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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15385-h.zip b/15385-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3692c1c --- /dev/null +++ b/15385-h.zip diff --git a/15385-h/15385-h.htm b/15385-h/15385-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0807778 --- /dev/null +++ b/15385-h/15385-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2615 @@ +<!-- saved from url=(0022)http://internet.e-mail --> +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> + <meta name="generator" + content="HTML Tidy for Linux/x86 (vers 1st November 2002), see www.w3.org" /> + <title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Cathedral Singer, by + James Lane Allen.</title> + <style type="text/css"> + /*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ + <!-- + body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + .center { + text-align: center; + } + .figcenter { + margin: auto; text-align: center; + } + span.pagenum { + position: absolute; left: 1%; right: 91%; + font-size: 8pt; + } + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> + +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cathedral Singer, by James Lane Allen +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +Title: A Cathedral Singer +Author: James Lane Allen +Release Date: March 16, 2005 [EBook #15385] +Language: English +Character set encoding: ASCII +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CATHEDRAL SINGER *** + + +Produced by Kentuckiana Digital Library, David Garcia, Chuck Greif +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + +</pre> + <h1><a name="A_Cathedral_Singer" + id="A_Cathedral_Singer"></a>A<br /> + Cathedral Singer</h1> + <h4>BY</h4> + <h2>JAMES LANE ALLEN</h2> + <h4>Author of "The Sword of Youth," "The Bride<br /> + of the Mistletoe," "The Kentucky Car-<br /> + dinal," "The Choir Invisible," etc.</h4> + <h5>WITH FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> + SIGISMOND DE IVANOWSKI</h5> + <p> </p> + <p> </p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/decoration.png" alt="decoration" /> + </div> + <p> </p> + <p> </p> + <h4>NEW YORK<br /> + THE CENTURY CO.<br /> + 1916</h4> + <p> </p> + <p> </p> + <h5>Copyright, 1914, 1916, by<br /> + THE CENTURY CO.</h5> + <h5><i>Published, March, 1916</i></h5> + <p> </p> + <p> </p> + <h3><a name="TO_PITY_AND_TO_FAITH" + id="TO_PITY_AND_TO_FAITH"></a>TO<br /> + PITY AND TO FAITH</h3> + <p> </p> + <div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/004.png" width="318" height="500" alt="frontispiece" + title="frontispiece" /> + </div> + <p> </p> + <p> </p> + <p class="center"><b>Chapters:</b> + <a href="#I"><b>I</b></a> + <a href="#II"><b>II</b></a> <a href="#III"><b>III</b></a> + <a href="#IV"><b>IV</b></a> + <a href="#V"><b>V</b></a> <a href="#VI"><b>VI</b></a></p> + <hr style="width: 65%;" /> + <h2>A Cathedral Singer</h2> + <h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + <p>Slowly on Morningside Heights rises the Cathedral of St. + John the Divine: standing on a high rock under the Northern sky + above the long wash of the untroubled sea, above the wash of + the troubled waves of men.</p> + <p>It has fit neighbors. Across the street to the north looms + the many-towered gray-walled Hospital of St. + Luke—cathedral of our ruins, of our sufferings and our + dust, near the cathedral of our + souls.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" + id="page4"></a>{4}</span> + <p>Across the block to the south is situated a shed-like + two-story building with dormer-windows and a crumpled + three-sided roof, the studios of the National Academy of + Design; and under that low brittle skylight youth toils over + the shapes and colors of the visible vanishing paradise of the + earth in the shadow of the cathedral which promises an unseen, + an eternal one.</p> + <p>At the rear of the cathedral, across the roadway, stands a + low stone wall. Just over the wall the earth sinks like a + precipice to a green valley bottom far below. Out here is a + rugged slope of rock and verdure and forest growth which brings + into the city an ancient presence, nature—nature, the + Elysian Fields of the art school, the potter's field of the + hospital, the harvest field of the church.</p> + <p>This strip of nature fronts the dawn and is called + Morningside Park. Past the foot of it a thoroughfare stretches + northward and southward, level and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" id="page5"></a>{5}</span> + wide and smooth. Over this thoroughfare the two opposite-moving + streams of the city's traffic and travel rush headlong. Beyond + the thoroughfare an embankment of houses shoves its mass before + the eyes, and beyond the embankment the city spreads out over + flats where human beings are as thick as river reeds.</p> + <p>Thus within small compass humanity is here: the cathedral, + the hospital, the art school, and a strip of nature, and a + broad highway along which, with their hearth-fires flickering + fitfully under their tents of stone, are encamped life's + restless, light-hearted, heavy-hearted Gipsies.</p> + <hr /> + <p>It was Monday morning and it was nine o'clock. Over at the + National Academy of Design, in an upper room, the members of + one of the women's <span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" + id="page6"></a>{6}</span>portrait classes were assembled, ready + to begin work. Easels had been drawn into position; a clear + light from the blue sky of the last of April fell through the + opened roof upon new canvases fastened to the frames. And it + poured down bountifully upon intelligent young faces. The scene + was a beautiful one, and it was complete except in one + particular: the teacher of the class was missing—the + teacher and a model.</p> + <p>Minutes passed without his coming, and when at last he did + enter the room, he advanced two or three steps and paused as + though he meant presently to go out again. After his usual + quiet good-morning with his sober smile, he gave his alert + listeners the clue to an unusual situation:</p> + <p>"I told the class that to-day we should begin a fresh study. + I had not myself decided what this should be. Several + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" id="page7"></a>{7}</span> + models were in reserve, any one of whom could have been used to + advantage at this closing stage of the year's course. Then the + unexpected happened: on Saturday a stranger, a woman, came to + see me and asked to be engaged. It is this model that I have + been waiting for down-stairs."</p> + <p>Their thoughts instantly passed to the model: his impressive + manner, his respectful words, invested her with mystery, with + fascination. His countenance lighted up with wonderful interest + as he went on:</p> + <p>"She is not a professional; she has never posed. In asking + me to engage her she proffered barely the explanation which she + seemed to feel due herself. I turn this explanation over to you + because she wished, I think, that you also should not + misunderstand her. It is the fee, then, that is needed, the + model's <span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" + id="page8"></a>{8}</span> wage; she has felt the common lash of + the poor. Plainly here is some one who has stepped down from + her place in life, who has descended far below her + inclinations, to raise a small sum of money. Why she does so is + of course her own sacred and delicate affair. But the spirit in + which she does this becomes our affair, because it becomes a + matter of expression with her. This self-sacrifice, this ordeal + which she voluntarily undergoes to gain her end, shows in her + face; and if while she poses, you should be fortunate enough to + see this look along with other fine things, great things, it + will be your aim to transfer them all to your canvases—if + you can."</p> + <p>He smiled at them with a kind of fostering challenge to + their over-confident impulses and immature art. But he had not + yet fully brought out what he + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" id="page9"></a>{9}</span> + had in mind about the mysterious stranger and he continued:</p> + <p>"We teachers of art schools in engaging models have to take + from human material as we find it. The best we find is seldom + or never what we would prefer. If I, for instance, could have + my choice, my students would never be allowed to work from a + model who repelled the student or left the student indifferent. + No students of mine, if I could have my way, should ever paint + from a model that failed to call forth the finest feelings. + Otherwise, how can your best emotions have full play in your + work; and unless your best emotions enter into your work, what + will your work be worth? For if you have never before + understood the truth, try to realize it now: that you will + succeed in painting only through the best that is in you; just + as only the best in you <span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" + id="page10"></a>{10}</span> will ever carry you triumphantly to + the end of any practical human road that is worth the travel; + just as you will reach all life's best goals only through your + best. And in painting remember that the best is never in the + eye, for the eye can only perceive, the eye can only direct; + and the best is never in the hand, for the hand can only + measure, the hand can only move. In painting the best comes + from emotion. A human being may lack eyes and be none the + poorer in character; a human being may lack hands and be none + the poorer in character; but whenever in life a person lacks + any great emotion, that person is the poorer in everything. And + so in painting you can fail after the eye has gained all + necessary knowledge, you can fail after your hand has received + all necessary training, either because nature has denied you + the foundations of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" + id="page11"></a>{11}</span> great feeling, or because, having + these foundations, you have failed to make them the foundations + of your work.</p> + <p>"But among a hundred models there might not be one to arouse + such emotion. Actually in the world, among the thousands of + people we know, how few stir in us our best, force us to our + best! It is the rarest experience of our lifetimes that we meet + a man or a woman who literally drives us to the realization of + what we really are and can really do when we do our best. What + we all most need in our careers is the one who can liberate + within us that lifelong prisoner whose doom it is to remain a + captive until another sets it free—our best. For we can + never set our best free by our own hands; that must always be + done by another."</p> + <p>They were listening to him with a startled recognition of + their inmost <span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" + id="page12"></a>{12}</span> selves. He went on to drive home + his point about the stranger:</p> + <p>"I am going to introduce to you, then, a model who beyond + all the others you have worked with will liberate in you your + finer selves. It is a rare opportunity. Do not thank me. I did + not find her. Life's storms have blown her violently against + the walls of the art school; we must see to it at least that + she be not further bruised while it becomes her shelter, her + refuge. Who she is, what her life has been, where she comes + from, how she happens to arrive here—these are privacies + into which of course we do not intrude. Immediately behind + herself she drops a curtain of silence which shuts away every + such sign of her past. But there are other signs of that past + which she cannot hide and which it is our privilege, our duty, + the province of our art, to read. They are written + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" + id="page13"></a>{13}</span> on her face, on her hands, on her + bearing; they are written all over her—the bruises of + life's rudenesses, the lingering shadows of dark days, the + unwounded pride once and the wounded pride now, the + unconquerable will, a soaring spirit whose wings were meant for + the upper air but which are broken and beat the dust. All these + are sublime things to paint in any human countenance; they are + the footprints of destiny on our faces. The greatest masters of + the brush that the world has ever known could not have asked + for anything greater. When you behold her, perhaps some of you + may think of certain brief but eternal words of Pascal: 'Man is + a reed that bends but does not break.' Such is your model, + then, a woman with a great countenance; the fighting face of a + woman at peace. Now out upon the darkened battle-field + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" + id="page14"></a>{14}</span> of this woman's face shines one + serene sun, and it is that sun that brings out upon it its + marvelous human radiance, its supreme expression: the love of + the mother. Your model is the beauty of motherhood, the + sacredness of motherhood, the glory of motherhood: that is to + be the portrait of her that you are to paint."</p> + <p>He stopped. Their faces glowed; their eyes disclosed depths + in their natures never stirred before; from out those depths + youthful, tender creative forces came forth, eager to serve, to + obey. He added a few particulars:</p> + <p>"For a while after she is posed you will no doubt see many + different expressions pass rapidly over her face. This will be + a new and painful experience to which she will not be able to + adapt herself at once. She will be <span class="pagenum"> + <a name="page15" id="page15"></a>{15}</span>uncomfortable, + she will be awkward, she will + be embarrassed, she will be without her full value. But I think + from what I discovered while talking with her that she will + soon grow oblivious to her surroundings. They will not + overwhelm her; she will finally overwhelm them. She will soon + forget you and me and the studio; the one ruling passion of her + life will sweep back into consciousness; and then out upon her + features will come again that marvelous look which has almost + remodeled them to itself alone."</p> + <p>He added, "I will go for her. By this time she must be + waiting down-stairs."</p> + <p>As he turned he glanced at the screens placed at that end of + the room; behind these the models made their preparations to + pose.</p> + <p>"I have arranged," he said + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" + id="page16"></a>{16}</span>significantly, "that she shall leave + her things down-stairs."</p> + <p>It seemed long before they heard him on the way back. He + came slowly, as though concerned not to hurry his model, as + though to save her from the disrespect of urgency. Even the + natural noise of his feet on the bare hallway was restrained. + They listened for the sounds of her footsteps. In the tense + silence of the studio a pin-drop might have been noticeable, a + breath would have been audible; but they could not hear her + footsteps. He might have been followed by a spirit. Those feet + of hers must be very light feet, very quiet feet, the feet of + the well-bred.</p> + <p>He entered and advanced a few paces and turned as though to + make way for some one of far more importance than himself; and + there walked forward and stopped at a delicate distance from + them <span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" + id="page17"></a>{17}</span> all a woman, bareheaded, ungloved, + slender, straight, of middle height, and in life's middle + years—Rachel Truesdale.</p> + <p>She did not look at him or at them; she did not look at + anything. It was not her role to notice. She merely waited, + perfectly composed, to be told what to do. Her thoughts and + emotions did not enter into the scene at all; she was there + solely as having been hired for work.</p> + <p>One privilege she had exercised unsparingly—not to + offer herself for this employment as becomingly dressed for it. + She submitted herself to be painted in austerest fidelity to + nature, plainly dressed, her hair parted and brushed severely + back. Women, sometimes great women, have in history, at the + hour of their supreme tragedies, thus demeaned + themselves—for the hospital, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" + id="page18"></a>{18}</span> for baptism, for the guillotine, + for the stake, for the cross.</p> + <p>But because she made herself poor in apparel, she became + most rich in her humanity. There was nothing for the eye to + rest upon but her bare self. And thus the contours of the head, + the beauty of the hair, the line of it along the forehead and + temples, the curvature of the brows, the chiseling of the proud + nostrils and the high bridge of the nose, the molding of the + mouth, the modeling of the throat, the shaping of the + shoulders, the grace of the arms and the hands—all became + conspicuous, absorbing. The slightest elements of physique and + of personality came into view powerful, unforgetable.</p> + <p>She stood, not noticing anything, waiting for instructions. + With the courtesy which was the soul of him and the secret of + his genius for inspiring <span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" + id="page19"></a>{19}</span> others to do their utmost, the + master of the class glanced at her and glanced at the members + of the class, and tried to draw them together with a mere smile + of sympathetic introduction. It was an attempt to break the + ice. For them it did break the ice; all responded with a smile + for her or with other play of the features that meant gracious + recognition. With her the ice remained unbroken; she withheld + all response to their courteous overtures. Either she may not + have trusted herself to respond; or waiting there merely as a + model, she declined to establish any other understanding with + them whatsoever. So that he went further in the kindness of his + intention and said:</p> + <p>"Madam, this is my class of eager, warm, generous young + natures who are to have the opportunity of trying to paint you. + They are mere beginners; <span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" + id="page20"></a>{20}</span> their art is still unformed. But + you may believe that they will put their best into what they + are about to undertake; the loyalty of the hand, the respect of + the eye, the tenderness of their memories, consecration to + their art, their dreams and hopes of future success. Now if you + will be good enough to sit here, I will pose you."</p> + <p>He stepped toward a circular revolving-platform placed at + the focus of the massed easels: it was the model's rack of + patience, the mount of humiliation, the scaffold of + exposure.</p> + <p>She had perhaps not understood that this would be required + of her, this indignity, that she must climb upon a block like + an old-time slave at an auction. For one instant her fighting + look came back and her eyes, though they rested on vacancy, + blazed on vacancy and an ugly red rushed over her face + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" + id="page21"></a>{21}</span> which had been whiter than + colorless. Then as though she had become disciplined through + years of necessity to do the unworthy things that must be done, + she stepped resolutely though unsteadily upon the platform. A + long procession of men and women had climbed thither from many + a motive on life's upward or downward road.</p> + <p>He had specially chosen a chair for a three-quarter + portrait, stately, richly carved; about it hung an atmosphere + of high-born things.</p> + <p>Now, the body has definite memories as the mind has definite + memories, and scarcely had she seated herself before the + recollections of former years revived in her and she yielded + herself to the chair as though she had risen from it a moment + before. He did not have to pose her; she had posed herself by + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" + id="page22"></a>{22}</span> grace of bygone luxurious ways. A + few changes in the arrangement of the hands he did make. There + was required some separation of the fingers; excitement caused + her to hold them too closely together. And he drew the entire + hands into notice; he specially wished them to be appreciated + in the portrait. They were wonderful hands: they looked + eloquent with the histories of generations; their youthfulness + seemed centuries old. Yet all over them, barely to be seen, + were the marks of life's experience, the delicate but dread + sculpture of adversity.</p> + <p>For a while it was as he had foreseen. She was aware only of + the brutality of her position; and her face, by its confused + expressions and quick changes of color, showed what painful + thoughts surged. Afterward a change came gradually. As though + she could endure<span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" + id="page23"></a>{23}</span> the ordeal only by forgetting + it and could forget it only by looking ahead into the happiness + for which it was endured, slowly there began to shine out upon + her face its ruling passion—the acceptance of life and + the love of the mother glinting as from a cloud-hidden sun + across the world's storm. When this expression had come out, it + stayed there. She had forgotten her surroundings, she had + forgotten herself. Poor indeed must have been the soul that + would not have been touched by the spectacle of her, thrilled + by her as by a great vision.</p> + <p>There was silence in the room of young workers. Before them, + on the face of the unknown, was the only look that the whole + world knows—the love and self-sacrifice of the mother; + perhaps the only element of our better humanity that never once + in the history of man<span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" + id="page24"></a>{24}</span> kind has been misunderstood and + ridiculed or envied and reviled.</p> + <p>Some of them worked with faces brightened by thoughts of + devoted mothers at home; the eyes of a few were shadowed by + memories of mothers alienated or dead.</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="II" + id="II"></a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" + id="page25"></a>{25}</span> + <h2> II</h2> + <p>That morning on the ledge of rock at the rear of the + cathedral Nature hinted to passers what they would more + abundantly see if fortunate enough to be with her where she was + entirely at home—out in the country.</p> + <p>The young grass along the foot of this slope was thick and + green; imagination missed from the picture rural sheep, their + fleeces wet with April rain. Along the summit of the slope + trees of oak and ash and maple and chestnut and poplar lifted + against the sky their united forest strength. Between the trees + above and the grass below, the embankment spread before the eye + the enchantment of a spring landscape, with late + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" + id="page26"></a>{26}</span> bare boughs and early green boughs + and other boughs in blossom.</p> + <p>The earliest blossoms on our part of the earth's surface are + nearly always white. They have forced their way to the sun + along a frozen path and look akin to the perils of their road: + the snow-threatened lily of the valley, the chill snowdrop, the + frosty snowball, the bleak hawtree, the wintry wild cherry, the + wintry dogwood. As the eye swept the park expanse this morning, + here and there some of these were as the last tokens of + winter's mantle instead of the first tokens of summer's.</p> + <p>There were flushes of color also, as where in deep soil, on + a projection of rock, a pink hawthorn stood studded to the tips + of its branches with leaf and flower. But such flushes of color + were as false notes of the earth, as harmonies of summer thrust + into the wrong places <span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" + id="page27"></a>{27}</span> and become discords. The time for + them was not yet. The hour called for hardy adventurous things, + awakened out of their cold sleep on the rocks. The blue of the + firmament was not dark summer blue but seemed the sky's first + pale response to the sun. The sun was not rich summer gold but + flashed silver rays. The ground scattered no odors; all was the + budding youth of Nature on the rocks.</p> + <p>Paths wind hither and thither over this park hillside. + Benches are placed at different levels along the way. If you + are going up, you may rest; if you are coming down, you may + linger; if neither going up nor coming down, you may with a + book seek out some retreat of shade and coolness and keep at a + distance the millions that rush and crush around the park as + waters roar against some lone mid-ocean + island.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" + id="page28"></a>{28}</span></p> + <p>About eleven o'clock that morning, on one of these benches + placed where rock is steepest and forest trees stand close + together and vines are rank with shade, a sociable-looking + little fellow of some ten hardy well-buffeted years had sat + down for the moment without a companion. He had thrown upon the + bench beside him his sun-faded, rain-faded, shapeless cap, + uncovering much bronzed hair; and as though by this simple act + he had cleared the way for business, he thrust one + capable-looking hand deep into one of his pockets. The fingers + closed upon what they found there, like the meshes of a + deep-sea net filled with its catch, and were slowly drawn to + the surface. The catch consisted of one-cent and five-cent + pieces, representing the sales of his morning papers. He + counted the coins one by one over into the palm of the other + hand, which then <span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" + id="page29"></a>{29}</span> closed upon the total like another + net, and dropped the treasure back into the deep sea of the + other pocket.</p> + <p>His absorption in this process had been intense; his + satisfaction with the result was complete. Perhaps after every + act of successful banking there takes place in the mind of man, + spendthrift and miser, a momentary lull of energy, a kind of + brief <i>Pax vobiscum</i>, O my soul and stomach, my twin + masters of need and greed! And possibly, as the lad deposited + his earnings, he was old enough to enter a little way into this + adult and despicable joy. Be this as it may, he was not the + next instant up again and busy. He caught up his cap, dropped + it not on his head but on one of his ragged knees; planted a + sturdy hand on it and the other sturdy hand on the other knee; + and with his sturdy legs swinging under the bench, toe kicking + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" + id="page30"></a>{30}</span> heel and heel kicking toe, he + rested briefly from life's battle.</p> + <p>The signs of battle were thick on him, unmistakable. The + palpable sign, the conqueror's sign, was the profits won in the + struggle of the streets. The other signs may be set down as + loss—dirt and raggedness and disorder. His hair might + never have been straightened out with a comb; his hands were + not politely mentionable; his coarse shoes, which seemed to + have been bought with the agreement that they were never to + wear out, were ill-conditioned with general dust and the + special grime of melted pitch from the typical contractor's + cheapened asphalt; one of his stockings had a fresh rent and + old rents enlarged their grievances.</p> + <p>A single sign of victory was better even than the money in + the pocket—the whole lad himself. He was strongly + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" + id="page31"></a>{31}</span> built, frankly fashioned, with + happy grayish eyes, which had in them some of the cold warrior + blue of the sky that day; and they were set wide apart in a + compact round head, which somehow suggested a bronze sphere on + a column of triumph. Altogether he belonged to that hillside of + nature, himself a human growth budding out of wintry fortunes + into life's April, opening on the rocks hardy and all + white.</p> + <p>But to sit there swinging his legs—this did not + suffice to satisfy his heart, did not enable him to celebrate + his instincts; and suddenly from his thicket of forest trees + and greening bushes he began to pour forth a thrilling little + tide of song, with the native sweetness of some human linnet + unaware of its transcendent gift.</p> + <p>Up the steep hill a man not yet of middle age had mounted + from the flats. He <span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" + id="page32"></a>{32}</span> was on his way toward the parapet + above. He came on slowly, hat in hand, perspiration on his + forehead; that climb from base to summit stretches a healthy + walker and does him good. At a turn of the road under the + forest trees with shrubbery alongside he stopped suddenly, as a + naturalist might pause with half-lifted foot beside a dense + copse in which some unknown species of bird sang—a young + bird just finding its notes.</p> + <p>It was his vocation to discover and to train voices. His + definite work in music was to help perpetually to rebuild for + the world that ever-sinking bridge of sound over which Faith + aids itself in walking-toward the eternal. This bridge of + falling notes is as Nature's bridge of falling drops: + individual drops appear for an instant in the rainbow, then + disappear, but century after + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" + id="page33"></a>{33}</span> century the great arch stands there on + the sky unshaken. So throughout the ages the bridge of sacred + music, in which individual voices are heard a little while and + then are heard no longer, remains for man as one same structure + of rock by which he passes over from the mortal to the + immortal.