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The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him by Paul Leicester Ford

P >> Paul Leicester Ford >> The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him




When Peter entered the drawing-room, he found it well filled with young
people, and for a moment a little of the bewildered feeling of four
years before came over him. But he found himself chatting with Miss De
Voe, and the feeling left him as quickly as it had come. In a moment he
was introduced to a "Miss Lenox," who began talking in an easy way which
gave Peter just as much or as little to say as he chose. Peter wondered
if many girls were as easy to talk to as--as--Miss Lenox.

He took Miss De Voe in, and found Dorothy Ogden sitting on his other
side. He had barely exchanged greetings with her, when he heard his name
spoken from across the table, and looking up, he found Miss Leroy
sitting opposite.

"I hope you haven't entirely forgotten me," that girl said, the moment
his attention was caught.

"Not at all," said Peter.

"Nor my dress," laughed Miss Leroy.

"I remember the style, material, and train."

"Especially the train I am sure."

"Do explain these mysterious remarks," said Dorothy.

"Mr. Stirling and I officiated at a wedding, and I was in such mortal
terror lest some usher should step on my gown, that it became a joke."

"Whose wedding was that?" asked Miss De Voe.

"Miss Pierce's and Watts D'Alloi's," said the bridesmaid.

"Do you know Watts D'Alloi?" exclaimed Miss De Voe to Peter.

"Yes."

"Indeed! When?"

"At college."

"Are you a Harvard man?"

"Yes."

"You were Mr. D'Alloi's chum, weren't you?" said Miss Leroy.

"Yes."

"Watts D'Alloi?" again exclaimed Miss De Voe.

"Yes."

"But he's a mere boy."

"He's two years my senior."

"You don't mean it?"

"Yes."

"I thought you were over thirty."

"Most people do."

Miss De Voe said to herself, "I don't know as much about him as I
thought I did. He may be very frank, but he doesn't tell all one thinks.
Now I know where he gets his nice manner. I ought to have recognized the
Harvard finish."

"When did you last hear from the D'Allois?" asked Miss Leroy.

"Not since they sailed," said Peter, wincing internally.

"Not really?" said the bridesmaid. "Surely you've heard of the baby?"

"No." Lines were coming into Peter's face which Miss De Voe had never
before seen.

"How strange. The letters must have gone astray. But you have written
him?"

"I did not know his address."

"Then you really haven't heard of the little baby--why, it was born
two--no, three years ago--and of Helen's long ill-health, and of their
taking a villa on the Riviera, and of how they hope to come home this
spring?"

"No."

"Yes. They will sail in June if Helen is well enough. I'm to be
god-mother."

"If you were Mr. D'Alloi's chum, you must have known Ray Rivington,"
said Dorothy.

"Yes. But I've not seen him since we graduated. He went out West."

"He has just returned. Ranching is not to his taste."

"Will you, if you see him, say that I'm in New York and should like to
run across him?"

"I will. He and Laurence--my second brother--are old cronies, and he
often drops in on us. I want you to know my brothers. They are both here
this evening."

"I have met the elder one, I suppose."

"No. That was a cousin, Lispenard Ogden. He spoke of meeting you. You
would be amused to hear his comment about you."

"Mr. Stirling doesn't like to have speeches repeated to him, Dorothy,"
said Miss De Voe.

"What do you mean?" asked Dorothy, looking from one to the other.

"He snubbed me the other evening when I tried to tell him what we heard,
coming out of the convention last autumn," explained Miss De Voe,
smiling slightly at the thought of treating Peter with a dose of his own
medicine.

Peter looked at Miss De Voe. "I hope you don't mean that?"

"How else could I take it?"

"You asked me if I wished something, and I merely declined, I think."

"Oh, no. You reproved me."

"I'm very sorry if I did. I'm always blundering."

"Tell us what Lispenard said, Dorothy. I'm curious myself."

"May I, Mr. Stirling?

"I would rather not," said Peter.

And Dorothy did not tell him, but in the drawing-room she told Miss De
Voe:

"He said that except his professor of archaeology at Heidelberg, Mr.
Stirling was the nicest old dullard he'd ever met, and that he must be a
very good chap to smoke with."

