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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/15840-8.txt b/15840-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..da097e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/15840-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7506 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885, by Various + +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: Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 16, 2005 [EBook #15840] +[Date last updated: July 30, 2005] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE, *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kathryn Lybarger and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +[Note: The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber. Footnotes +and Transcriber's notes will be found at the end of the text.] + + + + +LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE. + +_DECEMBER, 1885._ + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + Page + A TOBACCO PLANTATION by PHILIP A. BRUCE. 533 + + SCENES OF CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ'S LIFE IN BRUSSELS by THEO. WOLFE. 542 + + COOKHAM DEAN by MARGARET BERTHA WRIGHT. 549 + + BIRDS OF A TEXAN WINTER by EDWARD C. BRUCE. 558 + + THE FERRYMAN'S FEE by MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. 566 + + "WHAT DO I WISH FOR YOU?" by CARLOTTA PERRY. 580 + + LETTERS AND REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES READE by KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. 581 + + IN A SUPPRESSED TUSCAN MONASTERY by KATE JOHNSON MATSON. 591 + + THE SUBSTITUTE by JAMES PAYN. 601 + + NEW YORK LIBRARIES by CHARLES BURR TODD. 611 + + THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY by NORMAN PEARSON. 623 + + OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + "The Man Who Laughs." by C.P.W. 627 + Why We Forget Names by XENOS CLARK. 629 + A Reminiscence of Harriet Martineau by F.C.M. 631 + + LITERATURE OF THE DAY. 633 + Illustrated Books. 634 + + + + +A TOBACCO PLANTATION. + + +In the following article I propose to give some account of a typical +tobacco-plantation in Virginia and the life of its negro laborers as I +have observed it from day to day and season to season. Although it is +restricted to narrow local bounds and runs in the line of exacting +routine, that life is yet varied and eventful in its way. The negro +stands so much apart to himself, in spite of all transforming +influences, that everything relating to him seems unique and almost +foreign. Even now, when emancipation has done so much to improve his +condition, his social and economic status still presents peculiar and +anomalous aspects; and in no part of the South is this more notably the +case than in the southern counties of Virginia, which, before the late +war, were the principal seat of slavery in the State, and where to-day +the blacks far outnumber the whites. This section has always been an +important tobacco-region; and this is the explanation of its teeming +negro population, for tobacco requires as much and as continuous work as +cotton. There were many hundreds of slaves on the large plantations, and +their descendants have bred with great rapidity and show little +inclination to emigrate from the neighborhoods where they were born. +Some few, by hoarding their wages, have been able to buy land; but for +the most part the soil is still held by its former owners, who +superintend the cultivation of it themselves or rent it out at low rates +to tenants. The negroes are still the chief laborers in the fields and +artisans in the workshops; and, excepting that they are no longer +chattels that can be sold at will, their lives move in the same grooves +as under the old order of things. Their occupations and amusements are +the same. As yet there has been no increase in the physical comforts of +their situation, and but little change in their general character; but +this is the first period of transformation, when it is difficult to +detect and to follow the modifications that are really taking place. + +Every large tobacco-plantation is an important community in itself, and +the social and economic condition of the negro can be observed there as +freely and studied with as much thoroughness as if a wide area of +country were considered for a similar purpose. In the diversity of its +soils and crops and in the variety of its population and modes of life +it bears almost the same relation to the county in which it lies that +the county bears to its section. Indeed, no community could be more +complete in itself, or less dependent upon the outside world. In an +emergency, the inhabitants of one of these large plantations could +supply themselves by their own skill and ingenuity with everything that +they now obtain from abroad; and if cut off from all other associations, +the society which they themselves form would satisfy their desire for +companionship; for not only would its members be numerous and +representative of every shade of character and disposition, but they +would also be bound together by ties of blood and marriage as well as of +interest and mutual affection. Similar tasks and relaxations create in +them a similarity of tastes. The social position of all is identical, +for there are no classes among them, the only line of social division +being drawn upon differences of age; and they are paid the same wages +and possess the same small amount of property. They are attached to the +soil by like local associations, which vary as much as the plantation +varies in surface here and there. Each plantation of any great extent is +like that part of the country, both in its general aspect and its +leading features, just as the employments and amusements of its +population, if numerous, are found reflected in the social life of the +whole of the same section. + +The particular plantation to which I shall so often allude in this +article as the scene of the observations here recorded, like most of the +tobacco-plantations in Virginia, covers a broad expanse of land, +including in one body many thousand acres, remarkable for many +differences of soil and for a varied configuration. It is partly made up +of steep hills that roll upon each other in close succession, partly it +is high and level upland that sweeps back to the wooded horizon from the +open low-grounds contiguous to the river that winds along its southern +border. At least one-half of it is in forest, in which oak, cedar, +poplar, and hickory grow in abundance and reach a great height and size. +The soil of the lowlands is very fertile, for it is enriched every few +years by an inundation that leaves behind a heavy deposit; that of the +uplands, on the other hand, is comparatively poor, but it is fertilized +annually with the droppings of the stables and pens. Patches of new +grounds are opened every year in the woods, the timber being cleared +away for the purpose of planting tobacco in the mould of the decayed +leaves, while many old fields are abandoned to pine and broom-straw or +turned into pastures for cattle. + +The principal crops are tobacco, wheat, corn, and hay, but the first is +by far the most important, both from its quantity and its value. +Everything else is really subordinate to it. The soils of the uplands +and lowlands are adapted to very different varieties of this staple. +That which grows in the rich loam of the bottoms is known as "shipping +tobacco," because it is chiefly consumed abroad, as it bears +transportation in the rough state without injury to its quality. +"Working tobacco" is the name which is given to the variety that +flourishes on the hills; and this is used in the manufacture of brands +of chewing- and smoking-tobacco to meet the domestic as well as the +foreign demand. There is a third variety which grows in small quantities +on the plantation,--namely, "yellow tobacco," so called from the golden +color of the plant as it approaches ripeness; and this tint is not only +retained, but also heightened, when it has been cured, at which time it +is as light in weight as so much snuff. This variety is principally used +as a wrapper for bundles of the inferior kinds, and is prepared for the +market by a very tedious and expensive process; but the trouble thus +entailed and the money spent have their compensation in the very high +prices which it always brings in the market. + +The fields where tobacco has been cultivated during the previous summer +are sown in wheat in the autumn, unless they are new grounds, when the +rotation of crops is tobacco for two years in succession, followed in +the third year by wheat, and in the fourth by tobacco again. The soil is +then laid under the same rule of tillage as land that has been worked +for many seasons. As a result of this necessity for rotation, much wheat +is raised on the plantation, although the threshing of it interferes +very seriously with the attention which the tobacco requires at a very +critical period of its growth. The greater part of the low-grounds is +planted in Indian corn, the return in a good year being very large; and +even when there has been a drought, the general average in quantity and +quality falls short very little. The soil here is so fertile that +tobacco planted in it grows too coarse in its fibre, while the cost of +cultivating it is so high that the planter is reluctant to run the risk +of an overflow of the river, which destroys a crop at any stage in a few +hours. Although corn is very much injured by the same cause, it is not +rendered wholly useless, for it can be thrown to stock even when it is +unfit to be ground into meal. At a certain season the fields of this +grain along the river present a beautiful aspect, the mass of deep green +flecked by the white tops of the stalks resembling, at a distance, +level, unruffled waters; but sometimes a freshet descends upon it and +obliterates it from sight, the whole broad plain being then like a +highly-discolored lake, with rafts of planks and uprooted trees floating +upon its surface. + +The general plantation is divided into three plantations of equal +extent, each tract being made up of several thousand acres of land; each +has its own overseer, and he has under him a band of laborers who are +never called away to work elsewhere, and who have all their possessions +around them. Each division has its stables, teams, and implements, and +its expenses and profits are entered in a separate account. In short, +the different divisions of the general plantation are conducted as if +they belonged to several persons instead of to one alone. + +It is the duty of the overseer of each division to remain with his +laborers, however employed, and to overlook what they are doing. He sees +that the teams are well fed, the stock in good condition and in their +own bounds, the fences intact, and the implements sheltered from the +weather. He must hire additional hands when they are needed, and +discharge those guilty of serious delinquencies. His position is one of +responsibility, but at the same time of many advantages; for he is given +a comfortable house for his private use, with a garden, a smoke-house, a +store-room, and a stable,--a horse being furnished him to enable him to +get from one locality to another on the plantation under his charge with +ease and rapidity; and he is also supplied with rations for himself and +family every month. The social class to which he belongs is below the +highest,--namely, that of the planter,--and above that of the whites of +meanest condition. Formerly one of the three overseers on the plantation +which I am now describing was a colored man who had been a slave before +the war, a foreman in the field afterward, and was then promoted, in +consequence of his efficiency, to the responsible position which I have +named. He was a man of unusual intelligence, and gave the highest +satisfaction. His mind was almost painfully directed to the performance +of his duties, and the only fault that could be found with him was an +occasional inclination to be too severe with his own race. Very +naturally, he was looked up to by the latter as successful and +prosperous, and his influence in consequence was very great. Unlike most +of his fellows, he was given to hoarding what he earned, and in a few +years was able to buy a plantation of his own; and there he is now +engaged in cultivating his own land. + +There is a population of about four hundred negroes on the three +divisions of the plantation, this number including both sexes and every +age and shade of color. All of the older set, with few exceptions, were +the slaves of their employer, and did not leave him even in the restless +and excited hour of their emancipation. Born on the place, they have +spent the whole of their long lives there, and consider it to be as much +their home as it is that of its owner. In fact, the negroes here are +remote from those influences that lead so many others to migrate. The +plantation is eighteen miles from a railroad and forty from a town, and +is set down in a very sparsely settled country that has been only +partially cleared of its forests. It has a teeming population of its +own, which satisfies the social instincts of its inhabitants as much as +if they were collected together in a small town. In consequence of all +these facts, and in spite of the new state of things which the war +produced, there survives in its confines something of that baronial +spirit which we observe on a landed estate in England at the present +day, where every man, woman, and child is accustomed to think of the +landlord as the fountain-head of power and benefits. A similar spirit of +loyal subordination prevails particularly among the oldest inhabitants +of the plantation, who were once the absolute chattels of its owner, and +who look upon that fact as creating an obligation in him to support them +in their decrepitude. Being too far in the sere and yellow leaf to work, +they are provided every month with enough rations to meet their wants, +and in total idleness they calmly await the inevitable hour when their +bones will be laid beside those of their fathers. There are few more +picturesque figures than are many of these old negroes, who passed the +heyday of their strength before they were freed, and who, born in +slavery, survived to a new era only to find themselves in the last +stages of old age. They are regarded by their race with as much +veneration as if they were invested with the authority of prophets and +seers. Some of them, in spite of their years, act occasionally as +preachers, and are listened to with awe and trepidation as they lift up +their trembling voices in exhortation or denunciation. As travellers +from a distant past, it is interesting to observe them sitting with bent +backs and hands resting on their sticks in the door-ways of their cabins +on bright days in summer, or by the warm firesides in winter, while +members of younger generations talk around them or play about their +knees. + +The negro laborers marry in early life, and the size of their families +is often remarkable, the ratio of increase being, perhaps, greater with +them than with the families of the white laborers on the same +plantation, and the mortality among their children as small, for the +latter have an abundance of wholesome food, are well sheltered from cold +and dampness, and have good medical attendance. As soon as they are able +to walk so far, they are sent to the public school, which is situated on +the borders of the plantation, where they have a teacher of their own +race to instruct them, and they continue to attend until they are old +enough to work in the fields and stables. They are then employed there +at fair wages, which, until they come of age or marry, are appropriated +by their parents; and in consequence of this many of the young men seek +positions on the railroads or in the towns before they reach their +majority, in order that they may secure and enjoy the compensation of +their own labor. In a few years, however, the greater number wander back +and offer themselves as hands, are engaged, and establish homes of their +own. + +Tobacco being a staple that requires work of some kind throughout the +whole of the year, a large force of laborers are hired for that length +of time. It is not like wheat, in the cultivation and manipulation of +which more energy is put forth at one season than at another, as, for +instance, when it is harvested or threshed. A certain number of laborers +are engaged on the plantation on the 1st of January, who contract to +remain at definite wages during the following twelve months. Whoever +leaves without consent violates a distinct agreement, under which he is +liable in the courts, if it were worth the time and expense to subject +him to the law. He is paid every month by an order on a firm of +merchants who rent a store that belongs to the owner of the plantation +and is situated on one of its divisions; and this order he can convert +into money, merchandise, or groceries, as he chooses, or he gives it up +in settlement of debts which he has previously made there in +anticipation of his wages. The credit of each man is accurately gauged, +and he is allowed to deal freely to a certain amount, but not beyond; +and this restriction puts a very wholesome check upon the natural +extravagance of his disposition. + +On each division of the plantation there is a settlement where the +negroes live with their families. The houses of the "quarters," as the +settlement is called, are large weather-boarded cabins. In each there is +a spacious room below and a cramped garret above, which is used both as +a bedroom and a lumber-room, while the apartment on the first floor is +chamber, kitchen, and parlor in one, and there most of the inmates, +children as well as adults, sleep at night. The furniture is of a very +durable but rude character, consisting of a bed, several cots, tables +and cupboards, and half a dozen or more rough chairs of domestic +manufacture, while a few pictures, cut from illuminated Sunday books or +from illustrated papers, adorn the whitewashed walls. The brick +fire-place is so wide and open that the fire not only warms the room, +but lights it up so well that no candle or lamp is needed. The negroes +are always kept supplied with wood, and they use it with extravagance on +cold nights, when they often stretch themselves at full length on the +hearth-stone and sleep as calmly in the fierce glare as in the summer +shade, or nap and nod in their chairs until day, only rising from time +to time to throw on another log to revive the declining flames. They +like to gossip and relate tales under its comfortable influence, and it +is associated in their minds with the most pleasing side of their lives. +Those who can read con over the texts of their well-worn Bibles in its +light, while those who have a mechanical turn, as, for instance, for +weaving willow or white-oak baskets or making fish-traps or chairs, take +advantage of its illumination to carry on their work. + +Each householder has his garden, either in front or behind his dwelling, +according to the greater fertility of the soil, and here he raises every +variety of vegetable in profusion: sweet and Irish potatoes, tomatoes, +beets, peas, onions, cabbages, and melons grow there in sufficient +abundance to supply many tables. Of these, cabbage is most valued, for +it can be stored away for consumption in winter, and is as fresh at that +season as when it is first cut. Around the houses peach-trees of a very +common variety have been planted, and these bear fruit even when the +buds of rarer varieties elsewhere have been nipped, both because they +are more hardy and because they are near enough to be protected by the +cloud of smoke that is always issuing from the chimneys. Every +householder is allowed to fatten two hogs of his own, the sty, for fear +of thieves, being erected in such close proximity to his dwelling that +the odor is most offensive with the wind in a certain quarter, and, one +would think, most unwholesome; but his family do not seem to suffer +either in health or in comfort. Every cabin has its hen-house, from +which an abundant supply of eggs is drawn, which find a ready sale at +the plantation store; and in spring the chickens are a source of +considerable income to the negroes. Their fare is occasionally varied by +an opossum caught in the woods, or a hare trapped in the fields; but +they much prefer corn bread and bacon as regular fare to anything else. +They dislike wheat bread, as too light and unsatisfying, and they always +grumble when flour is measured out to them instead of meal. Coffee is a +luxury used only on Sunday. The table is set off by a few china plates +and cups, but there are no dishes, the meat being served in the utensil +in which it is cooked. On working-days breakfast and dinner are carried +to the hands in the fields by a boy who has collected at the different +houses the tin buckets containing these meals. + +The hands are as busy in winter as during any other part of the year. +Much of their time is then taken up in manipulating the tobacco, which +has been stored away in one large barn, and preparing it for market, the +first step toward which is to strip the leaves from the stalk and then +carefully separate those of an inferior from those of a superior +quality. Although there are many grades, the negroes are able to +distinguish them at a glance and assort them accordingly. They are not +engaged in this work of selection continuously from day to day, but at +intervals, for they can handle the tobacco only when the weather is damp +enough to moisten the leaf, otherwise it is so brittle that it would +crack and fall to pieces under their touch. They like this work, for the +barn is kept very comfortable by large stoves, they do not have to move +from their seats, and they can all sit very sociably together, talking, +laughing, and singing. It contrasts very agreeably with other work which +they are called upon to do at this season,--namely, the grubbing of new +grounds, from which they shrink with unconcealed repugnance, for outside +of a mine there is no kind of labor more arduous or exacting. The land +cleared is that from which the original forest has been cut, leaving +stumps thickly scattered over the surface, from which a heavy +scrub-growth springs up. Active, quick, and industrious as the negroes +may be in the tobacco-, corn-, or wheat fields, they show here great +indolence, and move forward very slowly with their hoes, axes, and +picks, piling up, as they advance, masses of roots, saplings, stumps, +and brush, which, when dry, are set on fire and consumed. The soil +exposed is a rich but thin loam of decayed leaves, in which tobacco +grows with luxuriance. + +In February or March the laborers prepare the plant-patch, the initial +step in the production of a crop that remains on their hands at least +twelve months before it is ready for market. They select a spot in the +depths of the woods where the soil is very fertile from the accumulated +mould, and they then cut away the trees and underbrush until a clean +open surface, square in shape and about forty yards from angle to angle, +is left, surrounded on all sides by the forest. Having piled up great +masses of logs over the whole of this surface, they set them on fire at +one end of the patch, and these are allowed to burn until all have been +consumed, the object being to get the ash which is deposited, and which +is very rich in certain constituents of the tobacco-plant and is +especially conducive to its growth. The ploughmen then come and break up +the ground, hoers carefully pulverize every clod, and the seed is sown, +a mere handful being sufficient for a great extent of soil. The laborers +afterward cover the surface of the patch with bushes, and it is left +without further protection. In a short time the tobacco-plant springs up +in indescribable profusion, and in a few weeks it is in a condition to +be transferred to the fields. + +Before this is done, however, the seed-corn has begun to sprout in the +ground. The first cry of the whippoorwill is the signal for planting +this cereal. The grains are dropped from the hand at regular intervals, +both men and women joining in this work; and they all move slowly along +together, the men bearing the corn in small bags, the women holding it +in their aprons. The wide low-grounds at this season expand to the +horizon without anything to obstruct the vision, a clear, unbroken sweep +of purple ploughed land. The laborers are visible far off, those who +drop the grains walking in a line ahead, the hoers following close +behind to cover up the seed. Still farther in the rear come the harrows, +that level all inequalities in the surface and crush the clods. Flocks +of crows wheel in the air above the scene, or stalk at a safe distance +on the ploughed ground. Blackbirds, which have now returned from the +South, sing in chorus on the adjacent ditch-banks, mingling their harsh +notes with the lively songs of myriads of bobolinks, while high overhead +whistles the plover. The newly-sprung grass paints the road-side a lush +green, the leaves are budding on weed and spray, and over all there hang +the exhilarating influences of spring. + +As soon as the hands have planted the corn, they begin transplanting the +tobacco, which they find a more tedious task, for they can only +transfer the slips to the fields when the air is surcharged with +moisture and the ground is wet; otherwise the slips will wither on the +way or perish in the hill without taking root. But if the weather is +favorable they flourish from the hour they are thrust into the ground. +It takes the laborers but a short time to plant many acres; and when +their work is done the fields look as bare as before. The original +leaves soon die, but from the healthy stalk new ones shoot out and +expand very rapidly. The soil has been very highly fertilized with guano +and very carefully ploughed, so that every condition is favorable to the +growth of the plant if there is an abundance of rain. At a later period +it passes through a drought very well, being a hardy plant that recovers +even after it has wilted; but very frequently in its early stages the +laborers are compelled to haul water in casks from the streams to save +it from destruction. + +The most jovial operation of the year to the hands is the wheat-harvest +in June; but the introduction of the mechanical reaper has taken away +something of its peculiar character. Much of the grain, however, is +still cut down with the cradle. The strongest negro always leads the +dozen or more mowers, and thus incites his fellows to keep closely in +his wake. As they move along, they sing, and the sound, sonorous and not +unmelodious, is echoed far and wide among the hills. Behind them follows +a band of men and women, who gather the grain into shocks or tie it in +bundles. + +After the harvest is over, the time of the laborers is given up entirely +to the tobacco, which has now grown to a fair size. Their first task is +to "sucker" it,--that is, cut away the shoots that spring up at the +intersection of each leaf and the stalk, and which if left to grow would +absorb half the strength of the plant. They also examine the leaves very +carefully, to destroy the eggs and young of the tobacco-fly. Day after +day they go over the same fields, finding newly-laid eggs and +newly-hatched young where only twelve hours before they brushed their +counterparts off to be trampled under foot. As the tobacco ripens, it +becomes brittle to the touch and is covered with dark yellow spots, and +when this appearance is still further developed the time for cutting has +arrived, which generally is in the first month of autumn, and always +before frost, which is as fatal to this as to every other weed. The +plant is now about three feet in height, with eight or nine large +leaves, the stalk having been broken off at the top in the second stage +of its growth. On the appointed day a dozen or more men with coarse +knives split the stalk of each plant straight down its middle to within +half a foot of the ground. They then strike the plant from the hill and +lay it on one side. The leaves soon shrink under the rays of the sun and +fall. One of the laborers who follow the cutters then takes it up and +places it with nine or ten other plants on a stick, which is thrust +through the angle formed by the two halves of the plant separated from +each other except at one end. It is deposited with the rest in an open +ox-cart and transported to the barn. In the barn poles have been +arranged in tiers from bottom to top to support the sticks; and when the +building is full of tobacco the laborer in charge ignites the logs that +fill parallel trenches in the dirt floor, and a high rate of temperature +is soon produced, and is maintained for several days, during which a +watch is kept to replenish the flames and prevent a conflagration. As +soon as the tobacco has changed from a deep green to a light brown, it +is removed on a wet day to the general barn. The same process of curing +is going on in many barns on the same plantation, and occasionally one +is burned down; for the tobacco is very inflammable, a stray spark from +below being sufficient to set the whole on fire. + +The principal work of the autumn is the gathering of the ripe corn. A +band of men go ahead and pull the ears from the stalks and throw them at +intervals of thirty yards into loose piles and another band following +behind them at a distance pick the ears up and pitch them into the +ox-carts, which, when fully loaded, return to the granary, around which +the corn is soon massed in long and high rows. When the whole crop has +been got in, a moonlight night is selected for stripping off the shucks; +and this is a gay occasion with the negroes, for they are allowed as +much whiskey as they can carry under their belts. The leading clown +among them is deputed to mount the pile and sing, while the rest sit +below and work. As he ends each verse, they reply in a chorus that can +be heard miles away through the clear, still, frosty air. Their songs +are the ancient ditties of the plantation, and are humorous or pathetic +in sound rather than in sense. And yet even to an educated ear they have +a certain interest, like everything, however trivial, connected with +this strange race. + +Such, in general outline, are the tasks of the laborers on the +plantation during the four seasons of the year. It is beyond question +that they do their work thoroughly. It makes no difference how deep the +low-ground mud is, or how rough the surface, or how lowering the +weather, they go forward with cheerfulness and alacrity. Nothing can +repress or dampen their spirits. How often I have heard them as they +returned through the dusk, after hoeing or ploughing the whole day, +singing in a strain as gay and spontaneous as if they were just going +forth in the freshness of a vernal morning! Their sociable disposition +is displayed even in the fields, for they like to work in bands, in +order that they may converse and joke together. This companionableness +is one of the most conspicuous traits of their character. Even the +strict patrolling of slavery-times could not prevent them from running +together at night; and now that they are free to go where they choose, +they will put themselves to much trouble to gratify their love of +association with their fellows. One reason why a large plantation is so +popular with them is that the number of its inhabitants offers the most +varied opportunities of social enjoyment. + +Sunday is the principal day on which the negroes exchange visits. There +is a settlement, as I have mentioned, on each division of the plantation +which I am now describing, and, although these settlements are situated +at some distance apart, this is not considered to be a serious +inconvenience. At every hour on Sunday, if the day is fair, men and +women, in couples or small parties, neatly and becomingly dressed, are +seen moving along the chief thoroughfare on their way to call on their +friends. The women are decked in gay calicoes, often further adorned +with bunches of wild flowers plucked by the road-side; while the men are +clothed in suits which they have bought at the "store," and they +frequently wear cheap jewelry which they have purchased at the same +establishment. The dandies in the younger set flourish canes and assume +all the languishing airs that distinguish the callow fops of the white +race. Many visitors are received at the most popular houses, and they +are observed sitting with the families of their hosts and hostesses +under the shade of the trees until a late hour of the afternoon. Some +pass from cabin to cabin, not stopping long at any one, but finding a +cordial welcome everywhere. Some linger very late, and make their way +back by the light of the moon. As they move along the low-ground road +their voices can be heard very distinctly from the hills above as they +talk and laugh together; and sometimes they vary the monotony of their +walk by singing a hymn, the sound of which is borne very far on the +bosom of the silence, and is sweet and soft in its cadence, mellowed as +it is by the distance and idealized by the nocturnal hour. + +There are two church-edifices on the plantation, one of which is used +during the week as a public school, but the other was built expressly +for religious worship. Both are plain but comfortable structures, the +outer and inner walls of which have been whitewashed and the blinds +painted a dark green. Around them are wide yards, carefully swept; +otherwise their neighborhoods are rather forbidding, on account of the +silence and darkness of the forests in which they are situated, the only +proof of their connection with the world at large being the roads which +run by their doors. The pulpit of one is filled by a white preacher of +Northern birth and education, who removed to this section after the war; +and the only objection that can be urged against him is that he often +holds religious revivals at the time when the tobacco-worm is most +active in ravaging the ripening plant. The negroes who have to walk +several miles after their work is over to get to his church are kept up +till a late hour of night and in a state of high excitement, and are so +overcome with fatigue the following day that they dawdle over their +tasks. These revivals are also celebrated at the other church, but +always in proper season; for the minister there is not only sound and +orthodox in his doctrines, but he is also a planter on his own account, +and, therefore, able to understand that the interests of religion and +tobacco ought not to be brought into conflict. + +Many parties are given every year, and they are attended by several +hundred negroes of both sexes, who have come from the different +"quarters," and even from other plantations in the vicinity. The owner +of the plantation always supplies an abundance of provisions--a sheep or +beef, flour and meal--for the feast that celebrates the general housing +of the crops, which is to the laborers what the harvest-supper is to the +peasantry of England. The year, with its varied labors and large +results, lies behind them, the wheat, tobacco, and corn have all been +gathered in, their hard work is done, and though in a few weeks the old +routine will begin again, they are now oblivious of it all. Hour after +hour they continue to dance, a new array of fresh performers taking the +place of those who are exhausted, and then the regular beating of their +feet on the floor can be heard at a considerable distance, with a dull, +monotonous sound, varied only by the hum of voices or noise of laughter +or the shrill notes of the musical instruments. These are the banjo and +accordion, the former being the favorite, perhaps because it is more +intimately associated with the social traditions of the negroes. Their +best performers play very skilfully on both, and indulge in as much +ecstatic by-play as musicians of the most famous schools. They throw +themselves into many strange contortions as they touch the strings or +keys, swaying from side to side, or rocking their bodies backward and +forward till the head almost reaches the floor, or leaning over the +instrument and addressing it in caressing terms. They accompany their +playing with their voices, but their _répertoire_ is limited to a few +songs, which generally consist in mere repetition of a few notes. All +their airs have been handed down from remote generations. Their words +deal with the ordinary incidents of the negro's life, and embody his +narrow hopes and aspirations, but they are rarely connected narratives. +As a rule, they are broken lines without relevancy or coherence, while +the choruses are so many meaningless syllables. The negroes seem to +derive no pleasure from music outside of those songs and airs which they +have so often heard at their own hearthstones, and which have come down +to them from their ancestors. + +The Christmas holidays, extending from the 25th of December to the 2d of +January, are a period of entire suspension of labor on the plantation. +In anticipation of their arrival, a large quantity of fire-wood is +hauled from the forests and piled up around the cabins; but the negroes +spend very little of this interval of leisure in their own homes, unless +a bad spell of weather has set in and continues. They are either out in +the open air or at the "store." This latter serves the purpose of a +club, and is a very popular resort. Even at other times of the year it +is always packed at night; but during the Christmas holidays it is full +to overflowing in the day-time. At this gay season the fires are kept +burning very fiercely; the Sunday suits and dresses are worn every day; +the tables are covered with more abundant fare of the plainer as well +as rarer sort. All visitors are received with increased hospitality, and +work of every kind that usually goes on in the precincts of the dwelling +is, if possible, deferred until the opening of the new year. Many +strange faces are now seen on the plantation, and many faces that were +once familiar, but whose owners have removed elsewhere. The negro is as +closely bound in affection to the scenes of his childhood as the white +man, and he thinks that he has certain rights there of which absence +even cannot deprive him, although he may have left for permanent +settlement at a distance. When he dies elsewhere he is always anxious in +his last hours that his body shall be brought back and buried in the old +graveyard of the plantation where he was born and where he grew up to +manhood. And when he comes back to the well-known localities for a brief +stay, he feels as if he were at home again in the house of his fathers, +where he has an absolute and inalienable right to be. + +PHILIP A. BRUCE. + + + + +SCENES OF CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ'S LIFE IN BRUSSELS. + + +We had "done" Brussels after the approved fashion,--had faithfully +visited the churches, palaces, museums, theatres, galleries, monuments, +and boulevards, had duly admired the beautiful windows and the exquisite +wood-carvings of the grand old cathedral of St. Gudule, the tower and +tapestry and frescos and façade of the magnificent Hôtel-de-Ville, the +stately halls and the gilded dome of the immense new Courts of Justice, +and the consummate beauty of the Bourse, had diligently sought out the +naïve boy-fountain, and had made the usual excursion to Waterloo. + +This delightful task being conscientiously discharged, we proposed to +devote our last day in the beautiful Belgian capital to the +accomplishment of one of the cherished projects of our lives,--the +searching out of the localities associated with Charlotte Bronté's +unhappy school-life here, which she has so graphically portrayed. For +our purpose no guide was available, or needful, for the topography and +local coloring of "Villette" and "The Professor" are as vivid and +unmistakable as in the best work of Dickens himself. Proceeding from St. +Gudule, by the little street at the back of the cathedral, to the Rue +Royale, and a short distance along that grand thoroughfare, we reached +the park and a locality familiar to Miss Bronté's readers. Seated in +this lovely pleasure-ground, the gift of the empress Maria Theresa, with +its cool shade all about us, we noted the long avenues and the paths +winding amid stalwart trees and verdant shrubbery, the dark foliage +ineffectually veiling the gleaming statuary and the sheen of bright +fountains, "the stone basin with its clear depth, the thick-planted +trees which framed this tremulous and rippled mirror," the groups of +happy people filling the seats in secluded nooks or loitering in the +cool mazes and listening to the music,--we noted all this, and felt that +Miss Bronté had revealed it to us long ago. It was across this park that +Lucy Snowe was piloted from the bureau of the diligence by the +chivalrous stranger, Dr. John, on the night when she, despoiled, +helpless, and solitary, arrived in Brussels. She found the park deserted +and dark, the paths miry, the water "dripping from its trees." "In the +double gloom of tree and fog she could not see her guide, and could only +follow his tread" in the darkness. We recalled another scene under these +same tail trees, on a night when the iron gateway was "spanned by a +naming arch of massed stars." The park was a "forest with sparks of +purple and ruby and golden fire gemming the foliage," and Lucy, driven +from her couch by mental torture, wandered unrecognized amid the gay +throng at the midnight concert of the Festival of the Martyrs and looked +upon her lover, her friends the Brettons, and the secret junta of her +enemies, Madame Beck, Madame Walravens, and Père Silas. + +The sense of familiarity with the vicinage grew as we observed our +surroundings. Facing us, at the extremity of the park, was the +unpretentious palace of the king, in the small square across the Rue +Royale at our right was the statue of General Béliard, and we knew that +just behind it we should find the Rue Fossette and Charlotte Bronté's +_pensionnat_, for Crimsworth, "The Professor," standing by the statue, +had "looked down a great staircase" to the door-way of the school, and +poor Lucy, on that forlorn first night in "Villette," to avoid the +insolence of a pair of ruffians, had hastened down a flight of steps from +the Rue Royale, and had come, not to the inn she sought, but to the +_pensionnat_ of Madame Beck. + +From the statue we descended, by a quadruple series of wide stone +stairs, into a narrow street, old-fashioned and clean, quiet and +secluded in the very heart of the great city,--the Rue d'Isabelle,--and +just opposite the foot of the steps we came to the wide door of a +spacious, quadrangular, stuccoed old mansion, with a bit of foliage +showing over a high wall at one side. A bright plate embellishes the +door and bears the inscription, + +PENSIONNAT DE DEMOISELLES +HÉGER-PARENT. + +A Latin inscription in the wall of the house shows it to have been given +to the Guild of Royal Archers by the Infanta Isabelle early in the +seventeenth century. Long before that the garden had been the orchard +and herbary of a convent and the Hospital for the Poor. + +We were detained at the door long enough to remember Lucy standing +there, trembling and anxious, awaiting admission, and then we too were +"let in by a _bonne_ in a smart cap,"--apparently a fit successor to the +Rosine of forty years ago,--and entered the corridor. This is paved with +blocks of black and white marble and has painted walls. It extends +through the entire depth of the house, and at its farther extremity an +open door afforded us a glimpse of the garden. + +We were ushered into the little _salon_ at the left of the passage,--the +one often mentioned in "Villette,"--and here we made known our wish to +see the garden and class-rooms, and met with a prompt refusal from the +neat _portresse_. We tried diplomacy (also lucre) with her, without +avail: it was the _grandes vacances_, the ladies were out, M. Héger was +engaged, we could not be gratified,--unless, indeed, we were patrons of +the school. At this juncture a portly, ruddy-faced lady of middle age +and most courteous of speech and manner appeared, and, addressing us in +faultless English, introduced herself as Mademoiselle Héger, +co-directress of the _pensionnat_, and "wholly at our service." In +response to our apologies for the intrusion and explanations of the +desire which had prompted it, we received complaisant assurances of +welcome; yet the manner of our kind entertainer indicated that she did +not appreciate, much less share in, our admiration and enthusiasm for +Charlotte Bronté and her books. In the subsequent conversation it +appeared that Mademoiselle and her family hold decided opinions upon the +subject,--something more than mere lack of admiration. She was familiar +with the novels, and thought that, while they exhibit a talent certainly +not above mediocrity, they reflect the injustice, the untruthfulness, +and the ingratitude of their creator. We were obliged to confess to +ourselves that the family have apparent reason for this view, when we +reflected that in the books Miss Bronté has assailed their religion and +disparaged the school and the character of the teachers and pupils, has +depicted Madame Héger in the odious duad of Madame Beck and Mademoiselle +Reuter, has represented M. Héger as the scheming and deceitful M. Pelet +and the preposterous M. Paul, Lucy Snowe's lover, that this lover was +the husband of Madame Héger, and father of the family of children to +whom Lucy was at first _bonne d'enfants_, and that possibly the daughter +she has described as the thieving, vicious Désirée--"that tadpole, +Désirée Beck"--was this very lady now so politely entertaining us. To +all this add the significant fact that "Villette" is an autobiographical +novel, which "records the most vivid passages in Miss Bronté's own sad +heart's history," not a few of the incidents being "literal transcripts" +from the darkest chapter of her own life, and the light which the +consideration of this fact throws upon her relations with members of the +family will help us to apprehend the stand-point from which the Hégers +judge Miss Bronté and her work, and to excuse, if not to justify, a +natural resentment against one who has presented them in a decidedly bad +light. + +_How_ bad we began to realize when, during the ensuing chat, we called +to mind just what she had written of them. As Madame Beck, Madame Héger +had been represented as lying, deceitful, and shameless, as heartless +and unscrupulous, as "watching and spying everywhere, peeping through +every keyhole, listening behind every door," as duplicating Lucy's keys +and secretly searching her bureau, as meanly abstracting her letters and +reading them to others, as immodestly laying herself out to entrap the +man to whom she had given her love unsought. In letters to her friend +Ellen, Miss Bronté complains that "Madame Héger never came near her" in +her loneliness and illness. + +It was, obviously, some accession to the existing animosity between +herself and Madame Héger which precipitated Miss Bronté's final +departure from the _pensionnat_. Mrs. Gaskell ascribes their mutual +dislike to Charlotte's free expression of her aversion to the Catholic +Church, of which Madame Héger was a devotee, and hence "wounded in her +most cherished opinions;" but a later writer, in the "Westminster +Review," plainly intimates that Miss Bronté hated the woman who sat for +Madame Beck because marriage had given to _her_ the man whom Miss Bronté +loved, and that "Madame Beck had need to be a detective in her own +house." The recent death of Madame Héger has rendered the family, who +hold her now only as a sacred memory, more keenly sensitive than ever to +anything which would seem by implication to disparage her. + +For himself it would appear that M. Héger has less cause for resentment, +for, although in "Villette" he (or his double) is pictured as "a waspish +little despot," as fiery and unreasonable, as "detestably ugly" in his +anger, closely resembling "a black and sallow tiger," as having an +"overmastering love of authority and public display," as basely playing +the spy and reading purloined letters, and in the Bronté epistles +Charlotte declares he is choleric and irritable, compels her to make her +French translations without a dictionary or grammar, and then has "his +eyes almost plucked out of his head" by the occasional English word she +is obliged to introduce, etc., yet all this is partially atoned for by +the warm praise she subsequently accords him for his goodness to her and +his "disinterested friendship," by the poignant regret she expresses at +parting with him,--perhaps wholly expiated by the high compliment she +pays him of making her heroine, Lucy, fall in love with him, or the +higher compliment it is suspected she paid him of falling in love with +him herself. One who reads the strange history of passion in "Villette," +in conjunction with her letters, "will know more of the truth of her +stay in Brussels than if a dozen biographers had undertaken to tell the +whole tale." + +Still, M. Héger can scarcely be pleased by the ludicrous figure he is +so often made to cut in the novels by having members of his school set +forth as stupid, animal, and inferior, "their principles rotten to the +core, steeped in systematic sensuality," by having his religion styled +"besotted papistry, a piece of childish humbug," and the like. + +Something of the displeasure of the family was revealed in the course of +our conversation with Mademoiselle Héger, but the specific causes were +but cursorily touched upon. She could have no personal recollection of +the Brontés; her knowledge of them is derived from her parents and the +teachers,--presumably the "repulsive old maids" of Charlotte's letters. +One of the present teachers in the _pensionnat_ had been a classmate of +Charlotte's here. The Brontés had not been popular with the school. +Their "heretical" religion had something to do with this; but their +manifest avoidance of the other pupils during hours of recreation, +Mademoiselle thought, had been a more potent cause,--Emily, in +particular, not speaking with her school-mates or teachers except when +obliged to do so. The other pupils thought them of outlandish accent and +manners and ridiculously old to be at school at all,--being twenty-four +and twenty-six, and seeming even older. Their sombre and +grotesquely-ugly costumes were fruitful causes of mirth to the gay +young Belgian misses. The Brontés were not especially brilliant +students, and none of their companions had ever suspected that they were +geniuses. Of the two, Emily was considered to be, in most respects, the +more talented, but she was obstinate and opinionated. Some of the pupils +had been inclined to resist having Charlotte placed over them as +teacher, and may have been mutinous. After her return from Haworth she +taught English to M. Héger and his brother-in-law. M. Héger gave the +sisters private lessons in French without charge, and for some time +preserved their compositions, which Mrs. Gaskell copied. Mrs. Gaskell +visited the _pensionnat_ in quest of material for her biography of +Charlotte, and received all the aid M. Héger could afford: the +information thus obtained has, for the most part, we were told, been +fairly used. Miss Bronté's letters from Brussels, so freely quoted in +Mrs. Gaskell's "Life," were addressed to Miss Ellen Nussy, a familiar +friend of Charlotte's, whose signature we saw in the register at Haworth +Church as witness to Miss Bronté's marriage. The Hégers had no suspicion +that she had been so unhappy with them as these letters indicate, and +she had assigned a totally different reason for her sudden return to +England. She had been introduced to Madame Héger by Mrs. Jenkins, wife +of the then chaplain of the British Embassy at the Court of Belgium; she +had frequently visited that lady and other friends in Brussels,--among +them Mary and Martha Taylor and their relatives, and the family of a +Dr. ---- (_not_ Dr. John),--and therefore her life here need not +have been so lonely and desolate as it has been made to appear. + +The Hégers usually have a few English pupils in the school, but have +never had an American. + +Some American tourists had before called to look at the garden, but the +family are not pleased by the notoriety with which Miss Bronté has +invested it. However, Mademoiselle Héger kindly offered to conduct us +over any portion of the establishment we might care to see, and led the +way along the corridor, past the class-rooms and the _réfectoire_ on the +right, to the narrow, high-walled garden. We found it smaller than in +the time when Miss Bronté loitered here in weariness and solitude. +Mademoiselle Héger explained that, while the width remains the same, the +erection of class-rooms for the day-pupils has diminished the length by +some yards. Tall houses surround and shut it in on either side, making +it close and sombre, and the noises of the great city all about it +penetrate here only as a far-away murmur. There is a plat of verdant +turf in the centre, bordered by scant flowers and damp gravelled walks, +along which shrubs of evergreen and laurel are irregularly disposed. A +few seats are placed here and there within the shade, where, as in Miss +Bronté's time, the _externals_ eat the luncheon brought with them to the +school; and overlooking it all stand the great old pear-trees, whose +gnarled and deformed trunks are relics of the time of the hospital and +convent. Beyond these and along the gray wall which bounds the farther +side of the enclosure is the sheltered walk which was Miss Bronté's +favorite retreat,--the "_allée défendue_" of her novels. It is screened +by shrubs and perfumed by flowers, and, being secure from the intrusion +of pupils, we could well believe that Charlotte and her heroine found +here restful seclusion. The coolness and quiet and--more than all--the +throng of vivid associations which fill the place tempted us to linger. +The garden is not a spacious nor even a pretty one, and yet it seemed to +us singularly pleasing and familiar,--as if we were revisiting it after +an absence. Seated upon a rustic bench close at hand, possibly the very +one which Lucy Snowe had cleansed and "reclaimed from fungi and mould," +how the memories came surging up into our minds! How often in the summer +twilight poor Charlotte had lingered here in restful solitude after the +day's burdens and trials with "stupid and impertinent" pupils! How +often, with weary feet and a dreary heart, she had paced this secluded +walk and thought, with longing almost insupportable, of the dear ones in +far-away Haworth parsonage! In this sheltered corner her other +self--Lucy Snowe--sat and listened to the distant chimes and thought +forbidden thoughts and cherished impossible hopes. Here she met and +talked with Dr. John. Deep beneath this "Methuselah of a pear-tree," the +one nearest the end of the alley, lies the imprisoned dust of the poor +young nun who was buried alive ages ago for some sin against her vow, +and whose perambulating ghost so disquieted poor Lucy. At the root of +this same tree one miserable night Lucy buried her precious letters, and +"meant also to bury a grief" and her great affection for Dr. John. Here +she had leant her brow against Methuselah's knotty trunk and uttered to +herself those brave words of renunciation which must have wrung her +heart: "Good-night, Dr. John; you are good, you are beautiful, _but you +are not mine_. Good-night, and God bless you!" Here she held pleasant +converse with M. Paul, and with him, spell-bound, saw the ghost of the +nun descend from the leafy shadows overhead and, sweeping close past +their wondering faces, disappear behind yonder screen of shrubbery into +the darkness of the summer night. By that tall tree next the class-rooms +the ghost was wont to ascend to meet its material sweetheart, Fanshawe, +in the great garret beneath yonder skylight,--the garret where Lucy +retired to read Dr. John's letter, and wherein M. Paul confined her to +learn her part in the vaudeville for Madame Beck's _fête_-day. In this +nook where we sat, Crimsworth, "The Professor," had walked and talked +with and almost made love to Mademoiselle Reuter, and from yonder window +overlooking the alley had seen that perfidious fair one in dalliance +with his employer, M. Pelet, beneath these pear-trees. From that window +M. Paul watched Lucy as she sat or walked in the _allée défendue_, +dogged by Madame Beck; from the same window were thrown the love-letters +which fell at Lucy's feet sitting here. + +Leaves from the overhanging boughs were plucked for us as souvenirs of +the place; then, reverently traversing once more the narrow alley so +often traced in weariness by Charlotte Bronté, we turned away. From the +garden we entered the long and spacious class-room of the first and +second divisions. A movable partition divides it across the middle when +the classes are in session; the floor is of bare boards cleanly scoured. +There are long ranges of desks and benches upon either side, and a lane +through the middle leads up to a raised platform at the end of the room, +where the instructor's chair and desk are placed. + +How quickly our fancy peopled the place! On these front seats sat the +gay and indocile Belgian girls. There, "in the last row, in the +quietest corner, sat Emily and Charlotte side by side, so absorbed in +their studies as to be insensible to anything about them;" and at the +same desk, "in the farthest seat of the farthest row," sat Mademoiselle +Henri during Crimsworth's English lessons. Here Lucy's desk was rummaged +by M. Paul and the tell-tale odor of cigars left behind. Here, after +school-hours, Miss Bronté taught M. Héger English, he taught her French, +and M. Paul taught Lucy arithmetic and (incidentally) love. This was the +scene of their _tête-à-têtes_, of his earnest efforts to persuade her +into his faith in the Church of Rome, of their ludicrous supper of +biscuit and baked apples, and of his final violent outbreak with Madame +Beck, when she literally thrust herself between him and his love. From +this platform Crimsworth and Lucy Snowe and Charlotte Bronté herself had +given instruction to pupils whose insubordination had first to be +confronted and overcome. Here M. Paul and M. Héger gave lectures upon +literature, and Paul delivered his spiteful tirade against the English +on the morning of his _fête_-day. Upon this desk were heaped his +bouquets that morning; from its smooth surface poor Lucy dislodged and +fractured his cherished spectacles; and here, _now_, seated in Paul's +chair, at Paul's desk, we saw and were presented to Paul Emanuel +himself,--M. Héger. + +It was something more than curiosity which made us alert to note the +appearance and manner of this man, who has been so nearly associated +with Miss Bronté in an intercourse which colored her whole subsequent +life and determined her life work, who has been made the hero of her +best novels and has even been deemed the hero of her own heart's +romance; and yet we _were_ curious to know "what manner of man it is" +who has been so much as suspected of being honored with the love and +preference of the dainty Charlotte Bronté. During a short conversation +with him we had opportunity to observe that in person this "wise, good, +and religious" man must, at the time Miss Bronté knew him, have more +closely resembled M. Pelet of "The Professor" than any other of her +pen-portraits: indeed, after the lapse of more than forty years that +delineation still, for the most part, aptly applies to him. He is of +middle age, of rather spare habit of body; his face is fair and the +features pleasing and regular, the cheeks are thin and the mouth +flexible, the eyes--somewhat sunken--are of mild blue and of singularly +pleasant expression. We found him elderly, but not infirm; his +finely-shaped head is now fringed with white hair, and partial baldness +contributes an impressive reverence to his presence and tends to enhance +the intellectual effect of his wide brow. In repose his countenance +shows a hint of melancholy: as Miss Bronté has said, "his physiognomy is +_fine et spirituelle_;" one would hardly imagine it could ever resemble +the "visage of a black and sallow tiger." His voice is low and soft, his +bow still "very polite, not theatrical, scarcely French," his manner +_suave_ and courteous, his dress scrupulously neat. He accosted us in +the language Miss Bronté taught him forty years ago, and his accent and +diction do honor to her instruction. He was, at this time, engaged with +some patrons of the school, and, as his daughter had hinted that he was +averse to speaking of Miss Bronté, we soon took leave of him and were +shown through other parts of the school. The other class-rooms, used for +less advanced pupils, are smaller. In one of them, the third, Miss +Bronté had ruled as monitress after her return from Haworth. The large +dormitory of the _pensionnat_ was above the long class-room, and in the +time of the Brontés most of the boarders--about twenty in number--slept +here. Their cots were arranged along either side, and the position of +those occupied by the Brontés was pointed out to us at the extreme end +of the long room. It was here that Lucy suffered the horrors of +hypochondria, so graphically portrayed in "Villette," and found the +discarded costume of the spectral nun lying upon her bed, and here Miss +Bronté passed those nights of "dreary, wakeful misery" which Mrs. +Gaskell describes. + +A long and rather narrow room in front of the class-rooms was shown us +as the _réfectoire_, where the Brontés, with the other boarders, took +their meals, presided over by M. and Madame Héger, and where, during the +evenings, the lessons for the ensuing days were prepared. Here were held +the evening prayers, which Charlotte used to avoid by escaping into the +garden. This, too, was the scene of M. Paul's whilom readings to +teachers and pupils, and of some of his spasms of petulance, which +readers of "Villette" will remember. From the _réfectoire_ we passed +again into the corridor, where we made our adieus to our affable +conductress. She gave us her card, and explained that, whereas this +establishment had formerly been both a _pensionnat_ and an _externat_, +having about seventy day-pupils and twenty boarders when Miss Bronté was +here, it is now, since the death of Madame Héger, used as a day-school +only,--the _pensionnat_ being at some little distance, in the Avenue +Louise, where Mademoiselle is a co-directress. + +The genuine local color Miss Bronté gives in "Villette" enabled us to be +sure that we had found the sombre old church where Lucy, arrested in +passing by the sound of the bells, knelt upon the stone pavement, +passing thence into the confessional of Père Silas. Certain it is that +this old church lies upon the route she would naturally take in the walk +from the Rue d'Isabelle to the Protestant cemetery, which she had set +out to do that dark afternoon, and the narrow streets of picturesque old +houses which lie beyond the church correspond to those in which she was +lost. Certain, too, it is said to be that this incident is taken +directly from Miss Bronté's own experience. A writer in "Macmillan" +says, "During one of the long holidays, when her mind was restless and +disturbed, she found sympathy, if not peace, in the counsels of a priest +in the confessional, who pitied and soothed her troubled spirit without +attempting to enmesh it in the folds of Romanism." + +Our way to the Protestant cemetery, a spot sadly familiar to Miss +Bronté, and the usual termination of her walks, lay past the site of the +Porte de Louvain and out to the hills a mile or so beyond the old city +limits. From our path we saw more than one tree-surrounded farm-house +which might have been the place of M. Paul's breakfast with his school, +and at least one old-fashioned manor-house, with green-tufted and +terraced lawns, which might have served Miss Bronté as the model for "La +Terrasse," the suburban home of the Brettons, and probably the temporary +abode of the Taylor sisters whom she visited here. From the cemetery are +beautiful vistas of farther lines of hills, of intervening valleys, of +farms and villas, and of the great city lying below. Miss Bronté has +well described this place: "Here, on pages of stone, of marble, and of +brass, are written names, dates, last tributes of pomp or love, in +English, French, German, and Latin." There are stone crosses all about, +and great thickets of roses and yew-trees,--"cypresses that stand +straight and mute, and willows that hang low and still;" and there are +"dim garlands of everlasting flowers." + +Here "The Professor" found his long-sought sweetheart kneeling at a +new-made grave, under these overhanging trees. And here _we_ found the +shrine of poor Charlotte Bronté's many weary pilgrimages hither,--the +burial-place of her friend and schoolmate Martha Taylor, the Jessy Yorke +of "Shirley," the spot where, under "green sod and a gray marble +headstone, cold, coffined, solitary, Jessy sleeps below." + +THEO. WOLFE. + + + + +COOKHAM DEAN. + + +For a long time "the Dean" had had a certain familiarity for us. We +heard it continually spoken of among our artist friends, and had even +come to recognize many of its picturesque features as we came across +them in our usual studio-haunts and in the exhibitions. We seemed to +know those green, billowy swells at sight, as well as the thatched and +tiled roofs and old-fashioned gardens, the swinging barred gates and +stagnant, goose-tormented pools,--even the coarse-limbed rustics in +weather-beaten "store-clothes," picturesque only in mellow fadedness. + +We knew all this; yet, when we set eyes and feet upon Cookham Dean for +the first time, behold, the half had not been told us! We had directed +many a letter to Cookham Dean, and knew them to have been duly delivered +by a bucolic postman on a tricycle. But a hundred canvases, and almost +as many tongues, had failed to tell us of the sunny slopes and shadowy +glades, the sylvan lanes and ribbon-like roads, the old stone inn with +open porch and sign swinging from lofty post set across the way, as +Italian campanile stand away from their churches, all coming under the +name of "Cookham Dean," although that "Dean," properly speaking, is only +their geographical and artistic centre. + +Long before we reached _Ye Hutte_ from Cookham station--Ye Hutte set +amid bushy and climbing roses upon a prominent knoll of the many-knolled +Dean--we ceased to wonder that our picturesque imaginings of the region +we were passing through had been so various. Artists were before us, +artists behind us, artists on every side of us, two sketching-umbrellas +glinting like great tropical flowers in a corn-field, another like a +huge daisy in the dim vista of a long lane. + +"C---- lodges in that red cottage, B---- in the next one, H---- in this +tumble-down farm-house, the L----s in that row of laborers' cottages, +the D----s in the inn," said Mona, tripping lightly over well-known +names, whose most accustomed place is in the exhibition catalogues. + +Through the open windows of a hideous brick row, built to hold as many +laborers' families all the year round and as many Bohemian summer +artists as can crowd therein, we caught glimpses of tapestries worth +their weight in gold. One well-known artist has taken possession of the +end of this uncomely row, intended for a supply-shop to the +neighborhood. This shop is his studio, which he has filled with +treasures of Japanese art. As a Cookhamite assured us, "Mr. C---- goes +in for the _Japanesque_;" and he screens the large display-windows +intended for cheese, raisins, and potted meats with smiling mandarins +and narrow-eyed houris under octopus-like trees. + +At the rear of the same "Row" we recognized a broad-hatted figure once +familiar to us in the Quartier Latin and the artistic _auberges_ of the +Forest of Fontainebleau. The very personification of _insouciance_ and +_laissez-aller_, he whose tiny bedroom-studio up-stairs ran riot with +color caught among California mountains, in cool gray France and +ochreous England, was bending the whole force of his mind to sketching a +pouter pigeon preening itself upon a barrel. + +Still another of the ugly cottages, cursed by artists but inhabited by +them, was hired at ten pounds a year by two young landscapists. A +charwoman came every morning to quell the mad riots in which the +household gods (or demons) diurnally engaged, but at all other times the +landscapists manoeuvred for themselves. That the domestic manoeuvring of +young landscapists is not always _toute rose_ we saw reason later to +believe. For not once, twice, nor yet so seldom as a dozen times, have +we seen these young manoeuvrers begin to dine at four, when shadows +were growing too long upon field, thicket, and stream, only to finish we +knew not when, so late into darkness was that "finish" projected. We +could see one of the diners passing along the road from the public +house, an eighth of a mile away, at four, with the _pièce de résistance_ +of the meal in an ample dish enveloped in a towel. Ten minutes later the +other rushes by, contrariwise of direction, in pursuit of beer and the +forgotten bread. A little later, and a scudding white dust-cloud in the +road informs us that one of the dining 'scapists flees breathlessly +vinegar- or salt-ward. Still another five minutes, and the other diner +hies him in chase of the white scud, calling vigorously to it that there +is no butter for the rice, no sugar for the fruit. + +We saw at once that this Berkshire corner abounds more in dulcet and +sylvan landscape bits than in picturesque motifs for those who paint +_genre_. The peasants have a certain inchoate picturesqueness, as of +beings roughly evolved from the life of this fair material nature, and +sometimes, in silhouette against dun-gray skies and amid rugged fields, +give one vague feeling of Millet's pathos of peasant life and labor. The +yokel himself, however,--and particularly _herself_,--seems determined +to deny all poetic and picturesque relations, by clothing himself--and +herself--in coarse, shop-made rubbish, in battered, _démodé_ town-hats +and flounced gowns from Petticoat Lane. + +From certain points of the "Dean" the distances are dreamy and wide, +with high horizon-lines touching wooded hills and shutting the Thames +into a middle distance toward which a hundred little hills either +descend abruptly or decline gently upon broad green meadows. Nature here +smiles, not with pure pagan blitheness, but with a tenderer grace, as of +a soul grown human and fraught with countless memories of man's smiles +and tears, his hard, bitter labor, his sins, sorrows, and longings. But +it is very tender, and not even the wildest storm-effects raise the +landscape to any expression of tragic grandeur, but only suede its fair +hues and soft outlines to the wan pathos peculiar to English moorlands. + +_Ye Hutte_ is a misnomer for the extraordinary establishment, studio and +domicile combined, at which we dismounted. It is not a _hut_, and +neither in architectural motive nor the artistic proclivities of its +inmates has it aught to do with the centuries when our English tongue +was otherwise written or spoken than it is to-day. Ye Hutte is a vast, +barn-like building, plain and bare save for an inviting vine-grown porch +vaguely Gothic in reminiscence, although nondescript in fact. It was +erected by some dissenting society for public worship: hence its +interior is one immense vaulted room, with cathedral-like windows and +choir-gallery across one end. "The body of the house," to speak +ecclesiastically, is cumbered with easels and the usual chaotic +_impedimenta_ of painters. The choir, ascended by a ladder, holds three +tiny cot-beds, while beneath the choir and concealed by beautiful +draperies are stored the domestic and culinary paraphernalia,--pots, +pans, brushes, dishes, and, above all, the multiplicity of petroleum- and +spirit-stoves in which the Bohemian artistic soul delights. Ye Hutte is +an artist's studio, and its name may be found in all the exhibition +catalogues, for several generations of painters drift through it every +year. As one inmate rushes off to the Continent, the sea-shore, or the +mountains, another takes his place. Yet Ye Hutte holds scant place in +its real owner's esteem compared with that larger studio owned by all +the Dean artists in common, where all their summer's work is done, and +which is parquetted with grain-field gold and meadow emerald, walled +with rainbow horizons, and roofed with azure festooned with spun silk. +Ye Hutte is better appreciated as evening rendezvous for the +palette-bearing hosts, both male and female, who, sunbrowned and tired, +partake there of restful social converse as well as of the hospitable +cup that cheers. Evening after evening, by twos and threes, they sit in +the moonlight under the silver-touched vines and dewy blossoms of the +porch, listening to the far-away cry of night-birds, the murmur of +drowsy bells upon cattle stirring in sleep, or of human voices idealized +by remoteness into faint haunting music, while before them white light +touches the wooded heights of Cliefden,--distant heights full of +picturesque mystery and passionate history,--touches and idealizes into +a semblance of poetic realism the sham ruins of Hedsor, and spreads a +pearly sheen over the unseen Valley of the Shadow of Light through which +winds the quiet Thames. + +To the usual artistic circle of Ye Hutte is often added a not +uncongenial element from the outside world, sometimes even from within +the borders of Philistia. Story-tellers, moved by the subtile magnetism +of the artistic creative faculty, whether of brush, chisel, or pen, come +up sometimes from London, bringing with them an atmosphere of +publishers' offices, of romance in high and low life, of professional +gossip and criticism. Often a stalwart bicyclist rolls up from the +capital, bringing with him such a breeze from the world of newspapers, +theatres, and crack restaurants that Ye Hutte straightway determines to +order some weekly journal, waxes ardent for flesh-pots other than of +Cookham, and resolves upon having a Lyceum twice a week when the Dean +shall be swept by the blasts and St. John's Wood studios swallow us up +for the winter. + +The Dean is little favored of the ordinary fashionable visitor, for whom +artistic accommodations are quite too scantily luxurious. Now and then, +for the sake of the river, a rustic cot is taken for a few weeks by a +party of boating-people. Then the quaint, old-fashioned gardens blossom +with a sudden luxuriance of striped tents and flaming umbrellas, while +bright women in many-hued boating-costumes flit among cabbages and +onions like curious tropical birds and butterflies. As a rule, however, +the Dean is abandoned to its usual rustic population and to artists, +numbers of the latter remaining all winter in the haunts whence the +majority of their kind have flown. + +The social and artistic peculiarities of the Dean are, of course, too +many to be specified. In a collection of various nationalities, many of +whose number have drifted like thistledown hither and yon over the fair +earth, how could it well be otherwise? It may be observed, however, that +here, as everywhere else in this right little tight little isle, where +habit is the very antithesis of the airy license of "Abroad," it is +_not_, as it is in the artistic haunts of the Continent, _en règle_ to +vaunt one's self on the paucity of one's shekels or to acknowledge +acquaintance with the Medici's pills in their modern form of the Three +Golden Balls. + +Once upon a time, in a Barbizon _auberge_, a certain famous artist and +incorrigible Bohemian brought down the table by describing an incident +of his releasing a friend's valuables from durance. + +"The moment I turned in at the Mont de Piété," he said, "_my_ watch took +fright, and stopped ticking on the spot." + +That same Bohemian, after years of the Latin Quarter and Mont de Piété, +found himself one summer on the Dean. One evening at the porch of Ye +Hutte he met a lively group of painters and paintresses, just returned +from corn-field and meadow. + +During the short halt the Bohemian's watch was so largely and frequently +_en évidence_ as to attract attention. + +"Yes," he said, with colossal, adamantine impudence, "I've just got it +back from a two-years' visit to 'my uncle'." + +Only a few evenings later the same party met again in the same spot. + +"What time is it, Mr. S----?" asked Sophia Primrose, amiably disposed to +resuscitate a forlorn joke. + +A mammoth blush submerged the luckless Bohemian. For Dean propriety was +already becoming engrafted upon Continental habit, and he crimsoned at +having to confess what once he would have proclaimed upon the +house-top,--that his watch was again with his "uncle." + +Probably nine-tenths of the Continental artists who are not entirely +beyond the dread of yet eating "mad cow" travel third-class. But Dean +artists, however they may travel when out of England, generally slip +quietly away from the sight of their acquaintances when their tickets +are other than at least second. Our Bohemian was once presented with a +second-class ticket to London. As he scrambled in upon the unwonted +luxury of cushioned seats, he saw familiar faces blushing furiously. + +"The first time we ever travelled second-class in our lives," murmured +Materfamilias. + +"I too," responded the cheeky Bohemian. + +Another difference between Dean Bohemianism and Continental is +characteristic of the whole race whose land this is. Whereas artists in +France, Italy, and Germany are of gregarious habit and gather for their +summers in rural inns, where they form a community by themselves, the +Dean artist sets up his own vine and fig-tree and has a temporary home, +if ever so small and mean. The farm-houses and cottages of the Dean are +filled with lodgers, all dining at separate tables and living as aloof +from each other as the true Briton always lives. There are advantages in +this aloofness, but it certainly lacks the _camaraderie_, the jolly +good-fellowship, of those picturesque _auberges_ and _osterie_ where +twenty or thirty of one calling are gathered together under one roof, +meeting daily at table, where artistic criticism is pungent and free, +artistic assistance ungrudging, tales of artistic experience and +adventure racy, the atmosphere stimulative to the spreading out of every +artistic theory possible to the sane and insane mind. + +In one of these Continental _auberges_ rough boards a foot in width ran +in one unbroken line round the four sides of the _salle-à-manger_. These +boards were perhaps hazily intended for seats, but their real office +was to hold all the artistic rubbish--smashed color-tubes, broken +stretchers, ragged canvases, discarded palettes, disreputable paint-rags +and oil-tubes--the _auberge_ possessed. But every sunset, as the stream +of artists set in from forest and field, the boards came into other +service. All the work of the day was ranged upon them along the wall, +and while the painters sat at meat comment and criticism grew rampant, +every canvas coming in for its share. That many good lessons were given +and taken in this wise _va sans dire_. That also artistic progress was +punctuated not unseldom with "_bêtise_," "_imbécile_," "_nom du chien_," +"you're a goose," and "you're another," goes equally without saying to +all who know the unrestraint of artistic Bohemia and the usual attitude +of the human mind under criticism. + +The walls of this _salle-à-manger_ were--and are--arranged with panels, +in which _messieurs les artistes_ exercised their skill. It is a marked +peculiarity of these artistic communities that no branch of art is so +popular as caricature. Sometimes these caricatures are amiable, +sometimes the reverse. Thus, when a certain blithe widow was represented +colossally upon the wall with a little man in her eye, the likenesses +were so good and the truth of the caricature so palpable that the widow +herself was moved to as quick laughter as the others. But when American +Palmer worked all day upon a panel to create a sunny sea laughing +radiantly back at a sunny sky, while fantastic lateen-sailed craft +floated like bits of jewelled color between, it was mean, to say the +least, of Scotch Willie to take advantage of the American's departure +and paint out those fairy boats, filling their places with horrible +bloated corpses, floating upon the bright water like a nightmare upon +innocent sleep. + +It was in this same _auberge_ that our landlady made this piteous +supplication: "Caricature each other on the walls, _messieurs et +mesdames, si vous voulez_; make portrait busts of the bread and +figurines of the potatoes, and decorate the plates in whatever style of +art you please; but don't, _je vous en supplie_, don't blacken the +table-cloths before they are three days old." + +Alas! this was eloquence lost; for, at that very dinner, conversation +chancing to turn upon the subtile malignity of Fanny Matilda's smiles, +Fanny Matilda being there present, in less time than it takes to tell it +twenty crayon smiles writhed and wriggled upon the spick-span cloth. + +"_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu_!" moaned Madame. "And only yesterday every +handkerchief upon the line came in bearing the noses of _messieurs et +mesdames_!" + +Aloofly though the Deanite lives, he is not altogether an unsocial +being. Neither are his domestic habits always as invisible to the finite +eye as he perhaps intends them to be. Tent-life has scant privacy, and +the circumscribed accommodation of the Dean leads to frequent "slopping +over" into cloth annexes. + +Opposite our windows a certain painter spent no inconsiderable time in +the peak-roofed tent upon the grass-plot. There the young +foreign-looking wife, in scarlet _birette_ and jaunty petticoats just +touching high boot-tops, with long, flowing hair, as bright and +effective as any pictured _vivandière_, made tea and coffee over a +petroleum-stove, laid the table, sat at her sewing, posed for her +husband, received her callers, as charming a gypsy picture as ever +brightened canvas. + +For the very best of reasons, we were not 'cyclists, although in a +country set with 'cycles as the fields with flowers or the sky with +stars. + +For reasons equally good, we were not boatists, although the watery way +from Oxford to the sea flowed so near our door, and our village was one +of the gayest head-quarters not only of the fresh-water navy, whose arms +are flashing oars and whose oaths are of the universities, but equally +that of regiments of painters, whose arms are sketching-umbrellas and +easels and who swear not at all,--or at least not to feminine hearing. + +Our lodgings were among the artists in the region farther back from the +river than that monopolized by the boating-people. We were back among +the sunny slopes and smiling meadows, the red-tiled farm-houses and +dusky lanes, of the still primitive natives of the region, while the +navy covered the shining river by day and overran the river-side +hostelries by night. + +Our lodgings were not picturesque, if truth must be told, although +surrounded by picturesqueness as by a garment,--a circular cloak of it, +so to say. We had the chief rooms of a staring new and square brick +cottage, glaring with white walls inside, shutterless outside, majestic +with a bow-window too high to look from except upon one's legs, owned by +my Lady H----'s gardener, and elegantly named "Ethel Cottage," as a +stucco plaque in its frieze bore witness. We should have preferred +accommodations in any of the ivy-grown, steep-roofed cots about us, or +in the old stone inn, with its peaked porch, where honest yokels quaffed +nutty ale and a sign-board creaked and groaned from its gibbet across +the road. But we had come too late in the painting-season for any other +than Hobson's choice: the tidbits of grime and squalor were all taken, +and we must e'en content ourselves to be mocked and reviled for the +philistinism of our domestic establishing, or else hie us hence where +artists were not and Ethel Cottages as yet unknown. + +But where, tell me where, are not artists in England? And where, tell me +where, do artists gather in squads that Ethel Cottages do not spring up +like the tents of an army with banners? For even painters must eat and +be lodged, the aboriginal habitations are not of elastic capacity, the +inns are of feeble digestion, and the third summer of an artistic +invasion is sure to find "Ethels" and "Mabels" in red brick and stunning +whitewash, and, like our row of laborers' cottages, cursed by artists, +but inhabited by them. + +It was a _soulagement_ of our æsthetic discomfort that so long as we +remained hidden within it we never realized our own hideousness. Now and +then we saw the ugly squareness of our afternoon shadow upon our +aristocratically-gravelled front yard, but ordinarily we saw only dreamy +distances melting into piny duskiness against the far-off sky, the +serpent-like windings of the tranquil river, upon which its navy looked +like dust-motes, fair fields of golden grain, and the farm-houses and +cottages which looked upon our blank brickness with admiration and +wondered why we were despised of our less beautifully housed kind, when +our forks were four-pronged and of silvery seeming and our floors +carpeted to our sybaritic feet. It was only when we returned to our +Ethel after long tramps over the country-side, from a four-miles-distant +Norman tower or a ten-miles-away pre-Reformation abbey, now stable or +granary, that we figuratively beat our breasts and tore our hair because +Fate had not made us _real_ tramps, privileged to sleep in +pre-Reformation stables or 'neath pre-Reformation stars, rather than the +imitation tramps we were, wedded to the habits but loathing the aspect +of red-faced, staring Ethels. + +What would we not have given for an invitation to pass a time, as Miss +Muloch was, in one of those Thames monsters concerning which she wrote +her fascinating pages, "A Week in a House-Boat"! We could scarce catch a +glimpse of the river upon our tramps--and it was our constant silvery +accompaniment, as the treble to a part-song--without coming across these +ungraceful, unwieldy creatures, seeming like bloated denizens of depths +below come to bask upon the surface. Hundreds of them dot the river +between Teddington and Oxford: once we counted ten between Ethel and the +wooded island whither we rowed every Sunday to dine from ponderous +hampers upon a huge tree-stump. Many of them are owned and occupied by +artists, who have them towed by horses up and down the river every week +or two, or moor them for months in one place while painting +river-scenery. Some are inhabited by maniacal fishermen, who sit day +after day all day long at the end of poles protruding from front or +back doors or bedroom windows. Some are inhabited by Londoners in whom +primeval instincts for air, space, sunshine, and liberty break out every +summer from under the thick crust of modern habits and conventions and +cause them to breathe, as we did, not angelical aspirations, but "I want +to be a gypsy." + +Some of these house-boats are miracles of microscopic luxury, doll-like +bedrooms and dining-rooms for pygmies. In some, also, marvels of +culinary skill are evolved in pocket-space by French _chefs_ who spend +their days creating the banquets to which the boaters invite their +_convives_ at evening, when the cold river-mists have driven the navy +into harbor for the night. Others are much simpler in construction and +furnishing, and the inhabitants live largely upon tinned and potted +viands and such light cooking as comes within the possibilities of +oil-stoves and fires of fagots on the banks. Still others--and we often +saw their lordly and corpulent owners reading the "Times" upon the +handkerchief space which serves for porch or piazza before their front +doors--move up and down the river from crack hotel to cracker, taking no +note of picturesque "bits" or of mooring-places where Paradise seems +come down to lodge between Berks and Bucks, caring naught that at this +point four exquisite churches and two interesting manor-houses are +within tramping-distance, at that a feudal castle and the fairest inland +picture that England and nature can offer their lovers, caring only that +at the "King" the trout are the best cooked on the whole river, at the +"Queen" the chops are divine, while at the "Prince" the _perdrix aux +truffes_ are worth mooring there a week for. These house-boaters are +generally accompanied by garish wives and daughters, who spend their +time in the streets of the town where they chance to be moored,--and +they seldom are moored elsewhere than at the larger towns,--exchanging +greetings and chatting with such acquaintances as they there meet, or +idling up and down the river in the luxurious small boats of their +river-made friends. This type of house-boater himself is generally +spoken of in brisk naval asides as a "duffer," the kitchen of his boat +is a wine-closet, and, to look at him poring for hours over his paper, +one may well believe that time is heavy on his hands and that he arrives +during every summer vacation at depths of mortal ennui where "nothing +new is, and nothing true is, and no matter!" + +Americans personally unacquainted with England can form little idea of +the extent to which physical culture is carried here, and the universal +summer madness for athletic sports and out-of-door amusements. The +equable climate, never too hot, never too cold, for river-pull or +cricket, is Albion's advantage in this respect over almost all the rest +of the world, and particularly over our fervid and freezing clime. Even +although this is pious England, where the gin-shops cannot open after +the noon of Sunday until the bells ring for the evening service and +"Pub" and church spring open and alight simultaneously, even in pious +England Sunday is the day of all the week on which the river takes on +its merriest aspect, and from the multitudes of familiar faces and +frequency of friendly greetings reminds one of Regent Street and the +Parks. All prosperous and proper London--the amusement is too costly for +'Arry--seems to float itself upon Thames water that day, coming up forty +land-miles from the metropolis to do so. Boats are furiously in demand, +every picnic nook is pre-empted from earliest morning, the river-side +tea-gardens are thronged, the inns are depleted of men and women in +yachting-costumes, and the locks are jammed as full as they can be of +highly-draped boats, gayly-dressed women, and circus-costumed men, the +whole scene gayer, brighter, more fantastic than any Venetian carnival +since the days of the most sumptuous of the Adriatic doges. + +One or two real Venetian gondolas are kept at that river-reach where we +spent our summer. The owner of the principal one is an English nobleman +who lived long in Italy and whose twelve daughters were born there. It +is a sight to see those twelve beautiful sisters, from six years of age +to twenty-four, poled down the river to church every Sunday morning by a +swarthy and veritable Venetian gondolier. Whether or not that +hearse-like craft has sacred associations in the minds of the twelve +maidens all in a row, or whether its grimness and want of swiftness seem +out of place amid the carnival brilliancy of Sunday afternoon, it is +certain that it is never used except for church-going, and the maidens +appear later in the day each in her own swift little canoe, or two or +three sisters together in a larger one, darting to and fro, hither and +yon, with almost incredible swiftness, almost more like winged thoughts +than like even swallows on the wing. The gabled and ivy-wreathed +Elizabethan manor-house which is the summer home of the maidens stands +but a few rods from the river's bank. Here, amidst decorous shrubbery, +upon smooth shaven and rolled turf, where marble vases overflow with +gorgeous flowers, sit Pater and Mater among their dozens of guests. Some +of the gentlemen are in correct morning dress, some in boating-costumes, +and some in that last stage of unclothedness or first of clothedness +which is the English bathing-dress. In their striped tights on land +these last look exactly like saw-dust and rope ring clowns, but when +they dive into the water from that well-bred lawn and dart in wild +pursuit of the maidens, who beat them off with oars from climbing into +the canoes, amid shouts of aquatic and terrestrial laughter, one would +almost swear they were neither the clowns they looked a moment ago, nor +yet the English gentlemen they really are, but fantastic mermen bent +upon carrying earth-brides back with them into their cool native depths +beneath the bright water. + +That is what it looks like. But a single glimpse into those cool dappled +depths, where the sunny water is shoal enough to show bottom, reveals, +alas! how little mermaiden and romantic those depths are. For London +does not disport itself every Sunday on the Thames without leaving ample +traces of that disporting. We see those traces gleaming and glooming +there,--empty beer- and wine-bottles, devitalized sardine-boxes, osseous +remains of fish, flesh, and fowl, scooped cheese-rinds, egg-shells, the +buttons of defrauded raiment, and the parted rims of much-snatched-at +and vigorously-squabbled-for straw hats. + +A favorite boating-trip is from Teddington up to Oxford, or _vice +versa_, spending a week or two on the way, and stopping at river-side +inns at night. In the season these inns are full to overflowing, and the +roughest and smallest of water-side hamlets holds its accommodations at +lofty premiums. A number of public pleasure-steamers and many private +steam-launches ply up and down, making the whole trip in two or three +days, drawing up at night at towns, and by day provoking curses both +loud and deep by the swash of their tidal waves against the liliputian +navy. Many of the merry boating-parties of men and women seek only +sleeping-accommodations at the inns, and do their own cooking upon bosky +islands, on the wooded or sunny banks of the river, by means of +kerosene- or charcoal-stoves and tiny tents. How appetizingly we have +thus smelt the broiling steak and grilled chop done to a turn even in a +camp frying-pan, as we tramped along the river heights and looked down +upon chatting groups below! How like airs of Araby the Blest the odors +of steaming coffee! how more stimulating than breath of fair Spice Isles +the pungent incense of hissing onions! + +As a consequence of this return of Nature's children to Nature's breast, +the _genii loci_, the sylvan sprites, are all frightened inland from the +borders of the beautiful river. Except here and there where huge boards +threaten trespassers and announce that landing is forbidden upon this +Private Property, wild flowers will not grow, the grass looks trampled +and dim, the soft summer zephyrs play among empty paper bags and +relics of grocers' parcels, with sound and sentiment vastly unlike their +natural music among green, waving leaves. The river is spoiled for the +poet and the dreamer, and even the artist must choose his bits with +care. Hyde Park and Piccadilly have come up to the Thames; and what does +Hyde Park care for the poetry of dreaming nature, or what the +river-madmen for aught else than glorious expansion of muscle and +strengthening of sinew and the godlike sense of largeness and lightness +which comes with that strengthening and expanding? + +Gliding up and down the river, one would suppose all London had taken to +boats. But we as trampists came to other conclusions as we pegged along +the white Berkshire highways, smooth and even as parquetted floors, day +after day. There the bicycle holds its own, and more too, being largely +adopted not only by genuine 'cyclists, but by others as well whose only +interest is to cover the ground as quickly as possible,--amateur +photographers lashed all over with apparatus, artists shapelessly ditto, +and pastoral postmen square-backed with letter-pouches. Women +tricyclists are only less numerous, and the dignity and modesty must be +crude indeed that find objections to this manner of feminine +peregrination. The costume is simple and plain,--close-fitting upper +garments, without