</p> + <p>Such was his life-work. As he now paused and listened, you + might have interpreted his demeanor as that of a professional + musician whose ears brought tidings that greatly astonished + him. The thought had at once come to him of how the New York + papers once in a while print a story of the accidental finding + in it of a wonderful voice—in New York, where you can + find everything that is human. He recalled throughout the + history of music instances in which some one of the world's + famous singers had been picked up on life's road where + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" + id="page34"></a>{34}</span> it was roughest. Was anything like + this now to become his own experience? Falling on his ear was + an unmistakable gift of song, a wandering, haunting, + unidentified note under that early April blue. He had never + heard anything like it. It was a singing soul.</p> + <p>Voice alone did not suffice for his purpose; the singer's + face, personality, manners, some unfortunate strain in the + blood, might debar the voice, block its acceptance, ruin + everything. He almost dreaded to walk on, to explore what was + ahead. But his road led that way, and three steps brought him + around the woody bend of it.</p> + <p>There he stopped again. In an embrasure of rock on which + vines were turning green, a little fellow, seasoned by wind and + sun, with a countenance open and friendly, like the sky, was + pouring out his full + heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" + id="page35"></a>{35}</span></p> + <p>The instant the man came into view, the song was broken off. + The sturdy figure started up and sprang forward with the + instinct of business. When any one paused and looked + questioningly at him, as this man now did, it meant papers and + pennies. His inquiry was quite breathless:</p> + <p>"Do you want a paper, Mister? What paper do you want? I can + get you one on the avenue in a minute."</p> + <p>He stood looking up at the man, alert, capable, fearless, + ingratiating. The man had instantly taken note of the speaking + voice, which is often a safer first criterion to go by than the + singing voice itself. He pronounced it sincere, robust, true, + sweet, victorious. And very quickly also he made up his mind + that conditions must have been rare and fortunate with the lad + at his birth:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" + id="page36"></a>{36}</span> blood will tell, and blood told now + even in this dirt and in these rags.</p> + <p>His reply bore testimony to how appreciative he felt of all + that faced him there so humanly on the rock.</p> + <p>"Thank you," he said, "I have read the papers."</p> + <p>Having thus disposed of some of the lad's words, he + addressed a pointed question to the rest:</p> + <p>"But how did you happen to call me mister? I thought boss + was what you little New-Yorkers generally said."</p> + <p>"I'm not a New-Yorker," announced the lad, with ready + courtesy and good nature. "I don't say boss. We are + Southerners. I say mister."</p> + <p>He gave the man an unfavorable look as though of a mind to + take his true measure; also as being of a mind to let the man + know that he had not taken the boy's + measure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" + id="page37"></a>{37}</span></p> + <p>The man smiled at being corrected to such good purpose; but + before he could speak again, the lad went on to clinch his + correction:</p> + <p>"And I only say mister when I am selling papers and am not + at home."</p> + <p>"What do you say when not selling papers and when you are at + home?" asked the man, forced to a smile.</p> + <p>"I say 'sir,' if I say anything," retorted the lad, flaring + up, but still polite.</p> + <p>The man looked at him with increasing interest. Another word + in the lad's speech had caught his + attention—Southerner.</p> + <p>That word had been with him a good deal in recent years; he + had not quite seemed able to get away from it. Nearly all + classes of people in New York who were not Southerners had been + increasingly reminded that the Southerners were upon them. He + had <span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" + id="page38"></a>{38}</span> satirically worked it out in his + own mind that if he were ever pushed out of his own position, + it would be some Southerner who pushed him. He sometimes + thought of the whole New York professional situation as a + public wonderful awful dinner at which almost nothing was + served that did not have a Southern flavor as from a kind of + pepper. The guests were bound to have administered to them + their shares of this pepper; there was no getting away from the + table and no getting the pepper out of the dinner. There was + the intrusion of the South into every delicacy.</p> + <p>"We are Southerners," the lad had announced decisively; and + there the flavor was again, though this time as from a mere + pepper-box in a school basket. Thus his next remark was + addressed to his own thoughts as well as to the + lad:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" + id="page39"></a>{39}</span></p> + <p>"And so <i>you</i> are a Southerner!" he reflected audibly, + looking down at the Southern plague in small form.</p> + <p>"Why, yes, Mister, we are Southerners," replied the lad, + with a gay and careless patriotism; and as giving the handy + pepper-box a shake, he began to dust the air with its contents: + "I was born on an old Southern battle-field. When Granny was + born there, it had hardly stopped smoking; it was still piled + with wounded and dead Northerners. Why, one of the worst + batteries was planted in our front porch."</p> + <p>This enthusiasm as to the front porch was assumed to be + acceptable to the listener. The battery might have been a + Cherokee rose.</p> + <p>The man had listened with a quizzical light in his eyes.</p> + <p>"In what direction did you say that battery was + pointed?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" + id="page40"></a>{40}</span></p> + <p>"I didn't say; but it was pointed up this way, of + course."</p> + <p>The man laughed outright.</p> + <p>"And so you followed in the direction of the deadly Southern + shell and came north—as a small grape-shot!"</p> + <p>"But, Mister, that was long ago. They had their quarrel out + long ago. That's the way we boys do: fight it out and make + friends again. Don't you do that way?"</p> + <p>"It's a very good way to do," said the man. "And so you sell + papers?"</p> + <p>"I sell papers to people in the park, Mister, and back up on + the avenue. Granny is particular. I'm not a regular + newsboy."</p> + <p>"I heard you singing. Does anybody teach you?"</p> + <p>"Granny."</p> + <p>"And so your grandmother is your music + teacher?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" + id="page41"></a>{41}</span></p> + <p>It was the lad's turn to laugh.</p> + <p>"Granny isn't my grandmother; Granny is my mother."</p> + <p>Toppling over in the dust of imagination went a gaunt granny + image; in its place a much more vital being appeared just + behind the form of the lad, guarding him even now while he + spoke.</p> + <p>"And so your mother takes pupils?"</p> + <p>"Only me."</p> + <p>"Has any one heard you sing?"</p> + <p>"Only she."</p> + <p>It had become more and more the part of the man during this + colloquy to smile; he felt repeatedly in the flank of his mind + a jab of the comic spur. Now he laughed at the lad's deadly + preparedness; business competition in New York had taught him + that he who hesitates a moment is lost. The boy seemed ready + with his answers before he heard the man's + questions.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" + id="page42"></a>{42}</span></p> + <p>"Do you mind telling me your name?"</p> + <p>"My name is Ashby. Ashby Truesdale. We come from an old + English family. What is your name, and what kind of family do + you come from, Mister?"</p> + <p>"And where do you live?"</p> + <p>The lad wheeled, and strode to the edge of the + rock,—the path along there is blasted out of solid + rock,—and looking downward, he pointed to the first row + of buildings in the distant flats.</p> + <p>"We live down there. You see that house in the middle of the + block, the little old one between the two big ones?"</p> + <p>The man did not feel sure.</p> + <p>"Well, Mister, you see the statue of Washington and + Lafayette?"</p> + <p>The man was certain he saw Washington and Lafayette.</p> + <p>"Well, from there you follow my + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" + id="page43"></a>{43}</span> finger along the row of houses till + you come to the littlest, oldest, dingiest one. You see it now, + don't you? We live up under the roof."</p> + <p>"What is the number?"</p> + <p>"It isn't any number. It's half a number. We live in the + half that isn't numbered; the other half gets the number."</p> + <p>"And you take your music lessons in one half?"</p> + <p>"Why, yes, Mister. Why not?"</p> + <p>"On a piano?"</p> + <p>"Why, yes, Mister; on <i>my</i> piano."</p> + <p>"Oh, you have a piano, have you?"</p> + <p>"There isn't any sound in about half the keys. Granny says + the time has come to rent a better one. She has gone over to + the art school to-day to pose to get the money."</p> + <p>A chill of silence fell between the talkers, the one looking + up and the other <span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" + id="page44"></a>{44}</span> looking down. The man's next + question was put in a more guarded tone:</p> + <p>"Does your mother pose as a model?"</p> + <p>"No, Mister, she doesn't pose as a model. She's posing as + herself. She said I must have a teacher. Mister, were + <i>you</i> ever poor?"</p> + <p>The man looked the boy over from head to foot.</p> + <p>"Do you think you are poor?" he asked.</p> + <p>The good-natured reply came back in a droll tone:</p> + <p>"Well, Mister, we certainly aren't rich."</p> + <p>"Let us see," objected the man, as though this were a point + which had better not be yielded, and he began with a voice of + one reckoning up items: "Two feet, each cheap at, say, five + millions. Two hands—five millions apiece for hands. At + least ten millions for each + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" + id="page45"></a>{45}</span> eye. About the same for the ears. + Certainly twenty millions for your teeth. Forty millions for + your stomach. On the whole, at a rough estimate you must easily + be worth over one hundred millions. There are quite a number of + old gentlemen in New York, and a good many young ones, who + would gladly pay that amount for your investments, for your + securities."</p> + <p>The lad with eager upturned countenance did not conceal his + amusement while the man drew this picture of him as a living + ragged gold-mine, as actually put together and made up of + pieces of fabulous treasure. A child's notion of wealth is the + power to pay for what it has not. The wealth that childhood + <i>is</i>, escapes childhood; it does not escape the old. What + most concerned the lad as to these priceless feet and hands and + eyes and ears was the hard-knocked-in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" + id="page46"></a>{46}</span> fact that many a time he ached + throughout this reputed treasury of his being for a five-cent + piece, and these reputed millionaires, acting together and + doing their level best, could not produce one.</p> + <p>Nevertheless, this fresh and never-before-imagined image of + his self-riches amused him. It somehow put him over into the + class of enormously opulent things; and finding himself a + little lonely on that new landscape, he cast about for some + object of comparison. Thus his mind was led to the richest of + all near-by objects.</p> + <p>"If I were worth a hundred million," he said, with a + satisfied twinkle in his eyes, "I would be as rich as the + cathedral."</p> + <p>A significant silence followed. The man broke it with a + grave surprised inquiry:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" + id="page47"></a>{47}</span></p> + <p>"How did you happen to think of the cathedral?"</p> + <p>"I didn't happen to think of it; I couldn't help thinking of + it."</p> + <p>"Have you ever been in the cathedral?" inquired the man more + gravely still.</p> + <p>"Been in it! We go there all the time. It's our church. Why, + good Lord! Mister, we are descended from a bishop!"</p> + <p>The man laughed outright long and heartily.</p> + <p>"Thank you for telling me," he said as one who suddenly + feels himself to have become a very small object through being + in the neighborhood of such hereditary beatitudes and + ecclesiastical sanctities. "Are you, indeed? I am glad to know. + Indeed, I am!"</p> + <p>"Why, Mister, we have been watching the cathedral from our + windows for <span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" + id="page48"></a>{48}</span> years. We can see the workmen away + up in the air as they finish one part and then another part. I + can count the Apostles on the roof. You begin with James the + Less and keep straight on around until you come out at Simon. + Big Jim and Pete are in the middle of the row." He laughed.</p> + <p>"Surely you are not going to speak of an apostle as Pete! Do + you think that is showing proper respect to an apostle?"</p> + <p>"But he was Pete when he was little. He wasn't an apostle + then and didn't have any respect."</p> + <p>"And you mustn't call an apostle Big Jim! It sounds + dreadful!"</p> + <p>"Then why did he try to call himself James the Greater? That + sounds dreadful too. As far as size is concerned he is no + bigger than the others: they are all nine and a half feet. + The<span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" + id="page49"></a>{49}</span> Archangel Gabriel on the roof, he's + nine and a half. Everybody standing around on the outside of + the roof is nine and a half. If Gabriel had been turned a + little to one side, he would blow his trumpet straight over our + flat. He didn't blow anywhere one night, for a big wind came up + behind him and blew him down and he blew his trumpet at the + gutter. But he didn't stay down," boasted the lad.</p> + <p>Throughout his talk he was making it clear that the + cathedral was a neighborhood affair; that its haps and mishaps + possessed for him the flesh and blood interest of a living + person. Love takes mental possession of its object and by + virtue of his affection the cathedral had become his + companion.</p> + <p>"You seem rather interested in the cathedral. Very much + interested," remarked the man, strengthening his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" + id="page50"></a>{50}</span> statement and with increased + attention.</p> + <p>"Why, of course, Mister. I've been passing there nearly + every day since I've been selling papers on the avenue. + Sometimes I stop and watch the masons. When I went with Granny + to the art school this morning, she told me to go home that + way. I have just come from there. They are building another one + of the chapels now, and the men are up on the scaffolding. They + carried more rock up than they needed and they would walk to + the edge and throw big pieces of it down with a smash. The old + house they are using for the choir school is just under there. + Sometimes when the class is practising, I listen from the + outside. If they sing high, I sing high; if they sing low, I + sing low. Why, Mister, I can sing up + to—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" + id="page51"></a>{51}</span></p> + <p>He broke off abruptly. He had been pouring-out all kinds of + confidences to his new-found friend. Now he hesitated. The + boldness of his nature deserted him. The deadly preparedness + failed. A shy appealing look came into his eyes as he asked his + next question—a grave question indeed:</p> + <p>"<i>Mister, do you love music?</i>"</p> + <p>"Do I love music?" echoed the startled musician, pierced by + the spear-like sincerity of the question, which seemed to go + clean through him and his knowledge and to point back to + childhood's springs of feeling. "Do I love music? Yes, some + music, I hope. Some kinds of music, I hope."</p> + <p>These moderate, chastened words restored the boy's + confidence and completely captured his friendship. Now + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" + id="page52"></a>{52}</span> he felt sure of his comrade, and he + put to him a more searching question:</p> + <p>"Do <i>you</i> know anything about the cathedral?"</p> + <p>The man smiled guiltily.</p> + <p>"A little. I know a little about the cathedral," he + admitted.</p> + <p>There was a moment of tense, anxious silence. And now the + whole secret came out:</p> + <p>"Do you know how boys get into the cathedral choir + school?"</p> + <p>The man did not answer. He stood looking down at the lad, in + whose eyes all at once a great baffled desire told its story. + Then he pulled out his watch and merely said:</p> + <p>"I must be going. Good morning." He turned his way across + the rock.</p> + <p>Disappointment darkened the lad's face when he saw that he + was to receive no answer; withering blight dried up + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" + id="page53"></a>{53}</span> its joy. But he recovered himself + quickly.</p> + <p>"Well, I must be going, too," he said bravely and sweetly. + "Good morning." He turned his way across the rock. But he had + had a good time talking with this stranger, and, after all, he + <i>was</i> a Southerner; and so, as his head was about to + disappear below the cliff, he called back in his frank human + gallant way:</p> + <p>"I'm glad I met you, Mister."</p> + <p>The man went up and the boy went down.</p> + <p>The man, having climbed to the parapet, leaned over the + stone wall. The tops of some of the tall poplar-trees, rooted + far below, were on a level with his eyes. Often he stopped + there to watch them swaying like upright plumes against the + wind. They swayed now in the silvery April air with a ripple of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" + id="page54"></a>{54}</span> silvery leaves. His eyes sought out + intimately the barely swollen buds on the boughs of other + forest trees yet far from leaf. They lingered on the white + blossoms of the various shrubs. They found the pink hawthorn; + in the boughs of one of those trees one night in England in + mid-May he had heard the nightingale, master singer of the + non-human world. Up to him rose the enchanting hillside picture + of grass and moss and fern. It was all like a sheet of soft + organ music to his nature-reading eyes.</p> + <p>While he gazed, he listened. Down past the shadows and the + greenness, through the blossoms and the light, growing fainter + and fainter, went a wandering little drift of melody, a + haunting, unidentified sound under the blue cathedral dome of + the sky. He reflected again that he had never heard + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" + id="page55"></a>{55}</span> anything like it. It was, in truth, + a singing soul.</p> + <p>Then he saw the lad's sturdy figure bound across the valley + to join friends in play on the thoroughfare that skirts the + park alongside the row of houses.</p> + <p>He himself turned and went in the direction of the + cathedral.</p> + <p>As he walked slowly along, one thing haunted him + remorsefully—the upturned face of the lad and the look in + his eyes as he asked the question which brought out the secret + desire of a life: "Do you know how boys get into the cathedral + choir school?" Then the blight of disappointment when there was + no answer.</p> + <p>The man walked thoughtfully on, seemingly as one who was + turning over and over in his mind some difficult, delicate + matter, looking at it on all sides and in every light, as he + must do.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" + id="page56"></a>{56}</span></p> + <p>Finally he quickened his pace as though having decided what + ought to be done. He looked the happier for his decision.</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<a name="III" + id="III"></a> + <h2> III</h2> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" id="page57"></a>{57}</span> + <p>That night in an attic-like room of an old building opposite + Morningside Park a tiny supper-table for two stood ready in the + middle of the floor; the supper itself, the entire meal, was + spread. There is a victory which human nature in thousands of + lives daily wins over want, that though it cannot drive poverty + from the scene, it can hide its desolation by the genius of + choice and of touch. A battle of that brave and desperate kind + had been won in this garret. Lacking every luxury, it had the + charm of tasteful bareness, of exquisite penury. The + supper-table of cheap wood roughly carpentered was hidden under + a piece of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" + id="page58"></a>{58}</span> fine long-used table-linen; into + the gleaming damask were wrought clusters of snowballs. The + glare of a plain glass lamp was softened by a too costly silk + shade. Over the rim of a common vase hung a few daffodils, too + costly daffodils. The supper, frugal to a bargain, tempted the + eye and the appetite by the good sense with which it had been + chosen and prepared. Thus the whole scene betokened human + nature at bay but victorious in the presence of that wolf, + whose near-by howl startles the poor out of their sleep.</p> + <p>Into this empty room sounds penetrated through a door. They + proceeded from piano-keys evidently so old that one wondered + whether possibly they had not begun to be played on in the days + of Beethoven, whether they were not such as were new on the + clavichord of Bach. The fingers that pressed them were + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" + id="page59"></a>{59}</span> unmistakably those of a child. As the + hands wandered up and down the keyboard, the ear now and then + took notice of a broken string. There were many of these broken + strings. The instrument plainly announced itself to be a + remote, well-nigh mythical ancestor of the modern piano, + preternaturally lingering on amid an innumerable deafening + progeny. It suggested a superannuated human being whose loudest + utterances have sunk to ghostly whispers in a corner.</p> + <p>Once the wandering hands stopped and a voice was heard. It + sounded as though pitched to reach some one in an inner room + farther away, possibly a person who might just have passed from + a kitchen to a bedroom to make some change of dress. It was a + very affectionate voice, very true and sweet, very tender, very + endearing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" + id="page60"></a>{60}</span></p> + <p>"Another string snapped to-day. There's another key silent. + There won't be any but silent keys soon."</p> + <p>There must have been a reply. Responding to it, the voice at + the piano sounded again, this time very loyal and devoted to an + object closer at hand:</p> + <p>"But when we do get a better one, we won't kick the old one + down-stairs. It has done <i>its</i> best."</p> + <p>Whereupon the musical ancestor was encouraged to speak up + again while he had a chance, being a very honored ancestor and + not by any means dead in some regions. Soon, however, the voice + pleaded anew with a kind of patient impatience:</p> + <p>"I'm awfully hungry. Aren't you nearly ready?"</p> + <p>The reply could not be heard.</p> + <p>"Are you putting on the dress <i>I</i> like?"</p> + <p>The reply was not + heard.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" + id="page61"></a>{61}</span></p> + <p>"Don't you want me to bring you a daffodil to wear at your + throat?"</p> + <p>The reply was lost. For a few minutes the progenitor emptied + his ancient lungs of some further moribund intimations of tone. + Later came another protest, truly plaintive:</p> + <p>"You couldn't look any nicer! I'm awfully hungry!"</p> + <p>Then all at once there was a tremendous smash on the keys, a + joyous smash, and a moment afterward the door was softly + opened.</p> + <p>Mother and son entered the supper-room. One of his arms was + around her waist, one of hers enfolded him about the neck and + shoulders; they were laughing as they clung to one another.</p> + <p>The teacher of the portrait class and his pupils would + hardly have recognized their model; the stranger on the + hillside might not at once have identified the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" + id="page62"></a>{62}</span> newsboy. For model and newsboy, + having laid aside the masks of the day which so often in New + York persons find it necessary to wear,—- the tragic + mask, the comic mask, the callous, coarse, brutal mask, the + mask of the human pack, the mask of the human sty,—model + and newsboy reappeared at home with each other as nearly what + in truth they were as the denials of life would allow.</p> + <p>There entered the room a woman of high breeding, with a + certain Pallas-like purity and energy of face, clasping to her + side her only child, a son whom she secretly believed to be + destined to greatness. She was dressed not with the studied + plainness and abnegation of the model in the studio, but out of + regard for her true station and her motherly responsibilities. + Her utmost wish was that in years to come, when he should + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" + id="page63"></a>{63}</span> look back upon his childhood, he + would always remember with pride his evenings with his mother. + During the day he must see her drudge, and many a picture of + herself on a plane of life below her own she knew to be + fastened to his growing brain; but as nearly as possible + blotting these out, daily blotting them out one by one, must be + the evening pictures when the day's work was done, its + disguises dropped, its humiliations over, and she, a + serving-woman of fate, reappeared before him in the lineaments + of his mother, to remain with him throughout his life as the + supreme woman of the human race, his idol until death, his + mother.</p> + <p>She now looked worthy of such an ideal. But it was upon him + that her heart lavished every possible extravagance when + nightly he had laid aside the coarse half-ragged fighting + clothes of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" + id="page64"></a>{64}</span> the streets. In those after years + when he was to gaze backward across a long distance, he must be + made to realize that when he was a little fellow, it was his + mother who first had seen his star while it was still low on + the horizon; and that from the beginning she had so reared him + that there would be stamped upon his attention the gentleness + of his birth and a mother's resolve to rear him in keeping with + this through the neediest hours.</p> + <p>While he was in his bath, she, as though she were his valet, + had laid out trim house shoes and black stockings; and as the + spring-night had a breath of summer warmth, of almost Southern + summer warmth, she had put out also a suit of white linen + knickerbockers. Under his broad sailor collar she herself had + tied a big, soft, flowing black ribbon of the finest silk. + Above this rose the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" + id="page65"></a>{65}</span> solid head looking like a sphere on + a column of triumph, with its lustrous bronzed hair, which, as + she brushed it, she had tenderly stroked with her hands; often + kissing the bronzed face ardent and friendly to the world and + thinking to herself of the double blue in his eyes, the old + Saxon blue of battle and the old Saxon blue of the minstrel, + also.</p> + <p>It was the evening meal that always brought them together + after the separation of the day, and he was at once curious to + hear how everything had gone at the art school. With some + unsold papers under his arm he had walked with her to the + entrance, a new pang in his breast about her that he did not + understand: for one thing she looked so plain, so common. At + the door-step she had stopped and kissed him and bade him + good-by. Her quiet quivering words + were:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" + id="page66"></a>{66}</span></p> + <p>"Go home, dear, by way of the cathedral."</p> + <p>If he took the more convenient route, it would lead him into + one of the city's main cross streets, beset with dangers. She + would be able to sit more at peace through those hours of + posing if she could know that he had gone across the cathedral + grounds and then across the park as along a country road + bordered with young grass and shrubs in bloom and forest trees + in early leaf. She wished to keep all day before her eyes the + picture of him as straying that April morning along such a + country road—sometimes the road of faint far girlhood + memories to her.</p> + <p>Then with a great incomprehensible look she had vanished + from him. But before the doors closed, he, peering past her, + had caught sight of the walls inside thickly hung with + portraits of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page67" + id="page67"></a>{67}</span> men and women in rich colors and in + golden frames. Into this splendid world his mother had + vanished, herself to be painted.