"He said that, Dorothy?" exclaimed Miss De Voe, contemptuously.

"Yes."

"How ridiculous," said Miss De Voe. "Lispenard's always trying to hit
things off in epigrams, and sometimes he's very foolish." Then she
turned to Miss Leroy. "It was very nice, your knowing Mr. Stirling."

"I only met him that once. But he's the kind of man somehow that you
remember. It's curious I've never heard of him since then."

"You know he's the man who made that splendid speech when the poor
children were poisoned summer before last."

"I can't believe it!"

"It's so. That is the way I came to know him."

Miss Leroy laughed. "And Helen said he was a man who needed help in
talking!"

"Was Mrs. D'Alloi a great friend of his?"

"No. She told me that Watts had brought him to see them only once. I
don't think Mr. Pierce liked him."

"He evidently was very much hurt at Watts's not writing him."

"Yes. I was really sorry I spoke, when I saw how he took it."

"Watts is a nice boy, but he always was thoughtless."

In passing out of the dining-room, Dorothy had spoken to a man for a
moment, and he at once joined Peter.

"You know my sister, Miss Ogden, who's the best representative of us,"
he said. "Now I'll show you the worst. I don't know whether she
exploited her brother Ogden to you?"

"Yes. She talked about you and your brother this evening."

"Trust her to stand by her family. There's more loyalty in her than
there was in the army of the Potomac. My cousin Lispenard says it's
wrecking his nervous system to live up to the reputation she makes for
him."

"I never had a sister, but it must be rather a good thing to live up
to."

"Yes. And to live with. Especially other fellows' sisters."

"Are you ready to part with yours for that purpose?"

"No. That's asking too much. By the way, I think we are in the same
work. I'm in the office of Jarvis, Redburn and Saltus."

"I'm trying it by myself."

"You've been very lucky."

"Yes. I've succeeded much better than I hoped for. But I've had very few
clients."

"Fortunately it doesn't take many. Two or three rich steady clients will
keep a fellow running. I know a man who's only got one, but he runs him
for all he's worth, and gets a pretty good living out of him."

"My clients haven't been of that sort." Peter smiled a little at the
thought of making a steady living out of the Blacketts, Dooleys or
Milligans.

"It's all a matter of friends."

Peter had a different theory, but he did not say so. Just at that point
they were joined by Laurence Ogden, who was duly introduced, and in a
moment the conversation at their end of the table became general. Peter
listened, enjoying his Havana.

When they joined the ladies, they found Lispenard Ogden there, and he
intercepted Peter.

"Look here," he said. "A friend of mine has just come back from Europe,
with a lot of prints. He's a fellow who thinks he has discrimination,
and he wants me to come up and look them over to-morrow evening. He
hopes to have his own taste approved and flattered. I'm not a bit good
at that, with men. Won't you go with me, and help me lie?"

"Of course I should like to."

"All right. Dine with me at six at the Union Club."

"I'm not going to let you talk to each other," said Miss De Voe.
"Lispenard, go and talk with Miss McDougal."

"See how quickly lying brings its own punishment," laughed Lispenard,
walking away.

"What does he mean?" asked Miss De Voe.

"The opposite of what he says, I think," said Peter.

"That is a very good description of Lispenard. Almost good enough to
have been said by himself. If you don't mind, I'll tell him."

"No."

"Do tell me, Mr. Stirling, how you and Watts D'Alloi came to room
together?"

"He asked me."

"Yes. But what ever made him do that?"

"I've often wondered myself."

"I can easily understand his asking you, but what first threw you
together?"

"A college scrape."

"Were you in a college scrape?"

"Yes. I was up before the faculty twice."

"Do tell me what you had done?"

"I was charged with stealing the chapel Bible, and with painting a front
door of one of the professors."

"And had you done these things?"

"No."

The guests began to say good-night, so the dialogue was interrupted.
When it came Peter's turn to go, Miss De Voe said:

"I hope you will not again refuse my dinner invitations."

"I have had a very pleasant evening," said Peter. "But I had a
pleasanter one, the other night."