fuss of furbelow, and plain close skirts, met at the +ankles by high buttoned boots. A lady's seat upon a tricycle is far less +conspicuous than upon a horse, her bodily motion is less, and the +movement of her feet scarcely more than is necessary to run a +sewing-machine. She sits at her ease in a perfectly lady-like manner, +and flies over the ground like a courser of the desert, if she pleases, +or rolls quietly and smoothly along, chatting easily with the +pedestrians who amble at her side. + +Lady tricyclists attract no attention whatever in Oxford Street. Imagine +one flying down Broadway! + +As trampists our femininely-encumbered party in those delicious English +days considered fourteen quotidian miles not discreditable to us, +particularly when taking into consideration the bleats and baas and +whimpering laggardness with which we returned from three-mile excursions +during the first few days we were in the tramping-line. By degrees we +thus explored the whole country within a radius of seven miles of Ethel. +With this we were content, yea, even proud; for did not many of our +boating women-neighbors grumble even at their walk to the river and +declare they would rather row five miles than walk one? We were proud, +for we knew every church, every picturesque cottage and ruin, within our +radius, while our aquatic friends knew only those bordering the river. +We were proud--until, ah me! until that desolate day when a merrily, +merrily flying squad swooped down upon us and declared they had 'cycled +every inch of the _twenty-mile_ periphery of which Ethel's neighboring +church tower was the centre! + +That cutting down of our pedal pride resulted in our subscribing to a +daily paper. Every morning before stretching out to our regular day's +tramp we had been wont to trot through dewy lanes, over stiles, and +across subtly-colored turnip- and cabbage-fields, to purchase in the town +of M---- a luxury not to be had in our own hamlet,--the "Daily News." +Rain or shine, that trot must be trotted, for there were those among us +who would have tramped sulkily all day and sniffed the sniff of wrath at +ivied church and thatched cottage were the acid of their natures not +made frothy and light by the alkali of their morning paper. It had never +occurred to us, not even when we camped beneath wayside shade around our +sandwiches and ale or in some stiff and dim inn-parlor and listened to +the reading of the "News," that in reality the town of M----, and not +the brickhood of Ethel, was thus the centre of all our ambulatory +circumferences. It had never before dawned upon us that we thus added +three uncounted miles to our fourteen diurnally counted ones. What +astonishment at our own pedometric weakness of calculation! What disgust +to find our periphery thus three whole miles smaller than it need have +been! + +The next day we subscribed to the "News," and walked nine miles as the +bee flies from the front door of Ethel even unto the ruins of Medmenham. +And we vowed by all our plaster gods and painted goddesses that another +summer we would tramp no more. We would 'cycle. + +A mile away from Ethel is the village proper of Cookham. It is a sleepy +town, save in the boating-season; and whoever enters the post-office in +any season finds it empty and inhospitable. Raps upon a tightly-closed +inner door call a woman attendant from rattling sewing or noisy gossip +of the invisible penetralia; and as soon as the business is done the +inhospitable door swings shut again in the stranger's face. + +Cookham houses are quaint, often timbered, frequently ivy-grown from +basement to roof. One imagines them assuming a half-sullen air at this +yearly breaking of their dreamy repose by incursions of parti-colored +hordes for whom life seems to hold but two supreme objects,--boats and +pictures. + +The most picturesque feature of the place is the old church, set amid +tombs whose mossy and time-gnawed cherubs have exchanged grins for two +hundred years and more. The old flint tower is grave and grim, but +softened by a wonderful centuries old ivy in a veil of living green. A +pathetic interest to artists hallows the venerable church-yard. Here +sleeps Frederick Walker, a genius cut off before his meridian, and +resting now amid his kindred in a lowly grave, over which the Thames +waters surge every spring, leaving the grave all the rest of the year +the sadder for its cold soddenness and for the humid mildew and decay +eating already into the headstone, as yet but twelve years old. In the +church itself is Thorneycroft's mural tablet to the dead artist, a +portrait head of him who was born almost within the old church's shadow, +and whose pencil dealt always so lovingly with the poetic aspects of his +native region. + +MARGARET BERTHA WRIGHT. + + + + +BIRDS OF A TEXAN WINTER. + + +White of Selborne was, on the whole, tolerably content to plunge his +swallows, or a good proportion of them, into the mud and deposit them +for the winter at the bottom of a pond. Professionally conservative, as +a fine old Church-of-England clergyman, though constitutionally +sceptical, as became one of the earliest of really observant +naturalists, he was loath to break flatly with the consensus of +contemporary opinion, rustic and philosophic, and found a _modus +vivendi_ in the theory that a great many, perhaps a majority, of the +swifts and barn-swallows did go to Africa. He had seen them organizing +their emigration-parties and holding noisy debate over the best time to +start and the best route to take. The sea-part of the travel was of +trifling length, and baiting-places were plenty in France, Spain, and +Italy. Sometimes, such was their power of wing, they were known to take +the outside route and strike boldly across the Bay of Biscay, for they +had alighted on vessels. Probably the worthy old man was reluctant to +wrench from the rural mind a harmless remnant of superstition,--if +superstition it might be called, in view of the fact that sundry +saurians and chelonians, held by classifiers to be superior in rank to +birds, do hibernate under water, and that, more marvellous than all, the +quarrymen of his day, like those of ours, insisted that living frogs +occasionally sprang from under their chisel, leaving an unchallengeable +impress in the immemorial rock. It must indeed have been up-hill work to +extinguish the old belief in the minds of men who had seen the +water-ouzel pattering in perfect ease and comfort along the floor of the +pellucid pool, and who had heard from their fisher friends from the +north coast of the gannets that were drawn up in the herring-nets. + +Most of us, even _color chi sanno_, like to retain a spice of mystery in +our mental food. It may constitute no part of the nutriment, and may +often be deleterious, but it meets a want, somehow or other, and wants, +however undefinable, must be recognized. It is a spur that titillates +the absorbent surfaces and helps to keep them in action. It is a craving +that the race is never going to outlive, and that will afford occupation +and subsistence to a considerable class of its most intelligent and +respectable members until the year one million, as it has done since the +year one. The great mass of us like to see the absolute reign of reason +tempered by the incomprehensible, and are ever ready to lend a kindly +ear to men and things that humor that liking. + +Where do all the birds, myriads in number and scores in species, go when +they leave the North in the winter? A small minority lags, not +superfluous, for we are delighted to have them, but in a subdued, +pinched, and hand-to-mouth mode of existence in marked contrast to their +summer life and perceptibly marring the pleasure of their society. They +flock around our homes and assume a mendicant air that is a little +depressing. Unlike the featherless tramps, they pay very well for their +dole; but we should prefer them, as we do our other friends, to be +independent, and that although we know they are but winter friends and +will coolly turn their backs upon us as soon as the weather permits. The +spryest and least dependent of them all, the snow-bird, who sports +perpetual full dress, jerks at us his expressive tail and is off at the +first thaw, black coat, white vest, and all. No tropics or sub-tropics +for him. He can stand our climate and our company with a certain +condescending tolerance so long as we keep the temperature not too much +above zero, but grows contemptuous when Fahrenheit grows effeminate and +forty. Nothing for it then but to cool off his thin and unprotected legs +and toes in the snows of Canada. "The white North hath his" heart. Our +winter is his summer. There is nothing in his anatomy to explain this +idiosyncrasy. His physical construction closely resembles that of his +insessorial brethren, most of whom go when he comes. He has no +discoverable provision against cold. Adaptation to environment does not +seem to cover his case. It does not cover his legs. They remain +unfeathered. We shudder to see his translucent little tarsi on top of +the snow, which he obviously prefers as a stand-point to bare spots +where the snow has been blown away. Compared with the ptarmigan and the +snowy owl, or even the ruffed grouse, all so well blanketed, he suggests +a survival of the unfittest. + +The movements of this tough little anti-Darwinian are overlapped by the +bluebird and the robin,--our robin, best entitled to the name, inasmuch +as it is accorded him by fifty-odd millions against thirty millions who +give it to the redbreast,--who are usually with him long before he gets +away. They never move very far southward, but watch the cantonments of +Frost, ready to advance the moment his outposts are drawn in and signs +appear of evacuation. Their climate, indeed, is determined in winter +rather by altitude than by latitude. The low swamps and pineries that +skirt tide-water in the Middle States furnish them a retreat. Thence +they scatter themselves over the tertiary plain as it widens southward +beneath the granite bench that divides all the great rivers south of the +Hudson into an upper and a lower reach. Detachments of them extend their +tour to the Gulf. Readers of "A Subaltern on the Campaign of New Orleans +in 1814-15" will recall his mention of the assemblage of robins hopping +over the Chalmette sward that were the first living inhabitants to +welcome the weary invaders on emerging from the palmetto marshes. They +can hardly be said to reach the particular region of which we propose to +speak, both species, the bluebird especially, being almost strangers to +it. + +Other species, the cardinal grosbeak among them, may be said to stop, +as it were, just out of hearing, the echo of their song slumbering in +the thin, keen air, ready to swell again into unmistakable reality. +Between these stubborn fugitives and those who follow the butterflies to +the tropics there is a wide variety in the extent of travel in which our +winged compatriots indulge. + +Quadrupeds, whose movements are less speedy and more limited, have to +adapt themselves to the Northern winter as best they may. Hard and long +training has made them less the creatures of climate than their +feathered associates, who might themselves in many cases have learned +perforce to stay where they were reared but for possessing the light and +agile wings which woo them to wander. We may fancy Bruin, with his +passion for sweet mast and luscious fruits, eying with envy the martin +and the wild fowl as they sweep over his head to the teeming Southland, +and wondering, as he huddles shivering into his snowy lair, why Nature +should be so partial in her gifts. The call of the trumpeting swan, the +bugler crane, and the Canada goose falls idly upon his ear. To their +breezy challenge, "A new home,--who'll follow?" he cannot respond. + +Let us join this tide of travel and move sunward with some of those who +take through-tickets. We can easily keep up with them now. Steam is not +slower than wings,--often faster. Sitting at ease, yet moved by iron +muscles, we can time the coursers of the air. A few decades ago, when +this familiar motor was a new thing comparatively, we could not do so. +At the jog of twenty miles an hour, even the sparrow could pass us on a +short stretch, and the dawdling crow soon left us in the rear. Our gain +upon their time is so recent that the birds have not yet fully realized +it. Unaccustomed to being beaten by anything _on earth_, they will skim +along abreast of a train till, to their unspeakable, or at least +unspoken, wonderment, they find that what they are fleeing from is +fleeing from them. One morning last winter I was speeding eastward to +the Crescent City, the freshest of my memories a struggle at Houston +with one of those breakfasts which so atrociously distinguish the reign +of the magnate who is said to supply under contract all the meals of the +Southern railway-restaurants, and who, "if ever fondest prayer for +others' woe avail on high," will certainly be booked, with the vote of +some of his victims, for a post-mundane berth a good deal warmer than +his coffee and more sulphurous than his eggs. Afar off to the right the +sun was rounding up from the Gulf and clearing the haze from his broad, +red face, the better to look abroad over the glistening prairie and see +if the silhouetted pines and cattle were where he had left them the day +before. Glancing to the left, which was my side of the car, I became +aware of a large bird suspended in the air, not motionless, for his +wings were doing their best, but to all appearance as stationary as the +scattered trees and cattle, and about fifteen yards distant. Every +feature and marking of the "chicken," or pinnated grouse, was as +distinct to the eye as though, instead of making thirty-two miles an +hour, he were posing for his photograph. For full two hundred yards he +sustained the race, until, finding that his competitor had the better +wind, he gave it up and shot suddenly into the sedge. How much longer +the match had lasted I could not say. He must have got up near the +engine--of course losing some time in the act of rising--and fallen back +gradually to my place, which was in a rear car. But when a schedule for +birds comes to be framed, it is safe to set down _Tetrao cupido_ at +about the speed above named. Timed from a rail-car, that is; for, looked +at over a gun, he seems to move five times as fast. The double-barrel is +a powerful binocular. + +Steam, then, soon carries us to the resort of the lost truants, who have +travelled with the lines of longitude by guides and tracks over that +invisible road as unerring as those of the railway. We shall find them +in close companionship with friends unknown in our latitude, whose +abiding-places are at the South, as those left behind are fixed dwellers +at the North. + +From the window at which I sit on this morning late in January and this +parallel of thirty degrees,--window open, as well as the door, for no +norther is on duty to-day,--I see flocks of our familiar redwings, +cowbirds, and blackbirds, all mingled together as though the hard and +fast lines of species had been obliterated and made as meaningless as +the concededly evanescent shades of variety, trooping busily over the +lawn and blackening the leafless China-trees. But they have a crony +never seen by us. This is the crow-blackbird of the South, or jackdaw as +it is wrongly called, otherwise known as the boat-tailed grackle, from +his over-allowance of rudder that pulls him side-wise and ruins his +dead-reckoning when a wind is on. His wife is a sober-looking lady in a +suit of steel-gray, and the pair are quite conspicuous among their +winter guests. The latter are far less shy than we are accustomed to +find them, a majority being young in their first season and with little +or no experience of human guile. No one cares to shoot them, in the +abundance of larger game, and the absence of stones from the fat +prairie-soil places them out of danger from the small boy. Their only +foe is the hawk, who levies blackmail on them as coolly and regularly as +any other plumed cateran. Partly, perhaps, by reason of this outside +pressure, they are cheek by jowl with the poultry,--the cow-bunting, +which is the pet prey of the hawk, following them into the back porch +and insisting sometimes on breakfasting with Tray,--or rather with +Legion, for that is the name of the Texas dog. In this familiarity they +are approached, though not equalled, by that more home-staying bird the +meadow-lark, who is here a dweller of the lawn and garden and adds his +mellow whistle to the orchestra of the mocking-bird. This so-called lark +is classed by most naturalists among the starlings, as are two of the +blackbirds, which two he resembles in some of his habits, but not in +migrating, being about as much of a continental as any other biped +American. Nor is he like his cousins in changes of dress. Out of a dozen +of the latter that may be brought down at a shot, you will scarcely find +three exactly alike. They moult at the South, and the young pass +gradually into adult plumage. The male redwing, up to his first autumn, +is hardly distinguishable in dress from his mother. Here he dons his +epaulettes, beginning with the threadbare worsted yellow of the private, +and rising in grade to the rich scarlet and gold of the officer fully +commissioned to flame upon the marsh and carry havoc among its humblest +inhabitants. + +A month or two hence, the plover, as shy in his Northern haunts as the +lark, will, in three species, be as much at home upon the lawn. Youth +and inexperience must, as in the case of the other birds, be one +explanation of this unwonted familiarity. Among other reasons is the +abundance of food, under a mild sky, with but rare frosts to bind the +earth and no snows to cover it. The temperature of an average winter day +is 60° or 65°. A norther is apt to blow three or four times in the +season, and it brings the mercury down to freezing-point or some degrees +lower. After the two or three days of its duration, the first warm +morning covers the walks and most other bare parts of the soil with +worm-casts,--revealing the larders of the smaller birds. At an average, +too, of four or five places in an acre one notices a hillock two or +three feet in diameter tipped with a yellowish spot that deepens into +orange and broadens as the air grows warm. These erections are the work +of ants, the emergence of which intelligent insects in greater or less +numbers, according to the temperature, causes the coloring which we +observe. Intelligent we cannot help terming a creature so remarkable in +its various species for the evidences of calculation furnished by its +habits of life,--evidences nowhere better worth studying than among the +leaf-cutting, slave-holding, and shade-planting ants of Texas; but we +are sometimes tempted to deny the character to this particular species +when we perceive the utter indifference to safety with which it selects +a site for its communistic abode. One of these is located in the middle +of the principal (sandy and unpaved) street of a village, within twenty +steps of the railroad-track, and subject to the impact of wheels and +mule-, ox-, or horse-hoof many times an hour; yet the semblance of a +dwelling is maintained, and the little tawny cloud comes up smiling +whenever the sun allows, asking no other permission. These ant-hills, I +am persuaded, supply a foundation to certain tufts of low trees which +spring up in dampish places where the spring fires have less sweep. The +hillocks are well drained, as appears from their composition of clear +gravel, a material of which you will find more in one of them than on a +surface of many feet around; and you may see the sweeter grasses +gradually mantling them, these being followed by herbage of larger +growth, which, accumulating humors at their roots, bourgeon into +arborescence, until, one vegetable entity shouldered into substance and +thrift by another, the nucleus built by our tiny red friends has +broadened into a tree-clad knoll. The mezquit, not many years ago +confined for the most part to the arid region beyond the Nueces, is +spreading eastward, and the clumps of it which begin to skirt the +original copses here may be supposed to owe their first foothold to the +ant. This humble promoter of forestry is duly appreciated, if only as a +viand, by his neighbors. Full-grown, and still more in the larval stage, +he is esteemed by them as both a toothsome and a beaksome bit. He--or, +more numerously, she, if we insist on sex and decline the more +practically correct _it_--forms thus the lowest term in an ascending +series of animal life that grows out of the ant-hill like the tree. So +much may one such settlement in a rood of ground do for the maintenance +of organic existence. + +A still more diffused, perhaps, if less productive, source of life +exists in another burrower and mound-builder, the crawfish. Unlike the +ant, which likes to drain, he is an advocate of irrigation. In this art +he can give our well-diggers odds in the game. His genius for striking +water is wonderful. On the dryest parts of the prairie, miles from any +permanent stream, his ejections of mud may be found. Shallow or deep, +his borings always reach water. He is always at home, but less +accessible to callers than the ant. To the smaller birds he is forbidden +fruit. In wet weather, when his vestibule is shallow, the sand-hill +crane may burglarize him, or even get a snap judgment on him at the +front door. The bill of the great curlew cannot be sent in so +effectively, not being so rightly drawn; but that bird, more common in +the season than anywhere else away from the coast, finds plenty of other +food. He is not here in the winter. His place just now is filled by the +jacksnipe, which flutters up from every boggy place and comes to bag in +a condition anything but suggestive of short commons. The snipe's +terrestrial surface lies two and a half inches beneath ours. At that +distance he strikes hard pan; but it is margin enough for his +operations, and he is not often caught among the shorts. Gourmands +assure us that he lives "by suction," and that there is consequently no +harm in eating his trail. There is comfort in this creed, whatever may +be our private belief in the substantiality of what the bird absorbs; +and we cheerfully eat, after the suggestion of Paul, "asking no +questions," the while tacitly assuring ourselves, like old Fuller with +the strawberry, that a better bird might doubtless have been made, but +as certainly never was. For game flavor not even the partridge (Bob +White), also exceptionally abundant here, is his superior. + +But think, ye snow-bound, of the state of things implied in this +embarrassment of riches,--of a mid-winter table balanced between such a +choice, or, better, balanced by the adoption of both, one at each end! +Nor would this be near telling the whole story. Excluding fur and +sticking to feather, we have a wide range beyond. The larger birds we +may begin on, very moderately, with crane-steak, a transverse section +of our stately but distant friend the sand-hill. That is the form in +which he is thought to appear to best advantage. By the time you have +circumvented him by circumscribing him in the gradually narrowing +circuit of a buggy,--for stalking him, unless in higher grass than is +common at this season, is but vexation of spirit,--you will feel vicious +enough to eat him in any shape. His brother, the beautiful white bugler, +you will hardly meet at dinner, he being the shyest of his kind. A +Canada goose--not the tough and fishy bird of the Northern coast, but +grain- and grass-fed from fledging-time--is tender, delicate, and +everyway presentable. From the back upper gallery that looks upon the +prairie you are likely to see a company or battalion of his brethren, +their long black necks and white ties "dressing" capitally in line, and +their invisible legs doing the goose-step as the inventors of that +classic manoeuvre ought to do it. This bird seems to affect the +_militaire_ in all his movements. What can be more regular than the +wedge, like that so common in tactical history, in which he begins his +march, moving in "a column of attack upon the pole"? Even when startled +and put to flight, he goes off smoothly and quietly, company-front. In +foraging he is strictly systematic, and never forgets to set sentinels. +We cannot fail to respect him while doing him the last honors. Of not +inferior claim is his prairie chum and remote cousin the mallard. They +are not often in close companionship, though I have seen a dozen and a +half of each rise from the border and the bosom of a pond forty yards +across,--one loving the open, and the other taking repose, if not food, +upon the water. That there should be ponds upon these prairies is as +striking to one accustomed to hill and dale as that so unpromising a +surface should so teem with life. The prairie is as flat as if cast like +plate-glass and rolled out,--only the table is slightly tilted toward +the Gulf at the rate of two or three hundred feet in a hundred miles. At +night you may see the head-light of an engine fifteen miles away, like +a low star that you wonder does not rise. It grows slowly in size, a +Sirius, a Venus, a moon, as though the earth had stopped rotating and +adopted a direct motion toward the heavenly bodies. Early on fine +mornings the horizon gets tired, as it were, of being suppressed, and +looms up in a mirage, with an outfit of imaged trees and hills reflected +in an imaginary lake,--a pictured protest of Nature against monotony. +There are local depressions, nevertheless, which you would not believe +in but for the shallow little ponds which fill them and which are +indicated from a distance at this season by the lead-colored grass that +veils them and conceals their glitter. And there are longer swells, +begotten of drainage, sometimes of eight or ten feet in a mile, which +deceive you, as you advance, into the expectation of a grand prospect +when once you shall have got to the top of them. That, practically, you +never do. Arrived at what seems to be the crest of a ridge, you see +nothing but more flat. The eye, in despair, gives, when you come in +sight of it, an inclination to the water. The pond-surface ceases to be +horizontal. The principle of gravitation stands contradicted +point-blank. + +The most frequent vedette of these miniature lakes is the +heron,--usually the blue, sometimes the larger white, the latter a most +beautiful bird. Yet neither is common. Still rarer in such situations is +the bittern, the Timon of birds, the rushes being seldom high enough to +afford him the strict concealment he likes. The mallard has to be his +own sentinel, as a rule. He does not depend on these ponds for food, +and, like other wild creatures, he reserves his chief vigilance for +feeding-time. They are places of repose, at mid-day and at night, for +the ducks of this and two or three other species, notably the blue- and +green-winged teal, which at other times haunt the clumps of oak and +pecan that skirt the sparse streams and their summer-dry affluents, +where nuts and acorns in great variety, those of the live-oak being very +sweet, supply unfailing winter provision. The thickets of ilex that +shade off these wooded reaches into the treeless prairie are the resort +of many partridges. You are led back into the open ground by another +game-bird, the pinnated grouse, the widest ranger of its genus, but at +the North disappearing only less rapidly than the buffalo. As yet his +most destructive foe in this region is perhaps the hawk, although he is +raided from the timber by the opossum, raccoon, and three species of +cat, while on the open his nest has marked attractions for the skunk and +probably the coyote. He has survived these dumb discouragers so long, +and the heat at his proper season is so trying to his human foe, that he +may long find a refuge here and proudly lead forth his young Texans for +scores of Augusts. He and his family will often quietly walk off while +the panting pointer seeks the shade of the wagon and the gunner cools +off under the heavy felt sombrero that is here found to be the best +headgear for summer. A very moderate game-law, well executed, would +sustain this fine bird indefinitely in the struggle for existence. But +law of any kind seems a foreign idea on these sea-like primeval plains. +It is like thinking of a parliament in the Pleiocene, or of a +court-house on the Grand Banks. + +Any transcendentalist who wishes to furbish up his philosophic furniture +will find this a good workshop for the purpose. There is ample room for +any school, positive or negative,--plenty of cloud-land for all +conceits. Kant could have picked up pure reason among the crowds of +simply reasoning creatures who have possessed the scene since long +before the brain of man was created. Covies of immemorial Thoreaus +bivouac under those hazy woods, and pre-glacial Emersons are circling +overhead. The problem of successfully living they have all solved. What +more have any of us done? The greatest good of the greatest number they +unpresumingly display as a practically triumphant principle; and the +greatest number is not by any means with them, any more than with us, +number one. Had it been, they would all have been extinct long ago. +Nature may be "red with tooth and claw," but not suicidally so. It is to +quite a peaceable, if not wholly loving, world that she invites us. And +just here we can see so much of it; we can study it so broadly and so +freely. Concord and Walden dwindle into the microscopic. It was under +precisely such a sun as this, in a warm, dry atmosphere, on a nearly +treeless soil, that the Stagyrite did all the thinking of sixty +generations. Could he have done it in an overcoat and muffler, with a +chronic catarrh? + +If, impatient of a host of inarticulate instructors, we prefer communing +with our kind and falling back on human story, some of that, too, is at +hand. Half a century ago, to a year, a short string of forlorn and +forlorn-looking people crossed the prairie close by, from west to east, +from the Colorado to the Brazos. The head of it was Sam Houston's +"army," three or four hundred strong, with all its _matériel_ in one +wagon. The rest consisted of the débris of all the Anglo-American +settlements, women, children, cows, and what poor household stuff could +be moved. Slowly ferrying the Brazos, and as slowly making its way down +the left bank, picking up as it went the rest of the homesteads and some +more fighting-men, it turned to the right at the head of the estuary. +Then the little column, strengthened with some sea-borne supplies and +relieved of its wards, turned to face its pursuers. These were twice its +numbers, with four or five thousand reserves some days behind. +Generalship was given the go-by on both sides, the _cul-de-sac_ of San +Jacinto being closed at both ends. Thirty minutes of noise and smoke, +and the empire of Cortez and Montezuma was split in two. Clio nibbed +another quill, steel pens not having then been invented. The gray geese +who might have supplied it recomposed themselves on the prairie, and all +the rest of their feathered friends followed their example, as the +military interlude melted away and left them their ancient solitary +reign. + +Of the feathered spectators of the scene we have episodically glanced +at, the most interested were those constant supervisors, the vultures. +Of these there are three species, one of which--the Mexican vulture--is +but an occasional visitor. The other two--the black vulture and the +turkey-buzzard--are monopolists in their peculiar line. They constitute +here, as generally throughout the warmer parts of the continent and its +islands, the recognized sanitary police. No law protects them, but they +do not need it. They are too useful not to command that popular sympathy +which is the higher law. The flocks and herds upon a thousand plains are +theirs. Every norther that freezes and every drought that starves some +of the wandering cattle and sheep brings to them provision. The +railroads also, not less than the winds of heaven, are their friends, +the fatal cow-catcher being an ever-busy caterer. The buzzards are, of +course, under such circumstances, warm advocates of internal improvement +and welcome the opening of every new railway. Their ardor in this +respect, however, has of late years been damped by the building of wire +fences along the track, an interference with vested rights and an +assault upon the hoary claims of infant industries against which in +their solemn assemblies they doubtless often condole with each other. +Unfortunately for their cause, they cannot lobby. + +Somehow, there seems to be always a wag or clown among each group of +animals,--some one species in which the amusing or the grotesque is +prominent. Among these clownish fellows I should class the black +vulture, or john-crow. He is not a crow at all, but gets that name +probably because so historic a tribe as Corvus must have some +representative, and the real crow, so common at the North, is one of the +few birds that are not much seen in this quarter. John unites in his +ways at once fuss and business. He alternates oddly between bustle and +gravity. Seated stately and motionless for hours on a leafless tree, he +will suddenly, as if struck by a new idea, start off on a tour that +might have been dictated by telegram. He does not sail and circle like +his friend and comrade, never being distracted by soaring pretensions, +but goes straight to his object. His flight is a regular succession of +short flaps, with quiescent intervals between the series. The flaps are +usually four, sometimes five or six. I am sure he counts them. You have +seen a pursy gentleman in black hurrying along the street and tapping +his boot with a cane, as though keeping time. Fancy this gentleman in +the air, dressed in feathers, his coat-skirt sheared off alarmingly +short and square, and looking like a cherub in jet, all head and +wings,--although John is not exactly a cherub in his habits. A white +spot on each wing adds a bit of the harlequin to his style. + +Were I to seek a "funny man" among the quadrupeds, I should name another +dweller of the Southwestern prairies, the jack-rabbit,--John II. let us +call him. Nobody ever gets quite accustomed to the preternatural ears of +this hare. In proportion they are to those of others of the Leporidæ +nearly what the ears of the mule are to those of the horse. When this +bit of bad drawing, as big as a fawn and weighing ten pounds or so, +jumps up before you and bounds away at railroad speed, he makes you rub +your eyes. You expect the apparition to disappear like other +apparitions, especially as it moves off with vast rapidity. But it does +not. As suddenly as it started it is transformed into a prong like an +immense letter V, projecting in perfect stillness from the grass a +hundred yards off. You advance, and the same proceeding is repeated. +Jack is obviously deep in guns, and knows the difference in power +between a muzzle- and a breech-loader, if he has not ascertained, indeed, +what number shot you have in your cartridge. He varies his distance +according to these contingencies. Only, he has not as yet learned to +gauge the greyhound: that dog is frequently kept for his benefit. + +A special endowment of this immediate locality is a large and permanent +sheet of water, three or four miles by one, which bears, and deserves, +the name of Eagle Lake. For, though overhung by no cliffs or lofty +pines, it is far more the haunt of eagles, of both the bald and the gray +species, than most tarns possessing those appendages of the romantic. +Its dense fringe of fine trees, among them live-oaks a single one of +which would make the fortune of an average city park, can well spare the +Conifers. They are all hung with Spanish moss, a feature which conflicts +with the impression of lack of moisture conveyed by the light ashen +color of the bark and short annual growth of many of the smaller trees. +Here and there tiny inlets are overhung with undergrowth which supplies +a safe nesting-place to a multitude of birds of many kinds. The surface +of the lake I have never seen free from ducks of one species or another, +and generally of half a dozen. Almost the whole family, if we except the +canvas-back and the red-head, visit it at one or another period. One +item in their bill of fare is the nut of the water-lily, the receptacles +of which, resembling the rose of a watering-pot, dot the shallows in +great quantity. The green, cable-like roots of this plant are afloat, +forming at some points heavy windrows. Some say they are torn up from +the bottom by the alligators; but it is more probable that they are +loosened and broken by the continual tugging of the divers. The +alligators are not vegetarians, and they are not using their snouts much +at this season. The young shoots of the Nymphæa are doubtless tempting +food, as those of the Vallisneria are on the Chesapeake and the North +Carolina sounds. Sustenance may be drawn also from the roots of the +rushes and reeds which cover with their yellow stems and leaves many +acres of the lake, and are thronged now by several species of small +birds. + +Hawks, of course, are always in sight, and that in astonishing variety, +from the osprey down to two or three varieties of the sparrow-hawk. A +monograph on the Raptores of Eagle Lake would be a most comprehensive +work. The osprey, notwithstanding the abundance of his scaly prey, is +not common: probably the field is too limited for him. Ducks are the +attraction of the other large species. In summer, ducks are rather +secondary among the water-birds, the ibis, water-turkey, and flamingo +imparting a tropical character to the scene that somewhat obscures the +more familiar forms. There is even a survival here of birds that have +nearly disappeared from the American fauna,--the paroquet, once so +common in the Mississippi Valley as far north as the Ohio, being +sometimes seen, and, if I mistake not, a second species of humming-bird +straying north by way of Mexico. + +From where we stand, under a canopy of rich green leaves, looking out +upon the sunny water through a banian-like colonnade of mighty trunks +and hanging vines, the pearly moss tempering the light like jalousies, +summer seems but a relative idea. Fly-catchers flit back and forth, +barn-swallows and sand-martins skim the lake, and an occasional splash +or ripple at our feet shows that humbler life is getting astir. The +highest life, or what modest man calls such, we have all to ourselves. +Yet not quite; for there is visible yonder, beneath the outer tip of a +live-oak which we have found to stretch and droop twenty-four paces from +the seven-foot trunk, a little fleet of canoes. They belong to the +professional fisherman whose too tarry nets are quite an encumbrance +for some yards of the sandy beach, and whose well may be noticed about a +rifle-shot out from the shore. More than that, though Piscator is +absent, some one is inspecting his boats. In fact,--and it _is simple +fact_, and I am not smuggling in a bit of padding in the shape of +sentiment,--two persons become perceptible, both with their backs +towards us, now and studiedly all the time. One, a man, chooses a boat +after trying several, and, with similar show of unavoidable delay, is +cushioning the seats with carefully-arranged moss in four times the +necessary quantity. During this absorbing process he rips one of his +cuffs, or tears off a button from it, or smears it with the tar that +besets the boat and its oars. This calamity supplies the lady, a neat +young person, with a pretext for occupation, and she uses it to the +fullest and most affectionate extent. It is growing late, and unless we +relieve the couple of our obviously detected presence we shall deprive +them of their Sunday-afternoon row. That it is a row with the stream we +find ten days later, when their wedding becomes the sensation of the +little village. + +The old, old story! how pat it comes in! How could it have failed to +come in, when the talk is of birds? + +EDWARD C. BRUCE. + + + + +THE FERRYMAN'S FEE. + +I. + + +"I am going," said the professor to his friend Miss Eldridge, "to marry +a young woman whose mind I can mould." + +Somebody was uncharitable enough to say that he couldn't possibly make +it any mouldier than his own. This was a slander. In the high dry Greek +atmosphere which surrounded and enclosed his mind, mould, which requires +dampness before it can exist, was an impossibility. + +When an engagement is announced, it is almost invariably followed by one +question, with a variable termination. The dear five hundred friends +exclaim, with uplifted hands,-- + +"What could have possessed him," or "her"? + +In the present case the latter termination was adopted, with but one +dissenting voice: Miss Christina Eldridge said, in low, shocked tones, +"Alas that a man of his simply colossal mind should have been ensnared +by a pretty face, whose soulless beauty will depart in a few short +years!" + +The professor would have been very indignant had any one ventured to +suggest to him that the pretty face had anything to do with it. He +imagined himself entirely above and beyond such flimsy considerations. +Yet it is sadly doubtful whether an example in long division, on a +smeared slate, brought to him with tears and faltering accents by Miss +Christina, would have produced the effect which followed when Miss +Rosamond May betrayed her shameful ignorance by handing him the slate +and saying forlornly, "I've done it seven times, and it comes out +differently wrong every time. Can _you_ see what's the matter?" and two +wet blue eyes looked into his through his spectacles, with an expression +which said plainly, "You are my last and only hope." + +She was standing by the massive marble-topped table which was the +central feature of the parlor of their boarding-house. One plump +hand--with dimples where the knuckles should have been--rested upon the +unresponsive marble, in the other she held the slate. She was a teacher +of some of the lowest classes in Miss Christina Eldridge's academy for +young ladies, and only Miss Christina knew the almost fathomless depths +of her ignorance. + +But her father had been a professor, and a widower; and shortly before +he died he had manifested an appreciation of the stately principal +which, but for his untimely death,--he was only seventy,--might have +expanded into "that perfect union of souls" for which her disciplined +heart secretly pined. + +So when it was first whispered, and then exclaimed, that Professor May +had left nothing, absolutely nothing, for his daughter but a very small +life-insurance premium and the furniture of their rented house, with a +little old-fashioned jewelry and silverware of the smallest possible +intrinsic value, Miss Christina called upon Miss May and told her that, +if she would accept it, there was a vacancy in the academy, with a +salary of two hundred dollars a year and board, but not lodging. + +"And if you remain with me, my dear, as I hope you will, I can give you +a room next year, after the new wing is added; and, meanwhile, I know of +a vacant room, at two dollars a week, in a highly-respectable +lodging-house." + +"You are very kind," replied Rosamond, in a quivering voice. "But indeed +I am afraid I don't know enough to teach even the very little girls. So +I'm afraid you'd better get somebody else. Don't you think you had?" + +"No," said Miss Christina, patting the useless little hand which lay on +her lap. "You will only be obliged to hear spelling- and reading-lessons, +and teach the class of little girls who have not gone beyond the first +four rules of arithmetic, and perhaps you will help them to play on +their holidays: you could impart an element of refinement to their +recreations more readily than an older teacher could." + +"Is _that_ all?" exclaimed Rosamond, almost cheerfully. "Oh, I can +easily do that much. I love little girls. I will be so good to all the +homesick ones. When shall I come?" + +"As soon as you can, my dear," replied Miss Christina. + +In a few weeks Rosamond had settled into the routine of her new +life,--going every morning to the academy, where she spent the day in +hearing lessons, binding up broken hearts, playing heartily with her +scholars in the intermissions, and being idolized by them in each of her +various capacities. She did not forget her father, but it was impossible +for her sweet and childlike nature to remain in mourning long. + +Professor Silex had felt a profound pity for his old friend's daughter, +and had come down out of the clouds long enough to express it in +scholarly terms and to offer any assistance in his power. They met +sometimes on the stairs and in the dreary parlor, and his eyes beamed +with such a friendly light upon her over the top of his spectacles that +she began to tell him her small troubles and to ask his advice in a +manner which sometimes completely took his breath away. He had never had +a sister, his mother died before his remembrance, and he had been +brought up by two elderly aunts. Fancy, then, his consternation when he +was suddenly and beseechingly asked, "Oh, Professor Silex, _would_ you +get a little felt bonnet, if you were me, or one of those lovely +wide-brimmed beaver hats? The hats are a dollar more; but they _are_ so +lovely and so becoming!" + +"My dear child," stammered the professor, "have you no female friend +with whom you can consult? I am profoundly ignorant. Miss Eldridge--" + +"She says to get the felt," pouted the dear child; "just because it's +cheaper. And papa used always to advise me, when I asked him, to get +what I liked best." The blue eyes filled, as they still did at the +mention of her father. + +"My dear," said the professor hurriedly,--they were standing on the +first landing, and he heard the feet of students coming down the +stairs,--"I should advise you, by all means, to get the--the one you +like best. Excuse my haste, but I--I have a class." + +She was wearing the beaver when she next met him, and she beamed with +smiles as she called his attention to it. He looked at her more seeingly +than he had yet done, and a feeling like a very slight electric shock +penetrated his brain. + +"See!" she cried gayly. "It _is_ becoming, isn't it?" + +"It is, indeed," he answered cordially. "And I should think it would be +quite--quite warm,--there is so much of it, and it looks so soft." + +"I told Miss Eldridge you advised me to get it," continued she +triumphantly, "and she didn't say another word." + +The professor was aghast. He felt a warm wave stealing over his face. +This must be stopped, and at once. Fancy his class, his brother +professors, getting hold of such a rare bit of gossip! But he would not +hurt her feelings. She was so young, so innocent, and her frank blue +eyes were so like those of his dead friend. + +"My child," he said softly, "you honor me by your confidence; but may +I--might I ask you, when you seek my advice upon subjects--ah--not +congruous to my age and profession, not to repeat the result of our +conferences? With thoughtless people it might in some slight measure be +considered derogatory to my professional dignity. Not that I think it +so," he hastily added. "All that concerns you is of great, of heartfelt +interest to me." + +"I didn't tell anybody but Miss Eldridge," said the culprit penitently; +"and I know she won't repeat it; and I'll never do so any more, if +you'll let me come to you with my foolish little troubles. It seems +something like having papa again." + +Now, why this touching tribute should have irritated the professor who +can say? He was startled, shocked, at the irritation, and he strove to +banish all trace of it from his voice and manner as he said, gravely and +kindly, "Continue to come to me with your troubles, my dear, if I can +afford you either help or comfort." + +A few days passed, and she waylaid him again. Her pretty face was pale, +and her soft yellow hair was pushed back from her forehead, showing the +blue veins in her temples. + +"I don't know what I shall do," she said, in a troubled voice. "Those +children have caught up with me in arithmetic, and by next week they'll +be ahead of