King Coal | Page 2

to take employment in a mine
under a fictitious name and dressed like a working-man. His unusual
way of trying to obtain work arouses suspicion. He is believed to be a
professional strike-leader sent out to organise the miners against their
exploiters, and he is not only refused work, but thrashed mercilessly.
When finally he succeeds in getting inside, he discovers with growing
indignation the shameless and inhuman way in which those who
unearth the black coal are being exploited.
These are the fundamental ideas of the book, but they give but a faint
notion of the author's poetic attitude. Most beautifully is this shown in

Hal's relation to a young Irish girl, Red Mary. She is poor, and her daily
life harsh and joyless, but nevertheless her wonderful grace is one of
the outstanding features of the book. The first impression of Mary is
that of a Celtic Madonna with a tender heart for little children. She
develops into a Valküre of the working-class, always ready to fight for
the worker's right.
The last chapters of the book give a description of the miners' revolt
against the Company. They insist upon their right to choose a deputy to
control the weighing-in of the coal, and upon having the mines
sprinkled regularly to prevent explosion. They will also be free to buy
their food and utensils wherever they like, even in shops not belonging
to the Company.
In a postscript Sinclair explains the fundamental facts on which his
work of art has been built up. Even without the postscript one could not
help feeling convinced that the social conditions he describes are true to
life. The main point is that Sinclair has not allowed himself to become
inspired by hackneyed phrases that bondage and injustice and the other
evils and crimes of Kingdoms have been banished from Republics, but
that he is earnestly pointing to the honeycombed ground on which the
greatest modern money-power has been built. The fundament of this
power is not granite, but mines. It lives and breathes in the light,
because it has thousands of unfortunates toiling in the darkness. It lives
and has its being in proud liberty because thousands are slaving for it,
whose thraldom is the price of this liberty.
This is the impression given to the reader of this exciting novel.
GEORG BRANDES.

BOOK ONE
THE DOMAIN OF KING COAL

SECTION 1.
The town of Pedro stood on the edge of the mountain country; a
straggling assemblage of stores and saloons from which a number of
branch railroads ran up into the canyons, feeding the coal-camps.
Through the week it slept peacefully; but on Saturday nights, when the
miners came trooping down, and the ranchmen came in on horseback
and in automobiles, it wakened to a seething life.
At the railroad station, one day late in June, a young man alighted from
a train. He was about twenty-one years of age, with sensitive features,
and brown hair having a tendency to waviness. He wore a frayed and
faded suit of clothes, purchased in a quarter of his home city where the
Hebrew merchants stand on the sidewalks to offer their wares; also a
soiled blue shirt without a tie, and a pair of heavy boots which had seen
much service. Strapped on his back was a change of clothing and a
blanket, and in his pockets a comb, a toothbrush, and a small pocket
mirror.
Sitting in the smoking-car of the train, the young man had listened to
the talk of the coal-camps, seeking to correct his accent. When he got
off the train he proceeded down the track and washed his hands with
cinders, and lightly powdered some over his face. After studying the
effect of this in his mirror, he strolled down the main street of Pedro,
and, selecting a little tobacco-shop, went in. In as surly a voice as he
could muster, he inquired of the proprietress, "Can you tell me how to
get to the Pine Creek mine?"
The woman looked at him with no suspicion in her glance. She gave
the desired information, and he took a trolley and got off at the foot of
the Pine Creek canyon, up which he had a thirteen-mile trudge. It was a
sunshiny day, with the sky crystal clear, and the mountain air
invigourating. The young man seemed to be happy, and as he strode on
his way, he sang a song with many verses:
"Old King Coal was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he; He
made him a college all full of knowledge-- Hurrah for you and me!

"Oh, Liza-Ann, come out with me, The moon is a-shinin' in the
monkey-puzzle tree; Oh, Liza-Ann, I have began To sing you the song
of Harrigan!
"He keeps