The first American King

“And who was the most beautiful woman of that time and—and—what did she look like? Oh, do tell me all about it. I’m so interested!”

So prattled away Beatrice, daughter of Colonel Sir Maynard Cuming, sprightly and eighteen, as she sat at the head of the breakfast table, and daintily served Kearns and the Professor with their tea. The Colonel was a widower and this little lady—half woman, half child still—with her handsome dark eyes and arch, impetuous ways was his only daughter.

“Do tell me all about it,” she continued pleadingly. “I want to know all about her. The books—histories and things like that—tell a lot of things which are not at all interesting and leave out the most important things of all. Who was the most beautiful woman?”

Both Kearns and the Professor seemed quite perplexed.

The Colonel laughed. “Now you are confronted with a poser,” he said. “This might be a rather awkward question under some circumstances, but you can certainly answer it without danger of making any particular lady jealous.”

“Now, papa,” protested Beatrice, “please don’t interrupt and lead away from my question.”

“I fear it is useless to appeal to me, Miss Cuming,” finally answered the Professor. “My friend, I imagine, is better qualified to answer such a question.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that!” exclaimed Kearns; “I’ve noticed that you scientists, for all your air of scientific abstraction, have very often an exceedingly keen eye to feminine charms and graces. Who was the most beautiful woman? How can one answer such a question when all the women of—of—our day were so beautiful! In those days, to walk up Broadway from Twenty-third to Thirty-fourth streets, on a bright afternoon, was to see a galaxy of American beauty and Paris fashions pass in review.”

“Broadway, between Twenty-third and Thirty-fourth streets,” repeated Miss Beatrice. “Where is that, papa?”

“Oh, my dear,” answered the Colonel, “that’s a part of the city given over entirely to the business section. You have never been there.”

“I see!” answered Beatrice thoughtfully. “But what did you say about Paris fashions, Mr. Kearns? Did the ladies in those days get their fashions from Paris?”

“Yes, indeed,” answered Kearns. “Paris was then considered the great centre from which all the fashions in dresses and bonnets were procured.”

“What a funny idea!” laughed the girl. “To-day,” she continued proudly, “our capital and our Court give the fashions to the world.”

“I’m glad to learn it,” exclaimed Kearns with enthusiasm. “It should have been the same in our day, as far as New York and the fashions were concerned. As a matter of fact, it was so to a greater extent than was then generally imagined. Dresses and hats which were labeled as made in Paris were, in reality, manufactured in New York. American skill and taste really were matchless, but the popular fad of that day was to demand Paris-made articles and the enterprising shopkeeper filled that demand by furnishing Paris goods—made in America.”

“All that is changed now,” said the Colonel. “As Trixy says, to-day American fashions concededly lead the world.”

A servant entered, extending to the Colonel a silver salver upon which lay a letter.

“Pardon me,” said the Colonel, as he broke the seal. “Ah! this is indeed news!” he exclaimed, as he rapidly read. “We are shortly to have with us a most distinguished visitor.”

“Who is it, papa?” inquired Beatrice with curiosity.

“General Mainwarren,” answered the Colonel. “I must tell you about him before he arrives,” he added, turning to his guests. “General Mainwarren, who, by the way, is a distant cousin of ours, was a most distinguished soldier during the war with Russia.”

“What! Has the United States been at war with Russia?” exclaimed Kearns and the Professor in a breath.

“Yes,” answered the Colonel, “that is one of the many events which I have not yet had an opportunity to tell to you. Our commercial interests with Great Britain became so great, and the amount of our surplus capital invested in British enterprises so large, that a defensive alliance with that country grew to be a matter of necessity. When the integrity of the British Empire and incidentally the safety of our commercial interests came to be imperiled by the encroachments of the great barbaric Power of the North, it was found necessary for the United States to step in and lend a helping hand. The war with Russia was long and bloody and Napoleon’s famous invasion of the Russian Empire was duplicated by the allied armies of the United States and Great Britain. Great battles were fought; great victories were won and—needless to say—we eventually triumphed.”

“How could it be otherwise! What can withstand the Anglo-Saxon race!” exclaimed the Professor proudly.

“To think that all this should have been going on and I asleep!” cried Kearns regretfully.

