An iron crown: a tale of the great republic ...

Chapter I

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THE STREET OF A THOUSAND PALACES.

Fifth Avenue, in the city of New York, though a street of world-wide celebrity, is not wholly pleasing to the eye of a visitor. One soon tires of the sameness exhibited in block after block of imposing brown stone edifices, many of which well deserve the name of palace in the splendor of their costly appointments. Most of the houses in the street are so much alike with their stately stone fronts three and four stories high, plate-glass windows, and massive stone steps leading from a stone sidewalk which ends a stone-like pavement, that the description of one would serve for two-thirds of the houses in the Avenue.

On a hot day in summer when this abode of magnificence is well-nigh deserted by ‘its fashionable inhabitants, it is a dreary enough place. The country visitor who has come from far to view the wonders of the great metropolis concerning which he has read and marveled from his earliest recollection, is liable at such a time to think this a very stony sort of grandeur. The air is parched and oppressive. Above is a tropical sun, on either side inhospitable splendor. The closed doors and drawn blinds of these silent abodes of wealth have for the eye of the stranger no more welcome than is found at the door of a deserted cabin in the wilderness. He longs to escape from this sweltering, artificial Sahara. For him Fifth Avenue is a gross delusion and a cheat so far as concerns those pure delights which he imagined were everywhere apparent in that favored locality.

By contrast his thoughts seek a comfortable homestead in his own village, where the whitewash on the palings is renewed perennially and the vine clings luxuriant to the trellis, while roses burden the air with a perfume sweeter to his mind than anv fhr-fetched perfumes of Araby. Or his

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thoughts wander further to the long two-story farmhouse with an L and a wide porch running full length. On the porch are homely rocking chairs. In front stately oak, maple, elm or locust trees throw a dense, grateful shade as far as the porch. Beyond is the highway over which a farmer’s wagon rattles; at the rear is the orchard where red-cheeked and golden apples shimmer in the hot sun of noonday and the predatory woodpecker feasts at will. Our visitor, if thoughtful, will realize that not in Fifth Avenue but in these distant places are the homes of the real American people. If he has just come from the Metropolitan Museum, he cannot but realize a striking similarity between the condition of the lifeless, stony figures in that repository of the relics of a past age and the petrified condition of the Avenue itself, with all its parched belongings. Whether of a philosophical turn of mind or not, he will scarcely remain long in this enormous oven, which needs only a lid to prepare it for baking, at such a season, on such a day.

But if the stranger leaves Fifth Avenue with the impression that its inhabitants have really fossilized to be more in keeping with the street, he will make a great mistake. The society butterflies, young and old, are at Saratoga, Newport, the Thousand Islands, the White Mountains, or some other of the many summer resorts which America can boast. These butterflies, of every size and color of wing, industriously flit on the mountain and by the sea. They dance, and bathe, and flirt, and eat, day after day, all summer long. Their painted wings glimmer in the sunbeams like the wings of their dumb namesakes, and apparently with as little purpose. The elderly male butterfly occasionally takes his dyspepsia, and his goldrimmed spectacles to the city, to watch the gathering of golden nuggets, which must be converted into dust to gild the giddy wings of his progeny. The movements of this elderly male butterfly are a trifle heavy and at times somewhat anxious. In fact, he is not a real butterfly, for his development is usually arrested at the homely chrysalis condition, which renders the full-fledged, gorgeous-winged wonder a possibility. He is homely but necessary. While this dancing, eating, dallying and assiduous flirting goes on by the mountain and the sea, the American people, in shop, factoiy and store, on the farm, in the forest, in the mine, are daily, over millions of square miles, building the greatest and freest nation the world has ever seen.

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But to return to Fifth Avenue. These miles of stately structures in brown stone, which have a deep interest to mankind, because of the fabulous sums necessary to build and maintain them, though much alike externally, differ in their interior appointments as much as their inmates differ in thought, feeling and action. This story has to do with only one of the grandest of them, the exact location of which for obvious reasons will not be made known. On that September day some years ago, this palatial residence might have been described as follows:

The striking and ornate exterior proclaimed that its owner possessed immense wealth. Nor did it indicate simply vulgar wealth. The chaste architecture of the beautiful front, plainly showed that the architect, at least, was a man of exquisite taste, whatever might be said of the owner. The massive carved front door opened into a large hall, which was in itself as capacious as the whole ground floor in many a house which shelters people of moderate means. This spacious entry was laid with small tiles in beautiful mosaic patterns. For some distance above the floor extended marble panels, in which were to be seen almost every known variety and color of that useful stone, all polished like a mirror. Even stones classed as precious, were here set into the walls in profusion, dazzling the eye with their brilliant reflections. Here lapislazuli blended its pleasing hues with malachite. On the walls were sculptured bas-reliefs, the works of master artists. Choice statuary reposed in niches, or was placed about the room. Costly bronzes, representing both ancient and modern art, were lodged on brackets, or otherwise placed with artistic effect. On the lofty ceilings in this hall and in the grand saloons, were beautiful frescoes. Richly ornamented gasaliers, whose chaste embellishments reflected the light in many hues, depended from the ceiling.