</p> + <p>Now as he began ravenously to eat his supper he wished to + hear all about it. She told him. Part of her experience she + kept back, a true part; the other, no less true, she described. + With deft fingers she went over the somberly woven web of the + hours, and plucking here a bright thread and there a bright + thread, rewove these into a smaller picture, on which fell the + day's far-separated sunbeams; the rays were condensed now and + made a solid brightness.</p> + <p>This is how she painted for him a bright picture out of + things not many of which were bright. The teacher of the + portrait class, to begin, had been very considerate. He had + arranged that she should leave her things with the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page68" + id="page68"></a>{68}</span> janitor's wife down-stairs, and not + go up-stairs and take them off behind some screens in a corner + of the room where the class was assembled. That would have been + dreadful, to have to go behind the screens to take off her hat + and gloves. Then instead of sending word for her to come up, he + himself had come down. As he led the way past the confusing + halls and studios, he had looked back over his shoulder just a + little, to let her know that not for a moment did he lose + thought of her. To have walked in front of her, looking + straight ahead, might have meant that he esteemed her a person + of no consequence. A master so walks before a servant, a + superior before an inferior. Out of respect for her, he had + even lessened the natural noisiness of his feet on the bare + floor. If you put your feet down hard in the house, it means + that <span class="pagenum"><a name="page69" + id="page69"></a>{69}</span> you are thinking of yourself and + not of other people. He had mounted the stairs slowly lest she + get out of breath as she climbed. When he preceded her into the + presence of the class, he had turned as though he introduced to + them his own mother. In everything he did he was really a man; + that is, a gentleman. For being a gentleman is being really a + man; if you are really a man, you <i>are</i> a gentleman.</p> + <p>As for the members of the class, they had been beautiful in + their treatment of her. Not a word had been exchanged with + them, but she could <i>feel</i> their beautiful thoughts. + Sometimes when she glanced at them, while they worked, such + beautiful expressions rested on their faces. Unconsciously + their natures had opened like young flowers, and as at the + hearts of young flowers there is for each a clear drop of + honey, so in <span class="pagenum"><a name="page70" + id="page70"></a>{70}</span> each of their minds there must have + been one same thought, the remembrance of their mothers. + Altogether it was as though they were assembled there in honor + of her, not to make use of her.</p> + <p>As to posing itself, one had not a thing to do but sit + perfectly still! One got such a good rest from being too much + on one's feet! And they had placed for her such a splendid + carved-oak chair! When she took her seat, all at once she had + felt as if at home again. There were immense windows; she had + had all the fresh air she wished, and she did enjoy fresh air! + The whole roof was a window, and she could look out at the sky: + sometimes the loveliest clouds drifted over, and sometimes the + dearest little bird flew past, no doubt on its way to the park. + Last, but not least, she had not been crowded. In New York it + was almost impossible to secure + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page71" + id="page71"></a>{71}</span> a good seat in a public place + without being nudged or bumped or crowded. But that had + actually happened to her. She had had a delightful chair in a + public place, with plenty of room in every direction. How + fortunate at last to remember that she might pose! It would fit + in perfectly at times when she did not have to go out for + needlework or for the other demands. Dollars would now soon + begin to be brought in like their bits of coal, by the + scuttleful! And then the piano! And then the teacher and the + lessons! And <i>then</i>, and <i>then</i>—</p> + <p>Her happy story ended. She had watched the play of lights on + his face as sometimes he, though hungry, with fork in the air + paused to listen and to question. Now as she finished and + looked across the table at the picture of him under the + lamplight, she was rewarded, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page72" + id="page72"></a>{72}</span> she was content; while he ate his + plain food, out of her misfortunes she had beautifully + nourished his mind. He did not know this; but she knew it, knew + by his look and by his only comment:</p> + <p>"You had a perfectly splendid time, didn't you?"</p> + <p>She laughed to herself.</p> + <p>"Now, then," she said, coming to what had all along been + most in her consciousness—"now, then, tell me about + <i>your</i> day. Begin at the moment <i>you</i> left + <i>me</i>."</p> + <p>He laid down his napkin,—he could eat no more, and + there was nothing more to eat,—and he folded his hands + quite like the head of the house at ease after a careless + feast, and began his story.</p> + <p>Well, he had had a splendid day, too. After he had left her + he had gone to the dealer's on the avenue with the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page73" + id="page73"></a>{73}</span> unsold papers. Then he had crossed + over to the cathedral, and for a while had watched the men at + work up in the air. He had walked around to the choir school, + but no one was there that morning, not a sound came from the + inside. Then he had started down across the park. As he sat + down to count his money, a man who had climbed up the hillside + stopped and asked him a great many questions: who taught him + music and whether any one had ever heard him sing. This + stranger also liked music and he also went to the cathedral, so + he claimed. From that point the story wound its way onward + across the busy hours till nightfall.</p> + <p>It was a child's story, not an older person's. Therefore it + did not draw the line between pleasant and unpleasant, fair and + unfair, right and wrong, which make up for each of us the + history of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page74" + id="page74"></a>{74}</span> our checkered human day. It + separated life as a swimmer separates the sea: there is one + water which he parts by his passage. So the child, who is still + wholly a child, divides the world.</p> + <p>But as she pondered, she discriminated. Out of the long, + rambling narrative she laid hold of one overwhelming incident, + forgetting the rest: a passing stranger, hearing a few notes of + his voice, had stopped to question him about it. To her this + was the first outside evidence that her faith in his musical + gift was not groundless.</p> + <p>When he had ended his story she regarded him across the + table with something new in her eyes—something of awe. + She had never hinted to him what she believed he would some day + be. She might be wrong, and thus might start him on the wrong + course; or, being right, she might never have the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page75" + id="page75"></a>{75}</span> chance to start him on the right + one. In either case she might be bringing to him + disappointment, perhaps the failure of his whole life.</p> + <p>Now she still hid the emotion his story caused. But the + stranger of the park had kindled within her that night what she + herself had long tended unlit—the alabaster flame of + worship which the mother burns before the altar of a great + son.</p> + <p>An hour later they were in another small attic-like space + next to the supper-room. Here was always the best of their + evening. No matter how poor the spot, if there reach it some + solitary ray of the great light of the world, let it be called + your drawing-room. Where civilization sends its beams through a + roof, there be your drawing-room. This part of the garret was + theirs.</p> + <p>In one corner stood a small table on + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page76" + id="page76"></a>{76}</span> which were some tantalizing books + and the same lamp. Another corner was filled by the littlest, + oldest imaginable of six-octave pianos, the mythical piano + ancestor; on it were piled some yellowed folios, her music + once. Thus two different rays of civilization entered their + garret and fell upon the twin mountain-peaks of the + night—books and music.</p> + <p>Toward these she wished regularly to lead him as darkness + descended over the illimitable city and upon its weary grimy + battle-fields. She liked him to fall asleep on one or the other + of these mountain-tops. When he awoke, it would be as from a + mountain that he would see the dawn. From there let him come + down to the things that won the day; but at night back again to + things that win life.</p> + <p>They were in their drawing-room, then, as she had taught him + to call it, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page77" + id="page77"></a>{77}</span> and she was reading to him. A knock + interrupted her. She interrogated the knock doubtfully to + herself for a moment.</p> + <p>"Ashby," she finally said, turning her eyes toward the door, + as a request that he open it.</p> + <p>The janitor of the building handed in a card. The name on + the card was strange to her, and she knew no reason why a + stranger should call. Then a foolish uneasiness attacked her: + perhaps this unwelcome visit bore upon her engagement at the + studio. They might not wish her to return; that little door to + a larger income was to be shut in their faces. Perhaps she had + made herself too plain. If only she had done herself a little + more justice in her appearance!</p> + <p>She addressed the janitor with anxious courtesy:</p> + <p>"Will you ask him to come + up?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page78" + id="page78"></a>{78}</span></p> + <p>With her hand on the half-open door, she waited. If it + should be some tradesman, she would speak with him there. She + listened. Up the steps, from flight to flight, she could hear + the feet of a man mounting like a deliberate good walker. He + reached her floor. He approached her door and she stepped out + to confront him. A gentleman stood before her with an + unmistakable air of feeling himself happy in his mission. For a + moment he forgot to state this mission, startled by the group + of the two. His eyes passed from one to the other: the picture + they made was an unlooked for revelation of life's harmony, of + nature's sacredness.</p> + <p>"Is this Mrs. Truesdale?" he asked with appreciative + deference.</p> + <p>She stepped back.</p> + <p>"I am Mrs. Truesdale," she replied in a way to remind him of + his intrusion; <span class="pagenum"><a name="page79" + id="page79"></a>{79}</span> and not discourteously she partly + closed the door and waited for him to withdraw. But he was not + of a mind to withdraw; on the contrary, he stood stoutly where + he was and explained:</p> + <p>"As I crossed the park this morning I happened to hear a few + notes of a voice that interested me. I train the voice, Madam. + I teach certain kinds of music. I took the liberty of asking + the owner of the voice where he lived, and I have taken the + further liberty of coming to see whether I may speak with you + on that subject—about his voice."</p> + <p>This, then, was the stranger of the park whom she believed + to have gone his way after unknowingly leaving glorious words + of destiny for her. Instead of vanishing, he had reappeared, + following up his discovery into her very presence. She did not + desire him to follow up his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page80" + id="page80"></a>{80}</span> discovery. She put out one hand and + pressed her son back into the room and was about to close the + door.</p> + <p>"I should first have stated, of course," said the visitor, + smiling quietly as with awkward self-recovery, "that I am the + choir-master of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine."</p> + <p>Stillness followed, the stillness in which painful + misunderstandings dissolve. The scene slowly changed, as when + on the dark stage of a theater an invisible light is gradually + turned, showing everything in its actual relation to everything + else. In truth a shaft as of celestial light suddenly fell upon + her doorway; a far-sent radiance rested on the head of her son; + in her ears began to sound old words spoken ages ago to another + mother on account of him she had borne. To her it was an + annunciation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page81" + id="page81"></a>{81}</span></p> + <p>Her first act was to place her hand on the head of the lad + and bend it back until his eyes looked up into hers; his mother + must be the first to congratulate him and to catch from his + eyes their flash of delight as he realized all that this might + mean: the fulfilment of life's dream for him.</p> + <p>Then she threw open the door.</p> + <p>"Will you come in?"</p> + <p>It was a marvelous welcome, a splendor of spiritual + hospitality.</p> + <p>The musician took up straightway the purpose of his visit + and stated it.</p> + <p>"Will you, then, send him to-morrow and let me try his + voice?"</p> + <p>"Yes," she said as one who now must direct with firm + responsible hand the helm of wayward genius, "I will send + him."</p> + <p>"And if his voice should prove to be what is wanted," + continued the music-<span class="pagenum"><a name="page82" + id="page82"></a>{82}</span> master, though with delicate + hesitancy, "would he be—free? Is there any other person + whose consent—"</p> + <p>She could not reply at once. The question brought up so much + of the past, such tragedy! She spoke with composure at + last:</p> + <p>"He can come. He is free. He is mine—wholly mine."</p> + <p>The choir-master looked across the small room at his pupil, + who, upon the discovery of the visitor's identity, had + withdrawn as far as possible from him.</p> + <p>"And you are willing to come?" he asked, wishing to make the + first advance toward possible acquaintanceship on the new + footing.</p> + <p>No reply came. The mother smiled at her awe-stricken son and + hastened to his rescue.</p> + <p>"He is overwhelmed," she said, her own faith in him being + merely strengthened<span class="pagenum"><a name="page83" + id="page83"></a>{83}</span> by this revelation of his + fright. "He is overwhelmed. This means so much more to him than + you can understand."</p> + <p>"But you will come?" the choir-master persisted in asking. + "You <i>will</i> come?"</p> + <p>The lad stirred uneasily on his chair.</p> + <p>"Yes, sir," he said all but inaudibly.</p> + <p>His inquisitive, interesting friend of the park path, then, + was himself choir-master of St. John's! And he had asked him + whether <i>he</i> knew anything about the cathedral! Whether + <i>he</i> liked music! Whether <i>he</i> knew how boys got into + the school! He had betrayed his habit of idly hanging about the + old building where the choir practised and of singing with them + to show what he could do and would do if he had the chance; and + because he could not keep + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page84" + id="page84"></a>{84}</span> from singing. He had called one of + the Apostles Jim! And another Apostle Pete! He had rejoiced + that Gabriel had not been strong enough to stand up in a high + wind!</p> + <p>Thus with mortification he remembered the day. Then his + thoughts were swept on to what now opened before him: he was to + be taken into the choir, he was to sing in the cathedral. The + high, blinding, stately magnificence of its scenes and + processions lay before him.</p> + <p>More than this. The thing which had long been such a torture + of desire to him, the hope that had grown within him until it + began to burst open, had come true; his dream was a reality: he + was to begin to learn music, he was to go where it was being + taught. And the master who was to take him by the hand and lead + him into that world of song + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page85" + id="page85"></a>{85}</span> sat there quietly talking with his + mother about the matter and looking across at him, studying him + closely.</p> + <p>No; none of this was true yet. It might never be true. + First, he must be put to the test. The man smiling there was + sternly going to draw out of him what was in him. He was going + to examine him and see what he amounted to. And if he amounted + to nothing, then what?</p> + <p>He sat there shy, silent, afraid, all the hardy boldness and + business preparedness and fighting capacity of the streets gone + out of his mind and heart. He looked across at his mother; not + even she could help him.</p> + <p>So there settled upon him that terror of uncertainty about + their gift and their fate which is known only to the children + of genius. For throughout the region of art, as in the world of + the <span class="pagenum"><a name="page86" + id="page86"></a>{86}</span> physical, nature brings forth all + things from the seat of sensitiveness and the young of both + worlds appear on the rough earth unready.</p> + <p>"You <i>do</i> wish to come?" the choir-master persisted in + asking.</p> + <p>"Yes, sir," he replied barely, as though the words sealed + his fate.</p> + <p>The visitor was gone, and they had talked everything over, + and the evening had ended, and it was long past his bedtime, + and she waited for him to come from the bedroom and say good + night. Presently he ran in, climbed into her lap, threw his + arms around her neck and pressed his cheek against hers.</p> + <p>"Now on this side," he said, holding her tightly, "and now + on the other side, and now on both sides and all around."</p> + <p>She, with jealous pangs at this goodnight hour, often + thought already of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page87" + id="page87"></a>{87}</span> what a lover he would be when the + time came—the time for her to be pushed aside, to drop + out. These last moments of every night were for love; nothing + lived in him but love. She said to herself that he was the born + lover.</p> + <p>As he now withdrew his arms, he sat looking into her eyes + with his face close to hers. Then leaning over, he began to + measure his face upon her face, starting with the forehead, and + being very particular when he got to the long eyelashes, then + coming down past the nose. They were very silly and merry about + the measuring of the noses. The noses would not fit the one + upon the other, not being flat enough. He began to indulge his + mischievous, teasing mood:</p> + <p>"Suppose he doesn't like my voice!"</p> + <p>She laughed the idea to scorn.</p> + <p>"Suppose he wouldn't take + me!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page88" + id="page88"></a>{88}</span></p> + <p>"Ah, but he <i>will</i> take you."</p> + <p>"If he wouldn't have me, you'd never want to see me any + more, would you?"</p> + <p>She strained him to her heart and rocked to and fro over + him.</p> + <p>"This is what I could most have wished in all the world," + she said, holding him at arm's-length with idolatry.</p> + <p>"Not more than a fine house and servants and a greenhouse + and a carriage and horses and a <i>new</i> piano—not more + than everything you used to have!"</p> + <p>"More than anything! More than anything in this world!"</p> + <p>He returned to the teasing.</p> + <p>"If he doesn't take me, I'm going to run away. You won't + want ever to see me any more. And then nobody will ever know + what becomes of me because I couldn't + sing."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page89" + id="page89"></a>{89}</span></p> + <p>She strained him again to herself and murmured over him:</p> + <p>"My chorister! My minstrel! My life!"</p> + <p>"Good night and pleasant dreams!" he said, with his arms + around her neck finally. "Good night and sweet sleep!"</p> + <hr /> + <p>Everything was quiet. She had tipped to his bedside and + stood looking at him after slumber had carried him away from + her, a little distance away.</p> + <p>"My heavenly guest!" she murmured. "My guest from the + singing stars of God!"</p> + <p>Though worn out with the strain and excitements of the day, + she was not yet ready for sleep. She must have the luxuries of + consciousness; she must tread the roomy spaces of reflection + and be soothed in their largeness. And so she had gone to her + windows and had <span class="pagenum"><a name="page90" + id="page90"></a>{90}</span> remained there for a long time + looking out upon the night.</p> + <p>The street beneath was dimly lighted. Traffic had almost + ceased. Now and then a car sped past. The thoroughfare along + here is level and broad and smooth, and being skirted on one + side by the park, it offers to speeding vehicles the illusive + freedom of a country road. Across the street at the foot of the + park a few lights gleamed scant amid the April foliage. She + began at the foot of the hill and followed the line of them + upward, upward over the face of the rock, leading this way and + that way, but always upward. There on the height in the + darkness loomed the cathedral.</p> + <p>Often during the trouble and discouragement of years it had + seemed to her that her own life and every other life would have + had more meaning if only there had been, away off somewhere in + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page91" + id="page91"></a>{91}</span> the universe, a higher evil + intelligence to look on and laugh, to laugh pitilessly at every + human thing. She had held on to her faith because she must hold + on to something, and she had nothing else. Now as she stood + there, following the winding night road over the rock, her + thoughts went back and searched once more along the wandering + pathway of her years; and she said that a Power greater than + any earthly had led her with her son to the hidden goal of them + both, the cathedral.</p> + <p>The next day brought no disappointment: he had rushed home + and thrown himself into her arms and told her that he was + accepted. He was to sing in the choir. The hope had become an + actuality.</p> + <p>Later that day the choir-master himself had called again to + speak to her when the pupil was not present. He + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page92" + id="page92"></a>{92}</span> was guarded in his words but could + not conceal the enthusiasm of his mood.</p> + <p>"I do not know what it may develop into," he + said,—"that is something we cannot foretell,—but I + believe it will be a great voice in the world. I do know that + it will be a wonderful voice for the choir."</p> + <p>She stood before him mute with emotion. She was as dry sand + drinking a shower.</p> + <p>"You have made no mistake," she said. "It is a great voice + and he will have a great career."</p> + <p>The choir-master was impatient to have the lessons begin. + She asked for a few days to get him in readiness. She reflected + that he could not make his first appearance at the choir school + in white linen knickerbockers. These were the only suitable + clothes he had.</p> + <p>This school would be his first, for she + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page93" + id="page93"></a>{93}</span> had taught him at home, haunted by + a sense of responsibility that he must be specially guarded. + Now just as the unsafe years came on for him, he would be safe + in that fold. When natural changes followed as follow they must + and his voice broke later on, and then came again or never came + again, whatever afterward befell, behind would be the memories + of his childhood. And when he had grown to full manhood, when + he was an old man and she no longer with him, wherever on the + earth he might work or might wander, always he would be going + back to those years in the cathedral: they would be his + safeguard, his consecration to the end.</p> + <hr /> + <p>Now a few days later she stood in the same favorite spot, at + her windows; and it was her favorite hour to be there, the + coming on of twilight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page94" + id="page94"></a>{94}</span></p> + <p>All day until nearly sundown a cold April rain had fallen. + These contradictory spring days of young green and winter cold + the pious folk of older lands and ages named the days of the + ice saints. They really fall in May, but this had been like one + of them. So raw and chill had been the atmosphere of the + grateless garret that the window-frames had been fastened down, + their rusty catches clamped.</p> + <p>At the window she stood looking out and looking up toward a + scene of splendor in the heavens.</p> + <p>It was sunset, the rain was over, the sky had cleared. She + had been tracing the retreating line of sunlight on the + hillside opposite. First it crossed the street to the edge of + the park, then crossed the wet grass at the foot of the slope; + then it passed upward over the bowed dripping shrubbery and + lingered <span class="pagenum"><a name="page95" + id="page95"></a>{95}</span> on the tree-tops along the crest; + and now the western sky was aflame behind the cathedral.</p> + <p>It was a gorgeous spectacle. The cathedral seemed not to be + situated in the city, not lodged on the rocks of the island, + but to be risen out of infinite space and to be based and to + abide on the eternity of light. Long she gazed into that + sublime vision, full of happiness at last, full of peace, full + of prayer.</p> + <p>Standing thus at her windows at that hour, she stood on the + pinnacle of her life's happiness.</p> + <p>From the dark slippery street shrill familiar sounds rose to + her ear and drew her attention downward and she smiled. He was + down there at play with friends whose parents lived in the + houses of the row. She laughed as those victorious cries + reached the upper air. Leaning forward, she pressed her + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page96" + id="page96"></a>{96}</span> face against the window-pane and + peered over and watched the group of them. Sometimes she could + see them and sometimes not as they struggled from one side of + the street to the other. No one, whether younger or older, + stronger or weaker, was ever defeated down there; everybody at + some time got worsted; no one was ever defeated. All the + whipped remained conquerors. Unconquerable childhood! She said + to herself that she must learn a lesson from it once + more—to have always within herself the will and spirit of + victory.</p> + <p>With her face still against the glass she caught sight of + something approaching carefully up the street. It was the car + of a physician who had a patient in one of the houses near by. + This was his hour to make his call. He guided the car himself, + and the great mass of <span class="pagenum"><a name="page97" + id="page97"></a>{97}</span> tons in weight responded to his + guidance as if it possessed intelligence, as if it entered into + his foresight and caution: it became to her, as she watched it, + almost conscious, almost human. She thought of it as being like + some great characters in human life which need so little to + make them go easily and make them go right. A wise touch, and + their enormous influence is sent whither it should be sent by a + pressure that would not bruise a leaf.</p> + <p>She chid herself once more that in a world where so often + the great is the good she had too often been hard and bitter; + that many a time she had found pleasure in setting the empty + cup of her life out under its clouds and catching the showers + of nature as though they were drops of gall.</p> + <p>All at once her attention was riveted on an object up the + street. Around a <span class="pagenum"><a name="page98" + id="page98"></a>{98}</span> bend a few hundred yards away a + huge wild devil of a thing swung unsteadily, recklessly, almost + striking the curb and lamp-post; and then, righting itself, it + came on with a rush—a mindless destroyer. Now on one side + of the street, now in the middle, now on the other side; + gliding along through the twilight, barely to be seen, creeping + nearer and nearer through the shadows, now again on the wrong + side of the street where it would not be looked for.</p> + <p>A bolt of horror shot through her. She pressed her face + quickly against the window-panes as closely as possible, + searching for the whereabouts of the lads. As she looked, the + playing struggling mass of them went down in the road, the + others piled on one. She thought she knew which one,—he + was the strongest,—then they were lost from her sight, as + they rolled in nearer to the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page99" + id="page99"></a>{99}</span> sidewalk. And straight toward them + rushed that destroyer in the streets. She tried to throw up the + sashes. She tried to lean out and cry down to him, to wave her + hands to him with warning as she had often done with joy. She + could not raise the sashes. She had not the strength left to + turn the rusty bolts. Nor was there time. She looked again; she + saw what was going to happen. Then with frenzy she began to + beat against the window-sashes and to moan and try to stifle + her own moans. And then shrill startled screams and piteous + cries came up to her, and crazed now and no longer knowing what + she did, she struck the window-panes in her agony until they + were shattered and she thrust her arms out through them with a + last blind instinct to wave to him, to reach him, to drag him + out of the way. For some + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page100" + id="page100"></a>{100}</span> moments her arms hung there outside + the shattered window-glass, and a shower of crimson drops from + her fingers splashed on the paving-stones below. She kept on + waving her lacerated hands more and more feebly, slowly; and + then they were drawn inward after her body which dropped + unconscious to the garret floor.