me; and I feel as if I oughtn't to take Miss Eldridge's +money if I can't do all she engaged me for. What would _you_ do if you +were me?" + +"Could you not prepare yourself by study, and so keep in advance of your +little pupils?" he inquired kindly. + +"I don't believe I could," she replied despondently. "I tried to do the +sums that came next, last night, and they wouldn't come right, all I +could do; and I got a headache besides." + +"I have an hour to spare," said the professor, pulling out his watch: +"perhaps, if you will bring me your book and slate, I can elucidate the +rule which is perplexing you." + +"Oh, will you _really_?" she exclaimed, a radiant smile lighting up her +troubled face. "I'll bring them right away. How kind, how _very_ kind +you are, to bother with my sums, when you have so much Greek in your +head!" And, obeying an impulse, as she so often did, she caught his hand +in both her own and kissed it heartily. Then she skimmed across the +parlor, and he heard her child's voice "lilting lightly up the" stairs +as he stood--in a position suggestive of Mrs. Jarley's wax-works--gazing +fixedly at the hand which she had kissed. + +"She regards me as a father," he said to himself severely. "Am I going +mad? Or becoming childish? No; I am only sixty. But, even if it were +possible, it would be base, unmanly, to take advantage of her +loneliness, her gratitude. No, I will be firm." + +So, when the offending "example" was handed to him, with the +above-quoted touching statement as to its total depravity, he looked +only at the slate. Gently and patiently, as if to a little child, he +pointed out the errors and expounded the rule, amply rewarded by her +joyful exclamation, "Oh, I see _exactly_ how it's done, now! You do +explain things beautifully. I really think I could have learned a good +deal if I'd had a teacher like you when I went to school." + +"Come to me whenever your lessons perplex you, my dear," he answered, +still looking at the slate; "come freely, as if--as if I were your +father." + +"Ah, how kind, how good you are to me!" she cried, seizing his slender, +wrinkled hand and holding it between her soft palms. "How glad papa must +be to know it! It almost seems like having him again. Must you go? +Good-night." + +And, innocently, as if to her father, she held up her face for a kiss. + +The professor turned red, turned pale, hesitated, faltered, and then +kissed her reverently on her forehead,--or, if the truth must be told, +on her soft, frizzled hair, which, according to the fashion of the day, +hung almost over her eyes. + +Two evenings in the week after this were devoted to arithmetic. The +professor was firm--as a rule; but when her joyous "Oh, I see _exactly_ +how it's done, now!" followed his patient reiteration of rules and +explanations, how could he help rewarding himself by a glance at the +glowing face? how could he keep his eyes permanently fixed upon that +stony-hearted slate? + +So it went on through the winter and spring, till it was nearing the +time for the summer vacation. The professor knew only too well that +Rosamond had been invited to spend it with some distant +cousins,--distant in both senses of the word,--and that on her return +she would be swallowed up by the academy and would brighten the dingy +boarding-house no more. How could he bear it? His arid, silent life had +never had a song in it before. Must the song die out in silence? + +When the last evening came, and when, realizing the long separation +before them, she once more held up her face for a kiss, with trembling +lips and blue eyes swimming in tears, as she told him how she should +miss him, how she did not see what she should do without him, his +hardly-won firmness was as chaff before the wind. He implored her to +marry him; he told her of the beautiful home he would make for her. + +"For I am rich, Rosamond," he said hurriedly, before, in her surprise, +she could speak. "I have not cared for money, and I believe I have a +great deal. You shall do what you will with it, and with me. We will +travel: you shall see the Old World, with all its wonders. And I will +shield you: you shall never know a trouble or a care that I can take on +myself; for--I love you." + +Then, as she remained silent, too much astonished to speak, he said +beseechingly,-- + +"You _do_ love me a little? You could not come to me as you do, with all +your little cares and perplexities, if you did not: could you?" + +"But I came just so to papa," she said, finding voice at last; and her +childish face grew perplexed and troubled. + +The professor had no answer for that. He hid his face in his hands. In a +moment her arms were about his neck, her kisses were falling on his +hands. + +"You have been so good to me," she cried, "and I am making you unhappy, +ungrateful wretch that I am! Of course I love you; of course I will +marry you. Take away your hands and look at me--Paul!" + +Ah, well! they tell in fairy-stories of the fountain of youth, and even +amid the briers of this work-a-day world it is found sometimes, I think, +by the divining-rod of Love. But many students gnashed their teeth, and, +as we have said, Miss Christina Eldridge alone, of all the dear five +hundred, said, "What possessed _him_?" + + +II. + +The summer vacation was over, and students, more or less reluctantly, +had returned to college and academy. The professor came back in a +brand-new and very becoming suit of clothes; his hair and beard had been +trimmed by a fashionable barber, and his old-fashioned high "stock" +exchanged for a modern scarf, in the centre of which gleamed a modern +scarf-pin. He ran lightly up the steps of the academy and inquired for +Miss May. Courtesy, as his uneasy conscience told him, dictated an +inquiry for Miss Eldridge also, but he compounded with conscience: he +would ask to see her after he had seen Rosamond. + +"Why, how very nice you look! You are really handsome!" And the +dignified professor was turned about, as if he had been a graven image, +by two soft little hands, which he caught in his own, and--so forth. + +She was very sure now that she loved him, as in a certain sense she did. +But she would not consent to an immediate marriage, nor to the building +of a miniature palace for her reception. She owed it to Miss Eldridge, +she said, to fulfil her engagement and not to go away just as she was +beginning to be really useful. And as for a house, would it not be +pleasanter to live in lodgings and be free to come and go as they would? +So his wishes, as usual, were deferred to hers. The long fall evenings +began, and he brought, at her request, carefully-selected "improving" +books, to be interrupted, as he read, by earnest questions, such as,-- + +"_Would_ you embroider this linen dress with its own color or a +contrasting one, if you were me?" + +Spring came again, and the professor, looking ten years younger than he +had looked a year ago, brought to his "rose of all the world" a bunch of +the first May roses. + +"Oh, the lovely, lovely things!" she exclaimed delightedly. "You shall +have two kisses for them, Paul. Where _did_ they come from, so early in +May?" + +"From the south side of the wall of an old garden which I used to weed +when I was a boy." + +"Will you take me there? Is it near here?" she asked eagerly. + +"I will take you there," he answered, "some day; but it is not near +here: it is more than a hundred miles away." + +"And you sent all that way for them just for me? How good, how kind you +are! There, I will take two of the half-blown ones for my hat, and two +for my neck, and one for your button-hole--oh, yes, you shall! Hold +still till I pin it. Now just see how nice you look! And the rest I will +put in this glass, and then Miss Christina can enjoy them too; she's so +kind, and I can't do anything for her. Oh, that makes me think! I have +to go across the river this afternoon to hunt up a dress-maker she told +me about, a delightfully cheap and good one, and she said you would know +if there were any way of crossing anywhere near ---- Street, the bridge +is so far from where I want to go. Is there?" + +"Yes," he replied, "there's a rather uncertain way: an old fellow who +owns a boat lives close by there, and if he's at home he will be only +too glad to row you over for a few cents. It would not make your walk +much longer to go round that way first and see. I have often crossed in +his boat, and I like to talk with him: he's an original character." + +"Oh, that is charming!" she said delightedly. "Can't you come too? You +can sit and talk with him while I'm talking to the dress-maker." + +"I wish I could," he answered, "but I promised to meet the president in +the college library at four, and--bless me! it only wants ten minutes of +it now. Try to get back by sunset, dear: the evenings are chilly yet." + +"Yes, I will; I'm going right away," she said, with the deference to his +least wish which so often gave him a heartache. "You'll be in this +evening? Of course you will. Thank you so very, very much for the +roses." + +She watched him go down the steps, waving her hand to him as she closed +the door, and then, with the roses still in her hat and at her throat, +walked toward the river-bank, whispering a gay little song to herself. +It was such a bright day! she was so glad "the winter was over and +gone!" how good and kind everybody was! how grateful she ought to be! + + +III. + +"I wish," said Mr. Symington bitterly, "that I could find a commodious +desert island containing a first-class college and not a single girl. I +would have the island fortified, and death by slow torture inflicted +upon any woman who managed--as some of them would, in spite of all +precautions--to effect a landing." + +"But the married girls are so stupid, my dear boy," ejaculated his +room-mate, Mr. Fielding. "You must admit that, if one must have either, +the single ones are decidedly preferable, or at least the young single +ones." + +"Don't try to be funny," said Symington savagely: "you only succeed in +being weak. I have"--and he pulled out a note-book and glared at its +contents--"an engagement to take two to a concert this evening, other +two to a tennis-match on Saturday, and another one out rowing this +afternoon. And it's time for me to go now." + +"It strikes me _you've_ been pretty middling weak," commented Fielding. +"Either that, or you're yarning tremendously about its being a bore: you +can take your choice." + +"I leave it with you," said Symington wearily. "That Glover girl is +probably cooling her heels on the bank, and I must go." + +"Alas, my brother! it is long since one of those Glover girls captured +me!" + +The victim was a little late for his engagement, but no indignant Glover +girl lay in wait for him. The bank, green with the first soft grass of +spring, was deserted. Had she come and gone? He arranged himself +comfortably in the boat and began to sing, the balmy air and the +surroundings suggesting his song,-- + + Oh, hoi-ye-ho, ho-ye-ho, who's for the ferry? + +and went through the first verse, beginning softly, but unconsciously +raising his voice as he went on, until, as he came to the second, he was +singing very audibly indeed, and Rosamond, standing on the bank, looking +uncertainly about her for the old boatman, was in time to hear, + + She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet + As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat, + With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry,-- + "And sure and you're welcome to Twickenham town." + +The curious feeling which makes one aware of being looked at caused him +to turn and look up as he finished the verse, and he longed for the +self-possession of his room-mate as he vainly struggled to think of +something to say which should not be utterly inane. He felt himself +blushing, but he was well aware that a blush on his sunburned face was +not so charmingly becoming as it was to the vision on the bank. It was +she who spoke at last, with the ghost of a smile accompanying her +speech. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, "but I was told that I should probably +find an old man here who would row me across. Do you know where he's +gone?" + +"He is--that is--I think--I believe he's gone to dinner," stammered this +usually inflexible advocate of truth. + +And it did not occur to Rosamond to suggest that between four and five +in the afternoon was an unusual dinner-hour for a ferryman. + +She looked very much disappointed, and turned as if to go. + +"Won't you--may I--" eagerly stammered the youth, and added desperately, +"I'm here in his place," mentally explaining to an outraged conscience +that this was literally true, for was not his boat tied to a stake, and +must not that stake have been driven by the old man for _his_ boat? Dr. +Watts has told us that + + Sinners who grow old in sin + Are hardened in their crimes, + +and the hardening process must sometimes take place with fearful +rapidity, for when Rosamond, having guilelessly accepted the statement +and allowed the ferryman to help her to the broad cushioned seat in the +stern of the boat, asked innocently, "How much is it--for both ways, I +mean? for I want to come back, if you don't mind waiting a little," he +answered, with a look of becoming humility, "It is five cents, please." + +"You mean for one way?" she inquired, as she fished a very small purse +up from the depths of her pocket. + +And he, reflecting that two and a half cents for one way would have an +air of improbability about it, answered promptly, "Yes, if you please." + +She opened her purse and introduced a thumb and finger, but she withdrew +them with a promptness and a look of horror upon her face which +suggested the presence of some noxious insect. + +"You'll have to take me back, please," she said faintly. "I forgot to +put any money in my purse, and I've only just found it out." + +"It is not of the least consequence," he began hurriedly, adding, in +business-like tones, "You can make it all right the next time, you know. +I suppose it will not be long before you cross again?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "That depends upon whether or not I find--" +and then, remembering that the professor had gently cautioned her about +talking over her small affairs with any one but himself, she changed the +end of her sentence into "I have to. But I will bring you the money +to-morrow afternoon, if you will be here," she went on. "I am so ashamed +that I forgot it; and you're _very_ kind to trust me, when I'm such a +perfect stranger to you. Don't people ever cheat you?" + +"Sometimes," replied the ferryman; "and I don't trust everybody. I go a +good deal by people's faces." + +It did not seem to Rosamond that this remark required an answer, so she +sat silent, while his vigorous strokes sent the little boat swiftly +across the river, when he beached it, and, giving her his hand, helped +her to spring to dry ground. Then she said,-- + +"That's where I'm going,--that white house across the first street; and +I shall only be a few minutes." + +"Don't hurry," he said, as she turned away. "I've nothing more to do +this evening after I take you back." + +He really did forget for the moment the "other two" and the concert. + +The blissful meditation which enwrapped him made the fifteen minutes of +her absence seem as five. She came down the bank, blushing and smiling. + +"'And, oh, she looked sweet!'" mentally ejaculated the ferryman. + +"Did I keep you long?" she said, as he helped her in. "I hurried as much +as I could. And if you, or the old man, will be here to-morrow at +half-past four, I should like to cross again: it saves me such a long +walk. And I'll be _sure_ to bring the money." + +"You didn't keep me--that is, waiting--at all," he answered dreamily; +"and I'll be here at half-past four, sharp, to-morrow. You may depend on +me." + +"Very well," she said contentedly, as she settled herself among the +cushions, which in her absence he had arranged for her greater comfort, +adding, "What a very nice boat you have! I don't see how you keep it so +neat and fresh, taking so many people across, and being out, as I +suppose you must be, in all sorts of weather." + +"It's a new boat," he said hurriedly, "and you're my first passenger. +Would you mind telling me your name?--your first name I mean, of +course?"--for the horrible idea occurred to him that she might think he +was anxious about his fare. "I haven't named her yet, and I thought, +perhaps, _as_ you're my first fare, you'd let me name her after +you,--for luck, you know." + +"Is that considered lucky?" she asked innocently, "If it is, of course +you may. My name is Rosamond; but it seems to me that's rather long for +a boat. Suppose you call her the Rose. Papa--my father, I mean--used to +call me that oftener than Rosamond, and--one or two other people do +yet." + +"I don't think Rosamond would be too long," he said thoughtfully, "but +it shall be as you wish, of course. I will have 'Rose' painted on the +stern, and I can call her Rosamond to myself. May I have one of your +roses, just to--to remember it by, till I can see the painter?" + +"Why, yes, I suppose so." And she unfastened one of the two at her +throat, and handed it to him. + +He placed it carefully in his pocket-book, which, as she observed with +some surprise, was of the finest Russia leather. Ferrying must be +profitable work, to provide the ferryman with such boats and +pocket-books. + +There was a brief silence, and then she said, "You were singing as I +came down the bank. Would you mind singing again? It sounds so pretty on +the water." + +He made no answer in words, but presently his voice arose, softly at +first, and then with passionate fervor, and this time his song was, +"Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!" + +"Thank you; that was beautiful," said Rosamond calmly, as he finished +and the boat grazed the bank at one and the same moment. "What a good +voice you have! And you must have taken lessons, to sing so correctly: +haven't you?" + +"Yes,--a few," he answered, springing from the boat and drawing it up on +the bank. She rose to follow him, but stopped short, with a little +exclamation of dismay. + +"Why, this isn't where we ought to have landed!" she exclaimed. "It's a +place a mile farther down the river." + +He looked very much confused. + +"I have made some stupid blunder," he stammered. "I owe you a thousand +apologies, but I was singing, and I suppose I passed the landing without +noticing it. I will not keep you long, though. I can row back in ten +minutes." + +"I oughtn't to have asked you to sing when you were rowing," she said +remorsefully. "I'm so sorry you should have all that extra work." + +"Oh, I don't mind that," he said, trying to speak coolly, "if the delay +won't incommode you." + +"No," she said. "We shall be back before dark, and that will be time +enough. I _shouldn't_ like to have to walk home after dark." + +Eager words rose to the ferryman's lips, but he wisely suppressed them, +bending to his oars till the little boat sprang through the water. + +The sun dropped into the river, allowing the faintly-traced sickle of +the new moon to show, as the boat once more touched land,--at the right +place this time. + +Rosamond tripped up the bank, with a friendly "Good-evening," and at the +top she met the professor. "Oh, how nice of you to come and meet me!" +she cried, slipping her hand through his arm. "It grows dark so quickly +after the sun goes down that I was beginning to be just a little +scared." + +"I would have been here an hour ago," he said, "but the president kept +me. I called at Miss Eldridge's, thinking to find you returned, and +then, when she said you were still absent, I hurried down here, feeling +unaccountably disquieted. It was absurd, of course. But were you not +detained longer than you anticipated?" + +"No, it wasn't absurd," she said, clasping her other hand over his arm +and giving it a little squeeze. The spring dusk had fallen around them +like a veil by this time, and they were still a little way from any +much-travelled street. + +"It wasn't absurd _at all_," she repeated "there's nobody but you to +care whether I come in or go out, and I like you to be worried,--just a +little, I mean,--not enough to make you, really wretched. I've had the +funniest time! The old man wasn't there, and I was turning back, quite +disappointed, when a young man,--quite young, and very nice +looking,--who was singing in a foolish sort of way in a pretty little +boat tied to a stake, said he was there in the old boatman's place, and +asked me to go with him; and I went. At first I was puzzled, for he +looked like a gentleman in most respects, and I didn't think he could be +the son of the old man you told me about; but the longer I was with him +the more I saw that there was something queer about him. He was very +kind and polite, but had a sort of abrupt, startled manner, as if he +were afraid of something, and I came to the conclusion that he must be a +harmless insane person, and that they let him have the ferry because +there isn't anything else much that he could do. He had a most lovely +little boat, all cushioned at one end, and he rowed beautifully." + +"But it was not safe," said the professor, in alarm. "If a man be ever +so slightly insane, there is no telling what form his insanity will +take: he might have imagined you to be inimical to him, and have thrown +you overboard." And Rosamond felt a nervous tremor through the arm upon +which she leaned. She laughed heartily. + +"You'd not feel that way if you could see him, dear," she said. "He's +as gentle as a lamb, and a little sheepish into the bargain. And I +promised to let him row me over to-morrow afternoon at half-past four. +Indeed, there's no danger. The only really queer thing he did was to +carry me a mile down the river; and that was my fault, for I asked him +to sing again. He has a delightful voice, and he sang that song you like +so much,--'Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!'--and while he was singing +he missed the landing. But he apologized, and rowed me back like +lightning: so it really didn't matter,--especially as you met me, like +the dear that you are." + +If a member of the professor's class had used the figures of speech too +frequently employed by Rosamond, he would have received a dignified +rebuke for "hyperbolical and inelegant language;" but it never occurred +to the deluded man that anything but pearls of thought and diamonds of +speech could fall from those rosy lips. + +"I prefer, however, that you should run no risk, however slight, my +Rose," said the professor, so gently that the words were more an +entreaty than a command. + +"But I don't see how I can help it," she said, in dismayed tones, "for I +did such a dreadful thing that I shouldn't tell you of it if I hadn't +firmly made up my mind to tell you everything. I think +engaged--and--and--married people always ought to do that. I forgot to +take any money, and it was ten cents there and back, you know; and he +was so kind and polite about trusting me. I wanted him to take me back +as soon as I found it out, but he said he would trust me, that I could +bring it to him next time; and I promised to go to-morrow and pay him +for both trips at once: so, you see, I _must_." + +"Very well," said the professor, after a moment's thought. "I do not +wish you to break your word, of course: so I will go with you. I can +have a little talk with this unfortunate young man while you are engaged +with your dress-maker, and perhaps his condition may be ameliorated. He +could surely engage in some more remunerative occupation than that which +he is at present pursuing; and there are institutions, you know, where +much light has been thrown upon darkened minds." + +"How good, how kind you are!" she cried, her sweet eyes filling with +happy tears, unseen in the gathering darkness. "You're sure you've made +up your mind not to be disappointed when you find out just how foolish +and trifling I really am?" she asked timidly. + +The professor's answer need not be recorded. It was satisfactory. + +It is a curious thing that the "sixth sense," which draws our thoughts +to long-forgotten friends just before we hear from them, which leads our +eyes to meet other eyes fixed earnestly upon them, which enables people +to wake other people by staring at them, and does a variety of similar +things, admitted, but not accounted for, fails to warn the victims of +approaching fate. Serenely, blissfully, did Mr. Symington wend his way +to the bank on that golden afternoon. It had occurred to him to exchange +his faultless and too expensive boating-costume for a cheap jersey and +trousers; but he feared that this might excite suspicion: he had still +sense enough left to be aware that there had been no shadow of this in +the sweet blue eyes yesterday. + +He had not sung + + She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet! + +more than five hundred times since the previous evening: so, by way of +variety, he was humming it softly to himself as he approached the bank. +He was a little early, of course. She had not come yet. So he dusted the +cushions, and sponged up a few drops of water from the bottom of the +boat, and then sat down to wait. He was not kept waiting long. He heard +voices approaching, then a clear, soft laugh, and she was there; +but--oh, retribution!--with her, supporting her on his arm, was +Professor Silex! Wild thoughts of leaping into the river and +swimming--under water--to the opposite bank passed through the brain of +this victim of his own duplicity; but he checked himself sternly,--he +was proposing to himself to act the part of a coward, and before her, of +all the world. No, he would face the music, were it the "Rogue's March" +itself. And then a faint, a very faint hope sprang up in his heart: the +professor was noted for his absent-mindedness: perhaps there would be no +recognition. Vain delusion. + +"Your boatman has not kept his appointment," said the professor, +advancing inexorably down the bank; "but I see a member of my class--an +unusually promising young man--with whom I wish to speak. Will you +excuse me for a moment?" + +Rosamond turned her puzzled face from one to the other, finally +ejaculating, "Why, _that's_ the ferryman!" + +"There is some mistake here," said the professor, unaware of the +sternness of his tones. + +They had continued to advance as they spoke, and the ferryman could not +avoid hearing the last words. He sprang from the boat and up the bank +with the expression of a whole forlorn hope storming an impregnable +fortress, and spoke before the professor could ask a question. + +"I beg your pardon, Professor Silex," he said; "there is no mistake. +Miss--this lady, who is, I imagine, Miss May" (the professor bowed +gravely), "was looking yesterday for the old man who acts as ferryman +here sometimes. He was absent, and, seeing that Miss May seemed +disturbed, I volunteered to take his place. It gave me great pleasure to +be of even that small amount of use." + +The professor's grave face relaxed into a smile. Memories of his youth +had of late been very present with him, and to them were added those of +Rosamond's estimate of the amateur boatman. He waved his hand +graciously; but, before he could speak, Rosamond indignantly exclaimed, +"But you told me it was ten cents, and that people sometimes cheated +you, and that you were here in that poor old man's place, and--oh, I +can't _think_ of all the--things you told me." + +A burning blush scorched the face of the ferryman. This was speedy +judgment indeed. But his courage rose to the emergency. He met the blue +eyes steadily with his dark-brown ones as he said, "I told you no +untruths, Miss May. My boat was, literally speaking, in the place of +that which the old man actually keeps here: I knew it must be, because +there was only one stake. I have been cheated, frequently and +egregiously: few men of my age, I imagine, have not. And I have great +faith in physiognomy. You _were_ my first fare; and I meant to accept +the ten cents,--I assure you I did. If you can think of any of the other +'things,' I shall be happy to explain them." + +"It's all sophistry," she began, with something very like a pout. + +But the professor gently interrupted her: "Let us not judge a kind +action harshly. Mr. Symington meant only to relieve you from an annoying +dilemma, and he naturally concluded that this would be impossible should +he disclose his real name and position. It seems that he merely allowed +your inferences to go uncontradicted, and was, practically, most kind. +An introduction between you is now scarcely necessary; but I am glad +that you have met. But for the fact that a selection would have looked +invidious, I should have asked you ere this to permit me to bring Mr. +Symington to see you." + +"And will you--may I?" asked the culprit eagerly, glancing from one to +the other. + +"That must be as Miss May says," replied the professor, with a kind +smile. + +And Rosamond, ashamed of her unwonted outburst, gave Mr. Louis Symington +her hand, saying penitently, "I was very rude just now, and unjust +besides: will you forgive me and come with the professor to see me?" + +"With pleasure,--with the greatest pleasure," he answered eagerly. "And +you will let me row you across? You will not make me miserable by +refusing?" + +Rosamond glanced at the professor. + +"To be sure we will," he said cheerfully. "I shall be glad of the +opportunity for a little conversation with you while Miss May is +executing her errand." + +So he rowed them across; and then, while Rosamond discussed plaits and +gores with the new dress-maker, he discoursed his best eloquence and +learning to the professor, with such good effect that the latter said to +Rosamond, as they walked home through the twilight, having been +persuaded to extend the row a little, "I am glad, dear, that this +opportunity of presenting young Symington to you without apparent +favoritism has arisen. He is a most promising young man, but a little +inclined, I fear, from what I hear of him in his social capacity, to be +frivolous. We may together exercise a restraining influence over him." + +"I thought he talked most dreadfully sensibly," said Rosamond, laughing; +"but I like him, and I hope we shall see him often." + +They did. He called at first with the professor, afterward, at odd +times,--never in the evening,--without him. He persuaded Rosamond to +continue her patronage of his boat. Sometimes the professor went, +sometimes he did not. Mr. Symington was frequently induced to sing when +they were upon the water, and once or twice Rosamond joined her voice to +his. + +The 30th of June had at last been appointed for the wedding-day. They +were to go to Europe at once, and spend the vacation travelling wherever +Rosamond's fancy should dictate. All through the winter she had +discussed their journey with the liveliest interest, sometimes making +and rejecting a dozen plans in one evening. But of late she had ceased +to speak of it unless the professor spoke first; and this, with the +gentle tact which he had always possessed, but which had wonderfully +developed of late, he soon ceased to do. + +She was sometimes unwarrantably irritable with him now, but each little +fit of petulance was always followed by a disproportionate penitence +and remorse. At such times she hovered about him, eagerly anxious to +render him some of the small services which he found so sweet. But she +was paler and thinner than she had ever been, and Miss Christina +noticed, with a kindly anxiety which did her credit, that Rosamond ate +less and less. + +May was gone. It was the first day of June,--and such a day! Trees and +shrubs were in that loveliest of all states,--that of a half-fulfilled +promise of loveliness. Rosamond felt the spell, and, in spite of all +that was in her heart, an unreasoning gladness took possession of her. +She danced down the path of the long garden behind the seminary and +danced back again, stopping to pick a handful of the first June roses. +It was early morning, and the professor stopped--as he often did--for a +moment's sight of her on his way from the dreary boarding-house to the +equally dreary college. She caught both his hands and held up her face +for a kiss. Then she fastened a rosebud in his button-hole. + +"You are not to take that out until it withers, Paul," she said, +laughing and shaking a threatening finger at him. "Do you know what it +means,--a rosebud? I don't believe you do, for all your Greek. It means +'confession of love;' and I _do_ love you,--I do, I do." + +"I know you do, my darling," he said gently; "and it shall stay +there--till it withers. But that will not be long. I stopped to tell you +that I cannot go with you this afternoon; but you must not disappoint +Mr. Symington. I met him just now, and told him I should be detained, +but that you would go." + +"You had no right to say so without asking me first," she said sharply. +"I don't wish to go. I _won't_ go without you. There!" + +He was silent, but his deep, kind eyes were fixed pityingly upon her +flushed, excited face. + +She dropped it on his arm and burst into tears, and he stroked her hair +gently, as if she had been a little child and he a patient, loving +father. She raised her face presently, smiling, though her lips still +quivered. + +"Do you really and truly wish me to go with--this afternoon?" + +It seemed to him that for a full minute he could not speak, but in +reality the pause was so brief that she did not notice it. + +"Yes," he said quietly, "I really and truly do. It would not be fair to +disappoint Mr. Symington, after making the engagement." + +"And can't you possibly go, dear?" she asked entreatingly. + +I think only one man was ever known to pull the cord which set in motion +a guillotine that took off his own head. But there is much unknown, as +well as unwritten, history. + +"Not without neglecting some work which I ought to do to-day," he said. + +"I think you care more for your work sometimes than you do for me." +There was a little quaver in her voice as she spoke. "And I wish you'd +stop behaving as if I were your daughter. I don't know what ails you +this morning; but if you go on this way I shall call you Professor Silex +all the time. How would you like that?" + +A passionate exclamation rose to his lips, and died there. A spasm of +bitter pain made his face for a moment hard and stern. Then he smiled, +and said gently, "I should not like it at all, as you know very well. +But I must go now, or I shall be late for my class. Good-by, dear +child." And, parting her soft, curling hair, he pressed a fatherly kiss +upon her forehead. + +She threw her arms about his neck, crying, "No!--on my lips." And, +pressing an eager kiss upon his mouth, she added, "There! that is a +sealing, a fresh sealing, of our engagement; and I wish--oh, how I +wish!--that we were to be married to-morrow--to-day!" + +The professor gently disengaged himself from her clinging arms, saying, +still with a smile, "But I thought the wedding-gown was still to make? +Good-by. I will come early this evening and hear all about the enchanted +island." + +For the expedition which had been planned by the three for that +afternoon was to explore a little island far down the river, farther +than any of them had yet gone. + +Rosamond wore no roses when she went slowly down the bank that day,--not +even in her cheeks. + +And when Louis Symington saw her coming alone, only the sunbrown on his +face concealed the sudden rush of blood from it to his heart. + +"The professor could not come," she said hurriedly, "so he made me come +without him; that is--I mean--" And she stopped, confused. + +"If you prefer to wait until he can go with us, pray do not hesitate to +say so," he replied stiffly, and pausing--with her hand in his--in the +act of helping her into the boat. + +"Oh, I did not mean to say anything rude," she exclaimed penitently; and +she stepped across the seats to the cushioned end of the boat. "Of +course we will go; but perhaps--would you mind--couldn't we just take a +little row to-day, and save the island until the professor can go?" + +"Certainly," he said, still in the same constrained tone; and, without +another word, he helped her to her place and arranged the cushions about +her. + +The silence lasted so long that she felt she could bear it no longer. + +"Will you please sing something?" she said at last, desperately, "You +know you sang that first day; and it sounded so lovely on the water. Do +you remember?" + +He looked at her fixedly for a moment. Then he said simply, "Yes, I +remember," and began at once to sing. But he did not sing "Twickenham +Ferry" to day. He would have given all he was worth, when he had sung +one line, if he could have changed it into a college song, a negro +melody,--anything. For this was what he found himself singing: + + "How can I bear to leave thee? + One parting kiss I give thee, + And then, whate'er befalls me, + I go where Honor calls me." + +She would not hide her face in her hands, but she might turn it away: +how was he to know that she was not watching with breathless interest +the young couple straying along the bank, arm closely linked in arm, in +the sweet June sunshine? + +"Thank you," she said faintly, when the last trembling note had died +away: "that was--very pretty." + +"I am glad you liked it," he said, with quiet irony in his tones. + +And then there was another alarming pause. Anything was better than +that, and she began to talk almost at random, telling of various +laughable things which had occurred among her scholars, laughing +herself, somewhat shrilly, at the places where laughter was due. + +He sat silent, unsmiling, through it all until they stepped from the +boat. Then he said, "It is really refreshing to see you in such good +spirits. I had always understood that even the happiest _fiancée_ was +somewhat pensive and melancholy as the day of fate drew near." + +"You have no right to speak to me in that way,--in that tone," she +cried, with sudden heat. + +He bowed low, saying, "Pardon me; I am only too well aware that I have +no rights of any kind so far as you are concerned. But it is impossible +to efface one's self entirely." + +"Now you are angry with me," she said forlornly; "and I don't know what +I have done." + +"I angry with _you_!" he cried. "Oh, Rosamond! Rosamond!" + +"I am glad if you are not," she said,--"very glad; but I must go--the +professor--" And she sped up the bank before he could speak again. + + +IV. + +The professor came early to the seminary that evening, but Rosamond was +ready for him, dressed in a gown of some soft white fabric which he had +noticed and praised. She had roses in her hair, at her throat, in her +belt, but the bright, soft color in her cheeks out-shone them all. + +She began, almost as soon as they had exchanged greetings, to talk +about her father, asking the professor how long he had known him, and +what Dr. May had been like as a young man. + +"Very shy and retiring," he replied. "I think that was the first link in +our friendship: we both disliked society, and finally made an agreement +with each other to decline all invitations and give up visiting. We +found that everything of the kind interfered materially with advancement +in our studies. But your father had already met your mother several +times when we made this agreement. Their tastes were very similar, and +her quiet, tranquil manner was extremely pleasant to him,--for, as you +know, he was somewhat nervous and excitable,--so he claimed an exception +in her favor; and, after two years of most pleasing intellectual +companionship, they were married. It was a rarely complete and happy +union." + +"And I suppose," said Rosamond, with a curious touch of resentment in +her voice, "that because he had never been like other young people, had +never cared for young friends and pleasant times, it did not occur to +him that I ought to have them? Oh, I don't see how he dared to rob me of +my rights,--of my youth, which could only come once, of all life and +pleasure and sunshine!" + +"My dear," said the professor, looking very much startled and shocked, +"he had no thought of robbing you: he loved you far too tenderly for +that. You always seemed happy and bright, and you were very young when +he died. No doubt, had he lived until you were of an age to enter +society--" + +But here she interrupted him with bitter self-reproaches. + +"Oh, what have I said?" she cried. "He was all goodness, all love to me, +and I have dared to find fault with him! Oh, what a base, wicked girl I +am!" + +A choking sob stopped her, but only one. She conquered the rest, and +made a forlorn attempt to change the subject. + +"I had something to tell you to-night, dear child," said the professor, +when she was quiet again: "you seem tired, so I will make it as brief +as possible." + +A startled look came into her eyes, and she was about to speak, when he +continued: + +"Let me first say what is upon my mind, and then you shall have your +turn. I wished to tell you that I think we--I--have made a mistake. I am +too confirmed an old bachelor to fall into home ways and make a good +husband. I shall always love you as a dear young daughter, I shall ask +you to let me take in every way your father's place, but I think, if you +will let me off, that we will not have that wedding on the 30th of June, +my little girl." + +She raised her eyes in wondering incredulity to his face. He was +smiling! He was speaking playfully! He was giving her back her freedom +with a light heart and a good will. Plainly, the relief would be as +great for him as for her. Laughing and crying in a breath, she clasped +her arms about his neck. + +"Ah, how good you are! How I love you _now_!" she said, as soon as she +could speak. "All the time we have been engaged,--yes, even +before,--from the first I have longed to tell you that I would so much +rather be your daughter than your wife; but I thought it would be so +ungracious, after all your kindness to me. _Now_ we shall be happy; you +will see how happy I shall make you. And, oh, how good, how noble you +are to tell me, when, if you had not spoken,--yes, I should have married +you, dear father. I shall always call you father now: papa will not mind +it, I know." + +The professor had nothing more to do or say after that until he rose to +go. But when she held up her glowing, sparkling face for his good-night +kiss, he once more parted the curls and kissed her on her forehead, +whereat she pouted a little, saying, with half-pretended displeasure, +"Papa didn't kiss my forehead: he kissed me _right_." + +The professor passed his hand, which trembled a little, over her shining +hair, saying, with a paternal smile, "I shall kiss my daughter in the +way that best pleases me. I am going to be a very strict and exacting +father." + +She laughed gleefully, as if it were the best joke in the world, and her +merry "Good-night, dear father," followed him as he went out into the +darkness. + +He held Mr. Symington to his engagement to row Rosamond and himself to +the island, but he took with him a large canvas bag and a geological +hammer. And how, pray, could any one talk to, or even stand very near, +him, when he was pounding off bits of rock for specimens with such +energy that fragments flew in all directions? The sound of the hammer +ceased as soon as his companions had disappeared among the trees; they +were going to look for a spring, but, strangely enough, they did not +notice this. No need now for him to school his face, his voice, his +trembling hands. They found the spring. + +And did my professor die of a broken heart, and leave a lock of +Rosamond's hair and a thrilling heart-history, in the shape of a +neatly-written journal, to proclaim to the world his sacrifice? No; that +was not his idea of a sacrifice. He burnt that very night each +token--and there were many--which he had so jealously cherished,--each +little, crookedly-written, careless note, and, last, the long bright +curl which, before her heart awoke, she had so freely given him. + +It is true that there was a gradual but very perceptible change in him. +He had been indifferent formerly to the members of his class, excepting +from an intellectual stand point. Now he began to take an interest in +that part of their lives which lay outside his jurisdiction, to ask them +to his rooms of an evening, to walk with them and win their confidence. +Not one of them ever regretted that it had been bestowed. + +MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. + + + + +"WHAT DO I WISH FOR YOU?" + + What do I wish for you? Such swift, keen pain + As though all griefs that human hearts have known + Were joined in one to wound and tear your own. + Such joy as though all heaven had come again + Into your earth, and tears that fall like rain, + And all the roses that have ever blown, + The sharpest thorn, the sceptre and the throne, + The truest liberty, the captive's chain. + + Cruel, you say? Alas! I've only prayed + Such fate for you as everywhere, above + All others, women wish,--that unafraid + They clasp in eager arms. So, little dove, + I give you to the hawk. Nay, nay, upbraid + Me not. Have you not longed for love? + +CARLOTTA PERRY. + + + + +LETTERS AND REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES READE. + + +I knew Charles Reade in England far back in "the days that are no more," +and dined with him at the Garrick Club on the evening before I left +London for New York in 1860, when he gave me parting words of good +advice and asked me to write to him often. Then he added, "I am very +sorry you are going away, my dear boy; but perhaps you are doing a good +thing for yourself in getting out of this God-forsaken country. If I +were twenty years younger, and enjoyed the sea as you do, I might go +with you; but, if travel puts vitality into some men and kills others, I +should be one of the killed. What is one man's food is another's +poison." + +He was my senior by more than twenty years, and no man that I have known +well was more calculated to inspire love and respect among his friends. +To know him personally, after only knowing him through his writings and +his tilts with those with whom he had "a crow to pick," was a +revelation. He had the reputation of being always "spoiling for a +fight," and the most touchy, crusty, and aggressive author of his time, +surpassing in this respect even Walter Savage Landor. But, though his +trenchant pen was sometimes made to do almost savage work, it was +generally in the chivalric exposure of some abuse or in the effort to +redress some grievous wrong. Then indeed he was fired with righteous +indignation. The cause had to be a just one, however, before he did +battle in its behalf, for no bold champion of the right ever had more +sterling honesty and sincerity in his character, or more common sense +and less quixotism. + +His placid and genial manner and amiable characteristics in his +every-day home-life presented a striking contrast to his irritability +and indignation under a sense of injury; for whenever he considered +himself wronged or insulted his wrath boiled up with the suddenness of a +squall at sea. He resented a slight, real or imaginary, with unusual +outspokenness and vigor, and said, "I never forgive an injury or an +insult." But in this he may have done himself injustice. Generally, he +was one of the most sympathetic and even lovable of men, and his pure +and resolute manhood appeared in its truest light to those who knew him +best. + +While genial in disposition, he could not be called either mirthful or +jovial, and so could neither easily turn any unpleasant incident off +with a joke or be turned off by one. He needed a little more of the +easy-going good humor and freedom from anxiety that fat men are +popularly supposed to possess to break the force of collisions with the +world. Had he been more of an actor and less of a student in the drama +of life, he would have been less sensitive. + +His conscientiousness and honesty of purpose were really admirable; and +rather than break a contract or disappoint any one to whom he had made a +promise he would subject himself to any amount of inconvenience. For +example, he would, whenever necessary, retire to Oxford and write +against time in order to have his