THE POT CALLS THE KETTLE BLACK
“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.