Hamlen watched them in silence, touched with a new emotion by the sound of the words, familiar enough, but which now took on a different meaning. Huntington was right: it was not a boat-race he had just witnessed, it was not the celebration of a victory over Yale, it was a "festival rite," consecrating anew to its Alma Mater that brotherhood to which he belonged, in grateful acknowledgment of the character and power developed beneath her beneficent influence which placed within its reach "the Earth and all that's in it."
XXXI
In July, commercial stagnation increased, and the machinery of business which before had creaked dismally in its daily routine now groaned aloud in its travail; and the pity was that the conditions which caused it were artificially created. There was capital enough, but the banks hoarded it against possible contingencies; the crops were heavy, but it was suicidal for the railroads to move them at the rates legislated by the government; there were contracts to be let, but no one dared give them out or accept them because of the shadow which hung gloomily over every great industry in the shape of governmental paternalism and interference. Stocks representing property intrinsically valuable dropped lower and lower in the market, dividends which had been earned were diverted into surplus as further margin of safety against future developments, unknown and therefore to be feared. Incomes shrank in some cases almost to the vanishing-point, while Washington reveled in an orgy of those good intentions with which they say Hell is paved.
Cosden by this time had come to a full realization of the significance of Thatcher's warning, and he understood now why the New York operator had shown so little interest in the attack on the Consolidated Machinery corporation which had seemed inevitable. In view of conditions as they had developed, and as Thatcher had foreseen them, no new enterprise would be launched until opportunity presented itself to take advantage of its inherent strength. The old-established company need fear no competition while its own business was dropping off in such alarming proportions. So Cosden again reduced expenses, still further extended his bank affiliations, and settled back to meet whatever conditions might arise, knowing that his sagacity had placed him outside the pale of those fighting for their existence.
In this latter class was Thatcher. The very success of his varied interests now made them shining lights to attract the attention of the authorities in Washington. One by one he saw them attacked, and day by day he watched the dropping values of the stocks, called on by the banks to increase his collateral, drawing deeper and deeper into his personal resources which he had considered ample for any emergency. The strain was terrific yet the only break he permitted himself was during the week of his son's graduation.
The question of the summer home gave Thatcher much concern. The heavy expense of its upkeep made it an item to be considered at this time, yet he could not bring himself to the point of doing what he knew would be an act of wisdom. In their town house the Thatchers lived the usual formal life which belonged to their position, but it was Sagamore Hall they always meant when they spoke of "home." To relinquish it, even temporarily, seemed to Thatcher nothing less than sacrilege.
The estate consisted of some sixty acres wonderfully located on Narragansett Bay with nearly a mile frontage on the sea. A rolling, close-cropped lawn, bordered on either side by avenues of trees, ran back three hundred yards from the beach before the stately, old English, half-timbered mansion was reached, the broad expanse of green carpeting making a perfect harmony of perspective. The two great end gables of the house formed a shallow forecourt, filled in by a brick terrace with balustrade. Between these gables, the central façade, a double-storied loggia of stone, reminiscent of a Dorsetshire manor house, was strikingly beautiful with its splendid sculptured decorations.
The opposite front of the mansion faced the road, though removed some distance from it, and was approached through a gateway and a winding avenue in keeping with the dignity of the building itself. To the south, connected by shaded walks, was an unusual garden, the boundaries of which were marked by rare trees and shrubs so arranged that they formed a pyramidal mass of verdure, against which perennial blooms of rare and beautiful plants showed their bewildering colors to the best advantage. This garden represented what Marian had put of herself into the estate during the twenty years they had lived there, and to her and to Thatcher each flower, shrub or tree represented something personal and recalled some happy experience.