"Good-evening," said Miss De Voe mechanically. She was really thinking
"What a very nice speech. He couldn't have meant anything by his remark
about the questions."

Peter dined the next evening with Lispenard, who in the course of the
meal turned the conversation to Miss De Voe. Lispenard was curious to
learn just what Peter knew of her.

"She's a great swell, of course," he said incidentally.

"I suppose so. I really know nothing about her, but the moment I saw her
I felt that she was different from any other woman I had ever met."

"But you've found out about her since?"

"No. I was tempted to question Dr. Purple, but I didn't like to ask
about a friend."

Lispenard laughed. "You've got a pretty bad case of conscience, I'm
afraid. It's a poor thing to have in New York, too. Well, my cousin is
one of the richest, best born women in this country, though I say it.
You can't do better than cultivate her."

"Is that what you do?"

"No. You have me there. She doesn't approve of me at all. You see, women
in this country expect a man to be serious and work. I can't do either.
I suppose its my foreign education. She likes my company, and finds my
escortage very convenient. But while she thinks I'm a pretty good
companion, she is sure I'm a poor sort of a man. If she takes a shine to
you, make the most of it. She can give you anything she pleases
socially."

"I suppose you have anything you please socially?"

"Pretty much."

"And would you advise me to spend time to get it?"

"Um. I wouldn't give the toss of a copper for it--but I can have it.
It's not being able to have it that's the bad thing."

"So I have found," said Peter gravely.

Lispenard laughed heartily, as he sipped his "Court France." "I wish,"
he said, "that a lot of people, whose lives are given to nothing else,
could have heard you say that, in that tone of voice. You don't spell
Society with a capital, do you?"

"Possibly," said Peter, "if I had more capital, I should use some on
society."

"Good," said Lispenard. "Heavens," he said to himself, "he's made a
joke! Cousin Anneke will never believe it."

He told her the next day, and his statement proved correct.

"I know you made the joke," she said. "He didn't."

"And why shouldn't he joke as well as I?"

"It doesn't suit him."

"Why not?"

"Parlor tricks are all right in a lap-dog, but they only belittle a
mastiff."

Lispenard laughed good-naturedly. He was used to his cousin's hits at
his do-nothingness, and rather enjoyed them. "He is a big beast, isn't
he? But he's a nice fellow. We had such a good time over Le Grand's
etchings last night. Didn't get away till after one. It's really a
pleasure to find a man who can smoke and keep quiet, and yet enjoy
things strongly. Le Grand was taken with him too. We just fitted each
other."

"I'm glad you took him. I'm going to give him some society."

"Did you ever hear the story of Dr. Brown?"

"No. What is it?"

"A certain widow announced to her son that she was to marry Dr. Brown.
'Bully for you, Ma,' said the son, 'Does Dr. Brown know it?'"

"What do you mean?"

Lispenard laughed. "Does Stirling know it? Because I advise you to tell
him before you decide to do anything with him. He's not easy to drive."

"Of course he'll be glad to meet nice people."

"Try him."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Peter Stirling won't give a raparee for all the society you
can give him."

"You don't know what you are talking about."

But Lispenard was right. Peter had enjoyed the dinner at Miss De Voe's
and the evening at Mr. Le Grand's. Yet each night on reaching his rooms,
he had sat long hours in his straight office chair, in the dark. He was
thinking of what Miss Leroy had told him of--of--He was not thinking of
"Society."




CHAPTER XXVIII.

COMMISSIONS.


Peter made his dinner call at Miss De Voe's, but did not find her at
home. He received a very pleasant letter expressing her regret at
missing him, and a request to lunch with her two days later, and to go
with some friends to an afternoon piano recital, "if you care for music.
If not, merely lunch with us." Peter replied that he was very sorry, but
business called him to Albany on that day.

"I really regret it," said Miss De Voe to Dorothy. "It is getting so
late in the season, that unless he makes his call quickly, I shall
hardly be able to give him more than one other chance."

Peter's business in Albany had been sprung on him suddenly. It was
neither more nor less than a request sent verbally through Costell from
Governor Catlin, to come up and see him.