To the right of this grand hall were spacious parlors of unusual dimensions, to the left a library, a picture gallery, the owner’s private office, and various smaller rooms. Further to the rear were the family dining-room, the public dining-room, and still beyond, the kitchens. The alcoves of books in fine bindings, the statuary which was in various places, the pictures in the gallery and in the parlors, the frescoes on the ceilings, all indicated refined and sumptuous tastes on the part of the owner. There was a conspicuous absence of those fantastic productions of household adornment whose only recomio

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mendations are their deformity and uselessness. There were no fragile tables on unsteady legs or consumptive tripods supporting inadequate card baskets. The costly center-tables would have supported a roasted ox if necessary. The massive rosewood coat rack in the hall was built for service as well as show. It stood solidly on the marble floor instead of on four griffin’s legs, as is sometimes the case, whose uncertain and erratic movements make the keeping closed of the front door a necessity, lest the whole machine should some fine day walk into the street and disappear around the corner. It made no difference to that coat rack whether you hung the coat there or the owner of the coat. This palatial abode was the residence of Henry Ingledee, the great railway king.

Mr. Ingledee was a man about fifty, and in spite of his long participation in the feverish excitements of Wall street, he showed few gray hairs and fewer lines in his face. This was wholly due to his iron constitution, for he never spared himself any labor, no matter how arduous, provided it brought or seemed likely to bring gold and extend his influence. He was above medium height, strongly built, with well-molded limbs, shapely, sinewy hands and small feet. His hair and complexion were dark, while his eyes were a puzzling contradiction between gray and a very dark blue. He had a rather square jaw, a firm mouth, broad high nose with wide nostrils, and heavy eyebrows. His full chest and short neck indicated great animal powers. A well-developed head gave assurance of mental as well as physical power. Mr. Ingledee was a man who would prove a formidable rival, indeed, a dangerous one, in any avocation he might adopt.

He was brought up a poor farmer’s son, among the hills of Western Massachusetts. His humble origin, like that of so many men eminent in American history, had no effect in curtailing his visions of a different and vastly exalted sphere of action for the future. What that future might be, he knew’ not; and he was fully as ignorant of the path that might lead to it. While engaged in the daily labor of the farm he constantly dreamed of what he would do if he were rich and great. These dreams were so far beyond the petty details of his present life in their splendid proportions that he saved himself the humiliation of ridicule by wisely keeping them to himself. Only to his mother did he at times confide a vague purpose “ to be something in the world,” and she, poor woman, whose life was one continuous round of that tedious

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I I

drudgery ordinarily incident to the life of a farmer’s wife, secretly abetted his ambition, though his father “ kalkilated nothin ’ was so dead sartin’ as farmin’?” Mrs. Ingledee thought her son might greatly improve his condition in life by teaching school, but he in his heart despised that unpretentious means of mounting the ladder of fame. He who would have made a splendid soldier, thought little of the hum-drum occupation of school teaching.

Yet, to please his mother, whose w r orth he understood, and whom he fully appreciated as his best friend on earth, he tried teaching school one term, at fifteen dollars per month and “board round;” that is, board free of charge by turns with every family in the district. But wealth accumulates slowly at fifteen dollars per month, though his balance sheet showed a gratifying exhibit at the end of the term. Out of the sixty dollars due for four months’ salary, fifty-nine dollars and forty cents remained to his credit. The other sixty cents had been expended in paint to make a blackboard in the schoolhouse, the first ever heard of in that neighborhood. At the age of twenty-one, Henry Ingledee left home “ to do for himself,” as that rather arduous and sometimes very uncertain undertaking was then called. At the age of thirty he was a merchant in an obscure country town in the far West. At the age of fifty he was- worth fifty millions, and a railway king of world-wide celebrity. It might have been better for him had he still been a country school teacher; it certainly would have been much better for the country.

Besides the father, the Ingledee family consisted of a son and a daughter, the mother having been dead many years. Silas Ingledee, the son, may be described in brief. He inherited many of his father’s strong traits of character. These, however, were perverted into wrong channels. The young man had never learned the value of money because he had never earned a dollar in his life. But what was infinitely worse, though common enough under the circumstances, he did not'know the value of a good name. He sailed around a great deal in the family yacht. He was a young man around town, and spent vast sums of money. His father earnestly protested against these wild dissipations, for he was very anxious to found a family which would go down into history, and this son was the only hope.