manuscript ready for the printer when +wanted. Much, too, as he disliked burning the midnight oil or any kind +of night-work, and the strain that artificial light imposed upon his +eyes, he would write late in his rooms, or read up on subjects he was +writing about in the reading-room in the Radcliffe Library building till +it closed at ten P.M. He had, it will be seen, a high sense of duty, and +"business before pleasure" was a precept he never neglected. + +In personal appearance Charles Reade, without being handsome, was +strongly built and fine-looking. He was about six feet in height, +broad-chested and well proportioned, and without any noticeable +physical peculiarity. His head was well set on his shoulders, and, +though not unusually small, might have been a trifle larger without +marring the symmetry of his figure. + +His features were not massive, but prominent, strong, and regular, and +his large, keen, grayish-brown eyes were the windows of his mind, +through which he looked out upon the world with an expressive, eager, +and inquiring gaze, and through which those who conversed with him could +almost read his thoughts before he uttered them. He had a good broad +forehead, well-arched eyebrows, and straight, dark-brown hair, parted at +the side, which, like his entirely unshaven beard, he wore short until +late in life. In his dress and manner he was rather _négligé_ than +precise, and he bestowed little thought on his personal appearance or +what Mrs. Grundy might say. Taking him all in all, the champion of James +Lambert looked the lion-hearted hero that he was. + +In his personal habits and tastes he was always simple, quiet, regular, +and he was strictly temperate. He had no liking for dissipation of any +kind. He found his pleasure in his work, as all true workers in the +pursuit for which they are best fitted always do. The proper care he +took of himself accounted in part for his well-developed muscular system +and his good health until within a few years of his death, +notwithstanding his studious and sedentary life. + +Among literary men he had few intimates, and he was not connected with +any clique of authors or journalists. He thought this was one reason why +the London reviewers--whom he once styled "those asses the +critics"--were so unfriendly toward him. He was not of their set, and +some of them regarded him as a sort of literary Ishmael, who had his +hand raised against all his contemporaries, a quarrelsome and +cantankerous although very able man, and therefore to be ignored or sat +down upon whenever possible. He once said, "I don't know a man on the +press who would do me a favor. The press is a great engine, of course, +but its influence is vastly overrated. It has the credit of leading +public opinion, when it only follows it; and look at the +rag-tag-and-bobtail that contribute to it. Even the London 'Times' only +lives for a day. My books have made their way in spite of the press." + +Speaking of publishers, he said, "They want all the fat, and they all +lie about their sales. Unless you have somebody in the press-room to +watch, it is almost impossible to find out how many copies of a book +they print. Then there is a detestable fashion about publishers. I had +to fight a very hard battle to get the public to take a novel published +by Trübner, simply because he was not known as a novel-publisher; but I +was determined not to let Bentley or any of his kidney have all the fat +any longer." + +Trübner, I may mention, published for him on commission, and under this +arrangement he manufactured his own books and assumed all risks. + +In the sense of humor and quick perception of the ludicrous he was +somewhat deficient, and he was too passionately in earnest and too +matter-of-fact about everything ever to attempt a joke, practical or +otherwise. Life to him was always a serious drama, calling for tireless +vigilance; and he watched all the details of its gradual unfolding with +constant anxiety and care, in so far as it concerned himself. + +His love for the glamour of the stage led him often to the theatre; but +whenever he saw anything "murdered" there, especially one of his own +plays, it incensed him, and sometimes almost to fury. He loved +music,--not, as he said, the bray of trumpets and the squeak of fiddles, +but melody; and occasionally, seated at a piano, he sang, in a voice +sweet and low and full of pathos, some tender English ditty. + +Charles Reade had a real talent for hard work, not that occasional +exclusive devotion to it during the throes of composition to which +Balzac gave himself up night and day to an extent that utterly isolated +him from the world for the time being, but steady, systematic, willing +labor,--a labor, I might say, of love, for he never begrudged it,--which +began every morning, when nothing special interfered with it, after a +nine-o'clock breakfast and continued until late in the afternoon. He was +too practical and methodical to work by fits and starts. Generally he +laid down his pen soon after four P.M.; but often he continued writing +till it was time to dress for dinner, which he took either at home or at +the Garrick Club, as the spirit moved him, except when he dined out, +which was not very often,--for, although he was most genial and social +in a quiet way among his intimates, he had no fondness for general +society or large dinner-parties. Yet his town residence, at No. 6 Bolton +Row, was not only at the West End, but in Mayfair, the best part of it; +and, although a bachelor to the end of his days, he kept house. He +afterwards resided at No. 6 Curzon Street, also in Mayfair, and then +took a house at No. 2 Albert Terrace, Knightsbridge, but gave it up not +long before his death, which occurred in Blomfield Terrace, Shepherd's +Bush, a London suburb. + +"This capacity, this zest of yours for steady work," I once remarked to +him, "almost equals Sir Walter Scott's. With your encyclopædic, +classified, and indexed note-books and scrap-books, you are one of the +wonders of literature." + +"Well," he replied, "these are the tools of my trade, and the time and +labor I spend on them are well invested." Then he went on to say of +literary composition, "Genius without labor, we all know, will not keep +the pot boiling. But I doubt whether one may not put too much labor into +his work as well as too little, and spend too much time in polishing. +Rough vigor often hits the nail better than the most studied and +polished sentences. It doesn't do to write above the heads or the tastes +of the people. I make it a rule to put a little good and a little bad +into every page I write, and in that way I am likely to suit the taste +of the average reader. The average reader is no fool, neither is he an +embodiment of all the knowledge, wit, and wisdom in the world." + +He valued success as a dramatic author more highly than as a novelist, +and was always yearning for some great triumph on the stage. In this +respect he was like Bulwer Lytton, who once said to me, "I think more of +my poems and 'The Lady of Lyons' and 'Richelieu' than of all my novels, +from 'Pelham' to 'What will he do with it?'" (which was the last he had +then written). "A poet's fame is lasting, a novelist's is comparatively +ephemeral." Moved by a similar sentiment, Reade once said, "The most +famous name in English literature and all literature is a dramatist's; +and what pygmies Fielding and Smollett, and all the modern novelists, +from Dickens, the head and front of them, down to that milk-and-water +specimen of mediocrity, Anthony Trollope, seem beside him!"[1] + +He had little taste for poetry, because of his strong preference for +prose as a vehicle of thought and expression. He, however, greatly +admired Byron, Shelley, and Scott, and paid a passing compliment to +Swinburne, except as to the too fiery amatory ardor of his first poems; +but he considered Tennyson, with all his polish, little better than a +versifier, and said his plays of "Dora" and "The Cup" would have been +"nice enough as spectacles without words." For those great masters of +prose fiction and dramatic art, Victor Hugo and Dumas _père_, he had +unbounded admiration, and of the former in particular he always spoke +with enthusiasm as the literary giant of his age, and to him, +notwithstanding his extravagances, assigned the first place among +literary Frenchmen. Dumas he ranked second, except as a dramatist; and +here he believed him to be without a superior among his contemporaries. + +For several years after I came to New York Charles Reade and I kept up a +close friendly correspondence, and he sent me proof-sheets of "The +Cloister and the Hearth" in advance of its publication in England, so +that the American reprint of the work might appear simultaneously +therewith, which it did through my arrangements with Rudd & Carleton. He +also sent me two of his own plays,--"Nobs and Snobs" and "It is Never +Too Late to Mend," drawn from his novel of that name,--in the hope that +the managers of some of the American theatres would produce them; but, +notwithstanding their author's fame, their own superior merit, and my +personal efforts, the expectation was disappointed, owing, as Mr. Reade +said, to their preferring to steal rather than to buy plays,--a charge +only too well sustained by the facts. Another play, written by a friend +of his, that he sent me, met with a like reception. + +The first letter I received from Charles Reade after my arrival in New +York ran thus: + + +"6 BOLTON ROW, MAYFAIR, July 14 [1860]. + +"Dear Cornwallis,--I was much pleased to hear from you, and to find you +were one of the editors of the 'New York Herald.' A young man of talent +like you ought to succeed, when so many muffs roll in one clover-field +all their days. + +"Not to be behindhand in co-operating with your fortunes, I called on +Trübner at once about your Japanese letters.... + +"If you will be my prime minister and battle the sharps for me over +there, I shall be very glad. I am much obliged by your advice and +friendly information. Pray continue to keep me _au fait_. + +"My forthcoming work, 'The Eighth Commandment,' is a treatise. It is +partly autobiographical. You shall have a copy.... + +"I should take it very kindly of you if you would buy for me any copies +(I don't care if the collection should grow to a bushel of them, or a +sack) of any American papers containing characteristic +matter,--melodramas, trials, anything spicy and more fully reported than +in the 'Weekly Tribune,' which I take in. Don't be afraid to lay out +money for me in this way, which I will duly repay; only please write on +the margin what the paper contains that is curious. You see I am not +very modest in making use of you. You do the same with me. You will find +I shall not forget you. + +"Yours, very sincerely, +"CHARLES READE." + + +In a letter dated February 8, 1861, he wrote me, "Your London publishers +sent me a copy of your narrative of your tour with the Prince of Wales" +("Royalty in the New World, or The Prince of Wales in America"), "which +I have read with much pleasure.... + +"I have on hand just now one or two transactions which require so much +intelligence, firmness, and friendly feeling to bring them to a +successful issue that, as far as I am concerned, I would naturally much +rather profit by your kind offer than risk matters so delicate in busy, +careless, and uninventive hands. I will, therefore, take you at your +word, and make you my plenipotentiary. + +"I produced some time ago a short story, called 'A Good Fight,' in 'Once +a Week.' I am now building on the basis of that short tale a large and +very important mediæval novel in three volumes" ("The Cloister and the +Hearth"), "full of incident, character, and research. Naturally, I do +not like to take nothing for manuscript for, say, seven hundred pages at +least of fresh and good matter. But here pinches the shoe.... Please not +to show this to any publisher, but only the enclosed, with which you can +take the field as my plenipotentiary. I think this affair will tax your +generalship. I shall be grateful in proportion as you can steer my bark +safe through the shoals. Shall be glad to have a line from you by +return, and will send a part of the sheets out in a fortnight. I think +you may speak with confidence of this work as likely to produce some +sensation in England." + +In July he wrote, "You had better agree with them" (Rudd & Carleton) +"for twenty per cent., and let me take care of you, or I foresee you +will get nothing for your trouble. I only want fifteen for myself, and a +_true return_ of the copies sold. That is where we poor authors are +done. Will you look to that? I have placed five pounds to your +credit,--this with the double object of enabling you to buy me an +American scrap-book or two (no poetry, for God's sake!) of +newspaper-cuttings, and also to reimburse a number of little expenses +you have been at for me and too liberal to mention." + +On September 12, 1861, he wrote, "I send you herewith the first +instalment of early sheets of my new novel. The title is 'The Cloister +and the Hearth.' I am ashamed to say the work will contain fifteen +hundred of these pages. If you are out of it, I will take fifteen per +cent.; if you are in it, twelve. But I look to you to secure a genuine +return, for that is the difficulty with these publishers. There is +considerable competition among publishers here to have the book, and I +am only hanging back to get you out the sheets. Now you know the number +of pages (for the work is written), it would be advisable to set up +type." + +On September 26, 1861, he wrote, "As we shall certainly come out next +week, I shall be in considerable anxiety until I hear from you that all +the instalments sent by me have safely arrived and are in type. To +secure despatch, I have sent them all by post, and, owing to the +greediness of the United States government, it has cost me five pounds. +I do not for a moment suppose the work will sell well during the civil +war; but it is none the less important to occupy the shops with it, and +then perhaps on the return of peace and the fine arts it will not be +pirated away from us. I hope I have been sufficiently explicit to make +you master of this book's destiny." + +On October 18, 1861, he wrote, "We have now been out a fortnight, and, +as it is my greatest success, we are gone coons if you are not out by +this time." + +A week later his uneasiness had been allayed by a letter from me +announcing the publication of the work in New York, and he wrote, "I +think you have done very well, considering the complicated difficulties +you have had to contend against in this particular transaction. The +work is quite the rage here, I assure you. We sold the first edition (a +thousand) at one pound eleven shillings and sixpence in one fortnight +from date of publication, and have already orders for over two hundred +of the second at same price, which we are now printing. + +"I will this day place in S. Low's hands for you the manuscript of 'Nobs +and Snobs,' a successful play of mine, luckily unpublished. Treat with a +New York manager or a Boston manager for this on these terms. Sell them +the sole use of it in one city only for ten dollars per night of +representation, the play not to be locked up or shelved, but to return +to you at the conclusion of the run." + +Then follows a "sketch of agreement" to be made with managers; for in +all business-matters he was extremely particular, and sometimes +needlessly anxious about trifles. + +In the same letter he went on to remark, "I say ten dollars as being +enough and not a halfpenny too much. It is all I ask. If you can get +fifteen dollars on these terms, pocket the balance. But never sell the +provincial right to a New York manager. It is worth a great deal more +than the New York right, properly worked. It is no use showing it to +Laura Keene. I spoke to her in England about it. + +"With many thanks for your zeal and intelligence, and hoping that we may +contrive, somehow or other, one day or other to make a hit together, I +am yours, etc." + +On November 19, 1861, he wrote, "Now for your book. Trübner is +fair-dealing, but powerless as a publisher. All the pushing is done by +me. I have had a long and hard fight to get the public here to buy a +novel published by him, and could hardly recommend another to go through +it. If done on commission and by Trübner, I could take it under my wing +in the advertisements. + +"Next week I expect to plead the great case of Reade _v._ Conquest" +(manager of the Grecian Theatre, London) "in the Court of Common Pleas. +If I win, I shall bring out my drama 'Never Too Late to Mend' and send +it out to you to deal with. Please collect Yankee critiques (on 'The +Cloister and the Hearth') for me; the more the better." + +On November 1, 1861, he wrote, "I send you 'Saunders & Otley's Monthly,' +containing an elaborate review of 'The Cloister,' etc. I don't know the +writer, but he seems to be no fool. I do hope, my dear fellow, you will +watch the printers closely, and so get me some money, for I am weighed +down by _law-expenses_,--Reade _v._ Bentley, Reade _v._ Lacy, Reade _v._ +Conquest,--all in defence of my own. And don't trust the play above +twenty-four hours out of your own hand. Theatricals are awful liars and +thieves. I co-operate by writing to Ticknors and H---- not to pirate you +if they wish to remain on business terms with me. Second edition all but +gone; third goes to press Monday. Everybody says it is my best book." + +On the next day he wrote, "I am a careful man, and counted every page I +sent you, and sealed and posted them with my own hand. I am quite +satisfied with the agreement with Rudd & Carleton, if there is to be no +false printer's return. The only thing that makes me a little uneasy is +your apparent confidence that they could not cheat us out of twenty +thousand dollars by this means if extraordinary vigilance were not used. +They can, and will, with as little remorse as a Newgate thief would, +unless singular precautions are used. If I was there I would have a +secret agent in the printing-house to note each order, its date and +amount, in writing. The plates being yours, you have, in fact, a legal +right to inspect the printer's books. But this is valueless. The printer +would cook his books to please the publisher. You can have no conception +of the villany done under all these sharing agreements. But forewarned +forearmed. Think of some way of baffling this invariable fraud. Ask a +knowing printer some way. Do anything but underrate the danger. + +"The importance of the work not being the least foreseen, I believe +Rudd & Carleton have 'The Cloister' all to themselves.... Every American +who has seen Ticknors' returns assures me they are false, and +ridiculously so. It goes against my heart to believe it, but everybody +is seldom wrong. My opinion is they will all make a false return if they +can. _Verbum sap._ And now, my dear boy, let me thank you for all the +trouble you have taken in this complicated affair, and assure you that +if I am anxious for a just return it is partly in order that I may be in +a position to take care of _you_. For I am sure if _I_ don't nobody else +will. + +"'Nobs and Snobs,' a play, has gone out in Low's parcel. If the managers +will be quick, you can make this copyright by not calling it 'Honor +before Titles'" (the sub-title under which it had been copyrighted in +England). "Then, to bind the thing together, I write a different +conclusion to the second act, and send it you enclosed. It is hasty, but +it will do; and if you can get Jem Wallack to play Pierre, he will do +wonders with the change from drunkenness to sobriety and then to +incipient madness. The only stage directions required will occur at once +to you. Drop should fall on Pierre with a ghastly look, like a man +turned to stone, between the two females. I now close, wishing us both +success in this attempt to open new veins of ore. I have other plays in +manuscript, and one in progress." + +On November 9 he wrote under a misapprehension of the terms of an +agreement about which I had written to him, and evinced his usual +anxiety and impatience when anything seemed to go wrong. If, said he, +this and that happens, "Rudd & Carleton can swindle us out of every +dollar. I confess this stipulation terrifies me. If you have not done +so, for God's sake draw a written agreement in these terms. I shall pass +a period of great anxiety until I hear from you. But, for heaven's sake, +a written agreement, or you will never get one halfpenny. These fears +seem ungracious, after all the trouble you have taken. But it is a most +dangerous situation, and not to be remained in a day or an hour. Draw +on Rudd & Carleton as soon as ever you can." + +On the 9th of December following he had heard from me again, and found +he was mistaken. He wrote, "I am in receipt of your last, which is very +encouraging. You were quite right to do as you did. Give Rudd & Carleton +no loop-hole. They will soon owe us a good round sum, and will writhe +like Proteus to escape paying it." + +On January 17, 1862, he wrote, "It puts me in some little doubt whether +to take your book 'Pilgrims of Fashion' to Trübner or Low. Low will sell +more copies if he tries, but he will charge more percentage, and I shall +not be able to creep you in among my own advertisements. However, you +give me discretion, and I shall look to your advantage as well as I can. +To-day I had to argue the great case of Reade _v._ Conquest. I argued it +in person. Judgment is deferred. The court raised no grave objections to +my reasoning, but many to the conclusions of defendant's counsel: so it +looks pretty well. + +"As to 'Nobs and Snobs,' I know the theatrical managers: they will not +deal except with thieves, if they can help it. Keep it ten years, if +necessary, till some theatre will play it. You will find that all those +reasons they have given you will disappear the moment it is played in +England, and then the game will be to steal it. Copyright it in your +name and mine, if a manuscript can be so protected, and I will enter it +here in my name and yours. + +"Considering the terrible financial crisis impending over the United +States, I feel sad misgivings as to my poor 'Cloister.' It would indeed +be a relief if the next mail would bring me a remittance,--not out of +your pocket, but by way of discount from the publishers. I am much +burdened with lawsuits and the outlay, without immediate return, of +publishing four editions" (of "The Cloister and the Hearth"). "Will you +think of this, and try them, if not done already? Many thanks for the +scrap-book and for making one. Mind and classify yours. You will never +regret it. Dickens and Thackeray both offer liberally to me for a serial +story." (Dickens then edited "All the Year Bound," and Thackeray "The +Cornhill Magazine.") + +On January 27, 1862, he wrote, "The theatrical managers are all liars +and thieves. The reason they decline my play is, they hope to get it by +stealing it. They will play it fast enough the moment it has been +brought out here and they can get it without paying a shilling for it. +Your only plan is to let them know it shall never come into their hands +gratis." + +In a letter undated, but written in the same month, he wrote, "My next +story" ("Very Hard Cash"). "This is a matter of considerable importance. +It is to come out first in 'All the Year Round,' and, foreseeing a +difficulty in America, I have protected myself in that country by a +stringent clause. The English publishers bind themselves to furnish me +very early sheets and not to furnish them to any other person but my +agent. This and another clause enable me to offer the consecutive early +sheets to a paper or periodical, and the complete work in advance on +that to a book-publisher. I am quite content with three hundred pounds +for the periodical, but ask five per cent. on the book. It will be a +three-volume novel,--a story of the day, with love, money, fighting, +manoeuvring, medicine, religion, adventures by sea and land, and some +extraordinary revelations of fact clothed in the garb of fiction. In +short, unless I deceive myself, it will make a stir. Please to settle +this one way or other, and let me know. I wrote to this effect to +Messrs. Harper. Will you be kind enough to place this before them? If +they consent, you can conclude with them at once." + +Messrs. Harper Brothers had always dealt very generously and courteously +toward Mr. Reade, and they were offered "The Cloister and the Hearth" in +the first instance, but did not feel willing to pay as high a royalty as +Messrs. Rudd & Carleton did, in the then depressed condition of the +book-trade and in view of their having previously published and paid +for "A Good Fight," and hence the agreement made with the latter firm. +They evinced a spirit of kind forbearance in refraining from printing a +rival edition of the work, and Mr. Reade remained on very friendly terms +with them to the end of his days. + +On February 13, 1862, he wrote from Magdalen College, Oxford, "I have +defeated Conquest, and am just concluding the greatest drama I ever +wrote,--viz., my own version of 'Never Too Late to Mend.' I will send +you out a copy in manuscript, and hold back for publication. But I fear +you will find that no amount of general reputation or particular merit +of the composition offered will ever open the door of a Yankee theatre +to a dramatic inventor. The managers are 'fences,' or receivers of +stolen goods. They would rather steal and lose money than buy and make +it. However, we will give the blackguards a trial." + +On March 22, 1862, he wrote, "Only yesterday I wrote to you in +considerable alarm and anxiety. This anxiety has been happily removed by +the arrival of your letter enclosing a draft for the amount and Rudd & +Carleton's account up to date. I think you showed great judgment in the +middle course you have taken by accepting their figures _on account_. +All that remains now is to suspect them and to watch them and get what +evidence is attainable. The printers are better than the binders for +that, if accessible. But I know by experience the heads of the +printing-house will league with the publisher to hoodwink the author. I +have little doubt they have sold more than appear on the account." + +On March 7, 1862, he wrote, "Many thanks, my dear fellow, for your zeal; +rely on it, I will not be backward in pushing your interests here, and +we will have a success or two together on both sides of the Atlantic. I +mean soon to have a publishing organ completely devoted to my views, and +then, if you will look out sharp for the best American books and serial +stories, I think we could put a good deal of money into your hands in +return for judgment, expedition, and zeal." + +On March 28, 1862, he wrote, "You are advertised with me this week in +the 'Saturday' and 'London' Reviews. Next week you will be in the +'Athenæum,' 'Times,' 'Post,' and other dailies. The cross-column +advertisements in 'Athenæum' cost thirty shillings, 'Literary Gazette' +fifteen shillings, and so on. You will see at once this could not have +been done except by junction. I propose to bind in maroon cloth, like +'The Cloister:' it looks very handsome. I congratulate you on being a +publicist. Political disturbances are bad for books, but journals thrive +on them. Do not give up the search for scrap-books, especially +classified ones." + +He wrote me on April 2, 1862, "This will probably reach you before my +great original drama 'It is Never Too Late to Mend,' which has gone by a +slower conveyance. When you receive, please take it to Miss Kean" (Laura +Keene), "and with it the enclosed page. You will tell her that, as this +is by far the most important drama I have ever written, and entirely +original, I wish her to have the refusal, and, if she will not do it +herself, I hope she will advise you how to place it. Here in England we +are at the dead-lock. The provincial theatres and the second-class +theatres are pestering me daily for it. But I will not allow it to be +produced except at a first-class theatre. I have wrested it by four +actions in law and equity from the hands of pirates, and now they shall +smart for pirating me. At the present time, therefore, any American +manager who may have the sense and honesty to treat with me will be +quite secure from the competition of English copies. I have licked old +Conquest, and the lawyers are now fighting tooth and nail over the +costs. The judges gave me one hundred and sixty pounds damages, but, as +I lost the demurrer with costs, the balance will doubtless be small. +But, if the pecuniary result is small, the victory over the pirates and +the venal part of the press is great." + +He wrote on May 30, 1862, "As for writing a short story on the spur, it +is a thing I never could do in my life. My success in literature is +owing to my throwing my whole soul into the one thing I am doing. And at +present I am over head and ears in the story for Dickens" ("Very Hard +Cash"). "Write to me often. The grand mistake of friends at a distance +is not corresponding frequently enough. Thus the threads of business are +broken, as well as the silken threads of sentiment. Thanks about the +drama" ("It is Never Too Late to Mend"). "I have but faint hopes. It is +the best thing I ever wrote of any kind, and therefore I fear no manager +will ever have brains to take it." + +On June 20, 1862, he wrote of his forthcoming story, "Between ourselves, +the story" ("Very Hard Cash") "will be worth as many thousands as I have +asked hundreds. I suppose they think I am an idiot, or else that I have +no idea of the value of my works in the United States. I put 6 Bolton +Row" (the usual address on his letters) "because that is the safest +address for you to write to; but in reality I have been for the last +month, and still am, buried in Oxford, working hard upon the story. My +advice to you is to enter into no literary speculations during this +frightful war. Upon its conclusion, by working in concert, we might do +something considerable together." + +On August 5, 1862, he wrote from Magdalen College, where he was to +remain until the 1st of October, "I shall be truly thankful if you +postpone your venture till peace is re-established. I am quite sure that +a new weekly started now would inevitably fail. You could not print the +war as Leslie and Harper do, and who cares for the still small voice of +literature and fiction amongst the braying of trumpets and the roll of +drums? Do the right thing at the right time, my boy: that is how hits +are made. If you will postpone till a convenient season, I will work +with you and will hold myself free of all engagements in order to do so. +I am myself accumulating subjects with a similar view, and we might do +something more than a serial story, though a serial story must always be +the mainspring of success." + +He wrote on September 6, 1862, "I am glad you have varied your project +by purchasing an established monthly" ("The Knickerbocker Magazine") +"instead of starting a new weekly. I will form no new engagements nor +promise early sheets without first consulting you. I will look out for +you, and as soon as my large story is completed will try if I cannot do +something for you myself." + +On the 29th of June, 1863, he wrote, "I am much pleased with your +'Knickerbocker Magazine,' and cannot too much admire your energy and +versatility. Take notice, I recommended you Miss Braddon's works while +they were to be had for a song. 'Lost and Saved,' by Mrs. Norton, will +make you a good deal of money if you venture boldly on it and publish +it. It is out-and-out the best new thing, and rather American. If you +hear of any scrap-books containing copious extracts from American +papers, I am open to purchase at a fair price, especially if the +extracts are miscellaneous and dated, and, above all, if classified. I +shall, also be grateful if you will tell me whether there is not a +journal that reports trials, and send me a specimen. Command me whenever +you think I can be of an atom of use to you." + +Charles Reade's letters were always highly characteristic of him. In +these he mentally photographed himself, for he always wrote with candid +unreserve, whether to friend or foe, and he liked to talk with the pen. +Both by nature and education he was fitted for a quiet, studious, +scholarly life, and with pen and paper and books he was always at home. +He liked, too, at intervals the cloister-like life he led at Magdalen +College. With nothing to disturb him in his studies and his work, with +glimpses of bright green turf and umbrageous recesses and gray old +buildings with oriel windows that were there before England saw the Wars +of the Roses, his environment was picturesque, and his bursar's cap and +gown became him well, yet seemed to remove him still further from the +busy world and suggest some ecclesiastical figure of the fifteenth +century. He was a D.C.L., and known as Dr. Reade in the college, just as +if he had never written a novel or a play and had been untrumpeted by +fame. + +There, in his rooms on "Staircase No. 2," with "Dr. Reade" over the +door, he labored _con amore_. Indeed, he was amid more congenial +surroundings and more truly in his element in the atmosphere of the +ancient university than in London or anywhere else. By both nature and +habit he was more fitted to enjoy the cloister than the hearth, although +he by no means undervalued the pleasures of society and domestic life. +The children of his brain--his own works--seemed to be the only ones he +cared for; and, loving and feeling proud of his literary family, he was +mentally satisfied. Yet no man was a keener observer of home-life, and +his portraiture of women and analysis of female character, although +unvarying as to types, were singularly true and penetrating. His +Fellowship was the principal cause of his never marrying, the next most +important one being that he was always wedded to his pen; and +literature, like law, is a jealous mistress. He had some idea of this +kind when he said, "An author married is an author marred,"--an +adaptation from Shakespeare, who was ungallant enough to say, "A young +man married is a man that's marred." But a good and suitable wife would +have given _éclat_ to his social life. + +His splendid courage and the manliness of his character always commanded +admiration, and his hatred of injustice and wrong, cant and hypocrisy, +was in harmony with the nobility and passionate earnestness of his +nature. He was the friend of the workingman, the poor, and the +oppressed; and he exposed the abuses of jails and lunatic-asylums and +trades-unions, and much besides, in the interest of humanity and as a +disinterested philanthropist. He fought, too, the battles of his +fellow-authors on the copyright questions with the same tremendous +energy that he displayed in his struggles for practical reform in other +directions; and as a practical reformer through his novels he, like +Dickens, accomplished a great deal of good. When moved by strong +impulses in this direction, he seemed indeed to write with a quivering +pen, dipped not in ink, but in fire and gall and blood, and to imbue +what he wrote with his own vital force and magnetic spirit. + +Measuring his literary stature at a glance, it must, however, be +admitted that, notwithstanding his high average of excellence, he was a +very uneven writer, and hence between his worst and his best work there +is a wide distance in point of merit. But the best of his writings as +well deserves immortality as anything ever penned in fiction. Although +inferior to them in some respects, he was superior in epigrammatic +descriptive power to the most famous of his English and French +contemporaries, and particularly in his descriptions of what he had +never seen or experienced, but only read about. Take, for instance, his +Australian scenes in "It is Never Too Late to Mend," where the effect of +the song of the English skylark in the gold-diggings is told with +touching brevity and pathos. Yet all his information concerning +Australia had been gained by reading newspaper correspondence and books +on that country. He made no secret of this, and said in substance, as +frankly as he spoke of his scrap-books, "I read these to save me from +the usual trick of describing a bit of England and calling it the +antipodes." He could infuse life into the dry figures of a blue-book; +but in the mere portraiture of ordinary conventional society manners, +free from the sway of strong passions and emotions, he did not greatly +excel writers of far inferior ability. He had the graphic simplicity and +realism of De Foe in describing places he had never seen; and as the +historian of a country or a period in which he felt interested he would +have been unusually brilliant, for he was an adept in picturesque +condensation, and knew how to improve upon his originals and use them +without copying a word. He was a master of vigorous English. + +KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. + + + + +IN A SUPPRESSED TUSCAN MONASTERY. + + +We have left the golden hills and laughing valleys of Tuscany behind us +as we approach that desert part of it where the gray chalk cliffs +stretch out into the Maremma in long narrow tongues of rock, not far +from Siena. A frightful convulsion of nature in prehistoric times rent +the solid rock, seaming it with chasms so wide and deep that the region +is almost depopulated, not only because man can with difficulty find +room for the sole of his foot, but because the gases which lie over the +Maremma in vapors thick enough to destroy life in a single night rise up +to the top of these cliffs and reduce the dwellers there to fever-worn +shadows. Even the scattered olive-trees that have taken root in the thin +layer of soil are of the same hue, and the few clumps of cypresses add +to the pallor of the scene with their dark funereal shafts. The only bit +of color is where a cluster of low red-washed houses have found room for +their scanty foundations on a knot of rock where several chasms +converge. Where the sides of the chasms slope gently enough to admit of +being terraced, vineyards are planted, which yield famous wines, the red +Aleatico and the white Vino Santo, rivalling in quality the Monte +Pulciano, which grows only a short distance away. Farther down in the +depths thickets of scrub oak and wild vines form oases that are +invisible unless one is standing on the brink. + +The epithet "God-forsaken," so often applied to regions like this, +would, however, be inappropriate here, for in God's name the locality is +famous. On a promontory whose sides fall down in sheer precipices all +about, except where a narrow neck of rock connects it with the net-work +of cliffs, is a vast monastery, the Mother Abbey of the Olivetani. In +1313 a noble of Siena, Bernardo Tolomei, in the midst of a life of +literary distinctions and pleasures, received, it is said, the grace of +God. He was struck blind, and in his prayers vowed if he recovered his +sight to embrace a life of penitence. It was the divine will that his +vows should be fulfilled, and his sight was immediately restored. Two +friends of the noblest Italian families, the Patrizzi and Piccolomini, +joined him in leaving the world to become hermits in the desert. The +chalky cliffs overhanging the Maremma on Bernardo's estates were +selected as a fitting retreat: here they dug grottoes in the sides of a +precipice and lived on roots and water. They were soon followed by so +many penitents as to form a community requiring a government, and, the +necessity of this being made plain to them through a vision, in which +Bernardo saw a silver ladder suspended between heaven and earth, on +which white-robed monks were ascending accompanied by angels, he was +urged to go to Avignon and obtain an audience of the Pope, who gave to +the community the rule of St. Benedict. + +For a century the friars labored in building their convent to +accommodate the needs of their ever-increasing numbers: the one vast +cloister was not enough, and another was added; the primitive chapel was +enlarged into a stately church, and the abbey walls were extended until, +enclosing the garden, they covered the entire promontory. Then they +ceased from their labors, and began to establish other monasteries and +send out swarms from the mother-hive to fill them, until the executive +and administrative ability to govern a small kingdom had to be supplied +from their numbers, and manual work had to give way to mental. + +Another century found the abbey governed by men of culture and lovers of +the fine arts; and the celebrated painted cloister, the intarsia-work, +and the wooden sculptures, which now attract so many visitors, date from +that time. Nearly all the movable works of art, the pictures, +illuminated missals, and precious manuscripts, were confiscated at the +time of the first suppression under Napoleon, in 1810; and whatever else +could be carried off went in 1866, when the religious orders were +suppressed by the Italian government, to embellish the museums. Still, +the empty cloister, with Signorelli's and Sodoma's frescos on the walls, +Fra Giovanni of Verona's intarsia-work in the church, and the solitary +monastery itself, so silent after centuries of activity, have an +inexpressible charm, and travellers who undertake a pilgrimage hither +can never forget their impressions. + +On a sunny autumn afternoon three ladies left Siena in a light wagon, +and drove over the gray upland, which was shrouded in a pale blue mist, +through the picturesque hamlet of Buonconvento. Here they changed their +horse and left the Roman highway for the road cut in the rocks five +centuries ago by the monks of Monte Oliveto. These pious men understood +little of engineering, of the art of throwing bridges across ravines. +Their road simply followed the course pointed out by nature, winding in +serpentine folds through the labyrinth of chasms which begin at +Buonconvento. + +It was toward evening when the party drove over a narrow bridge across a +half-filled moat, and under the arch of a massive crenellated tower +whose unguarded gates stood wide open. A hundred years ago they would +have found the portcullis drawn, and, being women, if they had attempted +to force an entrance would have been excommunicated, for until the +suppression no woman's foot was allowed across this threshold. The tower +was built as a protection against bandits, and the grated windows which +give it a sinister look to-day lighted the cells of refractory brothers, +placed here to catch the eye of novices as they entered the outer portal +and serve as a silent warning. + +The convent was still invisible, and our three visitors were speculating +on what they would find at the end of the grass-grown _allée_ bordered +with cypresses, when they saw, in a ravine below, a white-robed figure +hastening toward them. + +"That must be the Padre Abbate," one of them exclaimed. "I hope he has +received our padre's letter telling of our coming, for it would be worse +than an attack of the bandits of old, our falling upon him at this hour +on a Saturday evening without any warning." + +They had alighted in front of the church when the padre arrived quite +out of breath,--a tall, stately old man, with white hair flowing over +the turned-back cowl of his spotless white robe. If they had known +nothing of him before, his courtly manner and easy reception would have +revealed his noble lineage. + +"Be welcome, be welcome, my daughters, to the lonely Thebaid. I have +received the padre's letter, and am happy to receive his friends as my +honored guests for a month, if you can support the solitude so long," he +added, smiling. "And, now, which is the signora, and which the Signorina +Giulia and the Signorina Margherita?" + +"I am the signora," said one of the three, laughing, the last one would +have suspected of being a matron. She had lost her husband at twenty, +and her four years of European travel had been a seeking after +forgetfulness, until she had grown to be satisfied with the +companionship of two gentle women artists, who, absorbed in their +vocation, walked in God's ways and were blessed with peace and +happiness. + +After each had found her place and name in the padre's pure, soft Tuscan +accent, he led the way to the convent door, apologizing for the meagre +hospitality he could offer them. "Would the signore like some bread and +wine before supper?" What could they know of the hours in an abbey, +where it was an almost unheard-of distinction to be received as personal +guests, tourists in general having their own refectory set apart for +them during their stay? and so they declined. They had by this time +reached a low, arched side-door, which grated on its hinges after the +padre had turned the huge key in the rusty lock and opened it. They +entered a wide stone vestibule, and found themselves opposite another +arched door set in arabesque stone carvings: the flags echoed under +their feet as they turned to the right and traversed a low, vaulted +passage that ended in an open cloister. An arched gallery ran round the +four sides, held up by slender, dark stone pillars, above which was a +row of small arched cell windows. The court was paved with flags, and in +the centre was a well, divested of pulley and rope. An impression of +melancholy began to weigh upon the guests, when a great shaggy dog came +springing toward them, barking. The padre quieted him with, "Down, Piro! +down!" adding, "He is very good, though his manner is a little rough: he +is not used to ladies. But he will not be so impolite again, I am sure." + +"Oh, I hope he will," said Julia: "it is delightful to see him bound +about here, where it is so strange and quiet." + +They traversed one side of the gallery, another low, vaulted corridor, +and came to another cloister, with painted walls, more arches, more +columns, lighter and more graceful, above which, around the three sides, +were two rows this time of cell windows; a beautiful open vaulted +gallery filled the third side, and was carried up through the second +story. Here was another well, out of which ivy-branches had grown and +twined until the curb was one mass of dark-green, shining vines lying on +a bed of moss. Presently they came to a broad stone staircase, at the +head of which "_Silenzio_" was written over an archway that led into a +corridor so long and wide as to seem a world of empty space; on either +side was an unending row of doors, all of them closed. + +On many of the doors were inscriptions in Latin: eight, one after the +other, were marked, "_Visitator primus, secundus_," etc. + +"These are our quarters, then," said Julia. "But are only eight visitors +allowed at a time?" + +The padre laughed at the question. "These rooms were intended for the +visitors appointed to attend our general convocations, at which eight +hundred of our order met here every three years to elect a new general +and discuss our welfare; but the necessity for such visitors has passed +away with our existence. I can remember when all these cells were +filled; and there are three hundred on this floor, and as many more +above. You are surprised, I see, at the number of doors: there are so +many because each cell has its anteroom, where we studied and meditated +and prayed." + +They stopped at length before a door marked "_Rev. Pater Vicar. +Generalis_," which was at the end of the corridor. Unlocking the door, +the padre invited them in. + +"One of you will be lodged here, and, if you are not too tired, we will +look at your other quarters before you sit down to rest." + +So saying, he led the way through five rooms, unlocked a door at the +farther end, conducted them across another corridor of the same +dimensions as the firsthand unlocked another door; when, suddenly +recollecting himself, he said, "You will not be afraid to be separated? +There is nothing here to disturb you,--nothing but these cats; and I +will see that they do not annoy you." + +Then the ladies noticed for the first time in the growing darkness four +cats, which turned out to be the padre's bodyguard, attending him +wherever he went. Of course they were not afraid: they were only sorry +to put their kind host to so much trouble. And so they proceeded to +inspect