The Conflict [54]
sadly. ``Then you knew? I hoped you didn't, Hull. But--now that you're facing the situation squarely, don't you see that you're being made a fool of? Would those people put up for your election if they weren't SURE you and your crowd were THEIR crowd?''
``They'll find out!'' cried Hull.
``You'll find out, you mean,'' replied Victor. ``I see your whole programme, Davy. They'll put you in, and they'll say, `Let us alone and we'll make you governor of the State. Annoy us, and you'll have no political future.' And you'll say to yourself, `The wise thing for me to do is to wait until I'm governor before I begin to serve the people. THEN I can really do something.' And so, you'll be THEIR mayor--and afterward THEIR governor--because they'll hold out another inducement. Anyhow, by that time you'll be so completely theirs that you'll have no hope of a career except through them.''
After reading how some famous oration wrought upon its audience we turn to it and wonder that such tempests of emotion could have been produced by such simple, perhaps almost commonplace words. The key to the mystery is usually a magic quality in the tone of the orator, evoking before its hypnotized hearers a series of vivid pictures, just as the notes of a violin, with no aid from words or even from musical form seem to materialize into visions.
This uncommon yet by no means rare power was in Victor Dorn's voice, and explained his extraordinary influence over people of all kinds and classes; it wove a spell that enmeshed even those who disliked him for his detestable views. Davy Hull, listening to Victor's simple recital of his prospective career, was so wrought upon that he sat staring before him in a kind of terror.
``Davy,'' said Victor gently, ``you're at the parting of the ways. The time for honest halfway reformers-- for political amateurs has passed. `Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!'--that's the situation today.''
And Hull knew that it was so. ``What do you propose, Dorn?'' he said. ``I want to do what's right-- what's best for the people.''
``Don't worry about the people, Hull,'' said Victor.
``Upper classes come and pass, but the people remain-- bigger and stronger and more aggressive with every century. And they dictate language and art, and politics and religion--what we shall all eat and wear and think and do. Only what they approve, only that yoke even which they themselves accept, has any chance of enduring. Don't worry about the people, Davy. Worry about yourself.''
``I admit,'' said Hull, ``that I don't like a lot of things about the--the forces I find I've got to use in order to carry through my plans. I admit that even the sincere young fellows I've grouped together to head this movement are narrow--supercilious--self-satisfied --that they irritate me and are not trustworthy. But I feel that, if I once get the office, I'll be strong enough to put my plans through.'' Nervously, ``I'm giving you my full confidence--as I've given it to no one else.''
``You've told me nothing I didn't know already,'' said Victor.
``I've got to choose between this reform party and your party,'' continued Hull. ``That is, I've got no choice. For, candidly, I've no confidence in the working class. It's too ignorant to do the ruling. It's too credulous to build on--for its credulity makes it fickle. And I believe in the better class, too. It may be sordid and greedy and tyrannical, but by appealing to its good instincts--and to its fear of the money kings and the monopolists, something good can be got through it.''
``If you want to get office,'' said Dorn, ``you're right. But if you want to BE somebody, if you want to develop yourself, to have the joy of being utterly unafraid in speech and in action--why, come with us.''
After a pause Hull said, ``I'd like to do it. I'd like to help you.''
Victor laid his hand on Davy's arm. ``Get it straight, Davy,'' he said. ``You can't help us. We don't need you. It's you that needs us. We'll make an honest man of you--instead of a
``They'll find out!'' cried Hull.
``You'll find out, you mean,'' replied Victor. ``I see your whole programme, Davy. They'll put you in, and they'll say, `Let us alone and we'll make you governor of the State. Annoy us, and you'll have no political future.' And you'll say to yourself, `The wise thing for me to do is to wait until I'm governor before I begin to serve the people. THEN I can really do something.' And so, you'll be THEIR mayor--and afterward THEIR governor--because they'll hold out another inducement. Anyhow, by that time you'll be so completely theirs that you'll have no hope of a career except through them.''
After reading how some famous oration wrought upon its audience we turn to it and wonder that such tempests of emotion could have been produced by such simple, perhaps almost commonplace words. The key to the mystery is usually a magic quality in the tone of the orator, evoking before its hypnotized hearers a series of vivid pictures, just as the notes of a violin, with no aid from words or even from musical form seem to materialize into visions.
This uncommon yet by no means rare power was in Victor Dorn's voice, and explained his extraordinary influence over people of all kinds and classes; it wove a spell that enmeshed even those who disliked him for his detestable views. Davy Hull, listening to Victor's simple recital of his prospective career, was so wrought upon that he sat staring before him in a kind of terror.
``Davy,'' said Victor gently, ``you're at the parting of the ways. The time for honest halfway reformers-- for political amateurs has passed. `Under which king, Bezonian? Speak or die!'--that's the situation today.''
And Hull knew that it was so. ``What do you propose, Dorn?'' he said. ``I want to do what's right-- what's best for the people.''
``Don't worry about the people, Hull,'' said Victor.
``Upper classes come and pass, but the people remain-- bigger and stronger and more aggressive with every century. And they dictate language and art, and politics and religion--what we shall all eat and wear and think and do. Only what they approve, only that yoke even which they themselves accept, has any chance of enduring. Don't worry about the people, Davy. Worry about yourself.''
``I admit,'' said Hull, ``that I don't like a lot of things about the--the forces I find I've got to use in order to carry through my plans. I admit that even the sincere young fellows I've grouped together to head this movement are narrow--supercilious--self-satisfied --that they irritate me and are not trustworthy. But I feel that, if I once get the office, I'll be strong enough to put my plans through.'' Nervously, ``I'm giving you my full confidence--as I've given it to no one else.''
``You've told me nothing I didn't know already,'' said Victor.
``I've got to choose between this reform party and your party,'' continued Hull. ``That is, I've got no choice. For, candidly, I've no confidence in the working class. It's too ignorant to do the ruling. It's too credulous to build on--for its credulity makes it fickle. And I believe in the better class, too. It may be sordid and greedy and tyrannical, but by appealing to its good instincts--and to its fear of the money kings and the monopolists, something good can be got through it.''
``If you want to get office,'' said Dorn, ``you're right. But if you want to BE somebody, if you want to develop yourself, to have the joy of being utterly unafraid in speech and in action--why, come with us.''
After a pause Hull said, ``I'd like to do it. I'd like to help you.''
Victor laid his hand on Davy's arm. ``Get it straight, Davy,'' he said. ``You can't help us. We don't need you. It's you that needs us. We'll make an honest man of you--instead of a