Peter Stirling

“ Stirling such brief notice, but she leaves New York on Thursday.”
As Peter walked up town that morning, he was a little surprised that he was so cool over his intended call. In a few minutes he would be in the presence of a lady, the firmness of whose handwriting indicated that she was not yet decrepit. Three years ago such a prospect would have been replete with terror to him. Down to that—that week at the Pierce’s, he had never gone to a place where he expected to “encounter” (for that was the word he formerly used) women without dread. ”

“ Mrs. Stirling was not what we should call a “lady,” yet few of those who rank as such, would have been as considerate or tender of Peter’s trouble, if the power had been given them to lay it bare. Love, sympathy, unselfishness and forbearance are not bad equivalents for breeding and etiquette, and have the additional advantage of meeting new and unusual conditions which sometimes occur to even the most conventional.
One hope did come to her, “Perhaps, now that”—and Mrs. Stirling left “that” blank even in her thoughts; “now my boy, my Peter, will not be so set on going to New York.” ”

“ Say something? Papa! Peter! Will nobody speak?”
“Leonore,” said Peter, “do not doubt me. Trust me and I will—”
“Tell me,” cried Leonore interrupting, “was this why you didn’t come to see us? Oh! I see it all! This is what mamma knew. This is what pained you. And I thought it was your love for—!” Leonore screamed.
“My darling,” cried Peter wildly, “don’t look so. Don’t speak—”
“Don’t touch me,” cried Leonore. “Don’t. Only go away.” Leonore threw herself upon the rug weeping. It was fearful the way those sobs shook her.
“It can’t be,” said Peter. “Watts! She is killing herself.” ”

“ The pangs of unrequited love are partially responsible for Peter Stirling’s dedication to success in politics in The Honorable Peter Stirling, just as Frances Motherwell’s rejection by Vic Herres, in The Troubled Air, causes her to denounce the Communist movement to which he is devoted. Other motivating forces are just as conventional. Such dissimilar characters as Fabrizio del Dongo in The Charterhouse of Parma and Jethro Bass in Coniston are influenced by the career of Napoleon. ”

“ Haven’t we been ill-treated? Don’t you owe us help, too? Justice? Don’t we deserve tenderness and protection?”
“Yes,” said Peter. “But you wish revenge. Ask for justice, ask for help, and I will do what is within my power to aid you.”
“Watts,” cried Mrs. D’Alloi, coming forward, “of what child are you talking? Whose child? Who is this woman?”
Watts jumped as if he had been shot. Celestine even retreated before the terrible voice and face with which Mrs. D’Alloi asked her questions. A sad, weary look came into Peter’s eyes. No one answered Mrs. D’Alloi. ”

“ You want to fight on the square too. You’re not a man to hit a fellow in the dark.”
Peter was not flattering the man. He had measured him and was telling him the result of that measure. He told it, too, in a way that made the other man realize the opinion behind the words.
“Come on,” said Blunkers, good-naturedly.
They went over to the court, and a whispered colloquy took place between the justice and the bartender.
“That’s all right, Mr. Stirling,” presently said the judge. “Clerk, strike Dennis Moriarty’s fine off the list.”
“Thank you,” said Peter to the saloon-keeper. ”

“ In truth, Peter was not worrying any longer over what Leonore said or did to him. He was merely enjoying her companionship. He was at once absolutely happy, and absolutely miserable. Happy in his hope. Miserable in its non-certainty. To make a paradox, he was confident that she loved him, yet he was not sure. A man will be absolutely confident that a certain horse will win a race, or he will be certain that a profit will accrue from a given business transaction. Yet, until the horse has won, or the profit is actually made, he is not assured. So it was with Peter. ”

“ Schlurger, but Peter had opposed it, and had carried his point, to the great gratitude of the silent, honest German. What was more important to him, this had all been done without exciting hard feelings.
“Stirling’s a reasonable fellow,” Gallagher told Costell, not knowing how much Peter was seeing of the big leader, “and he isn’t dead set on carrying his own schemes. We’ve never had so little talk of mutiny and sulking as we have had this paring. Moriarty and Blunkers swear by him. It’s queer. They’ve always been on opposite sides till now.” ”