a small cell with a bed and praying-stool and tripod with a +basin for all the furniture. The anteroom had a table and chair, and an +engraving or two on the walls. Next to this cell was another just like +it, for which they agreed to draw lots, and then went to the padre's +anteroom for a book which he said would tell all about the history of +the abbey. + +Such masses of keys as were everywhere in this room made it a perfect +curiosity,--keys for every one of the cells on this floor and above, for +the refectories, church, offices, etc., below, for rooms enough to +accommodate the emperor Charles V. and his suite of two thousand men +for a night, festooned in bunches around the walls,--so that in the dusk +the room seemed lined with curious bas-reliefs in steel. Piles of books +were heaped on the table with surgical instruments, medicine-bottles, +and bags of dried seeds. + +After this inspection in the twilight, they went back to the padre +vicar's _salon_ to rest, when their host took leave of them to give +orders to Beppo about the rooms and to send a light. Then they sank into +what seats they could find, and tried to collect themselves. + +Presently a low knock was heard, the door was pushed open, and a tall, +dark youth in sandals and white apron came in, with "_Buona sera, +signore_," and left a lucerna--the graceful brass Tuscan lamp, with +three branches for oil and wick--on the table. A large room with two +windows now became visible, with a sofa, chairs, a table, and +white-tiled stove, and many engravings on the white walls. + +At nine o'clock the prospect of supper was almost too faint to be +entertained, and the signora was just opening her mouth to say, "Of +course the padre has forgotten all about us," when they heard in the +distance a faint footstep approaching, and the padre appeared with a +taper in one hand and a magnificent red silk coverlet in the other. "For +the signora's bed," he explained, and went to leave it in the bedroom. +Then he came and sat down, apologizing for having left them so long, and +commenced what would have been for his listeners a most interesting +conversation if it had been after supper. He told how he had been there +thirty years,--first as student, then as frate, and finally as abbot. +Since 1866 he had been alone with two monks. To-morrow he would show +them the cell just above their heads, which he had occupied seventeen +years in silence, except when he had permission to speak. Suddenly, +looking at his watch, he said, "It is half-past nine o'clock, and no +doubt you are now hungry." And, no one gainsaying the supposition, he +relighted his taper and led the way to the refectory. The shadows all +about were black and mysterious enough, but they were too tired to be +troubled about them, and were already half-way down a staircase, when +the signora looked back, and, if she had not seized the balustrade, +would have fallen; for standing at the head of the staircase was a white +figure, holding a taper above a cowled head, out of which a pair of dark +eyes was looking at her steadfastly. The padre's voice, calling out, +"Signora, you are left in the dark," reassured her and gave her courage +to turn and run down to join the others, who were disappearing through a +low door. This led into what seemed an immense hall, judging from the +echoes. They passed by heavy stone columns supporting a ceiling in round +Romanesque arches on their way toward the one spot of light which came +from a lucerna that stood on one end of a very long table spread for +supper. They were looking around bewildered for their places, when they +were not a little startled to hear the padre say, "Signore, this is Fra +Lorenzo, my son in the Lord." The signora was of course the least +surprised, for she recognized her apparition. They received a silent +salutation from a young spiritual-looking monk, with the handsomest +face, they afterward agreed, they had ever seen. The four cats, Piro, +and another shaggy monster of a dog completed the company and shared the +visitors' supper, preferring their soup and chicken to the +Saturday-evening fare of the monks of boiled beans and olive oil. The +strangely-mixed party found much to interest each other, and, as the +signora laughed once or twice merrily over the division of the +chicken-bones between the dogs and the cats, she found Fra Lorenzo's +eyes fixed upon her with a look of wonder; at other times he kept his +eyes on his plate and uttered not a word. The chicken was followed by +figs and peaches, cheese and Vino Santo, which the signora drank out of +a tall glass with the arms of the order engraved on it. + +When they returned to their _salon_, the padre followed them to say, +"You were surprised at Fra Lorenzo's appearance,--I think a little +startled, too. He is gentle and good as an angel, and this is the first +time he ever inspired fear in any one,--poor boy! He is my nephew, and I +have had him with me ever since his infancy, when his parents died. I am +his guardian, and have made him a priest and Benedictine as the best +thing I could do for him, although his rank and talents would enable him +to play a distinguished _rôle_ in the world. But, thanks be to God, he +is a devout follower of Christ, and a most useful one. He is now +twenty-five years of age; and I do not think we have a better decipherer +of manuscripts in the Church than he, since he is conversant with most +of the Oriental tongues, although so young. I sometimes fear God will +visit me for bestowing too much affection upon the boy. I strive against +it, but he remains the light of my eyes. If it be a sin, God forgive +me." + +As the signora was putting out the light at her bedside, her eyes fell +upon the basin of holy water hanging above it. She wondered who had +dipped his fingers last in it, and if any one had ever before slept in +that bed without first kneeling before the ivory crucifix above the +praying-stool. And with these conjectures she fell asleep. It seemed to +her that she had been lying there only a short time when she heard a +distant door open and shut softly, then another and another, all the way +down the corridor, until the sound seemed very near; then a breath of +wind struck her cheek, which came through the outer door of her boudoir, +which she had forgotten to lock, and which some one had just opened. She +was on the point of springing out of bed to try to reach the door of the +bedroom before any one could enter, when a monk came through and stopped +at the foot of her bed. His cowl was drawn so far down over his eyes +that the point of it stood straight up above his head. His hands were +crossed over his breast, under his white robe; when, drawing his right +one out and pointing his bony finger, he said, "You heretic, what are +you doing here?" Without waiting for an answer, he passed on, and +another took his place, repeating the question. This was the beginning +of a procession of all the monks who had ever been in the monastery. +From time to time one particularly old and gaunt left the line and came +and sat down by the bedside, until there were eight, four on each side +of it. After a while Fra Lorenzo came walking with the others. He looked +at her with his melancholy eyes and made a motion to stop, but the friar +behind gave him a push and forced him forward. His low voice came to her +as he was passing through the door: "I would sprinkle you with the holy +water if I could, signora: but you see I must obey my superiors." Then +the procession ended, and she was left alone with the eight, one of whom +said to her, "Now you must go down to the crypt under the church, to be +judged for your presumption." And as they rose to seize her, she found +they were skeletons. In her effort to escape from them she awoke, +trembling in every fibre. Her waking sensations were scarcely less +terrible than her dream, for she shook so that she imagined some one was +pulling at the bedclothes. The strain could be borne no longer, and with +a spring she sat up, and her hand touched the silk coverlet. It was like +the hand of a friend. She thought of the padre, of his angelic goodness. +How could she be afraid here, where he was sovereign priest? Still, she +must satisfy herself about the door: so, lighting the lamp, she went +through all the rooms, and found both the outer doors locked. She was +again putting out the light, when a prolonged cry sounded outside the +window. It flashed through her mind that she had read somewhere that +brigands repeat the cry of wild birds as a signal when making an attack. +Perhaps a whole band was preparing to come in upon her through the +windows she had forgotten to examine. There is no knowing to what +desperate fancies her fevered imagination might have tortured her, if a +whole chorus of hoots had not commenced. So, concluding that if they +were not real owls, but men with evil intentions so stupid as to make so +much noise, they were not worth lying awake for, she resolutely turned +over and went to sleep, and only awoke as the convent-bell was ringing +for mass. + +As she opened the windows and looked across the ravine to the gray rocks +beyond, the scene was so peaceful, such a reproachful commentary upon +the troubled night, that she concluded to keep silent about it. And +then, since neither her friends nor the coffee presented themselves, she +set to work to examine the engravings. The first one her eye fell upon +made her start, look again, and finally climb up on the bed and lift it +off the rusty nail, covering herself with dust in the operation, and +carry it to the window. "Yes," she said finally, after having examined +it and the text, a mixture of Latin and old Italian, very thoroughly, +"it is the same, the very same: this discovery would compensate for a +whole series of nights such as I have just been through." And, putting +it down, she ran to her travelling-bag and drew from its depths a very +small painting on copper, and compared them. Hearing just then her +friends at the door, she ran to open it with both pictures in her hands. +"What do you think? I have made a discovery. Look! My picture on copper, +which Pippo in Siena found in the little dark antiquary-shop after his +brother's death and sold to me for sixty cents, is the same as this old +engraving of the famous Annunciation picture in the Church of the +Santissima Annunziata in Florence, which is only unveiled in times of +national calamity. You know, the people believe it was painted by +angels. Here, you see, the text says it was revered in 1252, the artist +being unknown. I knew the original of my picture must be very old, for +Mary is saying in this Latin scroll coming out of her mouth, 'Behold, +the servant of the Lord,' and only the earliest painters, unable to +express their idea by the vivacity of their figures, made their mission +apparent by the scrolls coming from their mouths." They were still +examining the engraving, when the padre came to take coffee with them +and to ask if they would go down to mass, which would commence in a few +minutes. There was only time for him to say that he hoped the owls had +not disturbed them, adding, as they were on their way to the church, +"They are our bane, devouring the chickens and keeping us awake. It is a +never-ending, but perhaps needful, discipline." + +Fra Lorenzo was officiating at the altar as they entered the large +church, before a small number of peasants, the women making a +picturesque group in their light flowered bodices and their red +petticoats visible from beneath their tucked-up gowns, and their gay +cotton handkerchiefs knotted about their heads, since no woman's head +may be uncovered in the Catholic Church. + +The padre came soon to escort them about the church, and "to show them +what little had been left," he said, pointing to the empty chapels. They +found enough, however, to fill them with admiration in dear, good Fra +Giovanni of Verona's marqueterie-work in the backs of the stalls, which +extended the whole length of the long church, as is customary in +monasteries where the monks are the sole participants at the holy +offices. "While Fra Giovanni was here as one of our order," the padre +explained, "he finished the stalls which are now in the cathedral of +Siena. They were taken from us in 1813. After we were allowed to come +back, we asked to have our stalls replaced by those in a monastery in +Siena which was being torn down, and so these stalls were sent us: they +are by Fra Giovanni's own hand. He has never been equalled in this kind +of work, for which he invented the staining of the woods to produce +light and shade, and perfected the perspective which Brunelleschi +invented while resting from his labors on the Florentine dome. The +different Italian cities on the hill-sides, the vistas down the long +streets, with palaces and churches on either side, half-open missals, +Biblical musical instruments, rolls of manuscript music, birds in gay +plumage, all perfectly represented in minute pieces of wood, excite the +wonder of every one whose privilege it is to examine them at leisure." + +As on their way to the cloister they passed through the sacristy, once +heaped with vessels of gold and silver, embroidered vestures, ivory and +ebony sculptures, and splendid illuminated missals, now bare and empty, +the padre said sorrowfully, "Only the walls are left to the guardianship +of these feeble hands, which must soon give up their trust." When, +however, they emerged into the cloister he brightened up, saying, "Here +you will have enough to occupy you the whole month;" and the two artists +of the party drew a breath of satisfaction at finding themselves at last +before the object of their pilgrimage,--the frescos of Signorelli and +Sodoma, representing scenes in the life of St. Benedict, which they were +going to copy. They walked slowly found the four sides, lingering where +Signorelli's deeper sentiment gave them cause for study. He was called +to Monte Oliveto first, and painted only one wall. It was only after +three years that the young unknown Bazzi was summoned, and in an +incredibly short time he completed the other three with his fanciful +creations, as graceful and airy as his character was light and +frivolous. His beautiful faces and figures came from his heart; his +brain had little to do with his work, as, without the evidence of sight +of it, the name given to him by the public--Sodoma, meaning +arch-fool--would indicate. Signorelli, on the contrary, had his ideal in +his brain, and labored to reproduce it; and his efforts are graver and +more elevated. It is to be lamented that his mineral paints have changed +their colors in many places from white to black, and that his green +trees have become blue. + +The padre had studied these frescos so thoroughly as to discover that +Sodoma had sometimes spent only three days on a fresco, by tracing the +joinings where the fresh plaster had been applied, which had to be +finished before it dried. This gifted, careless painter had the habit of +scratching out his heads, if they did not please him, with the handle of +his brush; and thus some of them appear to us in the nineteenth century, +four hundred years after. + +They spent the rest of the day here. Fra Lorenzo joined them at dinner, +and in the evening they walked with the padre beyond the tower to see +the spires of the Siena cathedral through the lovely poisonous blue +mist. On the way back they stopped in the tangled, overgrown garden at +the foot of the tower, which had once been filled with rare medicinal +plants, and peeped into the deserted pharmacy in the lower story, where +the shelves were still filled with rare old pottery jars with the three +mounts and cross and olive-branches upon them. "I am the only physician +now," said the padre, "and must have my medicines nearer home." In +walking over the rocks the visitors noticed, to their surprise, that, +instead of being barren, they were covered with the thick growth of a +short plant, which, like the chameleon, had made itself invisible by +turning gray like the rock. In answer to their inquiries they learned +that it was the absinthe plant, belonging to the same family as the +Swiss plant from which the liquor is made that is eating up the brains +of the French nation; but here it forms the harmless food of the sheep, +and from their milk the famous creta cheese is made,--"called creta from +the rock, which means in English chalk, I think," continued the padre. +"You have noticed its pungent taste at table, have you not?" The ladies +hastened to repair their omission, for it is so celebrated that they +ought to have said something about it. After age has hardened and +mellowed it, no cheese in Italy is so highly esteemed. + +They went, too, to see how the young eucalyptus-trees were +flourishing,--the object of the padre's great solicitude. "We cannot +sleep with our windows open, on account of the bad air, and I have been +corresponding with the Father Trappists in the Roman Campagna about the +cultivation of these trees as a purifier, and am most anxious as to the +result. If I could reduce the fever among the poor people about here, I +should be more content to leave them when my summons comes." + +The owls were flying above them in the cypresses as they neared the +convent, and came swooping down above their heads as the padre imitated +their melancholy hoot. Seeing Beppo in the distance, he called to him to +go for the guns. Whether owls merit to be the symbol of wisdom or no, +they flew away in ever wider circles as soon as the guns and dogs +appeared, and could not be decoyed back. The last rays of light lit up +the gun-barrels as the party went in at the heavy door: the clashing +sound of the bolt and chains, the yelping of the dogs, the guns +glistening in the glimmer of light which came in through the cloister, +made a scene which must often have had its counterparts in the feudal +keeps of the Middle Ages, when the robber knights returned with their +booty. + +After supper they went to see a marvel of concealed treasure stored away +in one of the upper cells,--priestly robes and altar-cloths shimmering +in gold and silver: some of these robes were more beautiful than any +they had seen in the treasuries of Rome. Pure gold they were, wrought in +emblems of divinity. "These are presents to the monastery from our +family," said Fra Lorenzo. "These simpler ones, embroidered with the +silk flowers, are Fra Giorgio's work. He is now away from the convent, +and I am sorry he cannot hear you admire his robes." It was midnight +before the glittering heap was folded away, and the night which followed +was one of sound repose. + +Next morning the signora was leaning over the brink of the ivy-crowned +well, trying to reach a spray twined thick with moss that grew in a +crevice of the stones just beyond her reach. "Signora," a low voice +said, "you ought not to lean so far: you might fall in, and the water is +very deep. What is it you want? Let me get it for you." And Fra Lorenzo, +following her direction, drew up the spray sparkling with moisture. + +"It is beautiful enough for a crown for a god," said she, twining it +together at the ends. "Will you let me turn you into Apollo for a +moment?" And, without thinking, she let it fall lightly on his head. +"No Apollo was ever so beautiful," she involuntarily exclaimed. "If only +you had a lyre!" + +The action, not the admiration, was reprehensible. She was a woman of +the world, and should have thought; and this she realized as her eyes +fell upon his face, where a revelation was unfolding itself. There was +something in this life which he had never thought about, never dreamed +of; and the light which shone out of his dark eyes was deeper than that +of wonder. She would have given the world to take back her +thoughtlessness, for she felt she had given an angel to eat of the +forbidden fruit. + +The signora was a good woman, with all her worldly knowledge, but a +subtile charm of expression and manner made her a very beautiful woman +at times, and this moment, unfortunately for two good persons, was one +of these. She was just reaching for the crown, when the padre came into +the cloister and stopped with amazement as his eye fell on the group. +"Fra Lorenzo," said he, after a moment, "you are sent for to go to +Casale Montalcino: Giuseppe is dying; and you will stay there until the +last offices are finished." + +The young monk seemed under a spell which he shook off with difficulty. +"I go, padre," he said, and started. + +As he passed before the padre, the latter reached for the crown and +threw it into the well, saying, "This beseemeth little a tonsured head." +Then he turned to the signora and asked her if she had examined the +fresco just behind them. "It is worth much study," he went on, "for many +reasons. The subject enabled Sodoma to throw more expression into it +than usual. You see, St. Benedict is resisting the temptation his +enemies prepared for him in introducing these beautiful women secretly +into the monastery. Being so completely a man of God, he overcame the +evil one without an effort; but it is not given to us all to overcome as +he did, and a zephyr from the outer world may waft us an evil which must +be atoned for by long penitence in our lonely cells. Not that I liken +you to a tempter," he added, seeing her confusion and distress: "you +have only forgotten that we are servants of God and must think of +nothing but our duty in serving him." + +"Oh, padre, I would give everything if I had not forgotten it! You must +think of me as a good woman, for indeed I deserve it." + +"I do think of you as such, and am sure the lesson will not be +forgotten," was the crumb of comfort upon which she fed all the rest of +the day and for several days following, during which Fra Lorenzo had not +reappeared. The fountain-scene had not been mentioned to her friends, so +one day at dinner Margaret said, "Do the offices for the dead generally +require so much time, that Lorenzo does not return?" + +"Fra Lorenzo is here," was the answer. "He was only absent one night. He +is very much occupied: that is why you do not see him." + +The next day they were to be shown the library, and at the hour set the +signora went to the padre's reception-room to see if he were ready. He +was just reaching for the key, when a peasant appeared, his hand +bleeding from a cut which had nearly dissevered the thumb. This +necessitated a delay, and the padre went down with him to the +dispensary. "While you are waiting," he said, "perhaps you would like to +go up into the pavilion, where you can look over the Maremma to the sea. +Go up that stair," and he pointed to the end of a corridor, "to the +first landing, then turn to the left." + +As she went up the stair her eye was caught by a carved ceiling at the +top of it. "I suppose I ought to go that far," she thought, and up she +went, until she found herself in a room frescoed with portraits of the +distinguished men of the order. In the middle of one wall was a +magnificently-carved folding-door, with fruits and flowers and twining +foliage with rare birds sitting among the tendrils. She was examining +these details, when she discovered that the door was ajar. A slight +push, and she was in a large, beautiful hall, where three lofty vaulted +aisles were supported by slender marble columns with richly-carved +capitals. At the end of the centre aisle a staircase in the form of a +horseshoe led to a gallery. The walls up-stairs and down, sparsely +filled with books, told her she was in the library. + +"It will be all the same to the padre," she thought, "if I wait here +instead of in the pavilion," and she was half-way down the hall, her +eyes glued to the shelves, when she came suddenly upon Fra Lorenzo +sitting before a table covered with manuscripts in the niche of a deep +window. He must have been aware of her presence from the first, for his +eyes were fixed upon her with a look of intense expectancy. + +"I was thinking of you, signora, and you come to me," was his strange +salutation. + +She felt she must be composed at any cost: so she said, in as easy a +tone as she could command, "I should like to know what resemblance there +is between me and these dusty old manuscripts, that you think of me as +you copy them. You are copying them, are you not?" + +"No, signora, I do nothing: you are always between me and my work. Why +did you look at me so at the fountain? But no; forgive me: I was +thinking of you before that. From the first evening in the refectory +your laugh has been ringing in my heart. You seemed to me like a +beautiful light in the shadows of our old hall." + +She was moving quickly away, when he reached after her and touched her +sleeve. "You are not angry?" + +"No," she answered. "I would only remind you that you belong to God in +body and soul, and when you think of me you commit a deadly sin, for +which never-ending penance can scarcely atone." + +"Signora, you are right. The penance does so little for me now. All +night long I was before the crucifix in the church, and while I prayed I +felt better; but when morning came and I thought of the long, lonely +years I must spend here sinning against God and finding no rest, with +you always in my heart--What can I do? You are good; tell me what I can +do." + +The pain of this innocent, beautiful life was a weight too heavy for +her to bear, and she felt herself giving way under it. "Pray," she +stammered,--"pray for us both, for we must never meet again." She +reached the door, went down the stair, and, turning mechanically to the +right, found herself at last in the pavilion, where she leaned against +the parapet and looked into space. She had lost the capacity of +thinking. + +It was fortunate the padre was so long delayed, for when he came up at +last with the signorine she had so far recovered herself as to be +standing upright, apparently absorbed in the view. + +"I don't wonder this view has made you speechless," her friends called +out. "It is simply glorious." + +"Yes," said the padre: "on these cliffs we seem on the brink of +eternity; down there among the morasses of the Maremma man cannot stay +his feet; and beyond is the sea." + +"How beautiful the thought," said Julia, "that good men dying here have +no longer need to stay their feet! One step from these cliffs, and they +must be in heaven." + +"Who knows, who knows," sighed the padre, "if any of us have found it +so? But now let us go to the library." + +The signora followed them, since she could not do otherwise. They +stopped before the carved door, which the padre said was undoubtedly Fra +Giovanni's own work, and he pointed out the details of the beautiful +workmanship. At length he opened the door, which the signora felt sure +she had not closed. One glance around the hall showed her it was empty. + +The padre was too much occupied with his emotions over the +scantily-supplied shelves, and the ladies with their surprise and +admiration, to notice her excited condition, which she at length +succeeded in quieting enough to hear the padre say, "They have taken our +precious manuscripts from us, dating as far back as the eleventh +century. Many of our order had spent their lives translating and copying +manuscripts, and our greatest loss is here. Fra Lorenzo is just now +translating some Latin chronicles of our first history into Italian. You +can see by his beautiful handwriting that he is a worthy disciple of his +learned predecessors. But how is this?"--as he searched among the rolls +of yellow parchment. "I see he has not yet commenced it." The old man +looked troubled, and, turning from the table, went on: "These carved +depositories for the choral-books, and the frescos at the head of the +stairs, are about all you can admire here now, except the architecture +of the hall." + +The padre was very silent at dinner. He only said, noticing that the +signora ate nothing, "This will not do, my daughter. You look ill. You +must eat something, or I shall have two patients on my hands." + +"Who is the other?" asked Margaret and Julia in a breath. + +"Fra Lorenzo." + +The signora longed to speak with him in private. She must go away at +once, but she must speak with him before she said anything to her +friends. All the afternoon she watched for an opportunity, but found +none. At length, when it was growing dark, she went to walk in the +corridor, hoping to meet him. She had come to the open gallery looking +into the cloister. Here she would wait for him; and, leaning against the +open-work railing, she looked down. A white figure was walking to and +fro. Finally it came to the well and looked into it. Now another white +figure emerged from the shadows, and, laying an arm around the first, +led it gently away out of sight. Then her overstrained nerves gave way, +and she fainted. + +When she recovered her senses she found herself in bed. The padre and +her friends were talking in whispers in the next room, but the former's +voice came to her distinctly. He was saying, "Now you know all. You must +take her away as soon as possible." + +A year after, in Naples, the ladies received these few lines from the +padre: "God in his infinite mercy has taken my son to himself." + +KATE JOHNSTON MATSON. + + + + +THE SUBSTITUTE. + + +CHARACTERS. + +MR. NATHANIEL NOKES, _a Retired Wine-Merchant_. + +MR. CHARLES NOKES, _his Nephew_. + +MR. ROBINSON, MR. SPONGE, MR. RASPER, _Friends of Mr. Nokes the Elder_. + +Waiter. + +SUSAN, _Housemaid at the Hotel of the Four Seasons_. + +MRS. CHARLES NOKES. + +Landlady. + + +SCENE I.--_A handsome first-floor apartment in the Hotel of the Four +Seasons, Paris. Outside the window, the court-yard, with fountain, and +little trees in large pots._ + + _Enter MR. NATHANIEL NOKES, with a small book in his hand, very + smartly dressed, but in great haste, and with his shirt-collar much + dishevelled. [Rings the bell violently.]_ + +What's the good of these confounded French phrase-books? Who wants to +know how to ask for artichoke soup, or how far it is to Dijon? I want a +button sewn on my shirt-collar, and there's not one word about that. + + _Enter Waiter_. + +_Nokes._ Hi! what's-your-name! _Voulez-vous--avoir--la--bonté--de--_[I'm +always civil and very distinct, but, somehow, I can never make myself +understood.] I am going to be married, my good man; to be married--_tout +de suite_--immediately, and there is no time to change my--my _chemise +d'homme_. [Come, he'll understand _that_.] I want this button--button, +button, button sewn on. Here, here--_here_. [_Points to his throat._] +Don't you see, you fool? [He thinks I want him to cut my throat. I shall +never be in time at the Legation!] Idiot! Dolt! Send _Susan_, Susan, _à +moi_, to me--or I'll kick you into the court-yard. [_Exit Waiter, with +precipitation._] + +_Nokes [alone]._ And this is what they call a highly-civilized country! +Talk of "a strong government" at home: what's the use of its being +strong, if it can't make foreigners speak our language? What's the good +of missionary enterprise, when here's a Christian man, within twelve +hours of London, who can't get a shirt-button sewn on for want of the +Parisian accent? I said "button, button, button," plain enough, I'm +sure; and a button's a button all the world over. If it had not been for +that excellent Susan, the English chambermaid, I should have perished in +this place, of what the coroner's inquests call "want of the necessaries +of life." All depends, as every one knows, on a man's shirt-button: if +_that_ goes wrong, everything goes, and one's attire is a wreck. But I +suppose after to-day my wife will see to that,--though she is a +Montmorenci. Constance de Montmorenci, that's her name: she's descended +(she says) from a Constable of France. It's a more English-seeming name +than _gendarme_, and I like her for that; but I am afraid we shan't have +much in common--except my property. She don't speak English very +fluently: she called me "my dove" the other day, instead of "my duck," +which is ridiculous. She is not twenty, and I am over sixty,--which is +perhaps also ridiculous. + +Well, it's all Charles's fault, not mine. If he chooses to go and marry +a beggar-girl without my consent, he must take the consequences,--if +there are a dozen of them,--and support them how he can. "If you persist +in this wicked and perverse resolve," said I, "_I'll_ marry also, before +the year's out." And now I'm going to do it,--if I can only get this +shirt-button sewn on. He shall not have a penny of what I have to leave +behind me. The little Nokes-Montmorencis shall have it all. She's a most +accomplished creature is Constance. Sings, they tell me,--for it's not +in English, so I don't understand it,--divinely; plays ditto; draws +ditto. Speaks every language (except English) with equal facility +and--Thank goodness, here's Susan. + + _Enter SUSAN, with housemaid's broom._ + +_Susan._ What do you please to want, sir? + +_Nokes._ _You_, Susan; you, first of all, and then a shirt-button. I +have not five minutes to spare. My bride is probably already at the +Embassy, expressing her impatience in various continental tongues. +_Vite_,--look sharp, Susan. [_Aside._] Admirable woman!--she carries +buttons about with her. I wonder whether the Montmorenci will do +that.--Take care!--don't run the needle into me! + +_Susan._ You must not talk, sir, or else I can't help it. Please to hold +your head up a little higher. + +_Nokes._ I shall do that when I've married the Montmorenci. [_She pricks +him._] Oh! oh! + +_Susan._ I'm sure I hope as you'll be happy with her, sir; but you seem +so fond of old England that I doubt whether you ought not to have chosen +your wife from your native land. It seems a pity to be marrying in such +haste, just because your poor nephew--_pray_ don't speak, sir, or I +shall certainly run the needle into you--just because Mr. Charles has +gone and wedded the girl of his choice. + +_Nokes [passionately]._ Hold your tongue, Susan! [_She pricks him +again._] Oh! oh! + +_Susan._ There, sir, I told you what would happen. All I say is, I hope +you may not marry in haste to repent at leisure. A fortnight is such a +very short time to have known a lady before making her your bride. +There, sir; I think the button will keep on now. + +_Nokes._ Then I'm off, Susan. But, before I go, I must express my thanks +to you for looking after me so attentively in this place. Here's a +five-pound note for you. [_Aside_] I could almost find it in my heart to +give her a kiss; but perhaps the Montmorenci wouldn't like it. + +_Susan [gratefully]._ Oh, thank you, sir. May all happiness attend you, +sir! and when you're married yourself, sir, don't be too hard upon that +poor nephew of yours-- + +_Nokes [angrily]._ Be quiet. [_Exit hastily._] + +_Susan [alone]._ Now, there's as kind-hearted an old gentleman as ever +lived,--and as good a one, too, if it was not for pigheadedness and +tantrums. The idea of a five-pound note merely for helping him to get +his victuals! He's been just like a baby in this 'ere 'otel, and I've +been a mother to him. He couldn't 'a' got a drop o' milk if it hadn't +been for me. Poor dear old soul! What a pity it is he should have such a +temper! He is taking a wife to-day solely to keep a hasty word uttered +agen his nephew and heir. Mademoiselle Constance de Montmorenci! ah, +I've heard of her before to-day. Nanette, the head-chambermaid here, was +once her lady's-maid. _She's_ known her for more than a fortnight. +Constance is a fine name, but it ain't quite the same as Constancy. Poor +Mr. Nokes! What a mistake it was in him to drive all thoughts of +matrimony off to the last, and then to come to Paris--of all places--to +do it! What a curious thing is sympathy! He met her in the tidal train, +and they were taken ill together on board the steamboat; that's how it +came about. Poor old soul! He deserves a better fate. [_Takes her broom +and leans on it reflectively._] Heigh-ho! His honest English face was +pleasant to look upon in this here outlandish spot; and none has been so +kind to me since my poor missis died and left me under this roof, +without money enough to pay my passage back to England. I was glad +enough to take service here; for why should I go back to a country where +there is not a soul to welcome me? And yet I should like to see dear old +England again, too. [_Tumult without. Mr. Nokes is seen rushing madly up +the court-yard. Tumult in the passage; French and English voices at high +pitch. Nokes without:_ Idiots! Frog-eaters! What is it I want? Nothing! +nothing but to see France sunk in the sea!] + + _Enter NOKES (dishevelled and purple with passion, with an open + letter in his hand; bangs the door behind him)._ + +_Susan._ What is the matter, sir? + +_Nokes._ Everything is the matter. You see this lily-white waistcoat; +you see these matrimonial does [_points to his trousers_], these +polished-leather boots, which are at this moment pinching me most +confoundedly, though I don't feel it, because I'm in such a passion: +well, they have been put on for nothing. I've been made a fool of by the +Montmorenci. But if there's justice in heaven,--that is, in Paris,--if +there's law in France, and blighted hopes are compensated in this +country as they are at home, the hussy shall smart for it. Directly I'm +married myself, I'll bring an action against her for breach of promise. + +_Susan._ Married yourself, sir? + +_Nokes._ Of course I'm going to be married,--at once, +immediately,--within the week. There's only a week left to the end of +the year. Do you suppose--does my nephew Charles suppose--no, for he +knows me better--that I am not going to keep my word? that because the +Montmorenci has played me false at the eleventh hour I am going to +remain a bachelor for seven days longer? Never, Susan, never! [_Walks +hastily up and down the room._] + +_Susan._ Lor, sir, do pray be a little quiet, I am sure if any young +woman was to see you in this state she must be uncommonly courageous to +take charge of such a husband. Do, pray, tell me what has happened. + +_Nokes._ Nothing has happened. That's what I complain of. Just as I +drove up to the Legation this letter was handed to me. It is from the +brother of the Montmorenci, and is supposed to be written in the English +tongue. He regrets that matters between Mademoiselle his sister and +myself have been advanced with such precipitation. + +_Susan._ Well, sir, you _were_ rather in a hurry about it, I must say. + +_Nokes._ Hurry! I was in nothing of the sort. We were in the same boat +together for hours. We suffered agonies in company. And, besides, I had +only three weeks at farthest to waste in making love to anybody. And now +I've only one week,--all because this woman did not know her own mind. + +_Susan._ How so, sir? + +_Nokes._ Why, it seems she loves somebody else better. Her brother tells +me--confound his impudence!--that this is only natural. At the same +time, he allows I have some cause to complain, and therefore offers me +the opportunity of a personal combat with what he is pleased to call the +peculiar weapon of my countrymen, the pistol. Now, I should have said +the peculiar weapon of my country was the umbrella. That is certainly +the instrument I should choose if I were compelled to engage in mortal +strife. But the idea of being shot in the liver in reparation for one's +matrimonial injuries! To be laid up in that way when there is only a +week left in which to woo and win another Mrs. Nokes! But what am I to +do now? How am I to find a respectable young woman to take me at so +short a notice? + +_Susan._ There isn't many of that sort in Paris, sir, even if you gave +'em longer. + +_Nokes._ Just so. Come, you're a sensible, good girl, and have helped me +out of several difficulties; now, do you think you can help me out of +this one? + +_Susan [demurely]._ Have you got an almanac about you, sir? + +_Nokes._ An almanac? Of course I have. I have given up the wine-trade, +but I have not given up the habit so essential to business-men of +carrying an almanac in my breast-pocket. Here it is. + +_Susan [takes almanac and looks through it attentively]._ No, sir +[_sighs_], it won't do. + +_Nokes._ What won't do? What did you expect to find that _would_ do--in +an almanac--in such a crisis as this? + +_Susan._ Well, sir [_casting down her eyes_], I was looking to see if it +was leap-year; but it isn't. + +_Nokes._ What! You were going to offer to fill the place of the +Montmorenci. You impudent little hussy! [_Aside_] Gad, she's uncommonly +pretty, though. Prettier than the other. I noticed that when she was +sewing on my shirt-button; only I didn't think it right, under the +circumstances, to dwell upon the idea. But there can't be any harm in it +_now_. + +_Susan [sobbing]._ I am afraid I have made you angry with me, Mr. Nokes. +I was only in fun, but I see now that it was taking a liberty. + +_Nokes [very tenderly and chucking her under the chin]._ We should never +take liberties, Susan. [_Kisses her._] Never. But don't cry, or you'll +make your eyes red; and I rather like your eyes. [_Aside_] I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea before, but she has got remarkably pretty eyes. +It's a dreadful come-down from the Montmorenci, to be sure: still, one +must marry _somebody_--within seven days. But then, again, I've written +such flaming accounts of the other one to all my friends. I've asked +Sponge and Rasper and Robinson to come down, and see us after the +honeymoon at "the Tamarisks," my little place near Dover. And they are +all eager to hear her sing and play, and to see her beautiful sketches +in oil--Can _you_ sing, and play, and sketch in oil, Susan? + +_Susan [gravely]._ I don't know, sir; I never tried. + +_Nokes [aside]._ Then there's her hands. The Montmorenci's, as I wrote +to Rasper, were like the driven snow; and Susan's--though I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea--are more like snow on the second day, in London. +To be sure she will have nothing to do as Mrs. Nokes except to wash 'em. +Then she can speak French like a native, or at least what will seem to +Robinson and the others like a native. Upon my life, I think I might do +worse. But then, again, she'll have relatives,--awful relatives, whom I +shall have to buy off, or, worse, who will _not_ be bought off. It's +certainly a dreadful come-down. Susan [_hesitatingly_], Susan dear, what +is your name? + +_Susan._ Montem, sir; Susan Montem. + +_Nokes [aside]._ By Jove! why, that's half-way to Montmorenci. It's not +at all a bad name. But then what's the good of that if she's going to +change it for Nokes? Oh, Montem, is it, Susan? And is your papa--your +father--alive? + +_Susan [sorrowfully]._ No, sir. + +_Nokes._ That's capital!--I mean I'm _so_ sorry. Poor girl! Your +father's dead, is he? You're sure he's dead? + +_Susan [with her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes]._ Quite sure, sir. + +_Nokes._ And your mamma,--your excellent mamma,--she's alive, at all +events? + +_Susan._ No, sir; I am an orphan. + +_Nokes [aside]._ How delightful! I love orphans. I'm an orphan myself. +Ah, but then she's sure to have brothers and sisters,--pipe-smoking, +gin-drinking brothers, and sisters who will have married idle mechanics, +with executions in their houses every quarter-day. Susan, my dear, how +many brothers and sisters have you? + +_Susan [sorrowfully]._ I have none, sir. When my dear missis died I was +left quite alone in the world. + +_Nokes._ I'm charmed to hear it [_embracing her_], adorable young woman! +[_Bell rings without._] What are they pulling that bell about for? +Confound them, it makes me nervous. + +_Susan [meekly]._ I think they're wanting me, sir: you see, sir, I'm +neglecting my work. + +_Nokes [kissing her]._ No, you're not, Susan [_kisses her again_]: quite +the contrary. So your name's Montem,--at present,--is it? How came that +about? + +_Susan._ Well, sir, I was left a foundling in the parish workhouse, at +Salthill, near Eton. Nobody knew anything about me, and as I made my +appearance there one Montem day, the board of guardians named me Montem. + +_Nokes._ And how came you to be chambermaid at this hotel? + +_Susan [seriously]._ It was through good Mr. Woodward, the curate at +Salthill, that it happened, sir: he was my benefactor through life. +Always kind to me at the workhouse, where he was chaplain, he got me a +situation, as soon as I was old enough, with a lady. I lived with her +first as housemaid, and then as her personal attendant, till she died +under this roof. + +_Nokes [aside]._ I don't wonder at that. + +_Susan._ The people of the hotel here wanted an English chambermaid, and +offered me the place, which, since my benefactor the clergyman was dead, +I accepted thankfully. + +_Nokes._ Poor girl! poor girl! [_Pats Susan's head._] There, there! your +feelings do you the greatest credit; but don't cry, because it makes +your eyes red. Now, look here, Susan; there's only one thing more. You +are very soft-hearted, I perceive, and it must be distinctly understood +between us that you need never intercede with me in favor of that +scoundrel Charles. I won't have it. You wouldn't succeed, of course, but +if I ever happen to get fond of you--I mean foolishly fond of you, of +course--your importunity might be annoying. When you are once my wife, +however, and keeping your own carriage, I confidently expect that you +will behave as other people do in that station of life, and show no +weakness in favor of your poor relations. + +_Susan._ I will endeavor, sir, in case you are so good as to marry a +humble girl like me, to do my dooty and please you in every way. + +_Nokes._ That's well said, Susan. [_Kisses her._] You _have_ pleased me +in a good many ways already. [_Aside_] I must say, though I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea before--[_Tremendous ringing of bells, and sudden +appearance of the mistress of the hotel. Tableau._] + +_Mistress of the hotel [to Nokes]._ _O vieux polisson!_ [_To Susan_] +_Coquine abominable!_ + +_Nokes [to Susan]._ What is this lunatic raving about? + +_Susan._ She remarks that I haven't finished my work on the second +floor. + +_Nokes [impatiently]._ Tell her to go to--the ground floor. Tell her you +are going to be married to me within the week, and order a +wedding-breakfast--for two--immediately. + +_Susan [aside]._ I can never tell her that, for she is a Frenchwoman, +and wouldn't believe it. I'll tell her something more melodramatic. +I'll say that Mr. Nokes is my father, who has suddenly recognized and +discovered his long-lost child.--_Madame, c'est mon père longtemps +absent, qui vous en prie d'accepter ses remerciments pour votre bonté à +son enfant._ + +_Mistress of the hotel [all smiles, and with both hands outstretched]._ +Milor, I do congratulate you. Fortunate Susan! You will nevare forget to +recommend de hotel? + +_Nokes._ Thank you, thank you; you're a sensible old woman. [_Aside_] +She evidently sees no absurd disproportion in our years.--Breakfast, +breakfast!--_déjeûner à la_ what-do-you-call-it! _champagne!_ +[_Exit landlady, smiling and bowing_.] + +_Nokes._ In the mean time, Susan, put on your bonnet and let's go out +to--whatever they call Doctors' Commons here--and order a special +license. [_Susan goes._] Stop a bit, Susan; you forget something. +[_Kisses her._] [_Aside_] I did not like to dwell upon the idea before, +but she's got a most uncommon pretty mouth. + + +SCENE II.