained dining-room the noises of the city had been carefully excluded;the dust of the Avenue,the squalour and smells of the brown stone fronts and laddered tenements of those gloomy districts lying a pistol-shot east and west.We had a vintage champagne,and afterwards a cigar of the club's special importation.
"Well,"said Mr.Watling,"mow that you're a member of the royal council,what do you think of the King?""I've been thinking a great deal about him,"I said,and indeed it was true.He had made,perhaps,his greatest impression when I had shaken his hand in parting.The manner in which he had looked at me then had puzzled me;it was as though he were seeking to divine something in me that had escaped him."Why doesn't the government take him over?"Iexclaimed.
Mr.Watling smiled.
"You mean,instead of his mines and railroads and other properties?""Yes.But that's your idea.Don't you remember you said something of the kind the night of the election,years ago?It occurred to me to-day,when I was looking at him.""Yes,"he agreed thoughtfully,"if some American genius could find a way to legalize that power and utilize the men who created it the worst of our problems would be solved.A man with his ability has a right to power,and none would respond more quickly or more splendidly to a call of the government than he.All this fight is waste,Hugh,damned waste of the nation's energy."Mr.Watling seldom swore."Look at the President!There's a man of remarkable ability,too.And those two oughtn't to be fighting each other.The President's right,in a way.