“ THE PRIMARY.
After this rush of work, Peter’s life became as routine as of yore. The winter passed without an event worth noting, if we except a steadily growing acquaintance with the dwellers of the district. But in July a new phase was injected into it by a call from Dennis Moriarty.
“Good-mornin’ to yez, sir, an’ a fine day it is,” said the latter, with his usually breezy way.
“Yes,” said Peter.
“Misther Stirling. An’ is it engaged yez are for this night?” ”

“ Peter went to his room and, after a due course of clubbing and tubbing, dressed himself with the utmost care. Truth compels the confession that he looked in his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently with much pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarked aloud, as he turned away, “I don’t look so old, but I once heard Watts say that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. I wonder if she cares for handsome men?” ”

“ As if Peter would tell you secrets. Come, Peter, I want to take you over and let Miss Biddle congratulate you.”
“Peter has just asked me for this waltz,” said Leonore. “Oh, Mr. Rutgers, I’m so sorry, I’m going to dance this with Mr. Stirling.”
And then Peter felt he was to be congratulated.
“I shan’t marry him myself,” thought Leonore, “but I won’t have my friends married off right under my nose, and you can try all you want, Mrs. Rivington.”
So Peter’s guardianship was apparently bearing fruit. Yet man to this day holds woman to be the weaker vessel! ”

“ D’Alloi. “We did not know how much time to allow.”
“No. Such old friends cannot come too soon.”
“And as it is, I’m really starved,” said another personage, shaking hands with Peter as if she had not seen him for a twelve-month instead of parting with him but two hours before. “What an appetite riding in the Park does give one! Especially when afterwards you drive, and drive, and drive, over New York stones.”
“Ah,” cried Madame. “C’est tres bien!”
“Isn’t it jolly?” responded Leonore.
“But it is not American. It is Parisian.”
“Oh, no, it isn’t! It’s all American. Isn’t it, Peter?” ”

“ She doesn’t know many of the men, and she doesn’t dance. Now, if I introduce you, won’t you try to make her have a good time?”
“Certainly,” said Peter, gloomily.
“And don’t go and desert her, just because another man comes up. It makes a girl think you are in a hurry to get away, and Miss Biddle is very sensitive. I know you don’t want to hurt her feelings.” All this had been said as they crossed the room. Then: “Miss Biddle, let me introduce Mr. Stirling.”
Peter sat down to his duty. “I mustn’t look at Leonore,” he thought, “or I shan’t be attentive.” ”

“ New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced each other.
While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had been yelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extracted himself, and limped towards Peter.
“Mr. Stirling,” he shouted, “come out from those murderers. I want to tell you something.”
Peter went forward. “What is it, Podds?” he asked.
Podds dropped his voice. “We’re out for blood to-day. But I don’t want yours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hide yourself before the people rise in their might.” ”

“ The middle of July found Peter in New York, eager to begin his grapple with the future. How many such stormers have dashed themselves against its high ramparts, from which float the flags of “worldly success;” how many have fallen at the first attack; how many have been borne away, stricken in the assault; how many have fought on bravely, till driven back by pressure, sickness or hunger; how few have reached the top, and won their colors! ”

“ We do nothing but wander round the house all day, waiting for your letter, and the papers.” Three thousand people in the Brooklyn Rink were kept waiting for nearly ten minutes by Peter’s perusal of that letter. But when he had finished it, and had reached the Rink, he out-Stirlinged Stirling. A speaker nowadays speaks far more to the people absent than to the people present. Peter did this that evening. He spoke, it is true, to only one person that night, but it was the best speech of the campaign.
A week later, Peter rang the bell of the Fifty-seventh Street house. ”

“ Peter was very silent. So quiet, that Mrs. Gallagher told her “take in” that she “guessed that young Stirling wasn’t used to real fashionable dinners,” and Peter’s partner quite disregarded him for the rattling, breezy talker on her other side. After the dinner Peter had a pleasant chat with the Justice’s seventeen-year-old daughter, who was just from a Catholic convent, and the two tried to talk in French. It is wonderful what rubbish is tolerable if only talked in a foreign tongue. ”