</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page101" + id="page101"></a>{101}</span> + <h2><a name="IV" + id="IV"></a> IV</h2> + <p>It was a gay scene over at the art school next morning. Even + before the accustomed hour the big barnlike room, with a few + prize pictures of former classes scattered about the walls, and + with the old academy easels standing about like a caravan of + patient camels ever loaded with new burdens but ever traveling + the same ancient sands of art—even before nine o'clock + the barnlike room presented a scene of eager healthy animal + spirits. On the easel of every youthful worker, nearly + finished, lay the portrait of the mother. In every case it had + been differently done, inadequately done; but in all cases it + had been done. Hardly could any + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page102" + id="page102"></a>{102}</span> observer have failed to recognize + what was there depicted. Beyond smearings and daubings of + paint, as past the edges of concealing clouds, one caught + glimpses of a serene and steadfast human radiance. There one + beheld the familiar image of that orb which in dark and + pathless hours has through all ages been the guardian light of + the world—the mother.</p> + <p>The best in them had gone into the painting of this + portrait, and the consciousness of our best gives us the sense + of our power, and the consciousness of our power yields us our + enthusiasm; hence the exhilaration and energy of the studio + scene.</p> + <p>The interest of the members of the class was not concerned + solely with the portrait, however: a larger share went to the + model herself. They had become strongly bound to her. All the + more <span class="pagenum"><a name="page103" + id="page103"></a>{103}</span> perhaps because she held them + firmly to the understanding that her life touched theirs only + at the point of the stranger in need of a small sum of money. + Repulsed and baffled in their wish to know her better, they + nevertheless became aware that she was undergoing a wonderful + transformation on her own account. The change had begun after + the ordeal of the first morning. When she returned for the + second sitting, and then at later sittings, they had remarked + this change, and had spoken of it to one another—that she + was as a person into whose life some joyous, unbelievable event + has fallen, brightening the present and the future. Every day + some old cloudy care seemed to loose itself from its + lurking-place and drift away from her mind, leaving her face + less obscured and thus the more beautifully revealed to them. + Now, with the end of the + sit<span class="pagenum"><a name="page104" + id="page104"></a>{104}</span> tings not far off, what they + looked forward to with most regret was the last sitting, when + she, leaving her portrait in their hands, would herself vanish, + taking with her both the mystery of her old sorrows and the + mystery of this new happiness.</p> + <p>Promptly at nine o'clock the teacher of the class entered, + greeted them, and glanced around for the model. Not seeing her, + he looked at his watch, then without comment crossed to the + easels, and studied again the progress made the previous day, + correcting, approving, guiding, encouraging. His demeanor + showed that he entered into the mounting enthusiasm of his + class for this particular piece of work.</p> + <p>A few minutes were thus quickly consumed. Then, watch in + hand once more, he spoke of the absence of the + model:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page105" + id="page105"></a>{105}</span></p> + <p>"Something seems to detain the model this morning. But she + has sent me no word and she will no doubt be here in a few + minutes."</p> + <p>He went back to the other end of the studio and sat down, + facing them with the impressiveness which belonged to him even + without speech. They fixed their eyes on him with the usual + expectancy. Whenever as now an unforeseen delay occurred, he + was always prompt to take advantage of the interval with a + brief talk. To them there were never enough of these brief + talks, which invariably drew human life into relationship to + the art of portraiture, and set the one reality over against + the other reality—the turbulence of a human life and the + still image of it on the canvas. They hoped he would thus talk + to them now; in truth he had the air of casting about in his + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page106" + id="page106"></a>{106}</span> mind for a theme best suited to + the moment.</p> + <hr /> + <p>That mother, now absent, when she had blindly found her way + to him, asking to pose, had fallen into good hands. He was a + great teacher and he was a remarkable man, remarkable even to + look at. Massively built, with a big head of black hair, olive + complexion, and bluntly pointed, black beard, and with a mold + of countenance grave and strong, he looked like a great + Rembrandt; like some splendid full-length portrait by Rembrandt + painted as that master painted men in the prime of his power. + With the Rembrandt shadows on him even in life. Even when the + sun beat down upon him outdoors, even when you met him in the + blaze of the city streets, he seemed not to have emerged from + shadow, to bear on him<span class="pagenum"><a name="page107" + id="page107"></a>{107}</span> self the traces of a human night, + a living darkness. There was light within him but it did not + irradiate him.</p> + <p>Once he had been a headlong art student himself, starting + out to become a great painter, a great one. After years abroad + under the foremost masters and other years of self-trial with + every favorable circumstance his, nature had one day pointed + her unswerved finger at his latest canvas as at the earlier + ones and had judged him to the quick: you will never be a great + painter. If you cannot be content to remain less, quit, + stop!</p> + <p>Thus youth's choice and a man's half a lifetime of effort + and ambition ended in abandonment of effort not because he was + a failure but because the choice of a profession had been a + blunder. A multitude of men topple into this chasm and crawl + out nobody. Few of them <span class="pagenum"><a name="page108" + id="page108"></a>{108}</span> at middle age in the darkness of + that pit of failure can grope within themselves for some second + candle and by it once more become illumined through and + through. He found <i>his</i> second candle,—it should + have been his first,—and he lighted it and it became the + light of his later years; but it did not illumine him + completely, it never dispelled the shadows of the flame that + had burned out. What he did was this: having reached the end of + his own career as a painter, he turned and made his way back to + the fields of youth, and taking his stand by that ever fresh + path, always, as students would rashly pass him, he halted them + like a wise monitor, describing the best way to travel, warning + of the difficulties of the country ahead, but insisting that + the goal was worth the toil and the trouble; searching secretly + among his pupils year after year for signs of what + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page109" + id="page109"></a>{109}</span> he was not, a great painter, and + pouring out his sympathies on all those who, like himself, + would never be one.</p> + <p>Now he sat looking across at his class, the masterful + teacher of them. They sat looking responsively at him. Then he + took up his favorite theme:</p> + <p>"Your work on this portrait is your best work, because the + model, as I stated to you at the outset would be the case, has + called forth your finer selves; she has caused you to + <i>feel</i>. And she has been able to do this because her + countenance, her whole being, radiates one of the great + passions and faiths of our common humanity—the look of + reverent motherhood. You recognize that look, that mood; you + believe in it; you honor it; you have worked over its living + eloquence. Observe, then, the result. Turn to your canvases and + see how, though proceeding differently, you have + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page110" + id="page110"></a>{110}</span> all dipped your brushes as in a + common medium; how you have all drawn an identical line around + that old-time human landmark. You have in truth copied from her + one of the great beacon-lights of expression that has been + burning and signaling through ages upon ages of human + history—the look of the mother, the angel of + self-sacrifice to the earth.</p> + <p>"While we wait, we might go a little way into this general + matter, since you, in the study of portraiture, will always + have to deal with it. This look of hers, which you have caught + on your canvases, and all the other great beacon-lights of + human expression, stand of course for the inner energies of our + lives, the leading forces of our characters. But, as ages pass, + human life changes; its chief elements shift their relative + places, some forcing their way + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page111" + id="page111"></a>{111}</span> to the front, others being pushed + to the rear; and the prominent beacon-lights change + correspondingly. Ancient ones go out, new ones appear; and the + art of portraiture, which is the undying historian of the human + countenance, is subject to this shifting law of the birth and + death of its material.</p> + <p>"Perhaps more ancient lights have died out of human faces + than modern lights have been kindled to replace them. Do you + understand why? The reason is this: throughout an immeasurable + time the aim of nature was to make the human countenance as + complete an instrument of expression as it could possibly be. + Man, except for his gestures and wordless sounds, for ages had + nothing else with which to speak; he must speak with his face. + And thus the primitive face became the chronicle of what was + going on within him as well + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page112" + id="page112"></a>{112}</span> as of what had taken place + without. It was his earliest bulletin-board of intelligence. It + was the first parchment to bear tidings; it was the original + newspaper; it was the rude, but vivid, primeval book of the + woods. The human face was all that. Ages more had to pass + before spoken language began, and still other ages before + written language began. Thus for an immeasurable time nature + developed the face and multiplied its expressions to enable man + to make himself understood. At last this development was + checked; what we may call the natural occupation of the face + culminated. Civilization began, and as soon as civilization + began, the decline in natural expressiveness began with it. + Gradually civilization supplanted primeval needs; it contrived + other means for doing what the face alone had done frankly, + marvelously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page113" + id="page113"></a>{113}</span> When you can print news on paper, + you may cease to print news on the living countenance. + Moreover, the aim of civilization is to develop in us the + consciousness not to express, but to suppress. Its aim is not + to reveal, but to conceal, thought and emotion; not to make the + countenance a beacon-light, but a muffler of the inner candle, + whatever that candle for the time may be. All our ruling + passions, good or bad, noble or ignoble, we now try publicly to + hide. This is civilization. And thus the face, having started + out expressionless in nature, tends through civilization to + become expressionless again.</p> + <p>"How few faces does any one of us know that frankly radiate + the great passions and moods of human nature! What little is + left of this ancient tremendous drama is the poor pantomime of + the stage. Search crowds, search + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page114" + id="page114"></a>{114}</span> the streets. See everywhere + masked faces, telling as little as possible to those around + them of what they glory in or what they suffer. Search modern + portrait galleries. Do you find portraits of either men or + women who radiate the overwhelming passions, the vital moods, + of our galled and soaring nature? It is not a long time since + the Middle Ages. In the stretch of history centuries shrink to + nothing, and the Middle Ages are as the earlier hours of our + own historic day. But has there not been a change even within + that short time? Did not the medieval portrait-painters portray + in their sitters great moods as no painter portrays them now? + How many painters of to-day can find great moods in the faces + of their sitters?</p> + <p>"And so I come again to your model. What makes her so + remarkable, so <span class="pagenum"><a name="page115" + id="page115"></a>{115}</span> significant, so touching, so + exquisite, so human, is the fact that her face seems almost a + survival out of a past in which the beacon-lights of humanity + did more openly appear on the features. In her case one + beacon-light most of all,—the greatest that has ever + shone on the faces of women,—the one which seems to be + slowly vanishing from the faces of modern women—the look + of the mother: that transfiguration of the countenance of the + mother who believed that the birth of a child was the divine + event in her existence, and the emotions and energies of whose + life centered about her offspring. How often does any living + painter have his chance to paint that look now! Galleries are + well filled with portraits of contemporary women who have borne + children: how often among these is to be found the portrait of + the mother of old?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="page116" + id="page116"></a>{116}</span></p> + <p>He rose. The talk was ended. He looked again at his watch, + and said:</p> + <p>"It does not seem worth while to wait longer. Evidently your + model has been kept away to-day. Let us hope that no ill has + befallen her and that she will be here to-morrow. If she is + here, we shall go on with the portrait. If she should not be + here, I shall have another model ready, and we shall take up + another study until she returns. Bring fresh canvases."</p> + <p>He left the room. They lingered; looking again at their + canvases, understanding their own work as they had not hitherto + and more strongly than ever drawn toward their model whom that + day they missed. Slowly and with disappointment and with many + conjectures as to why she had not come, they separated.</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page117" + id="page117"></a>{117}</span> + <h2><a name="V" + id="V"></a> V</h2> + <p>It was Sunday. All round St. Luke's Hospital quiet reigned. + The day was very still up there on the heights under the blue + curtain of the sky.</p> + <p>When he had been hurled against the curb on the dark street, + had been rolled over and tossed there and left there with no + outcry, no movement, as limp and senseless as a mangled weed, + the careless crowd which somewhere in the city every day + gathers about such scenes quickly gathered about him. In this + throng was the physician whose car stood near by; and he, used + to sights of suffering but touched by that tragedy of + unconscious child and half-crazed + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page118" + id="page118"></a>{118}</span> mother, had hurried them in his + own car to St. Luke's—to St. Luke's, which is always + open, always ready, and always free to those who lack + means.</p> + <p>Just before they stopped at the entrance she had pleaded in + the doctor's ear for a luxury.</p> + <p>"To the private ward," he said to those who lifted the lad + to the stretcher, speaking as though in response to her + entreaty.</p> + <p>"One of the best rooms," he said before the operation, + speaking as though he shouldered the responsibility of the + further expense. "And a room for her near by," he added. + "Everything for them! Everything!"</p> + <hr /> + <p>So there he was now, the lad, or what there was left of him, + this quiet Sunday, in a pleasant room opposite the cathedral. + The air was like early + summer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page119" + id="page119"></a>{119}</span> The windows were open. He lay on + his back, not seeing anything. The skin of his forehead had + been torn off; there was a bandage over his eyes. And there + were bruises on his body and bruises on his face, which was + horribly disfigured. The lips were swollen two or three + thicknesses; it was agony for him to speak. When he realized + what had happened, after the operation, his first mumbled words + to her were:</p> + <p>"They will never have me now."</p> + <p>About the middle of the forenoon of this still Sunday + morning, when the doctor left, she followed him into the hall + as usual, and questioned him as usual with her eyes. He + encouraged her and encouraged himself:</p> + <p>"I believe he is going to get well. He has the will to get + well, he has the bravery to get well. He is brave about it; he + is as brave as he can + be."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page120" + id="page120"></a>{120}</span></p> + <p>"Of course he is brave," she said scornfully. "Of course he + is brave."</p> + <p>"The love of such a mother would call him back to life," he + added, and he laid one of his hands on her head for a + moment.</p> + <p>"Don't do that," she said, as though the least tenderness + toward herself at such a moment would unnerve her, melt away + all her fortitude.</p> + <p>Everybody had said he was brave, the head nurse, the day + nurse, the night nurse, the woman who brought in the meals, the + woman who scrubbed the floor. All this had kept her up. If + anybody paid any kind of tribute to him, realized in any way + what he was, this was life to her.</p> + <p>After the doctor left, as the nurse was with him, she walked + up and down the halls, too restless to be quiet.</p> + <p>At the end of one hall she could look + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page121" + id="page121"></a>{121}</span> down on the fragrant leafy park. + Yes, summer was nigh. Where a little while before had been only + white blossoms, there were fewer white now, more pink, some + red, many to match the yellow of the sun. The whole hillside of + swaying; boughs seemed to quiver with happiness. Her eyes + wandered farther down to the row of houses at the foot of the + park. She could see the dreadful spot on the street, the + horrible spot. She could see her shattered window-panes up + above. The points of broken glass still seemed to slit the + flesh of her hands within their bandages.</p> + <p>She shrank back and walked to the end of the transverse + hall. Across the road was the cathedral. The morning service + was just over. People were pouring out through the temporary + side doors and the temporary front doors so placidly, so + contentedly! Some were <span class="pagenum"><a name="page122" + id="page122"></a>{122}</span> evidently strangers; as they + reached the outside they turned and studied the cathedral + curiously as those who had never before seen it. Others turned + and looked at it familiarly, with pride in its unfolding form. + Some stopped and looked down at the young grass, stroking it + with the toes of their fine shoes; they were saying how fresh + and green it was. Some looked up at the sky; they were saying + how blue it was. Some looked at one another keenly; they were + discussing some agreeable matter, being happy to get back to it + now after the service. Not one of them looked across at the + hospital. Not a soul of them seemed to be even aware of its + existence. Not a soul of them!</p> + <p>Particularly her eyes became riveted upon two middle-aged + ladies in black who came out through a side door of the + cathedral—slow-paced women, bereft, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page123" + id="page123"></a>{123}</span> full of pity. As they crossed the + yard, a gray squirrel came jumping along in front of them on + its way to the park. One stooped and coaxed it and tried to pet + it: it became a vital matter with both of them to pour out upon + the little creature which had no need of it their pent-up, + ungratified affection. With not a glance to the window where + she stood, with her mortal need of them, her need of all + mothers, of everybody—her mortal need of everybody! Why + were they not there at his bedside? Why had they not heard? Why + had not all of them heard? Why had anything else been talked of + that day? Why were they not all massed around the hospital + doors, tearful with their sympathies? How could they hold + services in the cathedral—the usual services? Why was it + not crowded to the doors with the clergy of all faiths and the + lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="page124" + id="page124"></a>{124}</span> men of every land, lifting one + outcry against such destruction? Why did they not stop building + temples to God, to the God of life, to the God who gave little + children, until they had stopped the massacre of children, His + children in the streets!</p> + <p>Yes; everybody had been kind. Even his little rivals who had + fought with him over the sale of papers had given up some of + their pennies and had bought flowers for him, and one of them + had brought their gift to the main hospital entrance. Every day + a shy group of them had gathered on the street while one came + to inquire how he was. Kindness had rained on her; there was + that in the sight of her that unsealed kindness in every + heart.</p> + <p>She had been too nearly crazed to think of this. Her + bitterness and anguish broke through the near cordon of + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page125" + id="page125"></a>{125}</span> sympathy and went out against the + whole brutal and careless world that did not care—to + legislatures that did not care, to magistrates that did not + care, to juries that did not care, to officials that did not + care, to drivers that did not care, to the whole city that did + not care about the massacre in the streets.</p> + <p>Through the doors of the cathedral the people streamed out + unconcerned. Beneath her, along the street, young couples + passed, flushed with their climb of the park hillside, and + flushed with young love, young health. Sometimes they held each + other's hands; they innocently mocked her agony with their + careless joy.</p> + <p>One last figure issued from the side door of the cathedral + hurriedly and looked eagerly across at the + hospital—looked straight at her, at the window, and came + straight toward the entrance + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page126" + id="page126"></a>{126}</span> below—the choir-master. She + had not sent word to him or to any one about the accident; but + he, when his new pupil had failed to report as promised, had + come down to find out why. And he, like all the others, had + been kind; and he was coming now to inquire what he could do in + a case where nothing could be done. She knew only too well that + nothing could be done.</p> + <hr /> + <p>The bright serene hours of the day passed one by one with + nature's carelessness about the human tragedy. It was afternoon + and near the hour for the choral even-song across the way at + the cathedral, the temporary windows of which were open.</p> + <p>She had relieved the nurse, and was alone with him. Often + during these days he had put out one of his hands and groped + about with it to touch her, + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page127" + id="page127"></a>{127}</span> turning his head a little toward her + under his bandaged eyes, and apparently feeling much mystified + about her, but saying nothing. She kept her bandaged hands out + of his reach but leaned over him in response and talked ever to + him, barely stroking him with the tips of her stiffened + fingers.</p> + <p>The afternoon was so quiet that by and by through the opened + windows a deep note sent a thrill into the room—the + awakened soul of the organ. And as the two listened to it in + silence, soon there floated over to them the voices of the + choir as the line moved slowly down the aisle, the blended + voices of the chosen band, his school-fellows of the altar. By + the bedside she suddenly rocked to and fro, and then she bent + over and said with a smile in her tone:</p> + <p>"<i>Do you hear? Do you hear them?</i>"</p> + <p>He made a motion with his lips to + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page128" + id="page128"></a>{128}</span> speak but they hurt him too much. + So he nodded: that he heard them.</p> + <p>A moment later he tugged at the bandage over his eyes.</p> + <p>She sprang toward him:</p> + <p>"O my precious one, you must not tear the bandage off your + eyes!"</p> + <p>"I want to see you!" he mumbled. "It has been so long since + I saw you! What's the matter with you? Where are your hands? + Why don't you put your arms around me?"</p> + <hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="page129" + id="page129"></a>{129}</span> + <h2><a name="VI" + id="VI"></a> VI</h2> + <p>The class had been engaged with another model. Their work + was forced and listless. As days passed without the mother's + return, their thought and their talk concerned itself more and + more with her disappearance. Why had she not come back? What + had befallen her? What did it all mean? Would they ever + know?</p> + <p>One day after their luncheon-hour, as they were about to + resume work, the teacher of the class entered. He looked + shocked; his look shocked them; instant sympathy ran through + them. He spoke with difficulty:</p> + <p>"She has come back. She is down-stairs. Something had + befallen her in<span class="pagenum"><a name="page130" + id="page130"></a>{130}</span> deed. She told me as briefly as + possible and I tell you all I know. Her son, a little fellow + who had just been chosen for the cathedral choir school was run + over in the street. A mention of it—the usual + story—was in the papers, but who of us reads such things + in the papers? They bore us; they are not even news. He was + taken to St. Luke's, and she has been at St. Luke's, and the + end came at St. Luke's, and all the time we have been here a + few yards distant and have known nothing of it. Such is New + York! It was to help pay for his education in music that she + first came to us, she said. And it was the news that he had + been chosen for the choir school that accounts for the new + happiness which we saw brighten her day by day. Now she comes + again for the same small wage, but with other need, no doubt: + the expenses of it all, <span class="pagenum"><a name="page131" + id="page131"></a>{131}</span> a rose-bush for his breast. She + told me this calmly as though it caused her no grief. It was + not my privilege, it is not our privilege, to share her + unutterable bereavement.</p> + <p>"She has asked to go on with the sittings. I have told her + to come to-morrow. But she does not realize all that this + involves with the portrait. You will have to bring new + canvases, it will have to be a new work. She is in mourning. + Her hands will have to be left out, she has hurt them; they are + bandaged. The new portrait will be of the head and face only. + But the chief reason is the change of expression. The light + which was in her face and which you have partly caught upon + your canvases, has died out; it was brutally put out. The old + look is gone. It is gone, and will never come back—the + tender, brooding, reverent happiness + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page132" + id="page132"></a>{132}</span> and peace of motherhood with the + child at her knee—that great earthly beacon-light in + women of ages past. It was brutally put out but it did not + leave blankness behind it. There has come in its place another + light, another ancient beacon-light on the faces of women of + old—the look of faith in immortal things. She is not now + the mother with the tenderness of this earth but the mother + with the expectation of eternity. Her eyes have followed him + who has left her arms and gone into a distance. Ever she + follows him into that distance. Your portrait, if you can paint + it, will be the mother with the look of immortal things in her + face."