“But I must hurry and tell you about General Mainwarren,” continued the Colonel. “As I said before, he distinguished himself during this war with Russia; became the pride of the people and the idol of his soldiers. After the war, he fell into disfavor, owing to views which were regarded as—as—disloyal. He was opposed to the general economic conditions—to the Trusts and the power wielded by them. This was strange, inasmuch as his elder brother was the head of the great Ores and Minerals Trust, of which the Coal Trust was one of the subsidiary organizations. I never knew the precise rights of the matter, but the General fell into disfavor and was retired from active service on half pay. He was not honored with a title as had been officers of far less distinguished service, but was studiously ignored in this respect by the Sovereign. For a brief period he lived in comparative poverty and obscurity. His brother’s only son was fatally injured one day in an accident. The news was carried to the young man’s father. He was an old man and its suddenness overwhelmed him. He dropped where he stood and never recovered consciousness. Everything he possessed had been left to his only son and this son survived the father by only a few hours, dying intestate. His uncle, the General, was the only relative and he inherited everything as the heir-at-law of the son. Thus, in one day, he saw himself lifted into the position of one of the richest men in the country.”

“What a strange turn of fortune!” exclaimed the Professor.

“Yes,” answered the Colonel; “but that is not all there is to tell. After he came into these immense properties, a change seemed to pass over him. Where before he had figured as the friend of the masses, he now appeared as the direct reverse. In fact, various industrial measures adopted by him were of so grasping, uncompromising and offensive a character as to draw forth widespread condemnation. Even the government protested. It regarded his line of action as calculated to foment public discontent and was, therefore, a menace. And so it came about that where his championship of popular rights had before drawn upon him the displeasure of the Throne, he was now in disfavor at Court for his radical course in precisely the opposite direction. Curious, is it not?”

“That’s the way of mankind,” commented Kearns. “It was the same in our day. One kind of a man in adversity and a totally different kind of a man in prosperity. How often one sees that!”

“I don’t care what they say of Cousin Mainwarren,” interposed Beatrice warmly. “I believe he has a kind heart. But to come back to our subject,” she added, addressing Kearns, “is it true that the ladies at that time——”

Her question was interrupted by the entrance of a servant, who announced the arrival of General Mainwarren. The Colonel hurried out to receive him.

A few moments later he returned, accompanied by a man of most striking personality. He was tall beyond the usual height, broad shouldered and massive, with a large, strong face, every line and contour of which was indicative of resolution and power.

The new-comer greeted Beatrice with cheery courtesy and the Colonel presented General Mainwarren to his guests.

“I need not disguise from you, gentlemen,” said the General, “that I know of the experiences through which you’ve passed. The wildest rumors on the subject are current in Pemberton and the newspapers are full of them. However, I trust you won’t allow this to distress you. May I ask how you like the new condition of things?” The General turned a keen and searching glance upon them as he put the question.

“Well,” laughed the Professor, “it used to be the custom with the reporters of our day, when foreigners landed upon our shores, to inquire how they liked the country. As the visitor’s actual experience consisted of a five minutes’ sojourn on the dock, the question was naturally difficult to answer. It seems to me we are much in the same position.”

“So you are,” answered the General, smiling. “I may say to you, however, that you will find things much changed—much improved in some respects, you will, perhaps, decide.”

“How do you happen to be traveling this way?” asked Beatrice, with a woman’s curiosity.

“Ah,” said the General, with a light laugh, “there’s a story connected with that. I’ve been favored with a special summons to attend at Court—to be received in special audience by His Majesty and the Chancellor.”

The Colonel looked up sharply and turned a quick, inquiring glance upon the speaker.

“There—is—no—new—trouble?” he faltered.

“I don’t know,” said the General lightly. “It is usually a sign of favor for a subject to be summoned to attend the Court of the King. In my case perhaps——”

He stopped abruptly and glanced toward Beatrice.

The young lady rose quickly from the table.

“I know you want to discuss business and politics and horrid things of that kind,” she exclaimed petulantly, “so I’ll disappear. But you and I,” she continued, turning to the General, “will have a little tête-à-tête before you leave, won’t we? If you are going to Court, you can take a message to Dorothy.”

“Certainly,” smilingly answered the General, and Beatrice tripped from the room.

“I think we might take a turn in the garden,” remarked the Professor to Kearns.

“No, no; please don’t go,” exclaimed the General. “I’ll be indebted if you will remain. I would like to have your opinion on certain matters.”

“You are sure?” said the Professor hesitatingly.

“Quite, quite sure,” declared the General. “Pray be seated.”

The Professor sank back into his seat.

“There’s some trouble, I feel convinced,” said the Colonel with an air of concern.