"It's about the food and tenement commission bills," Costell told him.
"They'll be passed by the Senate to-day or to-morrow, and be in Catlin's
hands."

"I hope he'll make good appointments," said Peter, anxiously.

"I think he will," said Costell, smiling quietly. "But I don't believe
they will be able to do much. Commissions are commonly a way of staving
off legislation."

Peter went up to Albany and saw Catlin. Much to his surprise he found
the Governor asking his advice about the bills and the personnel of the
commissions. But after a few minutes he found that this seeking for aid
and support in all matters was chronic, and meant nothing special in his
own case.

"Mr. Schlurger tells me, though he introduced the bills, that you
drafted both. Do you think I had better sign them?"

"Yes."

"Mr. Costell told me to take your advice. You really think I had
better?"

"Yes."

The Governor evidently found something solacing in the firm voice in
which Peter spoke his "yes." He drew two papers towards him.

"You really think I had better?"

"Yes."

The Governor dipped his pen in the ink, but hesitated.

"The amendments haven't hurt them?" he queried.

"Not much."

"But they have been hurt?"

"They have been made better in some ways."

"Really?"

"Yes."

Still the Governor hesitated, but finally began a big G. Having
committed himself, he wrote the rest rapidly. He paused for a moment
over the second bill, and fingered it nervously. Then he signed it
quickly. "That's done." He shoved them both away much as if they were
dangerous.

"I wonder," thought Peter, "if he enjoys politics?"

"There's been a great deal of trouble about the commissioners," said the
Governor.

"I suppose so," said Peter.

"Even now, I can't decide. The leaders all want different men."

"The decision rests with you."

"That's the trouble," sighed the Governor. "If only they'd agree."

"You should make your own choice. You will be held responsible if the
appointments are bad."

"I know I shall. Just look over those lists, and see if you think
they'll do?"

Peter took the slips of paper and read them.

"I needn't say I'm pleased to see my name," he said. "I had no idea you
would think of me."

"That was done by Costell," said the Governor, hastening to shift the
responsibility.

"I really don't know any of the rest well enough to express an opinion.
Personally, I should like to see some scientific men on each
commission."

"Scientific! But we have none in politics."

"No? But this isn't politics."

"I hoped you'd think these lists right."

"I think they are good. And the bills give us the power to take
evidence; perhaps we can get the scientific part that way."

Peter did his best to brace Catlin up; and his talk or other pressure
seemed to have partially galvanized the backbone of that limp
individual, for a week later the papers announced the naming of the two
commissions. The lists had been changed, however. That on food consisted
of Green, a wholesale grocer, and a member of the Health Board. Peter's
name had been dropped. That on tenements, of five members, was made up
of Peter; a very large property-owner in New York, who was a member as
well of the Assembly; a professional labor agitator; a well-known
politician of the better type, and a public contractor. Peter, who had
been studying some reports of a British Royal Commission on the same
subject, looked grave, thinking that what the trained men in England had
failed in doing, he could hardly hope to accomplish with such
ill-assorted instruments. The papers were rather down on the lists. "The
appointments have destroyed any chance of possible benefit," was their
general conclusion, and Peter feared they were right.

Costell laughed when Peter spoke of the commissions. "If you want Catlin
to do anything well, you've got to stand over him till it's done. I
wanted you on both commissions, so that you could see how useless they
all are, and not blame us politicians for failing in our duty. Green
promises to get you appointed Secretary of the Food Commission, which is
the next best thing, and will give you a good salary for a time."

The Tenement Commission met with little delay, and Peter had a chance to
examine its motley members. The big landlord was a great swell, who had
political ambitions, but was too exclusive, and too much of a dilettante
to be a real force. Peter took a prejudice against him before meeting
him, for he knew just how his election to the Assembly had been
obtained--even the size of the check--and Peter thought buying an
election was not a very creditable business. He did not like what he
knew of the labor agitator, for such of the latter's utterances and
opinions as he had read seemed to be the cheapest kind of demagogism.
The politician he had met and liked. Of the contractor he knew nothing.