--_Drawing-room at the Tamarisks. Garden and Sea in the +distance. Grand piano, harp, sketch-book; and huge portfolio._ + +_Nokes [less gayly attired: solus]._ Gad, I feel rather nervous. There's +Sponge, and Rasper, and Robinson, all coming down by the mid-day train +to lunch with me and my new wife,--the Montmorenci, as they imagine. +It's impossible that Susan can keep up such a delusion, and especially +as she insists on talking English. She says her _French_ is so vulgar. +But there! I don't care how she talks or what she talks, bless her. +Everything sounds well from those charming lips. She's a kind-hearted, +good girl, and worth eight hundred dozen (as I should say if I hadn't +left the wine-trade) of the other one. There was something wrong about +that Montmorenci vintage, for all her sparkle; corked or something. Now, +my Susan's _all_ good,--good the second day, good the third day, good +every day. She's like port--all the better for keeping; and she's not +like port--because there's no crustiness about her. She's a deuced +clever woman. To hear her talk broken English when the squire's wife +called here the other day was as good as a play. Everybody hereabouts +believes she's a Frenchwoman; but then they're all country-people, and +they'll believe anything. Sponge and Rasper and Robinson are all London +born,--especially Rasper,--and London people believe nothing. They +only give credit. + + _Enter SUSAN, in an in-door morning dress, but gloved._ + +_Nokes._ Well, my darling, have you screwed your courage up to meet +these three gentlemen? Upon my life, I think it would be better if I +told them at once that I had been jilted, and instead of the Montmorenci +had found The Substitute infinitely preferable to the original; for I'm +sure I _have_, Susan [_fondly_]. + +_Susan [holding up her finger]._ Constance, if you please, my dear. I'm +continually correcting that little mistake of yours. How can I possibly +keep up my dignity as a Montmorenci while you are always calling me +Susan? + +_Nokes._ Then why keep it up at all, my dear? Why not stand at once upon +your merits, which I am sure are quite sufficient? Of course it would be +a little come-down for _me_ just at first; but that's no matter. + +_Susan._ My good, kind husband! [_Kisses his forehead._] No, dear; let +me first show your friends that you have no cause to be ashamed of me. +It will be much easier to do that if they think I am a born lady. +Appearances do such a deal in the world. + +_Nokes._ Yes, my dear, I've noticed that in the wine-trade. If you were +to sell cider at eighty shillings a dozen, it would be considered +uncommon good tipple by the customer who bought it. Tell them Madeira +has been twice to China--twice to China [_chuckles to himself_]--and how +they smack their lips! That reminds me, by the bye [_seriously_], of +another set of appearances, Susan, which we have to guard against,--the +pretence and show of poverty. You must learn to steel your heart against +_that_, my dear. There's that nephew of mine been writing one of his +persistent and appealing letters again. He adjures me to have pity, if +not upon him, at all events upon his innocent Clara. But she ought not +to have been his innocent Clara, and so I've told him. She ought not to +have been his Clara at all. Now, do you remember your solemn promise to +me about that young man? + +_Susan [sighing]._ Yes, sir, I remember. + +_Nokes [angrily]._ Why do you call me "sir," Susan? + +_Susan._ Because when you look so stern and talk so severely you don't +seem to be the same good, kind-hearted husband that I know you are. I'll +keep my promise, sir, not to hold out my hand to your unfortunate +nephew, but please don't let us talk about it. It makes me feel less +reverence, less respect, and even less gratitude, sir,--it does, +indeed,--since your very generosity toward me has made me the instrument +of punishment, and--as I feel--of wrong. I have been poor myself, and +what must that young couple think of my never answering their touching +letter, put in my hands as I first crossed this threshold? + +_Nokes [testily]._ Touching letter, indeed! Any begging-letter impostor +would have written as good a one. It's all humbug, Susan. Mrs. Charles +would like to see you whipped, if I know women. And as for my +nephew--[_Noises of wheels heard, and bell rings._] But there's the +front-door bell. Here are our visitors from town. Had you not better +leave the room for a minute or two, to wash those tears away? It would +never do, you know, to exhibit a Montmorenci with red eyes. [_Exit +SUSAN._] + +_Nokes [solus]._ That's the only matter about which my dear Susan and I +are ever likely to fall out,--the extending what she calls the hand of +forgiveness to Charles and his wife, just because they've got a baby. +I'll never do it if they have twelve. I said to myself I wouldn't when +he wrote to me about this marriage, and I always keep my word. + + _Enter SPONGE, RASPER, and ROBINSON._ + +_Nokes [shaking hands with all]._ Welcome, my friends, welcome to the +Tamarisks. + +_Robinson._ Thank ye, Nokes, thank ye. But how changed we are at the +Tamarisks! [_Pointing to the piano and portfolio._] I mean how changed +we are for the better! ain't we, Sponge? ain't we, Rasper? + +_Sponge [fawningly]._ It was always a charming retreat, but we now see +everywhere, in addition to its former beauties, the magical influence of +a female hand. + +_Rasper [vulgarly]._ Yes; no doubt of that. Directly I saw the new +coach-house, I said, "By Jove, that's Mrs. N----'s doing! _She'll_ spend +his money for him, will Mrs. N----." + +_Nokes [annoyed]._ You were very good, I'm sure. + +_Sponge._ But it is here, within-doors, my dear Nokes, that the great +transformation-scene has been effected. Pianos, harpsichords, +sketch-books,--these all bespeak the presence of lovely and accomplished +woman. + +_Robinson._ May we venture to peep into this portfolio, my good +fellow?--that is, if the contents have the interest for us that we +believe them to have. It holds Mrs. Nokes's sketches, I presume. + +_Nokes._ Yes, yes; they are her sketches and nobody else's. [_Aside_] +Certainly they are, for I bought them for her in Piccadilly.--But here +she comes to answer for herself. [_Enter SUSAN._] Sus--I mean Constance, +my dear, let me introduce to you three friends of my bachelor days, Mr. +Sponge, Mr. Rasper, Mr. Robinson. + +_Susan [speaking broken English]._ Gentlemens, I am mos glad to see you. +My husband--hees friends are mai friends. + +_Rasper [aside]._ She's devilish civil. If she had been English I +should almost think she was afraid of us. + +_Sponge [bowing]._ You are most kind, madam. The noble are always kind. +[_Aside to Nokes._] She's all blood, my dear fellow. + +_Nokes [looking toward her in alarm]._ What? Where? + +_Sponge._ No, no; don't misunderstand me. I mean she's all high birth. +If I had met your wife anywhere--in an omnibus, for instance--and only +heard her speak, I should have exclaimed, "There's a Montmorenci!" + +_Nokes [pleased]._ Should you really, now, my dear Sponge? Well, that +shows you are a man of discernment. + +_Robinson [to Susan]._ It is such a real pleasure to us, Mrs. Nokes, +that you speak English. We were afraid we should find it difficult to +converse with you. Sponge is the only one of us who understands-- + +_Sponge._ Yes, madam, we did fear that since no other tongue is spoken +in courts and camps--or, at all events, in courts--we should have some +difficulty in following your ideas. But you speak English like a native. + +_Susan [emphatically]._ I believe you. [_Recollecting and correcting +herself_] Dat is, I do trai mai best. It please my _mari_--my what ees +it?--my husband. He don't talk French heemself--not mooch. + +_Nokes._ Well, I don't think you should quite say that, my dear. I could +always make myself understood abroad, you know, though my accent is +perhaps a little anglicized. + +_Susan [laughing]._ Rayther so. + +[_Guests exchange looks of astonishment._] + +_Nokes [with precipation]._ My dear, what an expression! The fact is, my +friends, that madame has a young brother--Count Maximilian de +Montmorenci--at school in England, and what she knows of our language +she has mainly acquired from him. The consequence is, she occasionally +talks--in point of fact--slang. + +_Susan [in broken English]._ Cherk the tinklare, coot your luckies, whos +your hattar? [_To Rasper_] Have your moder sold her mangle? + +[_NOKES, SPONGE, and ROBINSON roar with laughter._] + +_Rasper [aside]._ Confound that Nokes! He must have told her about my +family. [_With indignation_] Madam, I--[_Points by accident to the +portfolio._] + +_Susan._ What? you weesh to see mai sketch? Oh, yas! [_Opens the +portfolio; the three guests crowd round it. Nokes comes down to the +front._] + +_Nokes [aside]._ I wish they'd take their lunch and go away. They put me +in a profuse perspiration. I know they'll find her out. + +_Robinson [with a sketch-book in his hand]._ Beautiful! + +_Sponge [looking over his shoulder on tiptoe]._ Exquisite! most lovely! +it's what I call perfection. + +_Rasper._ First-rate--only I've seen something like it before. [_Aside_] +If I haven't seen that in some print-shop. I'll be hanged. [_Blows._] + +_Susan._ Ha! ha! you halve seen eet beefore, Mr.--_Gasper_? Think of +that, my husband,--Mr. Gasper has seen it beefore! + +_Nokes [laughing uncomfortably]._ Ha! ha! What a funny idea! + +_Rasper [obstinately]._ But I _have_, though; and in a shop-window, too. + +_Susan [delightedly]._ That is superbe, magnifique! I am so happy, _so_ +proud! My husband, they have copied this leetle work of mine in London! + +[_ROBINSON and SPONGE clap their hands applaudingly._] + +_Rasper [shakes his head; aside]._ Dashed if I don't believe it's a +chromolithograph! [_To Nokes_] I say, Nokes, you wrote to us in such +raptures about your wife's hands. Why does she keep her gloves on? + +_Nokes [confused]._ Keep her gloves on? You mean why does she wear them +in-doors? Well, the fact is, the Montmorencis always do it. It's been a +family peculiarity for centuries,--like the Banshee. And, besides, she +does it to keep her hands delicate: they're just like roses--I mean +_white_ roses,--if you could only see 'em. But then she always wears +gloves. + +_Rasper [grunts disapproval]._ Then I suppose it's no use asking her to +give us a tune on the piano? + +_Nokes [hastily]._ Not a bit, not a bit; of course not; and, besides, we +shall have lunch directly. + +_Susan [approaching them]._ What is dat, Mr. Gasper? Did you not ask for +a leetle music? What you like for me to play? + +_Nokes [aside to Susan]._ How can you be such a fool? Why, this is +suicide! [_To Rasper_] My dear fellow, my wife would be delighted, but +the fact is the piano is out of order. The tuner is coming to-morrow. + +_Susan [seats herself at the piano]._ My dear husband, it weel do very +well. He only said we must note "thomp, thomp" until he had seen it; dat +is all. Now, gentlemens, what would you like? + +_Sponge [with an armful of music-books]._ Nay, madam, what will you do +us the favor to choose? [_Aside_] There is nothing I love so much in +this world as turning over the leaves of a music-book for a lady of +birth! + +_Susan._ Ah, I am so sorry, because I do only play by de ear, here +[_points to her ear_]. But what would you like, gentlemens? Handel, +Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, _it is all exactly de same to me_. + +_Robinson._ Oh, then, pray let us have Mendelssohn,--one of those +exquisite Songs without Words of his. + +_Susan._ Yas? with plaisir. I like dose songs best myself,--de songs +without words. + +_Nokes [aside, despairingly]._ It's impossible she can get out of this. +Now we shall have an _éclaircissement_, an exposure, an explosion. + +_Susan [strikes piano violently with both hands, and a string breaks +with a loud report]._ Ah, _quel dommage!_ How stupide, too, when he told +me not to "thomp, thomp"! I am so sorry, gentlemens! I did hope to give +you a song, but I cannot sing without an accompaniment. + +_Rasper [maliciously]._ There's the harp, ma'am,--unless its strings +are in the same unsatisfactory state as those of the piano. + +_Susan [with affected delight]._ What, you play de harp, Mr. Gasper? I +_am_ so glad, because I do not play it yet myself: I am only learning. +Come, I shall sing, and you shall play upon de harp. + +_Rasper [angrily]._ I play the harp, madam! what rubbish! of course I +can't. + +_Sponge [eagerly]._ But _I_ can, just a little,--just enough to +accompany one of Mrs. Nokes's charming songs. [_Brings the harp down to +the front, and sits down to it, trying the strings._] + +_Nokes [aside]._ The nasty little accomplished beast! He'll ruin +everything. Susan is at her wits' end. [_Aside to Susan_] What on earth +are we to do now? + + _Enter SERVANT._ + +[_In stentorian tones_] Luncheon is on the table! [_Then, approaching +Susan, he adds, in lower but distinct tones_] A lady wishes to see you, +madam, upon very particular business. + +_Susan [surprised]._ A lady! what lady? + +_Nokes [to Susan, aside and impatiently]._ Never mind _what_ lady; see +her at once, whoever she is: it will be an excuse for getting away from +these people.--My wife is engaged for the present, my good friends, so +we'll sit down to lunch without her. + +[_All bow and leave the room, receiving in return from Susan a stately +courtesy. Nokes, the last to leave, kisses his hand to her_.] Adorable +Susan, you have conquered, you remain in possession of the field; but +you must not risk another engagement. I will see to that. Champagne +shall do its work on Rasper--_Gasper_. + + _Enter MRS. CHARLES NOKES, neatly but cheaply attired. SUSAN rises, + bows, and looks toward her interrogatively._ + +_Mrs. Charles Nokes._ I did not send in my name, madam, because I feared +it would but prejudice you against your visitor. I am Charles's--that +is, your husband's niece by marriage; not a near relation to yourself, +you might say, if you wished to be unkind,--which [_with earnestness_] I +do not think you do. + +_Susan [distressed, but endeavoring to remain firm]._ Oh, but I do, +ma'am. I wish to be as hard as a stone. [Aside] Only I can't. What a +pretty, modest young creature she is! + +_Mrs. C.N._ The poor give you no such severe character, madam; and, +taking courage by their report, and being poor myself, and, alas! having +been the innocent cause of making others poor, I have ventured hither. + +_Susan [aside]._ Oh, I wish she wouldn't! I can't stand this. There's +something in her face, too, that reminds me--but there! have I not +promised my husband to be brutal and unfeeling? [_Aloud_] Madame, I am +sorry, but I have noting for you. Mr. Noke, mai husband, he tell me dat +hees nephew is very foolish, weeked _jeune homme_-- + +_Mrs. C.N. [interrupting]._ Foolish, madam, he may have been, nay, he +was, to fall in love with a poor orphan like myself, who had nothing to +give him _but_ my love,--but not wicked. He has a noble heart. His +sorrow is not upon his own account, but for his wife and child. He has +bent his proud spirit twice to entreat his uncle's forgiveness, but in +vain. And now _I_ have come to appeal to _you_,--though you are not of +my own country,--a woman to a woman. + +_Susan [aside]._ Dear heart alive! I'm melting like a tallow candle. + +_Mrs. C.N._ I was a poor Berkshire curate's daughter-- + +_Susan [interrupting hastily]._ A _what_? [_Recollecting herself._] A +poor _curé_'s daughter--yas, yas--in Berkishire, _qu'est-ce que c'est_ +Berkishire? + +_Mrs. C.N._ It is in the south of England, madam. We were poor, I say, +and I had been used to straits, even before my poor father died. But my +husband has been always accustomed to luxury and comfort, and now that +poverty has come suddenly upon us-- + +_Susan [interrupting with emotion, but still speaking broken English.]_ +Were you considaired like your fader? + +_Mrs. C.N._ Yes, madam, very like. + +_Susan [anxiously and tremblingly]._ What was his name? + +_Mrs. C.N._ Woodward, madam. He was curate of Salthill, near Eton. + +_Susan [throwing herself at her feet and kissing her hands]._ Why, +you're Miss Clara! and I'm Susan,--Susan Montem, to whom he was so kind +and noble [_sobbing_]. I'm no more a Montmorenci than you are,--nor half +as much. I'm a workhouse orphan, and--and--your aunt by marriage. +[_Aside, and clasping her hands_]. Oh, what _can_ I do to help them? +what _can_ I do? + +_Mrs. C.N. [fervently]._ I thank heaven. There is genuine gratitude in +your kind face. I remember you now, though I am sure I should never have +recognized you, Susan. + +_Susan._ I dare say not, Miss Clara [_rising and wiping her eyes_]. Fine +feathers make fine birds. Lor, how I should like to have a talk with you +about old times! But there, we've got something else to do first. +Where's your good husband? + +_Mrs. C.N._ In the garden, hiding in the laurel-bed, with Chickabiddy. +That's our baby, you know. + +[_Carriage heard departing; they listen. Enter Mr. Nokes, slightly +elevated with champagne, and not perceiving Mrs. C.N._] + +_Nokes._ Hurrah, my dear! they're off, all three of them,--all five of +them, for each of them sees two of the others; they have no notion that +your name is Susan--[_sees Mrs. C.N._] I mean Constance. [_Aside_] Oh, +Lor! just as I thought we'd weathered the storm, too, and got into still +water! + +_Susan [gravely]._ She knows all about it, husband. That lady is the +daughter of my benefactor, Mr. Woodward, to whom I owed everything on +earth till I met you. + +_Nokes [with enthusiasm, and holding out both hands]._ The deuce she is! +I am most uncommonly glad to see you, ma'am, under this roof. [_Aside to +Susan_] She don't look very prosperous, Susan: if there's anything that +money can get for her, I'll see she has it; mind that. + +_Susan [aloud]._ She is poor, sir, and much in need of home and friends. + +_Nokes [to Mrs. C.N.]._ Then you have found them here, ma'am. You're a +fixture at "the Tamarisks" for life, if it so pleases you. + +_Mrs. C.N._ You are most kind, sir, but I have a husband and one +_little_ child. + +_Nokes._ Never mind that: he'll grow. There's room here for you and your +husband and the little child, even if he does grow. Where are they? Show +them up. + +_Mrs. C.N. runs to window and calls, "Charles, Charles."_ + +_Nokes [aside]._ I think I've had quite as much champagne as is good for +me; just enough; the golden mean. + + _Enter CHARLES with baby, which he holds at full stretch of his + arms._ + +_Nokes [indignantly]._ You young scoundrel! How dare you show your face +in this house? + +_Mrs. C.N. [interfering]._ You sent for him, sir. + +_Nokes._ I sent for nothing of the sort. I sent for your husband. + +_Mrs. C.N._ That is my husband, sir, and our little child. You promised +us an asylum for life under your roof; and I am certain you will keep +your word. + +_Nokes [to Susan, endeavoring to be severe]._ Now, this is all _your_ +fault; and yet you promised me never to interfere on behalf of these +people. + +_Susan_. Nor _did_ I, my dear husband. You have done it all yourself. + +_Nokes [aside]._ It was all that last glass of champagne. + +_Charles [giving up the baby to his wife, and coming up with +outstretched hand to his uncle]._ Come, sir, pray forgive me. I could +not enjoy your favors without your forgiveness, believe me. + +_Nokes [holding out his hand unwillingly]._ There. [_Aside_] How _could_ +I be such a fool, knowing so well what champagne is made of?--Well, sir, +if you have regained your place here, remember it has all happened +through your aunt's goodness. Let nobody ever show any of their airs to +my Susan. + +_Charles and his wife [together]._ We shall never forget her kindness, +sir. + +_Nokes._ Mind you don't, then. For, you see, it's to her own +disadvantage, since when I die--and supposing I have forgiven you--the +child that has to grow will inherit everything, and Susan only have a +life-interest in it. + +_Charles [hopefully]._ I don't see that, sir. Why shouldn't you have +children of your own? + +_Nokes [complacently]._ True, true. Why shouldn't we? I didn't like to +dwell upon the idea before, but why shouldn't we? At all events, Susan +[_comes forward with Susan_], I am sure I shall never repent having shot +at the pigeon--I mean, having wooed the Montmorenci, but won THE +SUBSTITUTE. + +JAMES PAYN. + + + + +NEW YORK LIBRARIES + + +New York has been accused of being purely commercial in tone, and there +was a period in her history when she must have pleaded guilty to the +indictment. That day, however, is past: she has now many +interests--scientific, artistic, literary, musical--as influential as +that mentioned, though not perhaps numerically so important. Of the fine +arts the city is the acknowledged New World centre, and it is fast +forming a literary circle as noteworthy as that of any other capital. +The latter owes its existence in part, no doubt, to the great +publishing-houses, but has been attracted chiefly by the facilities for +research afforded by those great storehouses of learning, the city +libraries. Few old residents are aware of the literary wealth stored in +these depositories, or of the extent to which they are consulted by +scholars and by writers generally. + +There are four large libraries in the city whose interest is almost +purely literary,--the Society, the Astor, the Lenox, and the Historical +Society's,--one both literary and popular,--the Mercantile,--one +interesting as being the outcome of a great trades' guild,--the +Apprentices',--and one purely popular,--the Free Circulating Library. +There are others, of course, but the above are such as from their +character and history seem best calculated for treatment in a magazine +paper. The oldest of these is the Society Library, which is located in +its own commodious fire-proof building at No. 67 University Place. This +library is perhaps the oldest in the United States: its origin dates +back to the year 1700, when, Lord Bellamont being governor and New York +a police-precinct of five thousand inhabitants, the worthy burghers +founded the Public Library. For many years it seems to have flourished +in the slow, dignified way peculiar to Knickerbocker institutions. In +1729 it received an accession in the library of the Rev. Dr. Millington, +rector of Newington, England, which was bequeathed to the Society for +the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and by it transferred to +the New York Public Library. The institution remained under the care of +the city until 1754, when a company of gentlemen formed an association +to enhance its usefulness by bringing it under private control. They +collected a number of books, and on application the Public Library was +incorporated with these, and the whole placed under the care of trustees +chosen by the shareholders. Believing that "a public library would be +very useful as well as ornamental to the city," and also advantageous to +"our intended college," the shareholders agreed to pay "five pounds each +on the first day of May, and ten shillings each on every first of May +forever thereafter." Subscribers had the right to take out one book at a +time by depositing one-third more than the value of it with the +library-keeper. Rights could be alienated or bequeathed "like any other +chattel." No person, even if he owned several shares, could have more +than one vote, nor could a part of a subscription-right entitle the +holder to any privileges. By 1772 the Society had increased to such an +extent that it was thought best to incorporate it, and a charter was +secured from the crown. In its preamble seven "esquires," two +"merchants," two "gentlemen," and one "physician" appear as petitioners, +and fifty-six gentlemen, with one lady, Mrs. Anne Waddel, are named +members of the corporation. The style of the latter was changed to the +"New York Society Library," and the usual corporate privileges were +granted, including the right to purchase and hold real estate of the +yearly value of one thousand pounds sterling. The Society is practically +working under this charter to-day, the legislature of New York having +confirmed it in 1789. The earliest printed catalogue known to be in +existence was issued about 1758: it gives the titles of nine hundred and +twenty-two volumes, with a list of members, one hundred and eighteen in +all. A second catalogue followed in 1761. During the Revolution many of +the volumes were scattered or destroyed. The first catalogue printed +after the war enumerates five thousand volumes; these had increased in +1813 to thirteen thousand, in 1838 to twenty-five thousand, and the +present number is estimated at seventy-five thousand. Down to 1795 the +library was housed in the City Hall, and during the sessions of Congress +was used by that body as a Congressional Library. Its first building was +erected in 1795, in Nassau Street, opposite the Middle Dutch Church, +and here the library remained until 1836, when, its premises becoming in +demand for business purposes, it was sold, and the Society purchased a +lot on the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street. A building was +completed on this lot in 1840, and the library removed thither from the +rooms of the Mechanics' Society in Chambers Street, where it had been +placed on the sale of its property in 1836. In 1853 a third removal was +made, to the Bible House, its property on Broadway being again swallowed +up by the advancing tide of business. In the same year its present +property on University Place was purchased, on which, two years later, +in 1855, the commodious building which it now occupies was erected, the +Society taking possession in May, 1856. Many features of the Society +Library are unique, to be met with, perhaps, in no other organization of +the kind in the world. Many of its members hold shares that have +descended to them from father to son from the time of the first +founders. The annual dues are placed at such a figure (ten dollars) as +practically to debar people with slender purses. The scholar, however, +may have the range of its treasures on paying a fee of twenty-five +cents, and the stranger may enjoy the use of the library for one month +on being introduced by a member. The market value of a share is now one +hundred and fifty dollars, with the annual dues of ten dollars commuted, +but shares may be purchased for twenty-five dollars, subject to the +annual dues. The library proper occupies the whole of the second floor. +On the first floor, besides the large hall, is a well-lighted +drawing-room, filled with periodicals in all languages, a ladies' +parlor, and a conversation-room. The library-room is a large, airy, +well-lighted apartment, with a series of artistic alcoves ranged about +two of its sides. Here are to be found the Winthrop Collection, +comprising some three hundred curious and ancient tomes, chiefly in +Latin, which formed a part of the library of John Winthrop, "the founder +of Connecticut," the De Peyster Alcove, containing one thousand +volumes, very full in special subjects, the Hammond Library, collected +by a Newport scholar, comprising some eighteen hundred quaint and +curious volumes, and a collection of over six hundred rare and costly +works on art contained in the John C. Green Alcove. This last alcove, +which was fitted up and presented to the library by Mr. Robert Lenox +Kennedy as a memorial of Mr. and Mrs. John C. Green, benefactors of the +Society, is an artistic gem. The sides and ceilings are finished in hard +woods by Marcotte, after designs by the architect, Sidney Stratton. +Opposite the entrance is a memorial window, its centre-pin representing +two female figures,--Knowledge and Prudence,--with the four great poets, +Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Chaucer, in the corners. On the east wall is a +portrait of Mr. Green by Madrazo, and on the west a tablet with an +inscription informing the visitor that, the library having received a +donation of fifty thousand dollars from the estate of John Cleve Green, +the trustees had placed the tablet as a memento of this munificence. +There are books in this alcove not to be duplicated in European +libraries. A work on Russian antiquities, for instance, containing +beautifully-colored lithographs of the Russian crown-jewels, royal +robes, ecclesiastical vestments, and the like, cannot be found, it is +said, either in Paris or London. The scope of the collection may be seen +by a glance at the catalogue, whose departments embrace architecture, +art-study, anatomy, biography, book-illustration, cathedrals and +churches, costumes, decorative, domestic, and industrial art, heraldry, +painting, and picturesque art. + +It is a coincidence merely, but nearly all the great libraries of the +city are grouped within a block or two of Astor Place, making that short +thoroughfare the scholarly centre of the town. In its immediate +vicinity, on the corner of Second Avenue and Eleventh Street, stands the +fire-proof building of the New York Historical Society, whose library +and collection of paintings and relics form one of the features of the +city. This Society dates back to the year 1804, when Egbert Benson, De +Witt Clinton, Rev. William Linn, Rev. Samuel Miller, Rev. John N. Abeel, +Rev. John M. Mason, Dr. David Hosack, Anthony Bleecker, Samuel Bayard, +Peter G. Stuyvesant, and John Pintard, met by appointment at the City +Hall and agreed to form a society "the principal design of which should +be to collect and preserve whatever might relate to the natural, civil, +or ecclesiastical history of the United States in general and of the +State of New York in particular." Active measures were at once taken for +the formation of a library and museum, special committees being +appointed for the purpose. The range of the collection embraced books, +manuscripts, statistics, newspapers, pictures, antiquities, medals, +coins, and specimens in natural history. The Society made the usual +number of removals before being finally established as a householder. +From 1804 to 1809 it met in the old City Hall, from 1809 to 1816 in the +Government House, from 1816 to 1832 in the New York Institution, from +1832 to 1837 in Remsen's Building, Broadway, from 1837 to 1841 in the +Stuyvesant Institute, from 1841 to 1857 in the New York University, and +at length, after surmounting many pecuniary obstacles, celebrated its +fifty-third anniversary by taking possession of its present structure. +Meantime, the efforts of the library committees had resulted in a +collection of Americana of exceeding interest and value, the nucleus of +the present library. In its one specialty this library is believed to be +unrivalled. The Society has issued some twenty-four volumes of its own +publications, in addition to numerous essays and addresses. Besides +these, its library contains some seventy-three thousand volumes of +printed works, chiefly Americana, many of them relating to the Indians +and obscure early colonial history. Eight hundred and eleven genealogies +of American families--the fountain-head of the national history--are a +feature of the collection. The library also possesses one of the best +sets of Congressional documents extant, also complete sets of State and +city documents. There are four thousand volumes of newspapers, beginning +with the first journal published in America,--the "Boston News-Letter" +of 1704,--and comprising a complete record to the present day. There are +also tons of pamphlets and "broadsides," and several hundred copies of +the inflammatory hand-bills posted on the trees and fences of New York +during the Revolution. The library is also rich in old family letters +and documents containing much curious and interesting history. The +Society is very conservative in its ways,--more so than most +institutions of the kind. Theoretically, its stores of information can +be drawn on by members only, but, as a general thing, properly +accredited scholars, non-residents, have little difficulty in gaining +access to them, provided the material sought is not elsewhere +accessible. + +Lafayette Place is a wide, quiet thoroughfare, a few blocks in extent, +opening into Astor Place on the north. On the left, a few doors from the +latter street, stands the Astor Library, in some respects one of the +noteworthy libraries of the world. John Jacob Astor died March 29, 1848, +leaving a will which contained a codicil in these words: "Desiring to +render a public benefit to the city of New York, and to contribute to +the advancement of useful knowledge and the general good of society, I +do by this codicil appoint four hundred thousand dollars out of my +residuary estate to the establishment of a public library in the city of +New York." The instrument then proceeded to give specific directions as +to how the money was to be applied: first, in the erection of a suitable +building; second, in supplying the same with books, maps, charts, +models, drawings, paintings, engravings, casts, statues, furniture, and +other things appropriate to a library upon the most ample scale and +liberal character; and, third, in maintaining and upholding the +buildings and other property, and in paying the necessary expenses of +the care of the same, and the salaries of the persons connected with +the library, said library to be accessible at all reasonable hours and +times for general use, free of expense, and subject only to such +conditions as the trustees may exact. It was further provided that its +affairs should be managed by eleven trustees, "selected from the +different liberal professions and employments of life and the classes of +educated men." The mayor was also to be a trustee by virtue of his +office. The entire fund was vested in this board, with power to expend +and invest moneys, and to appoint, direct, control, and remove the +superintendent, librarian, and others employed about the library. The +first trustees were named in the will, and Washington Irving was chosen +president. + +Dr. Joseph G. Cogswell, who it is said first suggested the idea of a +library to Mr. Astor, was appointed first superintendent and despatched +to Europe to purchase books, which he succeeded in doing to the best +advantage, the political disturbances of 1848 having thrown many +valuable libraries on the market. Meantime, a building had been +commenced on the east side of Lafayette Place, on a lot sixty-five feet +front by one hundred and twenty deep; but as the books arrived before +this was completed they were placed temporarily in a hired house in Bond +Street. The new building, which was opened January 9, 1854, was in the +Byzantine style, after the design by Alexander Saeltzer, the lower story +being of brownstone and the two upper stories of red brick. The main +hall or library-room, beginning on the second floor, was carried up +through two stories and lighted by a large skylight in the roof. Around +the sides of this room were built two tiers of alcoves capable of +holding about one hundred thousand books. The library opened on the date +mentioned with about eighty thousand volumes, devoted chiefly to +science, history, art, and kindred topics, the trustees agreeing with +the superintendent that the design of the founder could only be carried +out and the "advancement of knowledge" and "general good of society" be +best secured by making the new library one of reference only. + +In October, 1855, Mr. William B. Astor, son of the founder, conveyed to +the trustees the lot, eighty feet front by one hundred and twenty deep, +adjoining the library on the north, and proceeded to erect upon it an +addition similar in all respects to the existing structure, the library +thus enlarged being opened September 1, 1859, with one hundred and ten +thousand volumes on its shelves. The addition led to a rearrangement of +the material, the old hall being devoted to science and the industrial +arts, and the new to history and general literature. In 1866 Mr. Astor +further signified his interest in the library by a gift of fifty +thousand dollars, twenty thousand dollars of it to be expended in the +purchase of books, and on his death in 1875 left it a bequest of two +hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars. In 1879 Mr. John Jacob Astor, +grandson of the founder, added to this enduring monument of his family +by building a second addition, seventy-five feet front and one hundred +and twenty feet deep, on the lot adjoining on the north, making the +entire building two hundred feet front by one hundred deep. At the same +time an additional story was placed on the Middle Hall, and a new +entrance and stairway constructed. The enlarged building, the present +Astor Library, was opened in October, 1881, with two hundred thousand +volumes and a shelf-capacity of three hundred thousand. Its present +contents are estimated at two hundred and twenty thousand volumes, +exclusive of pamphlets. The shelves are ranged in alcoves extending +around the sides of the three main halls and subdivided into sections of +six shelves each, each section being designated by a numeral. Each shelf +is designated by a letter of the alphabet, beginning at the bottom with +A. The alcoves have no distinguishing mark, the books being arranged +therein by subjects which the distributing librarian is expected to +carry in his mind. The first catalogue, in four volumes, was compiled by +Dr. Cogswell and printed in 1861. This was followed in 1866 by an index +of subjects from the same hand. Recently a catalogue in continuation of +Dr. Cogswell's, bringing the work down to the end of 1880, has been +prepared, and is being printed at the Riverside Press, Boston. The +current card catalogue is arranged on the dictionary plan, giving author +and subject under one alphabet. Opposite each title is written the +number of the alcove and the letter designating the shelf. By the +regulations the reader is required to find the title of the book desired +in the catalogue, write it with the number and letter on a slip of paper +provided for the purpose, and give it to the distributing librarian, who +despatches one of his boy Mercuries to the shelf designated for the +work. More often than not, however, the reader asks directly for the +book desired, without consulting the catalogue, and it is rarely that +the librarian cannot from memory direct his messenger to the section and +shelf containing it. In the matter of theft and mutilation of books the +library depends largely on the honor of readers, although some +safeguards are provided. All readers are required to enter their names +and addresses in a book, and the volume on being given out is charged to +them, to be checked off on its return: it would be difficult, too, for a +thief to purloin books without being detected by the employees or the +porter in the vestibule. Yet books are stolen occasionally. In June, +1881, a four-volume work by Bentley on "Medicinal Plants," valued at +sixty dollars, was taken from the library. It was soon missed, and +search made for it without avail. A few weeks later, however, it was +discovered by the principal librarian in a Broadway book-stall and +recovered. + +Few strangers in the city depart without paying a visit to the Astor +Library, and it is one of the few lions of the city that do not +disappoint. The main entrance is approached by two flights of stone +steps, from the north and south, leading to a brownstone platform +enclosed by the same material. From this, broad door-ways give entrance +to the vestibule, sixty feet by forty, paved in black and white marble, +and wainscoted four feet above the floor with beautifully variegated +marble from Vermont. The panelled ceiling is elaborately frescoed, as +well as the upper part of the walls. Busts of the sages and heroes of +antiquity adorn the hall. From the vestibule a stairway of white marble, +with massive newels of variegated marble, leads up to the library +proper. The visitor enters this in the centre of Middle Hall. Before +him, separated by a balustrade, are the desks and tables of the +distributing librarian and his assistants. The ladies' reading-room is +in the rear. On the left and right arched passages give access to the +North and South Halls, in which the main reading-rooms are situated. The +ceiling above is the skylight of the roof, and the alcoves, filled with +the wealth of learning of all ages and peoples, rise on either hand +quite to the ceiling. At long, green-covered tables, ranged in two +parallel lines through the halls, are seated the readers, in themselves +an interesting study. Scientists, artists, literary men, special +students, inventors, and _dilettante_ loungers make up the company. They +come with the opening of the doors at nine in the morning, and remain, +some of them, until they close at five in the evening. There are daily +desertions from their ranks, but always new-comers enough to fill the +gaps. Their wants are as various as their conditions. This well-dressed, +self-respectful mechanic wishes to consult the patent-office reports of +various countries, in which the library is rich. His long-haired Saxon +neighbor is poring over a Chinese manuscript, German scholars being the +only ones so far who have attacked the fine collection of Chinese and +Japanese works in the library. Next him is a _dilettante_ reader +languidly poring over "Lothair:" were the trustees to fill their shelves +with trashy fiction, readers of his class would soon crowd out the more +earnest workers. Here is a student with the thirty or more volumes of +the "New England Historic Genealogical Register" piled before him, +flanked on one side by the huge volumes of Burke's "Peerage" and on the +other by Walford's "County Families." There are many readers of this +class, the library's department of Genealogy and Heraldry being well +filled. There is a lady here and there at the tables working with a male +companion, but, as a rule, they are to be found at the ladies' tables in +the Middle Hall. There seem to be but two classes of readers here,--the +lady in silken attire, engaged in looking out some item of family +history or question of decorative art, and the brisk business-like +literary lady, seeking material for story or sketch. Any student or +literary worker who can show to the satisfaction of one of the trustees +that he is engaged in work requiring free access to the library receives +a card from the superintendent which admits him to the alcoves and +places all the treasures of the library at his command. A register is +placed near the distributing librarian's desk, in which on entering each +visitor to the alcove is required to sign his name, and in this register +each year is accumulated a roll of autographs of which any institution +might be proud. Famous scholars, scientists, authors, journalists, +poets, artists, and divines, both of this country and of Europe, are +included in the lists. + +Of its treasures of literary and artistic interest it is impossible to +give categorical details. Perhaps the library prizes most the +magnificent elephant folio edition, in four volumes, of Audubon's "Birds +and Quadrupeds of North America," with its colored plates, heavy paper, +and general air of sumptuousness. The work is rare as well as +magnificent, and, though the library does not set a price upon its +books, it is known that three thousand dollars would not replace a +missing copy. In an adjoining alcove is an equally sumptuous but more +ancient volume, the Antiphonale, or mammoth manuscript of the chants for +the Christian year. This volume was used at the coronation of Charles +X., King of France. The covers of this huge folio are bound with brass, +beautiful illuminations by Le Brun adorn its title-pages, and then +follows, in huge black characters, the music of the chants. In its +immediate vicinity are many of the treasures of the library,--Zahn's +great work on Pompeii, three volumes of very large folios, containing +splendidly-colored frescos from the walls of the dead city; Sylvester's +elaborate work of "Fac-Similes of the Illuminated Manuscripts of the +Middle Ages," in four large folios; and also Count Bastard's great work +on the same, seeming more sumptuous in gold, silver, and colors. Another +notable work is Count Littar's "Genealogies of Celebrated Italian +Families," in ten folio volumes, emblazoned in gold, and illustrated +with richly-colored portraits finished like ivory miniatures. There are +whole galleries of European art,--Versailles, Florence, Spain, the +Vatican, Nash's Portfolio of Colored Pictures of Windsor Castle and +Palace, the Royal Pitti Gallery, Munich, Dresden, and others. A work on +the "Archæology of the Bosphorus," presented by the Emperor of Russia to +the library, is in three folio volumes, printed on thick vellum paper, +with two folding maps and ninety-four illuminated plates: but two +hundred copies of the book were printed, for presentation solely. Other +notable gifts are the publications of the Royal Danish Academy of +Sciences, in seventeen volumes, catalogue of antiquities, chiefly +British, at Alnwick Castle, and one of Egyptian antiquities at the same, +from the Duke of Northumberland, a complete file of the "Liberator," +from Mr. Wendell Phillips, numerous works on Oriental art, from the +imperial governments of Japan and China, and many thousand folio volumes +of Parliamentary papers and British patents, from the British +government. Of its Orientalia and its department of Egyptology the +library is especially proud. The latter so good an authority as +Professor Seyffarth pronounces second only to that of the British +Museum. + +In addition to the large collection of costly books of art with which +this library is enriched, there are some of the rarest manuscripts and +earliest printed books to be seen kept in glass cases in the Middle +Hall. Among these may be mentioned the superbly illuminated manuscript of +the ninth century entitled "Evangelistarium,"--one of the finest +existing productions of the revival of learning under Charlemagne; the +"Sarum Missal," a richly-emblazoned manuscript of the tenth century; +some choice Greek and Latin codices once belonging to the library of +Pope Pius VI.; and the Persian manuscripts recently acquired, which +formerly were in the library of the Mogul emperors at Delhi, bearing the +stamp of Shah Akbar and Shah Jehan. The writing is by the famous +calligrapher Sultan Alee Meshedee (896 A.H., or 1518 A.D.). + +There is as great a popular misconception of the character and purpose +of the Lenox Library as of the Astor. The two are like and yet +unlike,--alike in the rich treasures which they contain, but quite +unlike in their scope and purposes. In reality the Lenox is a museum of +art rather than a library: its books are, with few exceptions, rarities, +"first editions," illuminated manuscripts, specimens showing the advance +of the typographic art from the beginning, books of artistic interest, +and works not to be found in this country, and sometimes not in Europe. +Its collection of paintings and sculpture is important as well as its +literary treasures. It is not a library of general reference, though +many of its works will be sought by scholars for the value of their +contents: it is, in short, a private art-gallery and library thrown open +at stated times and under certain restrictions to the public. The +library owes its existence to the munificence of Mr. James Lenox, a +wealthy and educated gentleman of New York, who determined to establish +permanently in his native city his fine collection of manuscripts, +printed books, engravings and maps, statuary, paintings, drawings, and +other works of art, by giving the land and money necessary to provide a +building and a permanent fund for the maintenance of the same. In +January, 1870, the legislature of New York passed an act "creating a +body corporate by the name and style of 'The Trustees of the Lenox +Library.'" Nine trustees were named, and these gentlemen organized by +electing Mr. Lenox president and Mr. A.B. Belknap secretary. In the +succeeding March Mr. Lenox conveyed to the trustees three hundred +thousand dollars in stocks of the county of New York and bonds and +mortgage securities, and also the ten lots of land fronting on Fifth +Avenue on which the library-building now stands. One hundred thousand +dollars were set apart for the formation of a permanent fund, and two +hundred thousand dollars for a building-fund. Contracts for a +library-building were made early In 1872, and work on it was begun in +May of the same year,--the structure being finished in 1875. It has a +frontage of one hundred and ninety-two feet on Fifth Avenue, overlooking +the Park, and a depth of one hundred and fourteen feet on both +Seventieth and Seventy-first Streets. The general plan is that of a +central structure connecting two turreted wings which enclose a spacious +entrance-court. From the court the visitor enters a grand hall or +vestibule, from which every part of the building is reached. At either +end is a spacious library-room. Stone stairways lead from each end of +the vestibule to the mezzanine, or half-story, and the second-story +landings. From the latter one enters the principal gallery, ninety-six +by twenty-four, devoted to sculpture, and opening on the east into the +picture-gallery. At either end