“Well,” answered General Mainwarren, “I’ll relieve you of any suspense. I’ve been summoned to Court to confer with the Emperor and his Chancellor regarding certain operations contemplated by the Coal Trust, of which,” he added with an explanatory wave of the hand to the Professor and Kearns, “I am the head.”

“Yes, yes,” interjected the Colonel; “but what’s the nature of these new operations?”

“Simply this,” replied the General carelessly; “it has been decided, to describe the plan briefly, to withhold the output of coal and to force up the price during the coming winter to fifteen crowns the ton.”

“No, no; surely not!” cried the Colonel.

“It has been decided and will be done,” said General Mainwarren firmly. “The Sovereign, the Chancellor and the Imperial Council are much exercised, I understand, in view of the effect it is likely to have upon the masses. Hence my summons to Court! And,” continued the General, turning to the Professor, “what do you say to this plan? You had certain experiences of this kind in your day, did you not?”

“I must decline to express an opinion,” answered the Professor coldly. “I’m not sufficiently familiar with existing conditions to express an opinion. How am I to know what will be the effect upon the people at large?”

“It will result in widespread suffering and distress; in misery of the most dreadful kind,” said the Colonel, sadly.

“Say, if you like,” replied General Mainwarren with brutal directness, “that it will result in widespread desolation and death. You may speak out. I’m not thin-skinned and don’t mind hearing the truth. Many factories must close and tens of thousands will be thrown out of work; to say nothing of the misery and death which will ensue from actual cold. Hence the Court is exercised; hence it sends for me, but—it will be in vain!”

“And you,” said the Professor, turning horror-stricken eyes upon the speaker, “realizing all these things, will still persist in your course!”

“Absolutely and unalterably,” answered the General sternly. “I’ve been sent for to present myself at Court. I’ll be wheedled, pleaded with, threatened and cajoled, but—it will be for naught. Ah, you seem astonished. What, then, is the view you take?”

“Sir,” said the Professor, rising, his eyes flashing in indignation and anger, “you have twice asked my opinion and I’ll give it, fully and freely, as man to man. I consider that any man who will heartlessly throw tens of thousands of working men out of employment; who will expose tens of thousands to misery and want; who will let women and children languish and die from privation and cold, is a monster in human form—a fiend incarnate! His fellow men should turn from him in horror and in loathing; his mother reproach herself that she gave him birth. That’s my opinion, sir. God created these coal lands for the benefit of humanity in general. It is preposterous to suppose that He created them for the exclusive benefit of any one man, or set of men. The government that permits such action as you wish to take is unworthy to stand; it should be swept out of existence!”

“My dear Professor!” interjected Kearns, endeavoring to allay his companion’s warmth; “are you not a little too vehement?”

“You will pardon me,” said the Professor, turning to Colonel Cuming, “but I can’t retract, or even modify, my words. I thank you for your kindly hospitality, which I have but ill-repaid. I’ll now withdraw from your presence and your house.”

General Mainwarren had listened with flushed face and contracted brows.

“No, no,” he interposed hastily, “no apology is either necessary or proper. I asked your opinion; you’ve given it. An honest opinion is always deserving of respect; the more frank and outspoken, the better it is. That which I take exception to is not the words themselves, but at such words from you—YOU!”

“From me!” exclaimed the Professor. “And why particularly from me?”

“From you, sir,” continued the General, with fiery emphasis, “or from any man of your day. Isn’t it to the men of your day that we owe the examples we follow? If I mistake not it was precisely the men of your time who first taught to this land the lesson of the concentration of capital; wasn’t it your capitalists who first promulgated the theory of their divine appointment to the control of the good things of this world?”

“That theory was the theory of the Few; not of the Many,” objected the Professor.

“It was certainly tolerated and permitted by the people of your time,” retorted General Mainwarren, “and in pursuing my course I’m only following out that which has been a sanctioned time-honored custom. If the people objected to these things, the proper time to have stopped them was when they first began. I forgive your words, Professor Dean; I bear no rancor. But such words coming from a man of your era is, upon my honor, like the pot calling the kettle black!”

The Professor was about to reply, but his answer was cut short by the entry of a servant, bringing a card to Colonel Cuming. The Colonel took the card from the salver, glanced at it and gave a direction to the servant, who immediately retired.

Rising and holding between his fingers the card which had been brought to him, he faced the others:

“A messenger from His Majesty, the King,” he said.