The Commission organized by electing the politician as chairman. Then
the naming of a secretary was discussed, each member but Peter having a
candidate. Much to Peter's surprise, the landlord, Mr. Pell, named Ray
Rivington.

"I thought he was studying law?" Peter said.

"He is," said Pell. "But he can easily arrange to get off for the few
hours we shall meet a week, and the five dollars a day will be a very
nice addition to his income. Do you know him?"

"We were in college together. I thought he was rich."

"No. He's of good family, but the Rivingtons are growing poorer every
year. They try to live on their traditions, and traditions don't pay
grocers. I hope you'll help him. He's a very decent fellow."

"I shall vote for him," replied Peter, marvelling that he should be able
to give a lift to the man who, in the Harvard days, had seemed so
thoroughly the mate of Watts and the other rich fellows of the "gang."
Rivington being the only candidate who had two votes, he was promptly
selected.

Thirty arduous minutes were spent in waiting for the arrival of the
fifth member of the Commission, and in the election of chairman and
secretary. A motion was then made to adjourn, on the ground that the
Commission could not proceed without the secretary.

Peter promptly objected. He had been named secretary for this particular
meeting, and offered to act until Rivington could be notified. "I
think," he said, "that we ought to lay out our programme."

The labor agitator agreed with him, and, rising, delivered an extempore
speech, declaring that "we must not delay. The leeches (here he looked
at Mr. Pell) are sucking the life-blood of the people," etc.

The chairman started to call him to order, but Peter put his hand on the
chairman's arm. "If you stop him," he said in a low voice, "he'll think
we are against him, and he'll say so outside."

"But it's such foolishness."

"And so harmless! While he's talking, look over this." Peter produced an
outline of action which he had drawn up, and having written it in
duplicate, he passed one draft over to Mr. Pell.

They all let the speech go on, Peter, Mr. Pell and the chairman chatting
over the plan, while the contractor went to sleep. The agitator tried to
continue, but as the inattention became more and more evident, his
speech became tamer and tamer. Finally he said, "That is my opinion,"
and sat down.

The cessation of the oration waked up the contractor, and Peter's
outline was read aloud.

"I don't move its adoption," said Peter. "I merely submit it as a
basis."

Not one of the members had come prepared with knowledge of how to go to
work, except the chairman, who had served on other commissions. He said:

"I think Mr. Stirling's scheme shows very careful thought and is
admirable. We cannot do better than adopt it."

"It is chiefly copied from the German committee of three years ago,"
Peter told them. "But I have tried to modify it to suit the different
conditions."

Mr. Pell objected to the proposed frequent sittings. Thereupon the
agitator praised that feature. The hour of meeting caused discussion.
But finally the scheme was adopted, and the date of the first session
fixed.

Peter went downstairs with Mr. Pell, and the latter offered to drop him
at his office. So they drove off together, and talked about the
Commission.

"That Kurfeldt is going to be a nuisance," said Pell

"I can't say yet. He evidently has no idea of what our aim is. Perhaps,
though, when we really get to work, he'll prove useful."

Peter had a call the next day from Rivington. It was made up of thanks,
of college chat, and of inquiry as to duties. Peter outlined the
preliminary work, drafted the "Inquiries" and other printed papers
necessary to be sent out before the first meeting, and told him about
the procedure at the meetings.

"I know I shall get into all kinds of pickles," said Ray. "I write such
a bad hand that often I can't read it myself. How the deuce am I to take
down evidence?"

"I shall make notes for my own use, and you will be welcome to them, if
they will help you."

"Thanks, Peter. That's like you."

The Commission began its inquiry, on the date fixed, and met three times
a week from that time on. Peter did not try to push himself forward, but
he was by far the best prepared on the subject, and was able to suggest
the best sources of information. He asked good questions, too, of the
various witnesses summoned. Finally he was the one regular attendant,
and therefore was the one appealed to for information elicited at
previous meetings. He found the politician his best helper. Pell was
useful when he attended, which was not very often, and even this
intermittent attendance ceased in June. "I'm going to Newport," he
explained, and did not appear again till late in the fall. The
contractor really took no part in the proceedings beyond a fairly
frequent attendance, and an occasional fit of attention whenever the
inquiry related to building. The labor-agitator proved quite a good man.
He had, it is true, no memory, and caused them to waste much time in
reading over the minutes of previous meetings. But he was in earnest,
and proved to be perfectly reasonable as soon as he found that the
commissioners' duties were to inquire and not to make speeches. Peter
walked home with him several times, and they spent evenings together in
Peter's rooms, talking over the evidence, and the possibilities.