</p> + <hr /> + <p>When she entered the room next morning, at the sight of her + in mourning and so changed in every way, with one impulse they + all rose to her. She <span class="pagenum"><a name="page133" + id="page133"></a>{133}</span> took no notice,—perhaps it + would have been unendurable to notice,—but she stepped + forward as usual, and climbed to the platform without + faltering, and he posed her for the head and shoulders. Then, + to study the effect from different angles, he went behind the + easels, passing from one to another. As he returned, with the + thought of giving her pleasure, he brought along with him one + of the sketches of herself and held it out before her.</p> + <p>"Do you recognize it?" he asked.</p> + <p>She refused to look at first. Then arousing herself from her + indifference she glanced at it. But when she beheld there what + she had never seen—how great had been her love of him; + when she beheld there the light now gone out and realized that + it meant the end of happy days with him, she shut her eyes + quickly and jerked her head to one side + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page134" + id="page134"></a>{134}</span> with a motion for him to take the + picture away. But she had been brought too close to her sorrow + and suddenly she bent over her hands like a snapped reed and + the storm of her grief came upon her.</p> + <p>They started up to get to her. They fought one another to + get to her. They crowded around the platform, and tried to hide + her from one another's eyes, and knelt down, and wound their + arms about her, and sobbed with her; and then they lifted her + and guided her behind the screens.</p> + <p>"Now, if you will allow them," he said, when she came out + with them, one of them having lent her a veil, "some of these + young friends will go home with you. And whenever you wish, + whenever you feel like it, come back to us. We shall be ready. + We shall be waiting. We shall all be + glad."<span class="pagenum"><a name="page135" + id="page135"></a>{135}</span></p> + <p>On the heights the cathedral rises—slowly, as the + great houses of man's Christian faith have always risen.</p> + <p>Years have drifted by as silently as the winds since the + first rock was riven where its foundations were to be laid, and + still all day on the clean air sounds the lonely clink of drill + and chisel as the blasting and the shaping of the stone goes + on. The snows of winters have drifted deep above its rough + beginnings; the suns of many a spring have melted the snows + away. Well nigh a generation of human lives has already + measured its brief span about the cornerstones. Far-brought, + many-tongued toilers, toiling on the rising walls, have dropped + their work and stretched themselves in their last sleep; others + have climbed to their places; the work goes on. Upon the + shoulders of the images of the Apostles, which stand about the + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page136" + id="page136"></a>{136}</span> chancel, generations of + pigeons—the doves of the temple whose nests are in the + niches—upon the shoulders of the Apostles generations of + pigeons born in the niches have descended out of the azure as + with the benediction of shimmering wings. Generations of the + wind-borne seeds of wild flowers have lodged in low crevices + and have sprouted and blossomed, and as seeds again have been + blown further on—harbingers of vines and mosses already + on their venerable way.</p> + <p>A mighty shape begins to answer back to the cathedrals of + other lands and ages, bespeaking for itself admittance into the + league of the world's august sanctuaries. It begins to send its + annunciation onward into ages yet to be, so remote, so strange, + that we know not in what sense the men of it will even be our + human brothers <span class="pagenum"><a name="page137" + id="page137"></a>{137}</span> save as they are children of the + same Father.</p> + <p>Between this past and this future, the one of which cannot + answer because it is too late and the other of which can not + answer because it is too soon—between this past and this + future the cathedral stands in a present that answers back to + it more and more. For a world of living-men and women see + kindled there the same ancient flame that has been the light of + all earlier stations on that solitary road of faith which runs + for a little space between the two eternities—a road + strewn with the dust of countless wayfarers bearing each a + different cross of burden but with eyes turned toward the same + Cross of hope.</p> + <p>As on some mountain-top a tall pine-tree casts its + lengthened shadow upon the valleys far below, round and round + with the circuit of the sun, so the + cathedral<span class="pagenum"><a name="page138" + id="page138"></a>{138}</span> flings hither and thither + across the whole land its spiritual shaft of light. A vast, + unnumbered throng begin to hear of it, begin to look toward it, + begin to grow familiar with its emerging form. In imagination + they see its chapels bathed in the glories of the morning sun; + they remember its unfinished dome gilded at the hush of + sunsets. Between the roar of the eastern and of the western + ocean its organ speaks of a Divine peace above mortal storm. + Pilgrims from afar, known only to themselves as pilgrims, being + pilgrim-hearted but not pilgrim-clad, reach at its gates the + borders of their Gethsemane. Bowed as penitents, they hail its + lily of forgiveness and the resurrection.</p> + <p>Slowly the cathedral rises, in what unknown years to stand + finished! Crowning a city of new people, let it be hoped, of + better laws. Finished and + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page139" + id="page139"></a>{139}</span> standing on its rock for the + order of the streets, for order in the land and order + throughout the world, for order in the secret places of the + soul. Majestical rebuker of the waste of lives, rebuker of a + country which invites all lives into it and wastes lives most + ruthlessly—lives which it stands there to shelter and to + foster and to save.</p> + <p>So it speaks to the distant through space and time; but it + speaks also to the near.</p> + <p>Although not half risen out of the earth, encumbering it + rough and shapeless, already it draws into its service many who + dwell around. These seek to cast their weaknesses on its + strength, to join their brief day to its innumerable years, to + fall into the spiritual splendor of it as out in space small + darkened wanderers drop into the orbit of a sun. Anguished + memories begin to bequeath + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page140" + id="page140"></a>{140}</span> their jewels to its shrine; + dimmed eyes will their tears to its eyes, its windows. Old age + with one foot in the grave drags the other resignedly about its + crypt. In its choir sound the voices of children herded in from + the green hillside of life's April.</p> + <hr /> + <p>Rachel Truesdale! Her life became one of these near-by lives + which it blesses, a darkened wanderer caught into the splendor + of a spiritual sun. It gathered her into its service; it found + useful work for her to do; and in this new life of hers it drew + out of her nature the last thing that is ever born of the + mother—faith that she is separated a little while from + her children only because they have received the gift of + eternal youth.</p> + <p>Many a proud happy thought became hers as time went on. She + had had her <span class="pagenum"><a name="page141" + id="page141"></a>{141}</span> share in its glory, for it had + needed him whom she had brought into the world. It had called + upon him to help give song to its message and to build that + ever-falling rainbow of music over which human Hope walks into + the eternal.</p> + <p>Always as the line of white-clad choristers passed down the + aisle, among them was one who brushed tenderly against her as + he walked by, whom no one else saw. Rising above the actual + voices and heard by her alone, up to the dome soared a voice + dearer, more thrilling, than the rest.</p> + <p>Often she was at her window, watching the workmen at their + toil as they brought out more and more the great shape on the + heights. Often she stood looking across at the park hillside + opposite. Whenever spring came back and the slope lived again + with young leaves <span class="pagenum"><a name="page142" + id="page142"></a>{142}</span> and white blossoms, always she + thought of him. Always she saw him playing in an eternal April. + When autumn returned and leaves withered and dropped, she + thought of herself.</p> + <p>Sometimes standing beside his piano.</p> + <p>Having always in her face the look of immortal things.</p> + <hr style='width: 45%;' /> + <p>The cathedral there on its rock for ages saying:</p> + <p class="center">"<i>I am the Resurrection and the + Life."</i></p> + <p> </p> + <p> </p> + <h2>THE END</h2> + + + +<pre> + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cathedral Singer, by James Lane Allen +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CATHEDRAL SINGER *** +***** This file should be named 15385-h.htm or 15385-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/3/8/15385/ +Produced by Kentuckiana Digital Library, David Garcia, Chuck Greif +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Cathedral Singer + +Author: James Lane Allen + +Release Date: March 16, 2005 [EBook #15385] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CATHEDRAL SINGER *** + + + + +Produced by Kentuckiana Digital Library, David Garcia, Chuck Greif +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + +A Cathedral Singer + +[Illustration] + + + + +A Cathedral Singer + +BY JAMES LANE ALLEN + +Author of "The Sword of Youth," "The Bride of the Mistletoe," "The +Kentucky Cardinal," "The Choir Invisible," etc. + +WITH FRONTISPIECE BY SIGISMOND DE IVANOWSKI + +NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1916 Copyright, 1914, 1916, by THE CENTURY CO. + +_Published, March, 1916_ + + + + +TO PITY AND TO FAITH + + + + +A Cathedral Singer + + + + + +I + +Slowly on Morningside Heights rises the Cathedral of St. John the +Divine: standing on a high rock under the Northern sky above the long +wash of the untroubled sea, above the wash of the troubled waves of men. + +It has fit neighbors. Across the street to the north looms the +many-towered gray-walled Hospital of St. Luke--cathedral of our ruins, +of our sufferings and our dust, near the cathedral of our souls. + +Across the block to the south is situated a shed-like two-story building +with dormer-windows and a crumpled three-sided roof, the studios of the +National Academy of Design; and under that low brittle skylight youth +toils over the shapes and colors of the visible vanishing paradise of +the earth in the shadow of the cathedral which promises an unseen, an +eternal one. + +At the rear of the cathedral, across the roadway, stands a low stone +wall. Just over the wall the earth sinks like a precipice to a green +valley bottom far below. Out here is a rugged slope of rock and verdure +and forest growth which brings into the city an ancient presence, +nature--nature, the Elysian Fields of the art school, the potter's field +of the hospital, the harvest field of the church. + +This strip of nature fronts the dawn and is called Morningside Park. +Past the foot of it a thoroughfare stretches northward and southward, +level and wide and smooth. Over this thoroughfare the two opposite-moving +streams of the city's traffic and travel rush headlong. Beyond the +thoroughfare an embankment of houses shoves its mass before the eyes, +and beyond the embankment the city spreads out over flats where human +beings are as thick as river reeds. + +Thus within small compass humanity is here: the cathedral, the hospital, +the art school, and a strip of nature, and a broad highway along which, +with their hearth-fires flickering fitfully under their tents of stone, +are encamped life's restless, light-hearted, heavy-hearted Gipsies. + + * * * * * + +It was Monday morning and it was nine o'clock. Over at the National +Academy of Design, in an upper room, the members of one of the women's +portrait classes were assembled, ready to begin work. Easels had been +drawn into position; a clear light from the blue sky of the last of +April fell through the opened roof upon new canvases fastened to the +frames. And it poured down bountifully upon intelligent young faces. The +scene was a beautiful one, and it was complete except in one particular: +the teacher of the class was missing--the teacher and a model. + +Minutes passed without his coming, and when at last he did enter the +room, he advanced two or three steps and paused as though he meant +presently to go out again. After his usual quiet good-morning with his +sober smile, he gave his alert listeners the clue to an unusual +situation: + +"I told the class that to-day we should begin a fresh study. I had not +myself decided what this should be. Several models were in reserve, any +one of whom could have been used to advantage at this closing stage of +the year's course. Then the unexpected happened: on Saturday a stranger, +a woman, came to see me and asked to be engaged. It is this model that I +have been waiting for down-stairs." + +Their thoughts instantly passed to the model: his impressive manner, his +respectful words, invested her with mystery, with fascination. His +countenance lighted up with wonderful interest as he went on: + +"She is not a professional; she has never posed. In asking me to engage +her she proffered barely the explanation which she seemed to feel due +herself. I turn this explanation over to you because she wished, I +think, that you also should not misunderstand her. It is the fee, then, +that is needed, the model's wage; she has felt the common lash of the +poor. Plainly here is some one who has stepped down from her place in +life, who has descended far below her inclinations, to raise a small sum +of money. Why she does so is of course her own sacred and delicate +affair. But the spirit in which she does this becomes our affair, +because it becomes a matter of expression with her. This self-sacrifice, +this ordeal which she voluntarily undergoes to gain her end, shows in +her face; and if while she poses, you should be fortunate enough to see +this look along with other fine things, great things, it will be your +aim to transfer them all to your canvases--if you can." + +He smiled at them with a kind of fostering challenge to their +over-confident impulses and immature art. But he had not yet fully +brought out what he had in mind about the mysterious stranger and he +continued: + +"We teachers of art schools in engaging models have to take from human +material as we find it. The best we find is seldom or never what we +would prefer. If I, for instance, could have my choice, my students +would never be allowed to work from a model who repelled the student or +left the student indifferent. No students of mine, if I could have my +way, should ever paint from a model that failed to call forth the finest +feelings. Otherwise, how can your best emotions have full play in your +work; and unless your best emotions enter into your work, what will your +work be worth? For if you have never before understood the truth, try to +realize it now: that you will succeed in painting only through the best +that is in you; just as only the best in you will ever carry you +triumphantly to the end of any practical human road that is worth the +travel; just as you will reach all life's best goals only through your +best. And in painting remember that the best is never in the eye, for +the eye can only perceive, the eye can only direct; and the best is +never in the hand, for the hand can only measure, the hand can only +move. In painting the best comes from emotion. A human being may lack +eyes and be none the poorer in character; a human being may lack hands +and be none the poorer in character; but whenever in life a person lacks +any great emotion, that person is the poorer in everything. And so in +painting you can fail after the eye has gained all necessary knowledge, +you can fail after your hand has received all necessary training, either +because nature has denied you the foundations of great feeling, or +because, having these foundations, you have failed to make them the +foundations of your work. + +"But among a hundred models there might not be one to arouse such +emotion. Actually in the world, among the thousands of people we know, +how few stir in us our best, force us to our best! It is the rarest +experience of our lifetimes that we meet a man or a woman who literally +drives us to the realization of what we really are and can really do +when we do our best. What we all most need in our careers is the one who +can liberate within us that lifelong prisoner whose doom it is to remain +a captive until another sets it free--our best. For we can never set our +best free by our own hands; that must always be done by another." + +They were listening to him with a startled recognition of their inmost +selves. He went on to drive home his point about the stranger: + +"I am going to introduce to you, then, a model who beyond all the others +you have worked with will liberate in you your finer selves. It is a +rare opportunity. Do not thank me. I did not find her. Life's storms +have blown her violently against the walls of the art school; we must +see to it at least that she be not further bruised while it becomes her +shelter, her refuge. Who she is, what her life has been, where she comes +from, how she happens to arrive here--these are privacies into which of +course we do not intrude. Immediately behind herself she drops a curtain +of silence which shuts away every such sign of her past. But there are +other signs of that past which she cannot hide and which it is our +privilege, our duty, the province of our art, to read. They are written +on her face, on her hands, on her bearing; they are written all over +her--the bruises of life's rudenesses, the lingering shadows of dark +days, the unwounded pride once and the wounded pride now, the +unconquerable will, a soaring spirit whose wings were meant for the +upper air but which are broken and beat the dust. All these are sublime +things to paint in any human countenance; they are the footprints of +destiny on our faces. The greatest masters of the brush that the world +has ever known could not have asked for anything greater. When you +behold her, perhaps some of you may think of certain brief but eternal +words of Pascal: 'Man is a reed that bends but does not break.' Such is +your model, then, a woman with a great countenance; the fighting face of +a woman at peace. Now out upon the darkened battle-field of this +woman's face shines one serene sun, and it is that sun that brings out +upon it its marvelous human radiance, its supreme expression: the love +of the mother. Your model is the beauty of motherhood, the sacredness of +motherhood, the glory of motherhood: that is to be the portrait of her +that you are to paint." + +He stopped. Their faces glowed; their eyes disclosed depths in their +natures never stirred before; from out those depths youthful, tender +creative forces came forth, eager to serve, to obey. He added a few +particulars: + +"For a while after she is posed you will no doubt see many different +expressions pass rapidly over her face. This will be a new and painful +experience to which she will not be able to adapt herself at once. She +will be uncomfortable, she will be awkward, she will be embarrassed, +she will be without her full value. But I think from what I discovered +while talking with her that she will soon grow oblivious to her +surroundings. They will not overwhelm her; she will finally overwhelm +them. She will soon forget you and me and the studio; the one ruling +passion of her life will sweep back into consciousness; and then out +upon her features will come again that marvelous look which has almost +remodeled them to itself alone." + +He added, "I will go for her. By this time she must be waiting +down-stairs." + +As he turned he glanced at the screens placed at that end of the room; +behind these the models made their preparations to pose. + +"I have arranged," he said significantly, "that she shall leave her +things down-stairs." + +It seemed long before they heard him on the way back. He came slowly, as +though concerned not to hurry his model, as though to save her from the +disrespect of urgency. Even the natural noise of his feet on the bare +hallway was restrained. They listened for the sounds of her footsteps. +In the tense silence of the studio a pin-drop might have been +noticeable, a breath would have been audible; but they could not hear +her footsteps. He might have been followed by a spirit. Those feet of +hers must be very light feet, very quiet feet, the feet of the +well-bred. + +He entered and advanced a few paces and turned as though to make way for +some one of far more importance than himself; and there walked forward +and stopped at a delicate distance from them all a woman, bareheaded, +ungloved, slender, straight, of middle height, and in life's middle +years--Rachel Truesdale. + +She did not look at him or at them; she did not look at anything. It was +not her role to notice. She merely waited, perfectly composed, to be +told what to do. Her thoughts and emotions did not enter into the scene +at all; she was there solely as having been hired for work. + +One privilege she had exercised unsparingly--not to offer herself for +this employment as becomingly dressed for it. She submitted herself to +be painted in austerest fidelity to nature, plainly dressed, her hair +parted and brushed severely back. Women, sometimes great women, have in +history, at the hour of their supreme tragedies, thus demeaned +themselves--for the hospital, for baptism, for the guillotine, for the +stake, for the cross. + +But because she made herself poor in apparel, she became most rich in +her humanity. There was nothing for the eye to rest upon but her bare +self. And thus the contours of the head, the beauty of the hair, the +line of it along the forehead and temples, the curvature of the brows, +the chiseling of the proud nostrils and the high bridge of the nose, the +molding of the mouth, the modeling of the throat, the shaping of the +shoulders, the grace of the arms and the hands--all became conspicuous, +absorbing. The slightest elements of physique and of personality came +into view powerful, unforgetable. + +She stood, not noticing anything, waiting for instructions. With the +courtesy which was the soul of him and the secret of his genius for +inspiring others to do their utmost, the master of the class glanced at +her and glanced at the members of the class, and tried to draw them +together with a mere smile of sympathetic introduction. It was an +attempt to break the ice. For them it did break the ice; all responded +with a smile for her or with other play of the features that meant +gracious recognition. With her the ice remained unbroken; she withheld +all response to their courteous overtures. Either she may not have +trusted herself to respond; or waiting there merely as a model, she +declined to establish any other understanding with them whatsoever. So +that he went further in the kindness of his intention and said: + +"Madam, this is my class of eager, warm, generous young natures who are +to have the opportunity of trying to paint you. They are mere beginners; +their art is still unformed. But you may believe that they will put +their best into what they are about to undertake; the loyalty of the +hand, the respect of the eye, the tenderness of their memories, +consecration to their art, their dreams and hopes of future success. Now +if you will be good enough to sit here, I will pose you." + +He stepped toward a circular revolving-platform placed at the focus of +the massed easels: it was the model's rack of patience, the mount of +humiliation, the scaffold of exposure. + +She had perhaps not understood that this would be required of her, this +indignity, that she must climb upon a block like an old-time slave at an +auction. For one instant her fighting look came back and her eyes, +though they rested on vacancy, blazed on vacancy and an ugly red rushed +over her face which had been whiter than colorless. Then as though she +had become disciplined through years of necessity to do the unworthy +things that must be done, she stepped resolutely though unsteadily upon +the platform. A long procession of men and women had climbed thither +from many a motive on life's upward or downward road. + +He had specially chosen a chair for a three-quarter portrait, stately, +richly carved; about it hung an atmosphere of high-born things. + +Now, the body has definite memories as the mind has definite memories, +and scarcely had she seated herself before the recollections of former +years revived in her and she yielded herself to the chair as though she +had risen from it a moment before. He did not have to pose her; she had +posed herself by grace of bygone luxurious ways. A few changes in the +arrangement of the hands he did make. There was required some separation +of the fingers; excitement caused her to hold them too closely together. +And he drew the entire hands into notice; he specially wished them to be +appreciated in the portrait. They were wonderful hands: they looked +eloquent with the histories of generations; their youthfulness seemed +centuries old. Yet all over them, barely to be seen, were the marks of +life's experience, the delicate but dread sculpture of adversity. + +For a while it was as he had foreseen. She was aware only of the +brutality of her position; and her face, by its confused expressions and +quick changes of color, showed what painful thoughts surged. Afterward a +change came gradually. As though she could endure the ordeal only by +forgetting it and could forget it only by looking ahead into the +happiness for which it was endured, slowly there began to shine out upon +her face its ruling passion--the acceptance of life and the love of the +mother glinting as from a cloud-hidden sun across the world's storm. +When this expression had come out, it stayed there. She had forgotten +her surroundings, she had forgotten herself. Poor indeed must have been +the soul that would not have been touched by the spectacle of her, +thrilled by her as by a great vision. + +There was silence in the room of young workers. Before them, on the face +of the unknown, was the only look that the whole world knows--the love +and self-sacrifice of the mother; perhaps the only element of our better +humanity that never once in the history of mankind has been misunderstood +and ridiculed or envied and reviled. + +Some of them worked with faces brightened by thoughts of devoted mothers +at home; the eyes of a few were shadowed by memories of mothers +alienated or dead. + + + + +II + +That morning on the ledge of rock at the rear of the cathedral Nature +hinted to passers what they would more abundantly see if fortunate +enough to be with her where she was entirely at home--out in the +country. + +The young grass along the foot of this slope was thick and green; +imagination missed from the picture rural sheep, their fleeces wet with +April rain. Along the summit of the slope trees of oak and ash and maple +and chestnut and poplar lifted against the sky their united forest +strength. Between the trees above and the grass below, the embankment +spread before the eye the enchantment of a spring landscape, with late +bare boughs and early green boughs and other boughs in blossom. + +The earliest blossoms on our part of the earth's surface are nearly +always white. They have forced their way to the sun along a frozen path +and look akin to the perils of their road: the snow-threatened lily of +the valley, the chill snowdrop, the frosty snowball, the bleak hawtree, +the wintry wild cherry, the wintry dogwood. As the eye swept the park +expanse this morning, here and there some of these were as the last +tokens of winter's mantle instead of the first tokens of summer's. + +There were flushes of color also, as where in deep soil, on a projection +of rock, a pink hawthorn stood studded to the tips of its branches with +leaf and flower. But such flushes of color were as false notes of the +earth, as harmonies of summer thrust into the wrong places and become +discords. The time for them was not yet. The hour called for hardy +adventurous things, awakened out of their cold sleep on the rocks. The +blue of the firmament was not dark summer blue but seemed the sky's +first pale response to the sun. The sun was not rich summer gold but +flashed silver rays. The ground scattered no odors; all was the budding +youth of Nature on the rocks. + +Paths wind hither and thither over this park hillside. Benches are +placed at different levels along the way. If you are going up, you may +rest; if you are coming down, you may linger; if neither going up nor +coming down, you may with a book seek out some retreat of shade and +coolness and keep at a distance the millions that rush and crush around +the park as waters roar against some lone mid-ocean island. + +About eleven o'clock that morning, on one of these benches placed where +rock is steepest and forest trees stand close together and vines are +rank with shade, a sociable-looking little fellow of some ten hardy +well-buffeted years had sat down for the moment without a companion. He +had thrown upon the bench beside him his sun-faded, rain-faded, +shapeless cap, uncovering much bronzed hair; and as though by this +simple act he had cleared the way for