“ Stirling.”
Peter wanted to kick him, but he didn’t.
“I congratulate you,” said another man.
“On what?” Peter saw no cause for congratulation, only for sorrow.
“Oh, Peter,” said Dorothy, sailing up at this junction, “how nice! And such a surprise!”
“Why, haven’t you heard?” said mine host.
“Oh,” cried Leonore, “is it about the Convention?”
“Yes,” said a man. “Manners is in from the club and tells us that a despatch says your name was sprung on the Convention at nine, and that you were chosen by acclamation without a single ballot being taken. Every one’s thunderstruck.” ”

“ Peter told her. “I try to like them.”
Miss De Voe looked puzzled.
“Don’t,” said Mr. Ogden. “I tried once, when I first began. But it’s much easier to notice what women say, and answer ‘yes’ and ‘no’ at the right points.”
Peter looked puzzled.
“Nonsense, Lispenard,” said Miss De Voe. “He’s really one of the best connoisseurs I know, Mr. Stirling.”
“There,” said Lispenard. “You see. Only agree with people, and they think you know everything.” ”

“ The gallery is too big to be pleasant such a night. You must come again for that. Won’t you tell me about some of the other men you are meeting in politics?” she asked when they had sat down before another open fire. “It seems as if all the people I know are just alike—I suppose it’s because we are all so conventional—and I am very much interested in hearing about other kinds.”
So Peter told about Dennis and Blunkers, and the “b’ys” in the saloons; about Green and his fellow delegates; about the Honorable Mr., Mrs., and Miss Gallagher, and their dinner companions. ”

“ Mr. Stirling, we need not interrupt your ride. Belden will see me home.”
Belden see her home! Peter would see him do it! That was what Peter thought. He said, “I shall ride with you, of course.” So they started their horses, the groom dropping behind.
“Do you want to try it again?” asked Mutineer of the roan.
“No,” said the mare. “You are too big and strong.”
Leonore was just saying: “I could hear the pound of a horse’s feet behind me, but I thought it was the groom, and knew he could never overtake Fly-away. ”

“ I’m rather a persistent man in some things.”
“Yes,” said Leonore, bobbing her head in a very knowing manner, “Miss De Voe told me.”
“Mr. Stirling,” said Mrs. D’Alloi, “can’t you tell us the meaning of the Latin motto on this seal?” Mrs. D’Alloi held a letter towards him, but did not stir from her position across the room.
Peter understood the device. He was to be drawn off, and made to sit by Mrs. D’Alloi, not because she wanted to see him, but because she did not want him to talk to Leonore. Peter had no intention of being dragooned. ”

“ Peter smiled. “I go out so little now, that I have turned selfish. I don’t go to entertain people. I go to be entertained. Tell me what you have been doing?”
But as Peter spoke, there was a little stir, and Peter had to say “excuse me.” He crossed the room, and said, “I am to have the pleasure, Mrs. Grinnell,” and a moment later the two were walking towards the dining-room. Miss De Voe gave her arm to Beekman calmly, but her eyes followed Peter. They both could have made a better arrangement. Most dinner guests can. ”

“ And, Peter, do you dislike women?”
“Unquestionably,” said Peter.
“Please tell me. I told them of your speech about the sunshine, and Mrs. Winthrop says that she knows you didn’t mean it. That you are a woman-hater and despise all women, and like to get off by yourself.”
“That’s the reason I joined you and Dorothy,” said Peter.
“Do you hate women?” persisted Leonore.
“A man is not bound to incriminate himself,” replied Peter, smiling.
“Then that’s the reason why you don’t like society, and why you are so untalkative to women. I don’t like men who think badly of women. ”

“ Pierce. “There is not a man I know who has less of the sentimental and ideal in him. An idealist is a man of dreams and romance. Peter is far too sensible a fellow to be that. There is nothing heroic or romantic in him.”
“Nonsense, Paternus,” said Watts. “You don’t know anything about the old chap. You’ve only seen him as a cool clever lawyer. If your old definition of romance is right: that it is ‘Love, and the battle between good and evil,’ Peter has had more true romance than all the rest of us put together.” ”