Peter met a great many different men in the course of the inquiry;
landlords, real-estate agents, architects, engineers, builders,
plumbers, health officials, doctors and tenants. In many cases he went
to see these persons after they had been before the Commission, and
talked with them, finding that they were quite willing to give facts in
private which they did not care to have put on record.

He had been appointed the Secretary of the Food Commission, and spent
much time on that work. He was glad to find that he had considerable
influence, and that Green not merely acted on his suggestions, but
encouraged him to make them. The two inquiries were so germane that they
helped him reciprocally. No reports were needed till the next meeting of
the Legislature, in the following January, and so the two commissions
took enough evidence to swamp them. Poor Ray was reduced almost to
despair over the mass of "rubbish" as he called it, which he would
subsequently have to put in order.

Between the two tasks, Peter's time was well-nigh used up. It was
especially drawn upon when the taking of evidence ceased and the
drafting of the reports began. Ray's notes proved hopeless, so Peter
copied out his neatly, and let Ray have them, rather glad that
irrelevant and useless evidence was thus omitted. It was left to Peter
to draw the report, and when his draft was submitted, it was accompanied
by a proposed General Tenement-house Bill. Both report and bill were
slightly amended, but not in a way that Peter minded.

Peter drew the Food-Commission report as well, although it went before
the Commission as Green's. To this, too, a proposed bill was attached,
which had undergone the scrutiny of the Health Board, and had been
conformed to their suggestions.

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A Stephen King fan has published an 80-page version of the book which novelist Jack Torrance obsessively writes during King's The Shining, where his descent into madness is revealed when his wife discovers that his work consists of just one phrase, endlessly repeated.

Torrance, played by Jack Nicholson in terrifying form in Stanley Kubrick's 1980 film, is a frustrated writer who goes with his wife and son to spend the winter in the isolated Overlook Hotel in an attempt to get the novel he has always wanted to write started. But the hotel's grisly past and unquiet ghosts have their way with him, and his wife Wendy eventually finds that the manuscript he has been working on actually only contains the phrase "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy", typed over and over again.

Now New York artist Phil Buehler, who describes himself as "a big fan of Stanley Kubrick and Stephen King", has self-published a book credited to Torrance, repeating the phrase throughout but formatting each page differently, using the words to create different shapes from zigzags to spirals.

"The idea has probably been marinating for years, because I loved the movie and the Stephen King book," said Buehler. "I'd just finished my own obsessive art project [and] it was an idea I had over the Christmas holidays."

He said he decided to stick to type and formatting that could have been created on a typewriter, with the first ten pages duplicating shots of Torrance's work from the film. "I thought 'if he continues to get crazier, what would those pages look like?'" he said. "I hit writer's block about 60 pages in, and I had to get to 80 - that went on for about a week." His fiancée, who had neither read the book nor seen the film, became a little concerned about his actions. "I finally showed her the movie, and she realised I wasn't really losing it," said Buehler.

He's included a spoof review from the blog OverThinkingIt.com on the book's back jacket, which compares it to "the best of Beckett" in its "lack of forward momentum", and considers the struggles of the author, "heroically pitting himself against the Sisyphusean sentence". "It's that metatextual struggle of Man vs. Typewriter that gives this book its spellbinding power," the review says. "Some will dismiss it as simplistic; that's like dismissing a Pollack canvas as mere splatters of paint."

So far, Buehler says that around 1,000 people have viewed the book, for sale on Blurb.com for $8.95 in paperback, or $22.95 in hardback, and he's sold "a few" copies, with sales now starting to pick up steam. "A few people have asked me to sign it - they're looking it as a piece of art rather than a funny thing to give to a Kubrick fan," he said. "If you're not a Kubrick or King fan, you might not even get it."

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