business, he thrust one +capable-looking hand deep into one of his pockets. The fingers closed +upon what they found there, like the meshes of a deep-sea net filled +with its catch, and were slowly drawn to the surface. The catch +consisted of one-cent and five-cent pieces, representing the sales of +his morning papers. He counted the coins one by one over into the palm +of the other hand, which then closed upon the total like another net, +and dropped the treasure back into the deep sea of the other pocket. + +His absorption in this process had been intense; his satisfaction with +the result was complete. Perhaps after every act of successful banking +there takes place in the mind of man, spendthrift and miser, a momentary +lull of energy, a kind of brief _Pax vobiscum_ my soul and stomach, +my twin masters of need and greed! And possibly, as the lad deposited +his earnings, he was old enough to enter a little way into this adult +and despicable joy. Be this as it may, he was not the next instant up +again and busy. He caught up his cap, dropped it not on his head but on +one of his ragged knees; planted a sturdy hand on it and the other +sturdy hand on the other knee; and with his sturdy legs swinging under +the bench, toe kicking heel and heel kicking toe, he rested briefly +from life's battle. + +The signs of battle were thick on him, unmistakable. The palpable sign, +the conqueror's sign, was the profits won in the struggle of the +streets. The other signs may be set down as loss--dirt and raggedness +and disorder. His hair might never have been straightened out with a +comb; his hands were not politely mentionable; his coarse shoes, which +seemed to have been bought with the agreement that they were never to +wear out, were ill-conditioned with general dust and the special grime +of melted pitch from the typical contractor's cheapened asphalt; one of +his stockings had a fresh rent and old rents enlarged their grievances. + +A single sign of victory was better even than the money in the +pocket--the whole lad himself. He was strongly built, frankly +fashioned, with happy grayish eyes, which had in them some of the cold +warrior blue of the sky that day; and they were set wide apart in a +compact round head, which somehow suggested a bronze sphere on a column +of triumph. Altogether he belonged to that hillside of nature, himself a +human growth budding out of wintry fortunes into life's April, opening +on the rocks hardy and all white. + +But to sit there swinging his legs--this did not suffice to satisfy his +heart, did not enable him to celebrate his instincts; and suddenly from +his thicket of forest trees and greening bushes he began to pour forth a +thrilling little tide of song, with the native sweetness of some human +linnet unaware of its transcendent gift. + +Up the steep hill a man not yet of middle age had mounted from the +flats. He was on his way toward the parapet above. He came on slowly, +hat in hand, perspiration on his forehead; that climb from base to +summit stretches a healthy walker and does him good. At a turn of the +road under the forest trees with shrubbery alongside he stopped +suddenly, as a naturalist might pause with half-lifted foot beside a +dense copse in which some unknown species of bird sang--a young bird +just finding its notes. + +It was his vocation to discover and to train voices. His definite work +in music was to help perpetually to rebuild for the world that +ever-sinking bridge of sound over which Faith aids itself in +walking-toward the eternal. This bridge of falling notes is as Nature's +bridge of falling drops: individual drops appear for an instant in the +rainbow, then disappear, but century after century the great arch +stands there on the sky unshaken. So throughout the ages the bridge of +sacred music, in which individual voices are heard a little while and +then are heard no longer, remains for man as one same structure of rock +by which he passes over from the mortal to the immortal. + +Such was his life-work. As he now paused and listened, you might have +interpreted his demeanor as that of a professional musician whose ears +brought tidings that greatly astonished him. The thought had at once +come to him of how the New York papers once in a while print a story of +the accidental finding in it of a wonderful voice--in New York, where +you can find everything that is human. He recalled throughout the +history of music instances in which some one of the world's famous +singers had been picked up on life's road where it was roughest. Was +anything like this now to become his own experience? Falling on his ear +was an unmistakable gift of song, a wandering, haunting, unidentified +note under that early April blue. He had never heard anything like it. +It was a singing soul. + +Voice alone did not suffice for his purpose; the singer's face, +personality, manners, some unfortunate strain in the blood, might debar +the voice, block its acceptance, ruin everything. He almost dreaded to +walk on, to explore what was ahead. But his road led that way, and three +steps brought him around the woody bend of it. + +There he stopped again. In an embrasure of rock on which vines were +turning green, a little fellow, seasoned by wind and sun, with a +countenance open and friendly, like the sky, was pouring out his full +heart. + +The instant the man came into view, the song was broken off. The sturdy +figure started up and sprang forward with the instinct of business. When +any one paused and looked questioningly at him, as this man now did, it +meant papers and pennies. His inquiry was quite breathless: + +"Do you want a paper, Mister? What paper do you want? I can get you one +on the avenue in a minute." + +He stood looking up at the man, alert, capable, fearless, ingratiating. +The man had instantly taken note of the speaking voice, which is often a +safer first criterion to go by than the singing voice itself. He +pronounced it sincere, robust, true, sweet, victorious. And very quickly +also he made up his mind that conditions must have been rare and +fortunate with the lad at his birth: blood will tell, and blood told +now even in this dirt and in these rags. + +His reply bore testimony to how appreciative he felt of all that faced +him there so humanly on the rock. + +"Thank you," he said, "I have read the papers." + +Having thus disposed of some of the lad's words, he addressed a pointed +question to the rest: + +"But how did you happen to call me mister? I thought boss was what you +little New-Yorkers generally said." + +"I'm not a New-Yorker," announced the lad, with ready courtesy and good +nature. "I don't say boss. We are Southerners. I say mister." + +He gave the man an unfavorable look as though of a mind to take his true +measure; also as being of a mind to let the man know that he had not +taken the boy's measure. + +The man smiled at being corrected to such good purpose; but before he +could speak again, the lad went on to clinch his correction: + +"And I only say mister when I am selling papers and am not at home." + +"What do you say when not selling papers and when you are at home?" +asked the man, forced to a smile. + +"I say 'sir,' if I say anything," retorted the lad, flaring up, but +still polite. + +The man looked at him with increasing interest. Another word in the +lad's speech had caught his attention--Southerner. + +That word had been with him a good deal in recent years; he had not +quite seemed able to get away from it. Nearly all classes of people in +New York who were not Southerners had been increasingly reminded that +the Southerners were upon them. He had satirically worked it out in his +own mind that if he were ever pushed out of his own position, it would +be some Southerner who pushed him. He sometimes thought of the whole New +York professional situation as a public wonderful awful dinner at which +almost nothing was served that did not have a Southern flavor as from a +kind of pepper. The guests were bound to have administered to them their +shares of this pepper; there was no getting away from the table and no +getting the pepper out of the dinner. There was the intrusion of the +South into every delicacy. + +"We are Southerners," the lad had announced decisively; and there the +flavor was again, though this time as from a mere pepper-box in a school +basket. Thus his next remark was addressed to his own thoughts as well +as to the lad: + +"And so _you_ are a Southerner!" he reflected audibly, looking down at +the Southern plague in small form. + +"Why, yes, Mister, we are Southerners," replied the lad, with a gay and +careless patriotism; and as giving the handy pepper-box a shake, he +began to dust the air with its contents: "I was born on an old Southern +battle-field. When Granny was born there, it had hardly stopped smoking; +it was still piled with wounded and dead Northerners. Why, one of the +worst batteries was planted in our front porch." + +This enthusiasm as to the front porch was assumed to be acceptable to +the listener. The battery might have been a Cherokee rose. + +The man had listened with a quizzical light in his eyes. + +"In what direction did you say that battery was pointed?" + +"I didn't say; but it was pointed up this way, of course." + +The man laughed outright. + +"And so you followed in the direction of the deadly Southern shell and +came north--as a small grape-shot!" + +"But, Mister, that was long ago. They had their quarrel out long ago. +That's the way we boys do: fight it out and make friends again. Don't +you do that way?" + +"It's a very good way to do," said the man. "And so you sell papers?" + +"I sell papers to people in the park, Mister, and back up on the avenue. +Granny is particular. I'm not a regular newsboy." + +"I heard you singing. Does anybody teach you?" + +"Granny." + +"And so your grandmother is your music teacher?" + +It was the lad's turn to laugh. + +"Granny isn't my grandmother; Granny is my mother." + +Toppling over in the dust of imagination went a gaunt granny image; in +its place a much more vital being appeared just behind the form of the +lad, guarding him even now while he spoke. + +"And so your mother takes pupils?" + +"Only me." + +"Has any one heard you sing?" + +"Only she." + +It had become more and more the part of the man during this colloquy to +smile; he felt repeatedly in the flank of his mind a jab of the comic +spur. Now he laughed at the lad's deadly preparedness; business +competition in New York had taught him that he who hesitates a moment is +lost. The boy seemed ready with his answers before he heard the man's +questions. + +"Do you mind telling me your name?" + +"My name is Ashby. Ashby Truesdale. We come from an old English family. +What is your name, and what kind of family do you come from, Mister?" + +"And where do you live?" + +The lad wheeled, and strode to the edge of the rock,--the path along +there is blasted out of solid rock,--and looking downward, he pointed to +the first row of buildings in the distant flats. + +"We live down there. You see that house in the middle of the block, the +little old one between the two big ones?" + +The man did not feel sure. + +"Well, Mister, you see the statue of Washington and Lafayette?" + +The man was certain he saw Washington and Lafayette. + +"Well, from there you follow my finger along the row of houses till you +come to the littlest, oldest, dingiest one. You see it now, don't you? +We live up under the roof." + +"What is the number?" + +"It isn't any number. It's half a number. We live in the half that isn't +numbered; the other half gets the number." + +"And you take your music lessons in one half?" + +"Why, yes, Mister. Why not?" + +"On a piano?" + +"Why, yes, Mister; on _my_ piano." + +"Oh, you have a piano, have you?" + +"There isn't any sound in about half the keys. Granny says the time has +come to rent a better one. She has gone over to the art school to-day to +pose to get the money." + +A chill of silence fell between the talkers, the one looking up and the +other looking down. The man's next question was put in a more guarded +tone: + +"Does your mother pose as a model?" + +"No, Mister, she doesn't pose as a model. She's posing as herself. She +said I must have a teacher. Mister, were _you_ ever poor?" + +The man looked the boy over from head to foot. + +"Do you think you are poor?" he asked. + +The good-natured reply came back in a droll tone: + +"Well, Mister, we certainly aren't rich." + +"Let us see," objected the man, as though this were a point which had +better not be yielded, and he began with a voice of one reckoning up +items: "Two feet, each cheap at, say, five millions. Two hands--five +millions apiece for hands. At least ten millions for each eye. About +the same for the ears. Certainly twenty millions for your teeth. Forty +millions for your stomach. On the whole, at a rough estimate you must +easily be worth over one hundred millions. There are quite a number of +old gentlemen in New York, and a good many young ones, who would gladly +pay that amount for your investments, for your securities." + +The lad with eager upturned countenance did not conceal his amusement +while the man drew this picture of him as a living ragged gold-mine, as +actually put together and made up of pieces of fabulous treasure. A +child's notion of wealth is the power to pay for what it has not. The +wealth that childhood _is_, escapes childhood; it does not escape the +old. What most concerned the lad as to these priceless feet and hands +and eyes and ears was the hard-knocked-in fact that many a time he +ached throughout this reputed treasury of his being for a five-cent +piece, and these reputed millionaires, acting together and doing their +level best, could not produce one. + +Nevertheless, this fresh and never-before-imagined image of his +self-riches amused him. It somehow put him over into the class of +enormously opulent things; and finding himself a little lonely on that +new landscape, he cast about for some object of comparison. Thus his +mind was led to the richest of all near-by objects. + +"If I were worth a hundred million," he said, with a satisfied twinkle +in his eyes, "I would be as rich as the cathedral." + +A significant silence followed. The man broke it with a grave surprised +inquiry: + +"How did you happen to think of the cathedral?" + +"I didn't happen to think of it; I couldn't help thinking of it." + +"Have you ever been in the cathedral?" inquired the man more gravely +still. + +"Been in it! We go there all the time. It's our church. Why, good Lord! +Mister, we are descended from a bishop!" + +The man laughed outright long and heartily. + +"Thank you for telling me," he said as one who suddenly feels himself to +have become a very small object through being in the neighborhood of +such hereditary beatitudes and ecclesiastical sanctities. "Are you, +indeed? I am glad to know. Indeed, I am!" + +"Why, Mister, we have been watching the cathedral from our windows for +years. We can see the workmen away up in the air as they finish one +part and then another part. I can count the Apostles on the roof. You +begin with James the Less and keep straight on around until you come out +at Simon. Big Jim and Pete are in the middle of the row." He laughed. + +"Surely you are not going to speak of an apostle as Pete! Do you think +that is showing proper respect to an apostle?" + +"But he was Pete when he was little. He wasn't an apostle then and +didn't have any respect." + +"And you mustn't call an apostle Big Jim! It sounds dreadful!" + +"Then why did he try to call himself James the Greater? That sounds +dreadful too. As far as size is concerned he is no bigger than the +others: they are all nine and a half feet. The Archangel Gabriel on the +roof, he's nine and a half. Everybody standing around on the outside of +the roof is nine and a half. If Gabriel had been turned a little to one +side, he would blow his trumpet straight over our flat. He didn't blow +anywhere one night, for a big wind came up behind him and blew him down +and he blew his trumpet at the gutter. But he didn't stay down," boasted +the lad. + +Throughout his talk he was making it clear that the cathedral was a +neighborhood affair; that its haps and mishaps possessed for him the +flesh and blood interest of a living person. Love takes mental +possession of its object and by virtue of his affection the cathedral +had become his companion. + +"You seem rather interested in the cathedral. Very much interested," +remarked the man, strengthening his statement and with increased +attention. + +"Why, of course, Mister. I've been passing there nearly every day since +I've been selling papers on the avenue. Sometimes I stop and watch the +masons. When I went with Granny to the art school this morning, she told +me to go home that way. I have just come from there. They are building +another one of the chapels now, and the men are up on the scaffolding. +They carried more rock up than they needed and they would walk to the +edge and throw big pieces of it down with a smash. The old house they +are using for the choir school is just under there. Sometimes when the +class is practising, I listen from the outside. If they sing high, I +sing high; if they sing low, I sing low. Why, Mister, I can sing up +to--" + +He broke off abruptly. He had been pouring-out all kinds of confidences +to his new-found friend. Now he hesitated. The boldness of his nature +deserted him. The deadly preparedness failed. A shy appealing look came +into his eyes as he asked his next question--a grave question indeed: + +"_Mister, do you love music?_" + +"Do I love music?" echoed the startled musician, pierced by the +spear-like sincerity of the question, which seemed to go clean through +him and his knowledge and to point back to childhood's springs of +feeling. "Do I love music? Yes, some music, I hope. Some kinds of music, +I hope." + +These moderate, chastened words restored the boy's confidence and +completely captured his friendship. Now he felt sure of his comrade, +and he put to him a more searching question: + +"Do _you_ know anything about the cathedral?" + +The man smiled guiltily. + +"A little. I know a little about the cathedral," he admitted. + +There was a moment of tense, anxious silence. And now the whole secret +came out: + +"Do you know how boys get into the cathedral choir school?" + +The man did not answer. He stood looking down at the lad, in whose eyes +all at once a great baffled desire told its story. Then he pulled out +his watch and merely said: + +"I must be going. Good morning." He turned his way across the rock. + +Disappointment darkened the lad's face when he saw that he was to +receive no answer; withering blight dried up its joy. But he recovered +himself quickly. + +"Well, I must be going, too," he said bravely and sweetly. "Good +morning." He turned his way across the rock. But he had had a good time +talking with this stranger, and, after all, he _was_ a Southerner; and +so, as his head was about to disappear below the cliff, he called back +in his frank human gallant way: + +"I'm glad I met you, Mister." + +The man went up and the boy went down. + +The man, having climbed to the parapet, leaned over the stone wall. The +tops of some of the tall poplar-trees, rooted far below, were on a level +with his eyes. Often he stopped there to watch them swaying like upright +plumes against the wind. They swayed now in the silvery April air with a +ripple of silvery leaves. His eyes sought out intimately the barely +swollen buds on the boughs of other forest trees yet far from leaf. They +lingered on the white blossoms of the various shrubs. They found the +pink hawthorn; in the boughs of one of those trees one night in England +in mid-May he had heard the nightingale, master singer of the non-human +world. Up to him rose the enchanting hillside picture of grass and moss +and fern. It was all like a sheet of soft organ music to his +nature-reading eyes. + +While he gazed, he listened. Down past the shadows and the greenness, +through the blossoms and the light, growing fainter and fainter, went a +wandering little drift of melody, a haunting, unidentified sound under +the blue cathedral dome of the sky. He reflected again that he had never +heard anything like it. It was, in truth, a singing soul. + +Then he saw the lad's sturdy figure bound across the valley to join +friends in play on the thoroughfare that skirts the park alongside the +row of houses. + +He himself turned and went in the direction of the cathedral. + +As he walked slowly along, one thing haunted him remorsefully--the +upturned face of the lad and the look in his eyes as he asked the +question which brought out the secret desire of a life: "Do you know how +boys get into the cathedral choir school?" Then the blight of +disappointment when there was no answer. + +The man walked thoughtfully on, seemingly as one who was turning over +and over in his mind some difficult, delicate matter, looking at it on +all sides and in every light, as he must do. + +Finally he quickened his pace as though having decided what ought to be +done. He looked the happier for his decision. + + + + +III + +That night in an attic-like room of an old building opposite Morningside +Park a tiny supper-table for two stood ready in the middle of the floor; +the supper itself, the entire meal, was spread. There is a victory which +human nature in thousands of lives daily wins over want, that though it +cannot drive poverty from the scene, it can hide its desolation by the +genius of choice and of touch. A battle of that brave and desperate kind +had been won in this garret. Lacking every luxury, it had the charm of +tasteful bareness, of exquisite penury. The supper-table of cheap wood +roughly carpentered was hidden under a piece of fine long-used +table-linen; into the gleaming damask were wrought clusters of +snowballs. The glare of a plain glass lamp was softened by a too costly +silk shade. Over the rim of a common vase hung a few daffodils, too +costly daffodils. The supper, frugal to a bargain, tempted the eye and +the appetite by the good sense with which it had been chosen and +prepared. Thus the whole scene betokened human nature at bay but +victorious in the presence of that wolf, whose near-by howl startles the +poor out of their sleep. + +Into this empty room sounds penetrated through a door. They proceeded +from piano-keys evidently so old that one wondered whether possibly they +had not begun to be played on in the days of Beethoven, whether they +were not such as were new on the clavichord of Bach. The fingers that +pressed them were unmistakably those of a child. As the hands wandered +up and down the keyboard, the ear now and then took notice of a broken +string. There were many of these broken strings. The instrument plainly +announced itself to be a remote, well-nigh mythical ancestor of the +modern piano, preternaturally lingering on amid an innumerable deafening +progeny. It suggested a superannuated human being whose loudest +utterances have sunk to ghostly whispers in a corner. + +Once the wandering hands stopped and a voice was heard. It sounded as +though pitched to reach some one in an inner room farther away, possibly +a person who might just have passed from a kitchen to a bedroom to make +some change of dress. It was a very affectionate voice, very true and +sweet, very tender, very endearing. + +"Another string snapped to-day. There's another key silent. There won't +be any but silent keys soon." + +There must have been a reply. Responding to it, the voice at the piano +sounded again, this time very loyal and devoted to an object closer at +hand: + +"But when we do get a better one, we won't kick the old one down-stairs. +It has done _its_ best." + +Whereupon the musical ancestor was encouraged to speak up again while he +had a chance, being a very honored ancestor and not by any means dead in +some regions. Soon, however, the voice pleaded anew with a kind of +patient impatience: + +"I'm awfully hungry. Aren't you nearly ready?" + +The reply could not be heard. + +"Are you putting on the dress _I_ like?" + +The reply was not heard. + +"Don't you want me to bring you a daffodil to wear at your throat?" + +The reply was lost. For a few minutes the progenitor emptied his ancient +lungs of some further moribund intimations of tone. Later came another +protest, truly plaintive: + +"You couldn't look any nicer! I'm awfully hungry!" + +Then all at once there was a tremendous smash on the keys, a joyous +smash, and a moment afterward the door was softly opened. + +Mother and son entered the supper-room. One of his arms was around her +waist, one of hers enfolded him about the neck and shoulders; they were +laughing as they clung to one another. + +The teacher of the portrait class and his pupils would hardly have +recognized their model; the stranger on the hillside might not at once +have identified the newsboy. For model and newsboy, having laid aside +the masks of the day which so often in New York persons find it +necessary to wear,--- the tragic mask, the comic mask, the callous, +coarse, brutal mask, the mask of the human pack, the mask of the human +sty,--model and newsboy reappeared at home with each other as nearly +what in truth they were as the denials of life would allow. + +There entered the room a woman of high breeding, with a certain +Pallas-like purity and energy of face, clasping to her side her only +child, a son whom she secretly believed to be destined to greatness. She +was dressed not with the studied plainness and abnegation of the model +in the studio, but out of regard for her true station and her motherly +responsibilities. Her utmost wish was that in years to come, when he +should look back upon his childhood, he would always remember with +pride his evenings with his mother. During the day he must see her +drudge, and many a picture of herself on a plane of life below her own +she knew to be fastened to his growing brain; but as nearly as possible +blotting these out, daily blotting them out one by one, must be the +evening pictures when the day's work was done, its disguises dropped, +its humiliations over, and she, a serving-woman of fate, reappeared +before him in the lineaments of his mother, to remain with him +throughout his life as the supreme woman of the human race, his idol +until death, his mother. + +She now looked worthy of such an ideal. But it was upon him that her +heart lavished every possible extravagance when nightly he had laid +aside the coarse half-ragged fighting clothes of the streets. In those +after years when he was to gaze backward across a long distance, he must +be made to realize that when he was a little fellow, it was his mother +who first had seen his star while it was still low on the horizon; and +that from the beginning she had so reared him that there would be +stamped upon his attention the gentleness of his birth and a mother's +resolve to rear him in keeping with this through the neediest hours. + +While he was in his bath, she, as though she were his valet, had laid +out trim house shoes and black stockings; and as the spring-night had a +breath of summer warmth, of almost Southern summer warmth, she had put +out also a suit of white linen knickerbockers. Under his broad sailor +collar she herself had tied a big, soft, flowing black ribbon of the +finest silk. Above this rose the solid head looking like a sphere on a +column of triumph, with its lustrous bronzed hair, which, as she brushed +it, she had tenderly stroked with her hands; often kissing the bronzed +face ardent and friendly to the world and thinking to herself of the +double blue in his eyes, the old Saxon blue of battle and the old Saxon +blue of the minstrel, also. + +It was the evening meal that always brought them together after the +separation of the day, and he was at once curious to hear how everything +had gone at the art school. With some unsold papers under his arm he had +walked with her to the entrance, a new pang in his breast about her that +he did not understand: for one thing she looked so plain, so common. At +the door-step she had stopped and kissed him and bade him good-by. Her +quiet quivering words were: + +"Go home, dear, by way of the cathedral." + +If he took the more convenient route, it would lead him into one of the +city's main cross streets, beset with dangers. She would be able to sit +more at peace through those hours of posing if she could know that he +had gone across the cathedral grounds and then across the park as along +a country road bordered with young grass and shrubs in bloom and forest +trees in early leaf. She wished to keep all day before her eyes the +picture of him as straying that April morning along such a country +road--sometimes the road of faint far girlhood memories to her. + +Then with a great incomprehensible look she had vanished from him. But +before the doors closed, he, peering past her, had caught sight of the +walls inside thickly hung with portraits of men and women in rich +colors and in golden frames. Into this splendid world his mother had +vanished, herself to be painted. + +Now as he began ravenously to eat his supper he wished to hear all about +it. She told him. Part of her experience she kept back, a true part; the +other, no less true, she described. With deft fingers she went over the +somberly woven web of the hours, and plucking here a bright thread and +there a bright thread, rewove these into a smaller picture, on which +fell the day's far-separated