Silas insisted that the industrial operation known as sowing wild oats, must be undergone by every young man of fortune.

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Otherwise what was the use of having money at all? Sometime he would settle down, enter Wall street, and show the “ Governor ” a thing or two. Meanwhile the Governor, rather anxious to be surprised by the fulfillment of this promise, could only wait and hope that the young man might eventually come to his senses, or in other words try every folly and get a surfeit. The only question was whether Silas’s constitution could sustain the herculean task of harvesting such a luxuriant crop of oats. As to the money, there were no fears for that while Mr. Ingledee was alive to take care of it. There was so much of it that the spending would have fully done up a half dozen young men of the period, which is saying a great deal for Mr. Ingledee’s financial standing.

The daughter was a being of a very different stamp. There was nothing at all remarkable in the fact that she abstained from dissipation, for that a relentless public opinion rightfully denies to women, while tacitly admitting it to be on the whole rather a cute performance on the part of a young man. In this case what is a palatable sauce for the demure young goose is a very insipid condiment for the frisky male bird. The shame belongs to society for tolerating such false notions of right. Chetta Ingledee had grown up without a mother. Her father paid little attention to her, partly because Silas caused many paternal anxieties, but chiefly because she was a girl, and a girl could not perpetuate the name of Ingledee, which he fondly hoped would some day be known still better, and in connection with still greater achievements, possibly in the arena of politics as well as finance, since the railway king is always deeply interested in politics. For these reasons Chetta had been allowed to grow up pretty much as she pleased.

Her education in books had not been neglected, and her really superior intellect had readily assimilated and mastered all that is supposed to constitute a good education in the common acceptation. She loved music, and had fine attainments in that direction. She despised a smattering of anything, hence, did not dabble in any of the fashionable dillettanteisms of the day. She was a high-spirited girl, who not only loved to have her own way, but had it. Mr. Ingledee looked on with indifference, for he thought her a very good girl, considering that girls were an inferior production of nature, whose chief mission is to be married, suitably or unsuitably. He knew that her handsome face, fine form, and attractive manners with the potent inducement of princely dowry, would secure her the best husband going at any time.

In person Chetta Ingledee resembled her father. She was above the medium height, possessing a better physique than most young women, bred amid the fashionable absurdities which money commands. She had dark hair, liquid black eyes and a clear complexion, the result of vigorous health and abundant exercise. She was not afraid to walk a mile or two, in this respect being totally unlike those fashionable incapables, who will order out the carriage to go two blocks, or stop a street car, if they chance to enter that plebeian conveyance, for one block. Chetta’s well-rounded, but prominent chin and full cherry lips, indicated a tendency toward voluptuous tastes. Her rather wide nose, the least bit turned up, indicated the same.

Altogether, her face would be called handsome, it certainly was striking, especially when her eye assumed a peculiar penetrating gaze, which plainly warned the world from attempting to trifle with its possessor. Wealth had not spoiled he«r as it spoils an inferior nature. She despised mere display, was unaffected in manner and kind of heart. As her time and actions were absolutely at her own disposal, this kindness and irrepressible flow of animal spirits caused her to do things, sometimes, which her aristocratic friends called “ queer.” Had her father been worth only a quarter of a million in lieu of his many millions, these freaks would have been pronounced “ singular.” Had he been a poor man struggling along on one hundred thousand, they would have been called “ unladylike,” and might have resulted in Chetta’s being “ cut” by the female plutocrats who make and unmake society. One of these eccentricities was the teaching of a class of ragged boys in a mission school. These urchins consisted of newsboys, ragpickers and the children of the very poorest people — outcasts who, in the midst of the highest civilization, sink through misfortune and improvidence below the level of the savage.

Chapter II. The Twins Have A “ Invite Inter High Society.”

One morning after a late breakfast, Mr. Ingledee lingered at the table over his paper, hoping to see his son Silas before 2foino' down town to the office. He was a hard worker still

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and put in nearly as many hours per day at the office, as he did when he first began operations in Wall street. Hence the son, who breakfasted late, or oftener failed to take that meal at all through late rising, seldom sipped his coffee under the parental eye. Silas, who had not appeared for several days, at length entered the room, having received a polite request to that effect, which he facetiously termed an “ appointment.” He was dressed in a neat morning suit; his linen was in perfect condition but less must be said for the young gentleman himself. His eyes, and the lack of freshness in his complexion, together with a slight tremor of his hand as he opened a letter, plainly indicated wine and very late hours, if by any chronological reversion four or five in the morning can be called late.

“ Good-morning, father.”

u Good-morning, Silas,” said Mr. Ingledee, peering cautiously over the paper, for much as he detested his son’s course, he loved him too deeply to hurt his feelings, by even the appearance of scanning his person.

“ You are almost a stranger at the breakfast table lately.”

“ Yes, society has been rather active for the opening of the season, and if one keeps in the swim, he must naturally consume a good deal of time, and some of that time must be squandered in sleep, and that is doubtless the reason of our having a forenoon.” He spoke of sleep as if it were a very inconvenient necessity, and added: “ You know nothing

about all that of course.”

M Thank heaven I do not! My son, haven’t you been in the swim about long enough?”

“Oh no,” said Silas, making a careless attempt on a muf-

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*5 fin. “ You know Pm only twenty-two, and at my age a man is good for several years more of this sort of thing.” He spoke this in a sneering sort of way, as if it were a light thing for a man to measure out the priceless years of youth which he could devote to sin, estimating them only by his own capacity of bodily endurance. And these were the years so pregnant with future happiness or misery. In youth every day gained is a treasure, every day lost an adder laid away in the bosom. The remark was so deliberate in tone, and showed such an utter lack of any appreciation of the value of true manhood, that, for the first time in his life, Mr. Ingledee’s heart sank over the prospects of his son. He had long hoped, remonstrated and waited in vain. The end of all his hopes was now plainly in view unless something could be done soon.

While Mr. Ingledee was grieved to the heart, he was also very indignant. He had been brought up in the good old way, which taught that the night was made for sleep and the day for labor. The son believed, or acted as if he believed, that the night was for pleasure, the hardest of all labor, and the day, or part of it, for taking such unrefreshing slumber as could be obtained under these unnatural conditions. It nettled Mr. Ingledee to think that a son of his should so far violate a canon of that common sense which he flattered himself was a family characteristic. It was high time to teach this young man a lesson. He had begun twenty years too late.

“ Silas, from time to time I have expressed disapproval of your course. I am not pleased with your conduct.”

M I am sorry, father.” This remark was a part of the conventional requirements of etiquette. It meant nothing, and the father knew its emptiness as well as the son.

“ It is high time you gave less attention to society and champagne suppers and turned to business. I shall fit up an apartment for you in our offices.”

“ That will be quite unnecessary.”

“ I insist upon it,” said Mr. Ingledee, showing the least trifle of heat at his son’s provoking coolness.

“ Really, father, I hope you will not press this disagreeable subject. I have often announced my intention of going into the office in due time.”

“ What do you consider due time?”

44 After I’ve seen the world.”

44 What will the world say of your conduct, sir? ”

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a Of my conduct?” replied Silas, with a show of surprise. “ I’ve done nothing extraordinary. If the world thinks about me at all, doubtless it will think my conduct the proper thing for a young man of fortune.” With exasperating method, he rang the bell and ordered the servant to take away his cup of coffee which had grown cold, and bring him a fresh one. Mr. Ingledee felt himself beaten. He, the man who had come off victorious in a thousand financial struggles, who had made and unmade scores of men, who had controlled the commerce of entire states with a high hand, who had made a name which had penetrated to every part of the civilized world, he, with his mighty millions, was vanquished by his own son, a boy of twenty-two. But he determined on one more effort:

“ Is not the society of your own family worth cultivating? ”

“ The society of my family is, I believe, considered unexceptionable.”

“ I scarcely ever see you of late; your sister scarcely ever sees you.”

“Chetta has many friends and her own amusements; she does not seek my society. She is sensible, for why should brother and sister bore each other with commonplace affairs?” As Silas’s blunt view of family relations was the legitimate fruit of all Mr. Ingledee’s policy with regard to the uselessness of a daughter when a family name was to be perpetuated, the father could not well complain. There was a short pause as if neither party to the conversation cared to venture the first remark. After the space of a minute, Silas quietly added :

“ As to seeing me, father, you know you can always do that by appointment.” This was too much for Mr. Ingledee. His wrath was at white heat, though he repressed it, seeing the uselessness of further discussion then.

“ I shall continue this subject when we have more leisure,” saying which he left the room and went directly to that of his daughter, which was an elegant apartment on the second lloor. He was satisfied that something had gone seriously

wrong with the family machinery, and he determined to right it.