sunbeams; the rays were condensed now and +made a solid brightness. + +This is how she painted for him a bright picture out of things not many +of which were bright. The teacher of the portrait class, to begin, had +been very considerate. He had arranged that she should leave her things +with the janitor's wife down-stairs, and not go up-stairs and take them +off behind some screens in a corner of the room where the class was +assembled. That would have been dreadful, to have to go behind the +screens to take off her hat and gloves. Then instead of sending word for +her to come up, he himself had come down. As he led the way past the +confusing halls and studios, he had looked back over his shoulder just a +little, to let her know that not for a moment did he lose thought of +her. To have walked in front of her, looking straight ahead, might have +meant that he esteemed her a person of no consequence. A master so walks +before a servant, a superior before an inferior. Out of respect for her, +he had even lessened the natural noisiness of his feet on the bare +floor. If you put your feet down hard in the house, it means that you +are thinking of yourself and not of other people. He had mounted the +stairs slowly lest she get out of breath as she climbed. When he +preceded her into the presence of the class, he had turned as though he +introduced to them his own mother. In everything he did he was really a +man; that is, a gentleman. For being a gentleman is being really a man; +if you are really a man, you _are_ a gentleman. + +As for the members of the class, they had been beautiful in their +treatment of her. Not a word had been exchanged with them, but she could +_feel_ their beautiful thoughts. Sometimes when she glanced at them, +while they worked, such beautiful expressions rested on their faces. +Unconsciously their natures had opened like young flowers, and as at the +hearts of young flowers there is for each a clear drop of honey, so in +each of their minds there must have been one same thought, the +remembrance of their mothers. Altogether it was as though they were +assembled there in honor of her, not to make use of her. + +As to posing itself, one had not a thing to do but sit perfectly still! +One got such a good rest from being too much on one's feet! And they had +placed for her such a splendid carved-oak chair! When she took her seat, +all at once she had felt as if at home again. There were immense +windows; she had had all the fresh air she wished, and she did enjoy +fresh air! The whole roof was a window, and she could look out at the +sky: sometimes the loveliest clouds drifted over, and sometimes the +dearest little bird flew past, no doubt on its way to the park. Last, +but not least, she had not been crowded. In New York it was almost +impossible to secure a good seat in a public place without being nudged +or bumped or crowded. But that had actually happened to her. She had had +a delightful chair in a public place, with plenty of room in every +direction. How fortunate at last to remember that she might pose! It +would fit in perfectly at times when she did not have to go out for +needlework or for the other demands. Dollars would now soon begin to be +brought in like their bits of coal, by the scuttleful! And then the +piano! And then the teacher and the lessons! And _then_, and _then_-- + +Her happy story ended. She had watched the play of lights on his face as +sometimes he, though hungry, with fork in the air paused to listen and +to question. Now as she finished and looked across the table at the +picture of him under the lamplight, she was rewarded, she was content; +while he ate his plain food, out of her misfortunes she had beautifully +nourished his mind. He did not know this; but she knew it, knew by his +look and by his only comment: + +"You had a perfectly splendid time, didn't you?" + +She laughed to herself. + +"Now, then," she said, coming to what had all along been most in her +consciousness--"now, then, tell me about _your_ day. Begin at the moment +_you_ left _me_." + +He laid down his napkin,--he could eat no more, and there was nothing +more to eat,--and he folded his hands quite like the head of the house +at ease after a careless feast, and began his story. + +Well, he had had a splendid day, too. After he had left her he had gone +to the dealer's on the avenue with the unsold papers. Then he had +crossed over to the cathedral, and for a while had watched the men at +work up in the air. He had walked around to the choir school, but no one +was there that morning, not a sound came from the inside. Then he had +started down across the park. As he sat down to count his money, a man +who had climbed up the hillside stopped and asked him a great many +questions: who taught him music and whether any one had ever heard him +sing. This stranger also liked music and he also went to the cathedral, +so he claimed. From that point the story wound its way onward across the +busy hours till nightfall. + +It was a child's story, not an older person's. Therefore it did not draw +the line between pleasant and unpleasant, fair and unfair, right and +wrong, which make up for each of us the history of our checkered human +day. It separated life as a swimmer separates the sea: there is one +water which he parts by his passage. So the child, who is still wholly a +child, divides the world. + +But as she pondered, she discriminated. Out of the long, rambling +narrative she laid hold of one overwhelming incident, forgetting the +rest: a passing stranger, hearing a few notes of his voice, had stopped +to question him about it. To her this was the first outside evidence +that her faith in his musical gift was not groundless. + +When he had ended his story she regarded him across the table with +something new in her eyes--something of awe. She had never hinted to him +what she believed he would some day be. She might be wrong, and thus +might start him on the wrong course; or, being right, she might never +have the chance to start him on the right one. In either case she might +be bringing to him disappointment, perhaps the failure of his whole +life. + +Now she still hid the emotion his story caused. But the stranger of the +park had kindled within her that night what she herself had long tended +unlit--the alabaster flame of worship which the mother burns before the +altar of a great son. + +An hour later they were in another small attic-like space next to the +supper-room. Here was always the best of their evening. No matter how +poor the spot, if there reach it some solitary ray of the great light of +the world, let it be called your drawing-room. Where civilization sends +its beams through a roof, there be your drawing-room. This part of the +garret was theirs. + +In one corner stood a small table on which were some tantalizing books +and the same lamp. Another corner was filled by the littlest, oldest +imaginable of six-octave pianos, the mythical piano ancestor; on it were +piled some yellowed folios, her music once. Thus two different rays of +civilization entered their garret and fell upon the twin mountain-peaks +of the night--books and music. + +Toward these she wished regularly to lead him as darkness descended over +the illimitable city and upon its weary grimy battle-fields. She liked +him to fall asleep on one or the other of these mountain-tops. When he +awoke, it would be as from a mountain that he would see the dawn. From +there let him come down to the things that won the day; but at night +back again to things that win life. + +They were in their drawing-room, then, as she had taught him to call it, +and she was reading to him. A knock interrupted her. She interrogated +the knock doubtfully to herself for a moment. + +"Ashby," she finally said, turning her eyes toward the door, as a +request that he open it. + +The janitor of the building handed in a card. The name on the card was +strange to her, and she knew no reason why a stranger should call. Then +a foolish uneasiness attacked her: perhaps this unwelcome visit bore +upon her engagement at the studio. They might not wish her to return; +that little door to a larger income was to be shut in their faces. +Perhaps she had made herself too plain. If only she had done herself a +little more justice in her appearance! + +She addressed the janitor with anxious courtesy: + +"Will you ask him to come up?" + +With her hand on the half-open door, she waited. If it should be some +tradesman, she would speak with him there. She listened. Up the steps, +from flight to flight, she could hear the feet of a man mounting like a +deliberate good walker. He reached her floor. He approached her door and +she stepped out to confront him. A gentleman stood before her with an +unmistakable air of feeling himself happy in his mission. For a moment +he forgot to state this mission, startled by the group of the two. His +eyes passed from one to the other: the picture they made was an unlooked +for revelation of life's harmony, of nature's sacredness. + +"Is this Mrs. Truesdale?" he asked with appreciative deference. + +She stepped back. + +"I am Mrs. Truesdale," she replied in a way to remind him of his +intrusion; and not discourteously she partly closed the door and waited +for him to withdraw. But he was not of a mind to withdraw; on the +contrary, he stood stoutly where he was and explained: + +"As I crossed the park this morning I happened to hear a few notes of a +voice that interested me. I train the voice, Madam. I teach certain +kinds of music. I took the liberty of asking the owner of the voice +where he lived, and I have taken the further liberty of coming to see +whether I may speak with you on that subject--about his voice." + +This, then, was the stranger of the park whom she believed to have gone +his way after unknowingly leaving glorious words of destiny for her. +Instead of vanishing, he had reappeared, following up his discovery into +her very presence. She did not desire him to follow up his discovery. +She put out one hand and pressed her son back into the room and was +about to close the door. + +"I should first have stated, of course," said the visitor, smiling +quietly as with awkward self-recovery, "that I am the choir-master of +the Cathedral of St. John the Divine." + +Stillness followed, the stillness in which painful misunderstandings +dissolve. The scene slowly changed, as when on the dark stage of a +theater an invisible light is gradually turned, showing everything in +its actual relation to everything else. In truth a shaft as of celestial +light suddenly fell upon her doorway; a far-sent radiance rested on the +head of her son; in her ears began to sound old words spoken ages ago to +another mother on account of him she had borne. To her it was an +annunciation. + +Her first act was to place her hand on the head of the lad and bend it +back until his eyes looked up into hers; his mother must be the first to +congratulate him and to catch from his eyes their flash of delight as he +realized all that this might mean: the fulfilment of life's dream for +him. + +Then she threw open the door. + +"Will you come in?" + +It was a marvelous welcome, a splendor of spiritual hospitality. + +The musician took up straightway the purpose of his visit and stated it. + +"Will you, then, send him to-morrow and let me try his voice?" + +"Yes," she said as one who now must direct with firm responsible hand +the helm of wayward genius, "I will send him." + +"And if his voice should prove to be what is wanted," continued the +music-master, though with delicate hesitancy, "would he be--free? Is +there any other person whose consent--" + +She could not reply at once. The question brought up so much of the +past, such tragedy! She spoke with composure at last: + +"He can come. He is free. He is mine--wholly mine." + +The choir-master looked across the small room at his pupil, who, upon +the discovery of the visitor's identity, had withdrawn as far as +possible from him. + +"And you are willing to come?" he asked, wishing to make the first +advance toward possible acquaintanceship on the new footing. + +No reply came. The mother smiled at her awe-stricken son and hastened to +his rescue. + +"He is overwhelmed," she said, her own faith in him being merely +strengthened by this revelation of his fright. "He is overwhelmed. This +means so much more to him than you can understand." + +"But you will come?" the choir-master persisted in asking. "You _will_ +come?" + +The lad stirred uneasily on his chair. + +"Yes, sir," he said all but inaudibly. + +His inquisitive, interesting friend of the park path, then, was himself +choir-master of St. John's! And he had asked him whether _he_ knew +anything about the cathedral! Whether _he_ liked music! Whether _he_ +knew how boys got into the school! He had betrayed his habit of idly +hanging about the old building where the choir practised and of singing +with them to show what he could do and would do if he had the chance; +and because he could not keep from singing. He had called one of the +Apostles Jim! And another Apostle Pete! He had rejoiced that Gabriel had +not been strong enough to stand up in a high wind! + +Thus with mortification he remembered the day. Then his thoughts were +swept on to what now opened before him: he was to be taken into the +choir, he was to sing in the cathedral. The high, blinding, stately +magnificence of its scenes and processions lay before him. + +More than this. The thing which had long been such a torture of desire +to him, the hope that had grown within him until it began to burst open, +had come true; his dream was a reality: he was to begin to learn music, +he was to go where it was being taught. And the master who was to take +him by the hand and lead him into that world of song sat there quietly +talking with his mother about the matter and looking across at him, +studying him closely. + +No; none of this was true yet. It might never be true. First, he must be +put to the test. The man smiling there was sternly going to draw out of +him what was in him. He was going to examine him and see what he +amounted to. And if he amounted to nothing, then what? + +He sat there shy, silent, afraid, all the hardy boldness and business +preparedness and fighting capacity of the streets gone out of his mind +and heart. He looked across at his mother; not even she could help him. + +So there settled upon him that terror of uncertainty about their gift +and their fate which is known only to the children of genius. For +throughout the region of art, as in the world of the physical, nature +brings forth all things from the seat of sensitiveness and the young of +both worlds appear on the rough earth unready. + +"You _do_ wish to come?" the choir-master persisted in asking. + +"Yes, sir," he replied barely, as though the words sealed his fate. + +The visitor was gone, and they had talked everything over, and the +evening had ended, and it was long past his bedtime, and she waited for +him to come from the bedroom and say good night. Presently he ran in, +climbed into her lap, threw his arms around her neck and pressed his +cheek against hers. + +"Now on this side," he said, holding her tightly, "and now on the other +side, and now on both sides and all around." + +She, with jealous pangs at this goodnight hour, often thought already of +what a lover he would be when the time came--the time for her to be +pushed aside, to drop out. These last moments of every night were for +love; nothing lived in him but love. She said to herself that he was the +born lover. + +As he now withdrew his arms, he sat looking into her eyes with his face +close to hers. Then leaning over, he began to measure his face upon her +face, starting with the forehead, and being very particular when he got +to the long eyelashes, then coming down past the nose. They were very +silly and merry about the measuring of the noses. The noses would not +fit the one upon the other, not being flat enough. He began to indulge +his mischievous, teasing mood: + +"Suppose he doesn't like my voice!" + +She laughed the idea to scorn. + +"Suppose he wouldn't take me!" + +"Ah, but he _will_ take you." + +"If he wouldn't have me, you'd never want to see me any more, would +you?" + +She strained him to her heart and rocked to and fro over him. + +"This is what I could most have wished in all the world," she said, +holding him at arm's-length with idolatry. + +"Not more than a fine house and servants and a greenhouse and a carriage +and horses and a _new_ piano--not more than everything you used to +have!" + +"More than anything! More than anything in this world!" + +He returned to the teasing. + +"If he doesn't take me, I'm going to run away. You won't want ever to +see me any more. And then nobody will ever know what becomes of me +because I couldn't sing." + +She strained him again to herself and murmured over him: + +"My chorister! My minstrel! My life!" + +"Good night and pleasant dreams!" he said, with his arms around her neck +finally. "Good night and sweet sleep!" + + * * * * * + +Everything was quiet. She had tipped to his bedside and stood looking at +him after slumber had carried him away from her, a little distance away. + +"My heavenly guest!" she murmured. "My guest from the singing stars of +God!" + +Though worn out with the strain and excitements of the day, she was not +yet ready for sleep. She must have the luxuries of consciousness; she +must tread the roomy spaces of reflection and be soothed in their +largeness. And so she had gone to her windows and had remained there +for a long time looking out upon the night. + +The street beneath was dimly lighted. Traffic had almost ceased. Now and +then a car sped past. The thoroughfare along here is level and broad and +smooth, and being skirted on one side by the park, it offers to speeding +vehicles the illusive freedom of a country road. Across the street at +the foot of the park a few lights gleamed scant amid the April foliage. +She began at the foot of the hill and followed the line of them upward, +upward over the face of the rock, leading this way and that way, but +always upward. There on the height in the darkness loomed the cathedral. + +Often during the trouble and discouragement of years it had seemed to +her that her own life and every other life would have had more meaning +if only there had been, away off somewhere in the universe, a higher +evil intelligence to look on and laugh, to laugh pitilessly at every +human thing. She had held on to her faith because she must hold on to +something, and she had nothing else. Now as she stood there, following +the winding night road over the rock, her thoughts went back and +searched once more along the wandering pathway of her years; and she +said that a Power greater than any earthly had led her with her son to +the hidden goal of them both, the cathedral. + +The next day brought no disappointment: he had rushed home and thrown +himself into her arms and told her that he was accepted. He was to sing +in the choir. The hope had become an actuality. + +Later that day the choir-master himself had called again to speak to her +when the pupil was not present. He was guarded in his words but could +not conceal the enthusiasm of his mood. + +"I do not know what it may develop into," he said,--"that is something +we cannot foretell,--but I believe it will be a great voice in the +world. I do know that it will be a wonderful voice for the choir." + +She stood before him mute with emotion. She was as dry sand drinking a +shower. + +"You have made no mistake," she said. "It is a great voice and he will +have a great career." + +The choir-master was impatient to have the lessons begin. She asked for +a few days to get him in readiness. She reflected that he could not make +his first appearance at the choir school in white linen knickerbockers. +These were the only suitable clothes he had. + +This school would be his first, for she had taught him at home, haunted +by a sense of responsibility that he must be specially guarded. Now just +as the unsafe years came on for him, he would be safe in that fold. When +natural changes followed as follow they must and his voice broke later +on, and then came again or never came again, whatever afterward befell, +behind would be the memories of his childhood. And when he had grown to +full manhood, when he was an old man and she no longer with him, +wherever on the earth he might work or might wander, always he would be +going back to those years in the cathedral: they would be his safeguard, +his consecration to the end. + + * * * * * + +Now a few days later she stood in the same favorite spot, at her +windows; and it was her favorite hour to be there, the coming on of +twilight. + +All day until nearly sundown a cold April rain had fallen. These +contradictory spring days of young green and winter cold the pious folk +of older lands and ages named the days of the ice saints. They really +fall in May, but this had been like one of them. So raw and chill had +been the atmosphere of the grateless garret that the window-frames had +been fastened down, their rusty catches clamped. + +At the window she stood looking out and looking up toward a scene of +splendor in the heavens. + +It was sunset, the rain was over, the sky had cleared. She had been +tracing the retreating line of sunlight on the hillside opposite. First +it crossed the street to the edge of the park, then crossed the wet +grass at the foot of the slope; then it passed upward over the bowed +dripping shrubbery and lingered on the tree-tops along the crest; and +now the western sky was aflame behind the cathedral. + +It was a gorgeous spectacle. The cathedral seemed not to be situated in +the city, not lodged on the rocks of the island, but to be risen out of +infinite space and to be based and to abide on the eternity of light. +Long she gazed into that sublime vision, full of happiness at last, full +of peace, full of prayer. + +Standing thus at her windows at that hour, she stood on the pinnacle of +her life's happiness. + +From the dark slippery street shrill familiar sounds rose to her ear and +drew her attention downward and she smiled. He was down there at play +with friends whose parents lived in the houses of the row. She laughed +as those victorious cries reached the upper air. Leaning forward, she +pressed her face against the window-pane and peered over and watched +the group of them. Sometimes she could see them and sometimes not as +they struggled from one side of the street to the other. No one, whether +younger or older, stronger or weaker, was ever defeated down there; +everybody at some time got worsted; no one was ever defeated. All the +whipped remained conquerors. Unconquerable childhood! She said to +herself that she must learn a lesson from it once more--to have always +within herself the will and spirit of victory. + +With her face still against the glass she caught sight of something +approaching carefully up the street. It was the car of a physician who +had a patient in one of the houses near by. This was his hour to make +his call. He guided the car himself, and the great mass of tons in +weight responded to his guidance as if it possessed intelligence, as if +it entered into his foresight and caution: it became to her, as she +watched it, almost conscious, almost human. She thought of it as being +like some great characters in human life which need so little to make +them go easily and make them go right. A wise touch, and their enormous +influence is sent whither it should be sent by a pressure that would not +bruise a leaf. + +She chid herself once more that in a world where so often the great is +the good she had too often been hard and bitter; that many a time she +had found pleasure in setting the empty cup of her life out under its +clouds and catching the showers of nature as though they were drops of +gall. + +All at once her attention was riveted on an object up the street. Around +a bend a few hundred yards away a huge wild devil of a thing swung +unsteadily, recklessly, almost striking the curb and lamp-post; and +then, righting itself, it came on with a rush--a mindless destroyer. Now +on one side of the street, now in the middle, now on the other side; +gliding along through the twilight, barely to be seen, creeping nearer +and nearer through the shadows, now again on the wrong side of the +street where it would not be looked for. + +A bolt of horror shot through her. She pressed her face quickly against +the window-panes as closely as possible, searching for the whereabouts +of the lads. As she looked, the playing struggling mass of them went +down in the road, the others piled on one. She thought she knew which +one,--he was the strongest,--then they were lost from her sight, as they +rolled in nearer to the sidewalk. And straight toward them rushed that +destroyer in the streets. She tried to throw up the sashes. She tried to +lean out and cry down to him, to wave her hands to him with warning as +she had often done with joy. She could not raise the sashes. She had not +the strength left to turn the rusty bolts. Nor was there time. She +looked again; she saw what was going to happen. Then with frenzy she +began to beat against the window-sashes and to moan and try to stifle +her own moans. And then shrill startled screams and piteous cries came +up to her, and crazed now and no longer knowing what she did, she struck +the window-panes in her agony until they were shattered and she thrust +her arms out through them with a last blind instinct to wave to him, to +reach him, to drag him out of the way. For some moments her arms hung +there outside the shattered window-glass, and a shower of crimson drops +from her fingers splashed on the paving-stones below. She kept on waving +her lacerated hands more and more feebly, slowly; and then they were +drawn inward after her body which dropped unconscious to the garret +floor. + + + + +IV + +It was a gay scene over at the art school next morning. Even before the +accustomed hour the big barnlike room, with a few prize pictures of +former classes scattered about the walls, and with the old academy +easels standing about like a caravan of patient camels ever loaded with +new burdens but ever traveling the same ancient sands of art--even +before nine o'clock the barnlike room presented a scene of eager healthy +animal spirits. On the easel of every youthful worker, nearly finished, +lay the portrait of the mother. In every case it had been differently +done, inadequately done; but in all cases it had been done. Hardly could +any observer have failed to recognize what was there depicted. Beyond +smearings and daubings of paint, as past the edges of concealing clouds, +one caught glimpses of a serene and steadfast human radiance. There one +beheld the familiar image of that orb which in dark and pathless hours +has through all ages been the guardian light of the world--the mother. + +The best in them had gone into the painting of this portrait, and the +consciousness of our best gives us the sense of our power, and the +consciousness of our power yields us our enthusiasm; hence the +exhilaration and energy of the studio scene. + +The interest of the members of the class was not concerned solely with +the portrait, however: a larger share went to the model herself. They +had become strongly bound to her. All the more perhaps because she held +them firmly to the understanding that her life touched theirs only at +the point of the stranger in need of a small sum of money. Repulsed and +baffled in their wish to know her better, they nevertheless became aware +that she was undergoing a wonderful transformation on her own account. +The change had begun after the ordeal of the first morning. When she +returned for the second sitting, and then at later sittings, they had +remarked this change, and had spoken of it to one another--that she was +as a person into whose life some joyous, unbelievable event has fallen, +brightening the present and the future. Every day some old cloudy care +seemed to loose itself from its lurking-place and drift away from her +mind, leaving her face less obscured and thus the more beautifully +revealed to them. Now, with the end of the sittings not far off, what +they looked forward to with most regret was the last sitting, when she, +leaving her portrait in their hands, would herself vanish, taking with +her both the mystery of her old sorrows and the mystery of this new +happiness. + +Promptly at nine o'clock the teacher of the class entered, greeted them, +and glanced around for the model. Not seeing her, he looked at his +watch, then without comment crossed to the easels, and studied again the +progress made the previous day, correcting, approving, guiding, +encouraging. His demeanor showed that he entered into the mounting +enthusiasm of his class for this particular piece of work. + +A few minutes were thus quickly consumed. Then, watch in hand once more, +he spoke of the absence of the model: + +"Something seems to detain the model this morning. But she has sent me +no word and she will no doubt be here in a few minutes." + +He went back to the other end of the studio and sat down, facing them +with the impressiveness which belonged to him even without speech. They +fixed their eyes on him with the usual expectancy. Whenever as now an +unforeseen delay occurred, he was always prompt to take advantage of the +interval with a brief talk. To them there were never enough of these +brief talks, which