As Mr. Ingledee knocked at Chetta’s door, a sudden shuffling noise greeted his ears. After a brief space of time the noises ceased within. He knocked again, when Chetta’s cheeiy, musical voice said, u Come in.” Entering, he saw a

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l 7 table spread with substantial food, plentifully garnished with cake, fruits and nuts. At first glance it might have seemed that the young lady had been breakfasting in her own room, although that was improbable, for she always partook of the family breakfast at earlier hours with her father. He paid no attention to the table, thinking she had been entertaining some little girls as she sometimes did. Mr. Ingledee, in his ill-humor, felt like finding fault with his daughter for not exerting a more wholesome influence over her wayward brother instead of wasting time on strangers. He unreasonably expected her to take a deep interest in that scapegrace and watch over him with a mother’s care (she was nearly two years his senior), while father and son had both systematically neglected the sister, except so far as the formal civilities of everyday life went.

“ My daughter, 1 wish to speak with you.”

“ Yes, papa.”

u It concerns family matters. I am not satisfied with Silas.”

u Why do you not speak to him ? ”

“I have done so repeatedly. I have just now been trying to show him the wrong of wasting youth and its infinite possibilities in folly. But he sees things in a different light and, I regret to say, is not inclined to listen to advice.” This last admission cost Mr. Ingledee an effort. It disparaged the male scion of the family who was everything, and the very fact of his confiding in his daughter gave some transient importance to the female scion, who was only a girl.

“ What would you have me do, papa? ”

“Try to have him more in your society. Woman’s influence is a potent element in the formation of character.” Chetta laughed a little incredulous, half-contemptuous laugh which nettled her father, and added :

u My brother has already seen a great deal of woman’s society.”

Mr. Ingledee frowned and replied: “ True, but he has associated only with those silly creaturec of fashionable society who have neither brains nor healthy instincts.” He might have named a worse class of women also, but he stopped short. “ I wish you to wield a sister’s influence, and, if possible, elevate his social standard.”

“ If he loved a sensible woman she might save him.”

“ Chetta, that is nonsense. The only indication of comi8

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moil sense that I have seen in the young man is the fact that he has refrained from hilling in love.” A closer scrutiny of Silas Ingledee’s career might have revealed the fact that he was too Intent on selfish pleasures to fall in love with anything but himself and his vices.

u Please tell me what I must do, papa.”

« Try to keep him at home a little. Interest him in your music. Take him into your set. Go with him oftener.”

“ Papa, he never asked me to go anywhere in his life. He finds more congenial society than that of a sister.”

This astounding revelation was more than Mr. Ingledee expected, though he knew there was little in common between brother and sister. This aggressive, daring, unscrupulous man had for many years been piling his ample vaults full of stocks, bonds and mortgages. He had built up whole systems of railways, and wrecked other systems with as little compunction as he would have felt in crushing a spider. Meanwhile he had practically abandoned the domestic helm and had no right to be surprised that the family ship was drifting out of its course. He was very angry, and, consequently, unreasonable.

“ Daughter, it is your own fault that your brother does not seek your society. You should make yourself agreeable to him. He wastes his time in folly and you waste yours indulging the caprices of an idle, romping girl. This nonsense must be stopped.”

Chetta’s eyes showed a slight gleam of dangerous fire as she replied, u Advise me, papa.”

“ My advice is that you settle down and take your place as the mistress of this house, and devote to domestic duties some of the time you now waste in gadding and nonsense.” Chetta was indignant; not at the wish of her father that she should take her place as mistress of the house; that pleased her active temperament, and she had the good sense to realize that the wealthiest ladies have domestic duties that can not properly be delegated to hired help; but she was stung to think that her father and natural counselor should accuse her of neglect of duty when he had never shown her a single duty. The charges of gadding and idling were intolerable. vShe seldom did anything without a purpose, and she despised mere inanity. With the quietest sarcasm she replied, “Papa, you are in a bad humor to-day.”

Scolding betrays a contemptible weakness of disposition, v.

and both these persons had too much strength of character to scold. Mr. Ingledee restrained his rising passion.

“ Chetta, I wish you to change entirely your mode of life, as an example to your brother. You indulge in caprices. I see evidences of that before me. You appear to be engaged in charity in breakfasting children in your room.”

The word appear contained a covert sarcasm in the slight emphasis with which it was uttered.

“ Papa, you forget. An Ingledee never pretends ,” replied Chetta, in a tone that plainly spoke defiance to his implied sneer. No possible reply could have touched him quicker. The reference to the Ingledee straight-forwardness, of which he made capital, was a home thrust.

u I had hoped so, my daughter, but why do you conceal those persons, whoever they may be? I plainly heard them enter that room.”

“ I conceal nothing. I incited here two boys from my Sunday-school class. They are not used to company, and persisted in running away. That is all.”