invariably drew human life into relationship to the +art of portraiture, and set the one reality over against the other +reality--the turbulence of a human life and the still image of it on the +canvas. They hoped he would thus talk to them now; in truth he had the +air of casting about in his mind for a theme best suited to the moment. + + * * * * * + +That mother, now absent, when she had blindly found her way to him, +asking to pose, had fallen into good hands. He was a great teacher and +he was a remarkable man, remarkable even to look at. Massively built, +with a big head of black hair, olive complexion, and bluntly pointed, +black beard, and with a mold of countenance grave and strong, he looked +like a great Rembrandt; like some splendid full-length portrait by +Rembrandt painted as that master painted men in the prime of his power. +With the Rembrandt shadows on him even in life. Even when the sun beat +down upon him outdoors, even when you met him in the blaze of the city +streets, he seemed not to have emerged from shadow, to bear on himself +the traces of a human night, a living darkness. There was light within +him but it did not irradiate him. + +Once he had been a headlong art student himself, starting out to become +a great painter, a great one. After years abroad under the foremost +masters and other years of self-trial with every favorable circumstance +his, nature had one day pointed her unswerved finger at his latest +canvas as at the earlier ones and had judged him to the quick: you will +never be a great painter. If you cannot be content to remain less, quit, +stop! + +Thus youth's choice and a man's half a lifetime of effort and ambition +ended in abandonment of effort not because he was a failure but because +the choice of a profession had been a blunder. A multitude of men topple +into this chasm and crawl out nobody. Few of them at middle age in the +darkness of that pit of failure can grope within themselves for some +second candle and by it once more become illumined through and through. +He found _his_ second candle,--it should have been his first,--and he +lighted it and it became the light of his later years; but it did not +illumine him completely, it never dispelled the shadows of the flame +that had burned out. What he did was this: having reached the end of his +own career as a painter, he turned and made his way back to the fields +of youth, and taking his stand by that ever fresh path, always, as +students would rashly pass him, he halted them like a wise monitor, +describing the best way to travel, warning of the difficulties of the +country ahead, but insisting that the goal was worth the toil and the +trouble; searching secretly among his pupils year after year for signs +of what he was not, a great painter, and pouring out his sympathies on +all those who, like himself, would never be one. + +Now he sat looking across at his class, the masterful teacher of them. +They sat looking responsively at him. Then he took up his favorite +theme: + +"Your work on this portrait is your best work, because the model, as I +stated to you at the outset would be the case, has called forth your +finer selves; she has caused you to _feel_. And she has been able to do +this because her countenance, her whole being, radiates one of the great +passions and faiths of our common humanity--the look of reverent +motherhood. You recognize that look, that mood; you believe in it; you +honor it; you have worked over its living eloquence. Observe, then, the +result. Turn to your canvases and see how, though proceeding +differently, you have all dipped your brushes as in a common medium; +how you have all drawn an identical line around that old-time human +landmark. You have in truth copied from her one of the great +beacon-lights of expression that has been burning and signaling through +ages upon ages of human history--the look of the mother, the angel of +self-sacrifice to the earth. + +"While we wait, we might go a little way into this general matter, since +you, in the study of portraiture, will always have to deal with it. This +look of hers, which you have caught on your canvases, and all the other +great beacon-lights of human expression, stand of course for the inner +energies of our lives, the leading forces of our characters. But, as +ages pass, human life changes; its chief elements shift their relative +places, some forcing their way to the front, others being pushed to the +rear; and the prominent beacon-lights change correspondingly. Ancient +ones go out, new ones appear; and the art of portraiture, which is the +undying historian of the human countenance, is subject to this shifting +law of the birth and death of its material. + +"Perhaps more ancient lights have died out of human faces than modern +lights have been kindled to replace them. Do you understand why? The +reason is this: throughout an immeasurable time the aim of nature was to +make the human countenance as complete an instrument of expression as it +could possibly be. Man, except for his gestures and wordless sounds, for +ages had nothing else with which to speak; he must speak with his face. +And thus the primitive face became the chronicle of what was going on +within him as well as of what had taken place without. It was his +earliest bulletin-board of intelligence. It was the first parchment to +bear tidings; it was the original newspaper; it was the rude, but vivid, +primeval book of the woods. The human face was all that. Ages more had +to pass before spoken language began, and still other ages before +written language began. Thus for an immeasurable time nature developed +the face and multiplied its expressions to enable man to make himself +understood. At last this development was checked; what we may call the +natural occupation of the face culminated. Civilization began, and as +soon as civilization began, the decline in natural expressiveness began +with it. Gradually civilization supplanted primeval needs; it contrived +other means for doing what the face alone had done frankly, +marvelously. When you can print news on paper, you may cease to print +news on the living countenance. Moreover, the aim of civilization is to +develop in us the consciousness not to express, but to suppress. Its aim +is not to reveal, but to conceal, thought and emotion; not to make the +countenance a beacon-light, but a muffler of the inner candle, whatever +that candle for the time may be. All our ruling passions, good or bad, +noble or ignoble, we now try publicly to hide. This is civilization. And +thus the face, having started out expressionless in nature, tends +through civilization to become expressionless again. + +"How few faces does any one of us know that frankly radiate the great +passions and moods of human nature! What little is left of this ancient +tremendous drama is the poor pantomime of the stage. Search crowds, +search the streets. See everywhere masked faces, telling as little as +possible to those around them of what they glory in or what they suffer. +Search modern portrait galleries. Do you find portraits of either men or +women who radiate the overwhelming passions, the vital moods, of our +galled and soaring nature? It is not a long time since the Middle Ages. +In the stretch of history centuries shrink to nothing, and the Middle +Ages are as the earlier hours of our own historic day. But has there not +been a change even within that short time? Did not the medieval +portrait-painters portray in their sitters great moods as no painter +portrays them now? How many painters of to-day can find great moods in +the faces of their sitters? + +"And so I come again to your model. What makes her so remarkable, so +significant, so touching, so exquisite, so human, is the fact that her +face seems almost a survival out of a past in which the beacon-lights of +humanity did more openly appear on the features. In her case one +beacon-light most of all,--the greatest that has ever shone on the faces +of women,--the one which seems to be slowly vanishing from the faces of +modern women--the look of the mother: that transfiguration of the +countenance of the mother who believed that the birth of a child was the +divine event in her existence, and the emotions and energies of whose +life centered about her offspring. How often does any living painter +have his chance to paint that look now! Galleries are well filled with +portraits of contemporary women who have borne children: how often among +these is to be found the portrait of the mother of old?" + +He rose. The talk was ended. He looked again at his watch, and said: + +"It does not seem worth while to wait longer. Evidently your model has +been kept away to-day. Let us hope that no ill has befallen her and that +she will be here to-morrow. If she is here, we shall go on with the +portrait. If she should not be here, I shall have another model ready, +and we shall take up another study until she returns. Bring fresh +canvases." + +He left the room. They lingered; looking again at their canvases, +understanding their own work as they had not hitherto and more strongly +than ever drawn toward their model whom that day they missed. Slowly and +with disappointment and with many conjectures as to why she had not +come, they separated. + + + + +V + +It was Sunday. All round St. Luke's Hospital quiet reigned. The day was +very still up there on the heights under the blue curtain of the sky. + +When he had been hurled against the curb on the dark street, had been +rolled over and tossed there and left there with no outcry, no movement, +as limp and senseless as a mangled weed, the careless crowd which +somewhere in the city every day gathers about such scenes quickly +gathered about him. In this throng was the physician whose car stood +near by; and he, used to sights of suffering but touched by that tragedy +of unconscious child and half-crazed mother, had hurried them in his +own car to St. Luke's--to St. Luke's, which is always open, always +ready, and always free to those who lack means. + +Just before they stopped at the entrance she had pleaded in the doctor's +ear for a luxury. + +"To the private ward," he said to those who lifted the lad to the +stretcher, speaking as though in response to her entreaty. + +"One of the best rooms," he said before the operation, speaking as +though he shouldered the responsibility of the further expense. "And a +room for her near by," he added. "Everything for them! Everything!" + + * * * * * + +So there he was now, the lad, or what there was left of him, this quiet +Sunday, in a pleasant room opposite the cathedral. The air was like +early summer. The windows were open. He lay on his back, not seeing +anything. The skin of his forehead had been torn off; there was a +bandage over his eyes. And there were bruises on his body and bruises on +his face, which was horribly disfigured. The lips were swollen two or +three thicknesses; it was agony for him to speak. When he realized what +had happened, after the operation, his first mumbled words to her were: + +"They will never have me now." + +About the middle of the forenoon of this still Sunday morning, when the +doctor left, she followed him into the hall as usual, and questioned him +as usual with her eyes. He encouraged her and encouraged himself: + +"I believe he is going to get well. He has the will to get well, he has +the bravery to get well. He is brave about it; he is as brave as he can +be." + +"Of course he is brave," she said scornfully. "Of course he is brave." + +"The love of such a mother would call him back to life," he added, and +he laid one of his hands on her head for a moment. + +"Don't do that," she said, as though the least tenderness toward herself +at such a moment would unnerve her, melt away all her fortitude. + +Everybody had said he was brave, the head nurse, the day nurse, the +night nurse, the woman who brought in the meals, the woman who scrubbed +the floor. All this had kept her up. If anybody paid any kind of tribute +to him, realized in any way what he was, this was life to her. + +After the doctor left, as the nurse was with him, she walked up and down +the halls, too restless to be quiet. + +At the end of one hall she could look down on the fragrant leafy park. +Yes, summer was nigh. Where a little while before had been only white +blossoms, there were fewer white now, more pink, some red, many to match +the yellow of the sun. The whole hillside of swaying; boughs seemed to +quiver with happiness. Her eyes wandered farther down to the row of +houses at the foot of the park. She could see the dreadful spot on the +street, the horrible spot. She could see her shattered window-panes up +above. The points of broken glass still seemed to slit the flesh of her +hands within their bandages. + +She shrank back and walked to the end of the transverse hall. Across the +road was the cathedral. The morning service was just over. People were +pouring out through the temporary side doors and the temporary front +doors so placidly, so contentedly! Some were evidently strangers; as +they reached the outside they turned and studied the cathedral curiously +as those who had never before seen it. Others turned and looked at it +familiarly, with pride in its unfolding form. Some stopped and looked +down at the young grass, stroking it with the toes of their fine shoes; +they were saying how fresh and green it was. Some looked up at the sky; +they were saying how blue it was. Some looked at one another keenly; +they were discussing some agreeable matter, being happy to get back to +it now after the service. Not one of them looked across at the hospital. +Not a soul of them seemed to be even aware of its existence. Not a soul +of them! + +Particularly her eyes became riveted upon two middle-aged ladies in +black who came out through a side door of the cathedral--slow-paced +women, bereft, full of pity. As they crossed the yard, a gray squirrel +came jumping along in front of them on its way to the park. One stooped +and coaxed it and tried to pet it: it became a vital matter with both of +them to pour out upon the little creature which had no need of it their +pent-up, ungratified affection. With not a glance to the window where +she stood, with her mortal need of them, her need of all mothers, of +everybody--her mortal need of everybody! Why were they not there at his +bedside? Why had they not heard? Why had not all of them heard? Why had +anything else been talked of that day? Why were they not all massed +around the hospital doors, tearful with their sympathies? How could they +hold services in the cathedral--the usual services? Why was it not +crowded to the doors with the clergy of all faiths and the laymen of +every land, lifting one outcry against such destruction? Why did they +not stop building temples to God, to the God of life, to the God who +gave little children, until they had stopped the massacre of children, +His children in the streets! + +Yes; everybody had been kind. Even his little rivals who had fought with +him over the sale of papers had given up some of their pennies and had +bought flowers for him, and one of them had brought their gift to the +main hospital entrance. Every day a shy group of them had gathered on +the street while one came to inquire how he was. Kindness had rained on +her; there was that in the sight of her that unsealed kindness in every +heart. + +She had been too nearly crazed to think of this. Her bitterness and +anguish broke through the near cordon of sympathy and went out against +the whole brutal and careless world that did not care--to legislatures +that did not care, to magistrates that did not care, to juries that did +not care, to officials that did not care, to drivers that did not care, +to the whole city that did not care about the massacre in the streets. + +Through the doors of the cathedral the people streamed out unconcerned. +Beneath her, along the street, young couples passed, flushed with their +climb of the park hillside, and flushed with young love, young health. +Sometimes they held each other's hands; they innocently mocked her agony +with their careless joy. + +One last figure issued from the side door of the cathedral hurriedly and +looked eagerly across at the hospital--looked straight at her, at the +window, and came straight toward the entrance below--the choir-master. +She had not sent word to him or to any one about the accident; but he, +when his new pupil had failed to report as promised, had come down to +find out why. And he, like all the others, had been kind; and he was +coming now to inquire what he could do in a case where nothing could be +done. She knew only too well that nothing could be done. + + * * * * * + +The bright serene hours of the day passed one by one with nature's +carelessness about the human tragedy. It was afternoon and near the hour +for the choral even-song across the way at the cathedral, the temporary +windows of which were open. + +She had relieved the nurse, and was alone with him. Often during these +days he had put out one of his hands and groped about with it to touch +her, turning his head a little toward her under his bandaged eyes, and +apparently feeling much mystified about her, but saying nothing. She +kept her bandaged hands out of his reach but leaned over him in response +and talked ever to him, barely stroking him with the tips of her +stiffened fingers. + +The afternoon was so quiet that by and by through the opened windows a +deep note sent a thrill into the room--the awakened soul of the organ. +And as the two listened to it in silence, soon there floated over to +them the voices of the choir as the line moved slowly down the aisle, +the blended voices of the chosen band, his school-fellows of the altar. +By the bedside she suddenly rocked to and fro, and then she bent over +and said with a smile in her tone: + +"_Do you hear? Do you hear them?_" + +He made a motion with his lips to speak but they hurt him too much. So +he nodded: that he heard them. + +A moment later he tugged at the bandage over his eyes. + +She sprang toward him: + +"O my precious one, you must not tear the bandage off your eyes!" + +"I want to see you!" he mumbled. "It has been so long since I saw you! +What's the matter with you? Where are your hands? Why don't you put your +arms around me?" + + + + +VI + +The class had been engaged with another model. Their work was forced and +listless. As days passed without the mother's return, their thought and +their talk concerned itself more and more with her disappearance. Why +had she not come back? What had befallen her? What did it all mean? +Would they ever know? + +One day after their luncheon-hour, as they were about to resume work, +the teacher of the class entered. He looked shocked; his look shocked +them; instant sympathy ran through them. He spoke with difficulty: + +"She has come back. She is down-stairs. Something had befallen her +indeed. She told me as briefly as possible and I tell you all I know. +Her son, a little fellow who had just been chosen for the cathedral +choir school was run over in the street. A mention of it--the usual +story--was in the papers, but who of us reads such things in the papers? +They bore us; they are not even news. He was taken to St. Luke's, and +she has been at St. Luke's, and the end came at St. Luke's, and all the +time we have been here a few yards distant and have known nothing of it. +Such is New York! It was to help pay for his education in music that she +first came to us, she said. And it was the news that he had been chosen +for the choir school that accounts for the new happiness which we saw +brighten her day by day. Now she comes again for the same small wage, +but with other need, no doubt: the expenses of it all, a rose-bush for +his breast. She told me this calmly as though it caused her no grief. It +was not my privilege, it is not our privilege, to share her unutterable +bereavement. + +"She has asked to go on with the sittings. I have told her to come +to-morrow. But she does not realize all that this involves with the +portrait. You will have to bring new canvases, it will have to be a new +work. She is in mourning. Her hands will have to be left out, she has +hurt them; they are bandaged. The new portrait will be of the head and +face only. But the chief reason is the change of expression. The light +which was in her face and which you have partly caught upon your +canvases, has died out; it was brutally put out. The old look is gone. +It is gone, and will never come back--the tender, brooding, reverent +happiness and peace of motherhood with the child at her knee--that +great earthly beacon-light in women of ages past. It was brutally put +out but it did not leave blankness behind it. There has come in its +place another light, another ancient beacon-light on the faces of women +of old--the look of faith in immortal things. She is not now the mother +with the tenderness of this earth but the mother with the expectation of +eternity. Her eyes have followed him who has left her arms and gone into +a distance. Ever she follows him into that distance. Your portrait, if +you can paint it, will be the mother with the look of immortal things in +her face." + + * * * * * + +When she entered the room next morning, at the sight of her in mourning +and so changed in every way, with one impulse they all rose to her. She +took no notice,--perhaps it would have been unendurable to notice,--but +she stepped forward as usual, and climbed to the platform without +faltering, and he posed her for the head and shoulders. Then, to study +the effect from different angles, he went behind the easels, passing +from one to another. As he returned, with the thought of giving her +pleasure, he brought along with him one of the sketches of herself and +held it out before her. + +"Do you recognize it?" he asked. + +She refused to look at first. Then arousing herself from her +indifference she glanced at it. But when she beheld there what she had +never seen--how great had been her love of him; when she beheld there +the light now gone out and realized that it meant the end of happy days +with him, she shut her eyes quickly and jerked her head to one side +with a motion for him to take the picture away. But she had been +brought too close to her sorrow and suddenly she bent over her hands +like a snapped reed and the storm of her grief came upon her. + +They started up to get to her. They fought one another to get to her. +They crowded around the platform, and tried to hide her from one +another's eyes, and knelt down, and wound their arms about her, and +sobbed with her; and then they lifted her and guided her behind the +screens. + +"Now, if you will allow them," he said, when she came out with them, one +of them having lent her a veil, "some of these young friends will go +home with you. And whenever you wish, whenever you feel like it, come +back to us. We shall be ready. We shall be waiting. We shall all be +glad." + +On the heights the cathedral rises--slowly, as the great houses of man's +Christian faith have always risen. + +Years have drifted by as silently as the winds since the first rock was +riven where its foundations were to be laid, and still all day on the +clean air sounds the lonely clink of drill and chisel as the blasting +and the shaping of the stone goes on. The snows of winters have drifted +deep above its rough beginnings; the suns of many a spring have melted +the snows away. Well nigh a generation of human lives has already +measured its brief span about the cornerstones. Far-brought, +many-tongued toilers, toiling on the rising walls, have dropped their +work and stretched themselves in their last sleep; others have climbed +to their places; the work goes on. Upon the shoulders of the images of +the Apostles, which stand about the chancel, generations of +pigeons--the doves of the temple whose nests are in the niches--upon the +shoulders of the Apostles generations of pigeons born in the niches have +descended out of the azure as with the benediction of shimmering wings. +Generations of the wind-borne seeds of wild flowers have lodged in low +crevices and have sprouted and blossomed, and as seeds again have been +blown further on--harbingers of vines and mosses already on their +venerable way. + +A mighty shape begins to answer back to the cathedrals of other lands +and ages, bespeaking for itself admittance into the league of the +world's august sanctuaries. It begins to send its annunciation onward +into ages yet to be, so remote, so strange, that we know not in what +sense the men of it will even be our human brothers save as they are +children of the same Father. + +Between this past and this future, the one of which cannot answer +because it is too late and the other of which can not answer because it +is too soon--between this past and this future the cathedral stands in a +present that answers back to it more and more. For a world of living-men +and women see kindled there the same ancient flame that has been the +light of all earlier stations on that solitary road of faith which runs +for a little space between the two eternities--a road strewn with the +dust of countless wayfarers bearing each a different cross of burden but +with eyes turned toward the same Cross of hope. + +As on some mountain-top a tall pine-tree casts its lengthened shadow +upon the valleys far below, round and round with the circuit of the sun, +so the cathedral flings hither and thither across the whole land its +spiritual shaft of light. A vast, unnumbered throng begin to hear of it, +begin to look toward it, begin to grow familiar with its emerging form. +In imagination they see its chapels bathed in the glories of the morning +sun; they remember its unfinished dome gilded at the hush of sunsets. +Between the roar of the eastern and of the western ocean its organ +speaks of a Divine peace above mortal storm. Pilgrims from afar, known +only to themselves as pilgrims, being pilgrim-hearted but not +pilgrim-clad, reach at its gates the borders of their Gethsemane. Bowed +as penitents, they hail its lily of forgiveness and the resurrection. + +Slowly the cathedral rises, in what unknown years to stand finished! +Crowning a city of new people, let it be hoped, of better laws. Finished +and standing on its rock for the order of the streets, for order in the +land and order throughout the world, for order in the secret places of +the soul. Majestical rebuker of the waste of lives, rebuker of a country +which invites all lives into it and wastes lives most ruthlessly--lives +which it stands there to shelter and to foster and to save. + +So it speaks to the distant through space and time; but it speaks also +to the near. + +Although not half risen out of the earth, encumbering it rough and +shapeless, already it draws into its service many who dwell around. +These seek to cast their weaknesses on its strength, to join their brief +day to its innumerable years, to fall into the spiritual splendor of it +as out in space small darkened wanderers drop into the orbit of a sun. +Anguished memories begin to bequeath their jewels to its shrine; dimmed +eyes will their tears to its eyes, its windows. Old age with one foot in +the grave drags the other resignedly about its crypt. In its choir sound +the voices of children herded in from the green hillside of life's +April. + + * * * * * + +Rachel Truesdale! Her life became one of these near-by lives which it +blesses, a darkened wanderer caught into the splendor of a spiritual +sun. It gathered her into its service; it found useful work for her to +do; and in this new life of hers it drew out of her nature the last +thing that is ever born of the mother--faith that she is separated a +little while from her children only because they have received the gift +of eternal youth. + +Many a proud happy thought became hers as time went on. She had had her +share in its glory, for it had needed him whom she had brought into the +world. It had called upon him to help give song to its message and to +build that ever-falling rainbow of music over which human Hope walks +into the eternal. + +Always as the line of white-clad choristers passed down the aisle, among +them was one who brushed tenderly against her as he walked by, whom no +one else saw. Rising above the actual voices and heard by her alone, up +to the dome soared a voice dearer, more thrilling, than the rest. + +Often she was at her window, watching the workmen at their toil as they +brought out more and more the great shape on the heights. Often she +stood looking across at the park hillside opposite. Whenever spring came +back and the slope lived again with young leaves and white blossoms, +always she thought of him. Always she saw him playing in an eternal +April. When autumn returned and leaves withered and dropped, she thought +of herself. + +Sometimes standing beside his piano. + +Having always in her face the look of immortal things. + + * * * * * + +The cathedral there on its rock for ages saying: + +"_I am the Resurrection and the Life_." + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Cathedral Singer, by James Lane Allen + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A CATHEDRAL SINGER *** + +***** This file should be named 15385.txt or 15385.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/3/8/15385/ + +Produced by Kentuckiana Digital Library, David Garcia, Chuck Greif +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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