of the hall of sculpture are library- and +reading-rooms similar to those on the first floor. The stairway on the +north continues the ascent to an attic or third-floor gallery. The +building throughout is fitted up in a style befitting a shrine of the +arts. The first-floor library-rooms are one hundred and eight feet long +by thirty feet wide and twenty-four feet high, with level ceilings, +beautifully panelled and corniced. The sides of the hall of sculpture +are divided by five arcades, resting on piers decorated with niches, +pilasters, and other architectural ornaments; the ceiling has deep +panels resting on and supported by the pilasters; the walls are +wainscoted in oak to the height of the niches. The picture-gallery is +forty by fifty-six, well lighted from above by three large skylights. +Iron book-cases, with a capacity for eighty thousand volumes, are +arranged in two tiers on the sides of the galleries. The whole structure +is as nearly fire-proof as it could possibly be made, and its massive +walls and stone towers make it one of the prominent architectural +features of the avenue. While the building was in progress, several +benefactions of interest had accrued to the library. Mr. Lenox had given +an additional one hundred thousand dollars, and in 1872 one hundred +thousand dollars more, and Mr. Felix Astoin had promised to bestow his +fine collection of some five thousand rare French works. On the 15th of +January, 1877, the first exhibition of paintings and sculptures was +opened to the public, and continued on two days of the week to the end +of the year, and on the 1st of the following December an apartment for +the exhibition of rare works and manuscripts was also opened to the +public. Fifteen thousand people visited the library during this first +year, thus indicating the popular appreciation of a collection of this +kind. In 1881 nineteen thousand eight hundred and thirty-three +admission-tickets were issued,--the largest number of visitors on any +one day being eleven hundred, on the anniversary of Washington's +birthday. + +The scope and objects of this unique institution are so admirably set +forth by the trustees in their report to the legislature for 1881 that +we append an extract. "The library," they observe, "differs from most +public libraries. It is not a great general library intended in its +endowment and present equipment for the use of readers in all or most of +the departments of human knowledge.... Beyond its special collections it +should be regarded as supplementary to others more general and numerous +and directly adapted to popular use. It is not like the British Museum, +but rather like the Grenville collection in the British Museum, or +perhaps still more like the house and museum of Sir John Soane in +Lincoln's Inn's Fields, in London, both lasting monuments of the +learning and liberality of their honored founders. Thus, while the +library does not profess to be a general or universal collection of all +the knowledge stored up in the world of books, it is absolutely without +a peer or a rival here in the special collections to which the generous +taste and liberal scholarship of its founder devoted his best gifts of +intellectual ability and ample resources of fortune. It represents the +favorite studies of a lifetime consecrated after due offices of religion +and charity to the choicest pursuits of literature and art. It would be +difficult to estimate the value or importance of these marvellous +treasures, whose exhibition hitherto only in part has challenged the +admiration of all scholars and given a new impulse to those studies for +which they furnish an apparatus before unseen in America.... The +countless myriads of volumes produced in the past four centuries of +printing with movable types have left in all the libraries of all the +nations comparatively few monuments, or even memorials, of so many +eager, patient, or weary generations of men whose works have followed +them when they have rested from their labors. The Lenox Library was +established for the public exhibition and scholarly use of some of the +most rare and precious of such monuments and memorials of the +typographic art and the historic past as have escaped the wreck and been +preserved to this day. That exhibition and use must be governed by +regulations which will insure to the fullest extent the security and +preservation of the treasures intrusted to our care, in the enforcement +of which the trustees anticipate the sympathy and co-operation of all +scholars and men of letters, through whose use and labors alone the +public at large must chiefly derive real and permanent benefit from this +and all similar institutions." The "regulations" adopted by the trustees +for the preservation of their treasures do not seem unreasonable. +Admission is by ticket, which may be procured of the librarian by +addressing him by mail. We have space for but the briefest possible +glimpses at these treasures. The chief rarities in typography are found +in the north and south libraries on the first floor. In "first editions" +it would be difficult to say whether the library prides itself most on +its Bibles, its Miltoniana, or its Shakesperiana. In Bibles the whole +art of printing with movable types is fully portrayed, the series +beginning with the "Mazarin," or Gutenberg, Bible, the first book ever +printed with movable types. There are Bibles in all languages. There is +the first complete edition of the New Testament in Greek ever published, +its title-page dated Basle, 1516. In a glass case in the north library +are the four huge "Polyglot" Bibles, marvels of typography, known as the +Complutensian, Antwerp, Paris, and English Polyglots. In the same case +repose the Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Alexandrinus, and Codex +Vaticanus,--three great folios, in the original Greek and Hebrew, sacred +to scholars as the works on which all authority for the Scriptures +rests. Tyndale's New Testament, the first ever printed on English +ground, dated London, 1536, is here, and that rare copy of the King +James version known as the "Wicked Bible." In this copy the printer, as +a satire on the age, omitted the word "not" from the seventh +commandment, and for this piece of waggery was heavily fined, the money +going, it is said, to establish the first Greek press ever erected at +Oxford. Among its "first editions" the library has that of Homer, 1488, +and that of Dante, 1472. The Milton collection deserves special notice: +in addition to the first editions of the poet's various works, it +contains a folio volume of letters and documents pertaining to Milton +and his family, with autograph manuscripts giving exceedingly +interesting details of the poet's private life and fortunes. One of +these is a long original letter from Milton himself to his friend Carlo +Dati, the Florentine, with the latter's reply; there are also three +receipts or releases signed by Milton's three daughters, Anne Milton, +Mary Milton, and Deborah Clarke, a bond from Elizabeth Milton, his +widow, to one Randle Timmis, and several other agreements and +assignments, with the autographs of attesting witnesses. In folio +editions of Shakespeare, and in commentaries, glossaries, and +dissertations, the library is also exceedingly rich. Its collection of +Americana is the wonder and delight of scholars. We must mention the +first publication of the printed letter of Columbus, one in each of its +four editions, giving the first account of his discoveries in the West, +with three autograph letters of Diego Columbus, his son; the +"Cosmographia Introductio," printed at St. Dié, 1507,--the first book in +which a suggestion of the name "America" occurs; and also the first map, +printed in 1520, in which the name appears. Here is the first American +book printed,--a Mexican work, dated 1543-44; the Bay Psalm-Book, 1640, +the first work printed in New England; and the first book printed in New +York,--the Laws of the Province, by Bradford, issued in 1691: the +Puritan evidently placing the gospel first, and the Knickerbocker the +law. + +Leaving the typographical treasures of the library, we ascend the broad +marble stairway to the floor above, for a brief glance at the paintings +and statuary. In the hall devoted to sculpture are many noble and +beautiful works of art in marble, the most noticeable perhaps being +Powers's "Il Penseroso," the bust of Washington and the "Babes in the +Wood" by Crawford, and the statue of Lincoln by Ball. In the +picture-gallery on the east are a hundred and fifty subjects. On the +south wall hangs a canvas which is at once recognized as the +masterpiece. It is Munkácsy's "Blind Milton dictating 'Paradise Lost' to +his Daughters." This painting is fitly supported on one side by a +portrait of Milton owned for many years by Charles Lamb, and on the +other by a copy of Lely's fine portrait of Cromwell. + +The Mercantile is the popular library of the city; in no sense a public +library, however, for the student or stranger must advance a pretty +liberal entrance-fee before he can avail himself of its benefits. This +institution is a pleasing example of what can be done by many hands, +even though there be little in them: it has reached its present +proportions without endowment or State aid, chiefly through the steady, +continuous efforts of the merchants' clerks of the city. They have +always managed it, one generation succeeding another, and they have in +it to-day the largest circulating library in America. Mr. William Wood, +a benevolent gentleman who devoted many of his later years to improving +the condition of clerks, apprentices, and sailors, is regarded as the +founder. Mr. Wood was a native of Boston, and in business there during +early life, but later removed to London. After distributing much dole to +the poor of that city, he founded a library for clerks in Liverpool, and +subsequently one in Boston, the latter being the first of its kind in +this country. The various mercantile libraries at Albany, Philadelphia, +New Orleans, and other places are said to have been founded on the plan +of this. In 1820 Mr. Wood began interesting the merchants' clerks of New +York in the project of a library for themselves. The first meeting to +consider it was held at the Tontine Coffee-House, in Wall Street, on +November 9 of that year; and at an adjourned meeting on the 27th of the +same month a constitution was formed and officers elected. The young men +contributed a little money for the purchase of books, the merchants +more, many books were begged or purchased by Mr. Wood, and on the 12th +of February, 1821, the library was formally opened, with seven hundred +volumes, in an upper room at No. 49 Fulton Street. The first librarian +was Mr. John Thompson, who received, it is remembered, one hundred and +fifty dollars a year as salary. It was not long before the library, like +its fellows, began its migrations up town, Harpers' Building, on Cliff +Street, being its second abode. This removal occurred in 1826, and the +association had then become so strong that it was able to open a +reading-room in connection with its library. Old readers remember that +there were four weekly newspapers and seven magazines in this first +reading-room. Its membership at that time numbered twelve hundred, there +were four thousand four hundred volumes on its shelves, and its annual +income amounted to seventeen hundred and fifty dollars. + +In 1828 the library was desirous of building: many of the merchants and +substantial men of the city were willing to aid it, but doubted the +wisdom of trusting such large property interests to the management of +young men. They formed, therefore, the Clinton Hall Association, to hold +and control real estate for the benefit of the library, with fund shares +of one hundred dollars each. The first year thirty-three thousand five +hundred dollars had been subscribed, and the corporation began erecting +the first Clinton Hall, at the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets. +Here the library remained for nearly a score of years, or until 1853, +when a brisk agitation was begun for its removal up-town. A small but +determined party favored its removal. The more conservative objected. At +length, in January, 1853, the question was put to the vote, and lost by +a large majority. But while the excitement was still at its height it +was learned that the association had sold Clinton Hall and had purchased +the old Italian Opera-House in Astor Place. Here, in May, 1855, the +library opened, and here it has since remained, although for several +years past the question of a farther removal up-town has been agitated. +The constitution of this excellent institution provides that it shall be +composed of three classes of members,--active, subscribing, and +honorary. Any person engaged on a salary as clerk may become an active +member, if approved by the board of directors, on subscribing to the +constitution and paying an initiation-fee of one dollar, and two dollars +for the first six months, his regular dues thereafter being two dollars +semi-annually, in advance. Active members only may vote or hold office. +Subscribing members may become such by a payment of five dollars +annually or three dollars semi-annually. Persons of distinction may be +elected honorary members by a vote of three-fourths of the members of +the board of direction. The board of direction is composed of a +president, vice-president, treasurer, secretary, and eight directors, +the former elected annually, the directors four for one year and four +for two years. There is also a book committee, which reports one month +previous to each annual meeting. From the last annual report of the +board it appears that in April, 1883, there were 198,858 books in the +library. The total number of members at the same time was 3136, and the +honorary members (71), the editors using the library (54), and the +Clinton Hall stockholders (1701) swelled the total number of those +availing themselves of its privileges to 4962. The total circulation for +the year was 112,375 volumes, of which 27,549 were distributed from the +branch office, No. 2 Liberty Place, and 1695 books were delivered by +messengers at members' residences. In 1870 the circulation was 234,120, +the large falling off--over one-half--being due to the era of cheap +books. The department of fiction, of course, suffers most. This in 1870 +formed about seventy per cent. of the circulation. In 1883 the number of +works of fiction circulated was 53,937,--not quite fifty per cent. + +To gain a fair idea of the popularity of the library one should spend a +mid-winter Saturday afternoon and evening with the librarian and his +busy assistants. Early in the afternoon numbers of young ladies leave +the shopping and fashionable thoroughfares up-town and throng the +library-room. The attendants, all young men, work with increased +animation under the stimulus. Books fly from counter to alcoves and +return, messenger-boys dart hither and thither, the fair patrons thumb +the catalogues and chatter in sad defiance of the rules. They are long +in making their selections, and appeal for aid to the librarians. But +the last of this class of visitors departs before the six-o'clock +dinner or tea, and the attendants have a respite for an hour. At seven +the real rush begins, with the advent of the clerks and other patrons +employed in store or office during the day, each intent on supplying +himself with reading-matter for the next day. From this hour until the +closing at nine the librarians are as busy as bees: there is a continual +running from counter to alcove and from gallery to gallery. In some of +the reports of the librarian interesting data are given of the tastes of +readers and the popularity of books. Fiction, as we have seen, leads; +but there is a growing taste for scientific and historical works. +Buckle, Mill, and Macaulay are favorites, and Tyndall, Huxley, and +Lubbock have many readers. The theft of its books is a serious drain on +the library each year, but the destruction of its rare and valuable +works of reference is still more provoking. Common gratitude, it might +seem, would deter persons admitted to the privileges of its alcoves from +injuring its property. What shall we think, then, of the vandals who +during the past year twice cut out the article on political economy in +"Appletons' Cyclopædia," so mutilated Thomson's "Cyclopædia of the +Useful Arts" as to render it valueless, and bore off bodily Storer's +"Dictionary of the Solubilities," the second volume of the new edition +of the "Encyclopædia Britannica," Andrews's "Latin Dictionary," and +several other valuable works? + +There is a library in the city, the Apprentices', on Sixteenth Street, +whose existence is hardly known even to New-Yorkers, which is +exceedingly interesting to the student as an instance of the good a +trades' union may accomplish when its energies are rightly directed. +Here is a library of about sixty thousand volumes, with a supplementary +reference library of forty thousand seven hundred and fifty works, and a +well-equipped reading-room, free of debt, and free to its patrons, and +all the result of the well-directed efforts of the "Society of Mechanics +and Tradesmen." This society first organized for charitable purposes in +1792, receiving its first charter on the 14th of March of that year. In +January, 1821, its charter was amended, the society being empowered to +support a school for the education of the children of its deceased and +indigent members and for the establishment of an "Apprentices' Library +for the use of the apprentices of mechanics in the City of New York." A +small library had been opened the year before at 12 Chambers Street, and +there the library remained, constantly growing in number of volumes and +patrons, till 1835, when it was removed to the old High-School Building, +at 472 Broadway, which the society about that time purchased. It +remained there until 1878, when it followed the march of population +up-town, removing to its present spacious and convenient rooms in +Mechanics' Hall, in Sixteenth Street. Strange as it may seem, the +Apprentices' is the nearest approach to a public library on a large +scale that the city can boast. It is absolutely free to males up to the +age of eighteen; after that age it is required of the beneficiaries that +they be engaged in some mechanical employment. Ladies who are engaged in +any legitimate occupation may partake of its benefits. Books are loaned, +the applicants, besides meeting the above conditions, being only +required to furnish a guarantor. The total circulation of this excellent +institution for 1881-82 was 164,100 volumes, and its beneficial +influence on the class reached may be imagined. It is nevertheless a +class library; and the fact still remains that New York, with her vast +wealth and her splendid public and private charities, has yet to endow +the great public library which will place within reach of her citizens +the literary wealth of the ages. There is scarcely a disease, it is +said, but has its richly-endowed hospital in the city, the number of +eleemosynary institutions is legion, but the establishment of a public +library, which is usually the first care of a free, rich, intelligent +community, has been unaccountably neglected. The subject is now +receiving the earnest thought of the best people of the city. +Considerable difference of opinion exists as to the best method of +founding and supporting such an institution. Some argue that this should +be done by the city alone, holding that the self-respecting workingman +and workingwoman will never patronize a free library instituted solely +by private charity. Others urge that such an institution to be +successful should be free from city control and entirely the result of +private munificence. The latter gentlemen have added to the cogency of +their arguments by a practical demonstration. Early in 1880 they +organized on a small scale a free circulating library which should exist +solely by the benefactions of the public, with the object of furnishing +free reading at their homes to the people. The general plan adopted was +a central library, with branches in the various wards, by this means +bringing the centres of distribution within easy reach of the city's +homes. The success of the institution has been such that its development +should be carefully followed. It began operations by leasing two rooms +of the old mansion, No. 36 Bond Street, and in March, 1880, "moved in," +opening with a few hundred volumes donated chiefly from the libraries of +its projectors. The first month--March--1044 volumes were circulated. By +October this had grown to 4212. The next year--1881-82--the circulation +reached 69,280, and it continued to increase until in 1883 it reached +81,233,--an increase of nearly 10,000 over the preceding year. In May, +1883, the library was removed to the comfortable and roomy building, No. +49 Bond Street, which had been purchased and fitted up for it by the +trustees. Early in December, 1884, the Ottendorfer Library, at 135 +Second Avenue, the first of the projected branch libraries, was opened +with 8819 volumes, 4784 of which were in English and 4035 in German, the +whole, with the library building, being the gift of Mr. Oswald +Ottendorfer, of New York. The branch proved equally popular, having +circulated during the past year--1885--97,000 volumes, while the +circulation of the main library has increased to 104,000 volumes, the +combined circulation of both libraries exceeding that of any other in +the city. The percentage of loss has been only one book for 31,768 +circulated. The report of the treasurer shows that the annual expenses +of the library--about twelve thousand dollars--have been met by +voluntary contributions, and that it has a permanent fund of about +thirty-two thousand dollars besides its books. These figures prove that +libraries of this character will be appreciated, and used by the people. +The library committee say, in their last report, that after four years' +experience they feel competent to begin the establishment of branch +libraries, and observe that at least six of these centres of light and +intelligence should be opened in various quarters of the city. It is +understood that lack of funds alone prevents the institution from +entering on this wider field. When one considers the liberal and too +often indiscriminate charities of the metropolis, and reflects that the +need and utility of this excellent enterprise have been demonstrated, it +seems impossible that pecuniary obstacles will long be allowed to stand +in the way of its legitimate development. + +CHARLES BURR TODD. + + + + +THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY. + + +A Darwinian might find evidence of the pedigree of our species in the +inherent taste for mimicry which we share, at all events, with the +anthropoid apes. This instinct of mimicry I take to be the humble +beginning from which dramatic art has sprung, and it appears in the +individual at a very early stage. Perhaps it is even expressed in the +first squalls of infancy, though this possibility has been overlooked +or obscured by philosophic pedantry. Now anent these squalls. Hegel +gravely declares that they indicate a revelation of the baby's exalted +nature (oh!), and are meant to inform the public that it feels itself +"permeated with the certitude" that it has a right to exact from the +external world the satisfaction of its needs. Michelet opines that the +squalls reveal the horror felt by the soul at being enslaved to nature. +Another writer regards them as an outburst of wrath on the part of the +baby at finding itself powerless against environing circumstances. Some +early theologians, on the other hand, pronounced squalling to be a proof +of innate wickedness; and this view strikes one as being much nearer the +mark. But none of these accounts are completely satisfactory. Innate +wickedness may supply the conception; it is the dramatic instinct that +suggests the means. Here is the real explanation of those yells which +embitter the life of a young father and drive the veteran into temporary +exile. It happens in this wise. The first aim of a baby--not yours, +madam; yours is well known to be an exception, but of other and common +babies--is to make itself as widely offensive as possible. The end, +indeed, is execrable, but the method is masterly. The baby has an _a +priori_ intuition that the note of the domestic cat is repulsive to the +ear of the human adult. Consequently, what does your baby do but betake +itself to a practical study of the caterwaul! After a few conscientious +rehearsals a creditable degree of perfection is usually reached, and a +series of excruciating performances are forthwith commenced, which last +with unbroken success until the stage arrives when correction becomes +possible. This process may check the child's taste for imitating the +lower animals in some of their less engaging peculiarities, but his +dramatic instincts will be diverted with a refreshing promptness to the +congenial subjects of parent or nurse. + +No sooner is your son and heir invested with the full dignity of +knickerbockers than he begins to celebrate this rise in the social +scale by "playing at being papa." The author of "Vice Versa" has drawn +an amusing picture of the discomforts to papa which an exchange of +environment with his school-boy son might involve. But there is another +side to the question; and at Christmas-time, for instance, most papas +would probably be glad enough to exchange the joys and responsibilities +of paternity for the simple taste which can tackle plum-pudding and the +youthful digestion for which this delicacy has no terrors. However, +while it is impossible, or at least inexpedient, for papa to play at +being his own urchin, the latter is restrained by no considerations, +moral or otherwise, from attempting to personate his papa. + +It is often said sententiously that the child is the father of the man. +In this case most of us should blush for our parentage. It will be +conceded at once (subject, of course, to special reservations in favor +of individual brats) that the baby is the most detestable of created +beings. But its physical impotence to some extent neutralizes its moral +baseness. In the child the deviltries of the baby are partially curbed, +but this loss is compensated for by superior bodily powers. Now, the +virtuous child--if such a conception can be framed--when representing +papa would delight to dwell on the better side of the paternal +character, the finer feelings, the flashes of genius, the sallies of +wit, the little touches of tenderness and romance, and so forth. Very +likely; but the actual child does just the reverse of this. Is there a +trivial weakness, a venial shortcoming, a microscopic spot of +imperfection anywhere? The ruthless little imp has marked it for his +own, and will infallibly reproduce it, certainly before your servants, +and possibly before your friends. + +"Now we'll play at being in church," quoth Master George in lordly wise +to his little sisters. "I'm papa." Whereupon he will twist himself into +an unseemly tangle of legs and arms which is simply a barbarous travesty +of the attitude of studied grace with which you drink in the sermon in +the corner of your family pew. + +"Master George, you mustn't," interposes the housemaid, in a tone of +faint rebuke, adding, however, with a thrill of generous appreciation, +"Law, 'ow funny the child is, and as like as like!" Applause is +delicious to every actor, and under its stimulus your first-born essays +a fresh flight. Above the laughter of the nurses and the admiring +shrieks of his sisters there rises a weird sound, as of a sucking pig +_in extremis_. Your son, my unfortunate friend, is attempting, with his +childish treble pipes, to formulate a masculine snore. This is a gross +calumny. You never--stop!--well, on one occasion perhaps--but then there +were extenuating circumstances. Very likely; but the child has grasped +the fact without the circumstances, and has framed his conclusion as a +universal proposition. It is a most improper induction, I admit; but +logic, like some other things, is not to be looked for in children. + +Next comes mamma's turn. Perhaps she has weakly yielded on some occasion +to young hopeful's entreaties that he might come down to the kitchen +with her to order dinner. By the perverse luck that waits on poor +mortals, there happened on that very day to be a passage of arms between +mistress and cook. Rapidly forgotten by the principals, it has been +carefully stored up in the memory of the witness, who will subsequently +bestow an immense amount of misguided energy in teaching a young sister +to reproduce, with appropriate gesture and intonation, "Cook, I desire +that you will not speak to me in that way. I am extremely displeased +with you, and I shall acquaint your master with your conduct." + +Small sisters, by the way, may be made to serve a variety of useful +purposes of a dramatic or semi-dramatic nature. They may safely be cast +for the unpleasant or uninteresting characters of the nursery drama. +They form convenient targets for the development of their brothers' +marksmanship; and they make excellent horses for their brothers to +drive, and, it may be added, for their brothers to flog. + +When the subjects afforded by its immediate surroundings are exhausted, +Theatre Royal Nursery turns to fiction or history for materials. And +here, too, the perversity of childhood is displayed. It is not the +virtuous, the benevolent, the amiable, that your child delights to +imitate, but rather the tyrant and the destroyer, the ogre who subsists +in rude plenty on the peasantry of the neighborhood, or the dragon who +is restricted by taste or convention to one young lady _per diem_, till +the national stock is exhausted, or the inevitable knight turns up to +supply the proper dramatic finale. + +The varied incident of the "Pilgrim's Progress," its romance, and the +weird fascination of its goblins and monsters, make it a favorite source +of dramatic adaptations. And here, if any man doubt the doctrine of +original sin, let him note the fierce competition among the youngsters +for the part of Apollyon, and put his doubts from him. With a little +care a great many scenes may be selected from this inimitable work. +Christian's entry into the haven of refuge in the early part of his +pilgrimage can be effectively reproduced in the nursery. It will be +remembered that the approach was commanded by a castle of Beelzebub's, +from which pilgrims were assailed by a shower of arrows. It is this that +gives the episode its charm. One child is of course obliged to sacrifice +his inclinations and personate Christian. The rest eagerly take service +under Beelzebub and become the persecuting garrison. The "properties" +required are of the simplest kind. The nursery sofa or settee--a +position of great natural strength--is further fortified with chairs and +other furniture to represent the stronghold of the enemy. Christian +should be equipped with a wide-awake hat, a stick, and a great-coat +(papa's will do, or, better still, a visitor's), with a stool wrapped up +in a towel and slung over his shoulders to do duty as the bundle of +sins. He is then made to totter along to a "practical" gate (two chairs +are the right thing) at the far end of the room, while the hosts of +darkness hurl boots, balls, and other suitable missiles at him from the +sofa. Sometimes the original is faithfully copied, and bows and arrows +are employed; but this is, on the whole, a mistake: there is some chance +of Christian being really injured, and this, though of course no +objection in itself, is apt to provoke a summary interference by the +authorities. Christian's passage through the Valley of the Shadow of +Death is another favorite piece. Here, too, there are great +opportunities for an enterprising demon. It will be necessary, however, +for the success of the performance that Christian should abandon his +strictly defensive attitude in the narrative and lay about him with +sufficient energy to produce a general scrimmage. + +"Robinson Crusoe" is a treasure-house of situations, some of which gain +a piquancy from the dash of the diabolical with which Crusoe's terrors +invested them. Even where this is wanting there is plenty of bloodshed +to take its place, and a happy combination of horrors is supplied by the +cannibal feast which Crusoe interrupts. The youngest member of the +troupe is, on the whole, the best victim; but, failing this, any pet +animal sufficiently lazy or good-tempered to endure the process makes a +tolerable substitute. "Masterman Ready," "The Swiss Family Robinson," +and other cognate works, together with appropriate selections from +sacred and profane history, are adapted with a shamelessness which would +make a dramatic author's blood run cold. + +Lions, tigers, and wild beasts generally are common objects of nursery +imitation, either from a genuine admiration of their qualities or from +the mysterious craving for locomotion on all-fours with which children +seem possessed. This branch of the art, however, struggles under some +difficulties. It has, of course, to contend with the undisguised +opposition of authority. This is hardly a matter for marvel, and perhaps +not even a matter for regret. A prudential regard for the knees of +puerile knickerbockers and the corresponding region of feminine frocks +may explain a good deal of parental discouragement in the matter; and +there is little public sympathy to counteract this, for it is felt that +the total decay of these mimes would not be a serious loss either to +dramatic art or to peace and quietness. + +In one sense, no doubt, these amusements of childhood are matters of +little moment; but, in spite of their seeming triviality, they have a +genuine importance which should not be overlooked. The spontaneous +exhibitions of children at play often reveal latent tastes, tendencies, +or traits of character to one who is able to interpret them aright. If +this be so,--and it is no longer open to doubt,--it is clear that even +infant acting may furnish hints and assistance of the highest value to +an intelligent system of education. It is true, no doubt, that till +quite lately any such possibility was steadily ignored; but it is only +quite lately that anything like an intelligent system of early education +has been attempted. The idiosyncrasies of a child, instead of being +carefully observed, were either disregarded as meaningless or repressed +as being naughty. No greater mistake could be possible; and this at last +is beginning to be understood. The first struggles of a young +consciousness to express itself externally are nearly always eccentric, +and often seem perverse. But this is nothing more than we ought to +expect. The oddities of a child's conduct are in reality nothing else +than direct expressions of character, uncurbed by the conventions which +regulate the demeanor of adults, or direct revelations of some taste or +aptitude, which education may foster, but which neglect will hardly +crush. The world contains a woful number of human pegs thrust forcibly +into holes which do not fit them, and the world's work suffers +proportionately from this misapplication of energy. The mischief is +abundantly clear, but the remedy, if we do not shut our eyes to it, is +tolerably clear also. Just as this condition of things is largely due to +our unscientific neglect of variations in character and the wooden +system of education which this neglect has produced, so we may expect to +see its evils disappear by an abolition of the one and a reform of the +other. If the world be indeed a stage, with all humanity for its _corps +dramatique_ it must surely be well for the success of the performance +that the cast should take account of individual aptitudes, and that to +each player should be allotted the part which he can best support in the +great drama of Life. + +NORMAN PEARSON. + + + + +OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + +"The Man who Laughs." + + +The degree of culture and good breeding which a man possesses may be +very correctly determined by the way he laughs. The primeval savage, +from whom we trace descent, was distinguished above everything else by +his demonstrativeness; and there is much in our present type of social +manners and conduct which betrays our barbarous origin. The brute-like +sounds that escape from the human throat in the exercise of laughter, +the coarse guffaw, the hoarse chuckle, and the high, cackling tones in +which many of the feminine half of the world express their sense of +amusement, attest very painfully the animal nature within us. It was +Emerson, I believe, who expressed a dislike of all loud laughter; and it +is difficult to imagine the scene or occasion which could draw from that +serene and even-minded philosopher a broader expression of amusement +than that conveyed in the "inscrutable smile" which Whipple describes as +his most characteristic feature. Yet Emerson was by no means wanting in +appreciation of the comic. On the contrary, he had an abiding sense of +humor, and it was this--a keen and lively perception of the grotesque, +derived as part of his Yankee inheritance--that kept him from uniting in +many of the extravagant reform movements of the day. Few of us, however, +even under the sanction of an Emerson, would wish to dispense with all +sound of laughter. + +The memory of a friend's voice, in which certain laughing notes and +tones are inextricably mingled with the graver inflections of common +speech, is almost as dear as the vision of his countenance or the warm +pressure of his hand. Yet among such remembrances we hold others, of +those from whom the sound of open laughter is seldom heard, the absence +of which, however, denotes no diminished sense of the humorous and +amusing. A quick, responsive smile, a flash or glance of the eye, a +kindling countenance, serve as substitutes for true laughter, and we do +not miss the sound of that which is supplied in a finer and often truer +quality. + +The freest, purest laughter is that of childhood, which is as +spontaneous as the song of birds. It is impossible that the laughter of +older people should retain this sound of perfect music. Knowledge of +life and the world has entered in to mar the natural harmonics of the +human voice, which not all the skill and efforts of the vocal culturists +can ever again restore. It is only those who in attaining the years and +stature of manhood have retained the nature of the child, its first +unconscious truth and simplicity, whose laughter is wholly pleasant to +hear. I recall the laugh of a friend which corresponds to this +description, a laugh as pure and melodious, as guiltless of premeditated +art or intention, as the notes of the rising lark; yet its owner is a +man of wide worldly experience. It is natural that I, who know my +friend so well, should find in this peculiarly happy laugh of his the +sign and test of that type of high, sincere manhood which he represents; +but it is a dangerous business, this attempting to define the character +and disposition of people by the turn of an eyelid, the curve of a lip, +or a particular vocal shade and inflection. Not only has Art learned to +imitate Nature very closely, but Nature herself plays many a trick upon +our credulity in matters of this kind. Upon a woman who owns no higher +motive than low and selfish cunning she bestows the musical tones of a +seraph, as she sheathes the sharp claws of all her feline progeny in +cases of softest fur. Rosamond Vincy is not the only example which might +be furnished, either in or out of print, in proof that a low, soft +voice, that excellent thing in woman, may have a wrongly persuasive +accent, luring to disappointment and death, like the Lorelei's song, to +which the harsh tones of the most strong-minded Xantippe are to be +preferred. + +Still, it does seem that, however right Shakespeare was when he said a +man may smile and smile and be a villain still, no real villain could +indulge in hearty, spontaneous laughter. Much smiling is one of the thin +disguises in which a certain kind of knavery seeks to hide itself, but +it is easy to conjecture that the low ruffian type of villain, like that +seen in Bill Sykes and Jonas Chuzzlewit, neither laughs nor smiles, +being as destitute of the courage to listen to the sound of its own +voice as of the wit that summons artifice to its aid in protection of +its guilty devices. + +The ghastly effect of guilt laughing with constrained glee to hide +suspicion of itself from the eyes of innocence is vividly portrayed in +Irving's performance of "The Bells," in the scene where Mathias, by a +supreme effort of will, joins in Christian's laugh over the supposition +that it might have been his, the respected burgomaster's, limekiln in +which the body of the Polish Jew was burned. Genuine laughter must +spring from a pure and undefiled source. It may not always be of +tuneful quality, but it must at least contain the note of sincerity. I +have in mind the outbursts of deep-chested sound with which another +friend evinces his appreciation of a humorous remark or incident, a +laugh which many fastidious people would pronounce too hard and rough by +half, bending their heads and darting from under, as if suddenly +assailed by some rude nor'wester. But I like the pleasant shock bestowed +in those strong, breezy tones, and the feeling of rejuvenation and new +expectancy which it imparts. + +Another laugh echoes in memory as I write, a girl's laugh this time, not +"idle and foolish and sweet," as such have been described, but clear, +and strong, and odd almost to the point of the ludicrous, yet charmingly +natural withal. A young woman's laugh is apt to begin at the highest +note, and, running down the scale, to end in a sigh of mingled relief +and exhaustion an octave or so lower down. This particular girl, +however, takes the other way, and, running her chromatic neatly up from +about middle C, pauses for a breath, and then astonishes her audience by +striking off two perfectly attuned notes several degrees higher up, +hitting her mark with the ease and deftness of a prima donna. So odd and +surprising a laugh is sure to be quickly infectious, and its owner is +never at a loss for company in her merriment, while a cheerful temper, +unclouded by a shade of envy or suspicion, is not in the least disturbed +by the knowledge that others are laughing at as well as with her. + +The question of what we shall laugh at deserves more attention than our +manner of laughing. "There is nothing," says Goethe, "in which people +more betray their character than in what they find to laugh at," adding, +"The man of understanding finds almost everything ridiculous, the man of +thought scarcely anything." This last corresponds somewhat to a +sentiment found in Horace Walpole: "Life is a comedy to those who think, +a tragedy to those who feel." + +With many people laughter seems to be an appetite, which grows by what +it feeds on, until all power of discrimination between the finer and the +more vulgar forms of wit is lost. Certain it is that the habit of +laughter is as easy to fall into as it is dangerous to all social +dignity. The muscles of the mouth have a natural upward curve,--a fact +which speaks well for the disposition of Mother Nature who made us, and +may also be held to signify that there are more things in the world +deserving our approval than our condemnation. But the hideous spectacle +presented in the contorted visage of Hugo's great character contains a +wholesome warning even for us of a later age; for there is a social +tyranny, almost as potent as the kingly despotism which ruled the world +centuries ago, that would fain shape the features of its victims after +one artificial pattern. We laugh too much, from which it necessarily +follows that we often laugh at the wrong things, a fault which betrays +intellectual weakness as well as moral cupidity. The determining quality +in true laughter lies in the degree of innocent mirth it gives +expression to; and when jealous satire, envy, or malice add their +dissonant note to its sound, its finest effect is destroyed and its +opportunity lost. + +C.P.W. + + +Why we Forget Names. + +In the last years of his life the venerated Emerson lost his memory of +names. In instance of this many will remember the story told about him +when returning from the funeral of his friend Longfellow. Walking away +from the cemetery with his companion, he said, "That gentleman whose +funeral we have just attended was a sweet and beautiful soul, but I +cannot recall his name." The little anecdote has something very touching +about it,--the old man asking for the name of the life-long friend, "the +gentleman whose funeral we have just attended." + +When I saw Mr. Emerson a year prior to his own death, this defect of +memory was very noticeable, and extended even to the names of common +objects, so that in talking he would use quaint, roundabout expressions +to supply the place of missing words. He would call a church, for +instance, "that building in the town where all the people go on Sunday." + +This loss of memory of names is very common with old people, but it is +not confined to them. Almost every one has at some time experienced the +peculiar, the almost desperate, feeling of trying to recall a name that +will not come. It is at our tongue's end; we know just what sort of a +name it is; it begins with a _B_; yet did we try for a year it would not +come. One curious fact about the phenomenon is that it seems to be +contagious. If one person suddenly finds himself unable to recall a +name, the person with whom he is talking will stick at it also. The name +almost always gets the best of them, and they have to say, "Yes, I know +what you mean," and go on with their talk. + +I have never seen an explanation of this name-forgetfulness; but it is +not difficult to find a reason for it. What needs explaining is that +names are so obstinate, and grow more obstinate the harder we try, while +other things we have forgotten and are trying to recall generally yield +themselves to our efforts. Moreover, in other cases of forgetfulness we +never experience that peculiar and most exasperating feature of +name-forgetfulness,--the feeling that we know the word perfectly well +all the time. This last fact, indeed, seems to show that we have not +forgotten the name at all, but have simply lost the clue to it. + +Now, let us inquire why this clue is so hard to find. Scientific men who +study the human mind and make a business of explaining thought, emotion, +memory, and the like, have an expression which they use frequently, and +which sounds difficult, but which really it is very easy as well as +interesting to understand. They speak of the _association of ideas_. The +association of ideas means simply the fact which every one has noticed, +that one thing tends to call up another in the mind. When you recall a +certain sleigh-ride last winter, you remember that you put hot bricks +in the sleigh; and this reminds you that you were intending to heat a +warming-pan for the bed to-night; and the thought of warming the bed +makes you think of poor President Garfield's sickness, during which they +tried to cool his room with ice. Each of these thoughts (ideas) has +evidently called up another connected--associated--with it in some way. +This is the association of ideas: it is a law that governs almost all +our thinking, as any one may discover by going back over his own +thoughts. Perhaps an easier way to discover it will be to observe the +rapid talk of an afternoon caller on the family, and see how the +conversation skips from one subject to another which the last suggested, +and from that to another suggested by this, and so on. + +Just this association of ideas it is which enables us to recall things +we have forgotten. Our ideas on any subject--say that sleigh-ride last +winter--resemble a lot of balls some distance apart in a room, but all +connected by strings. If there is any particular ball we cannot +find,--that is, some fact we cannot remember,--then if we pull the +neighboring balls it is likely that they by the connecting strings will +bring the missing ball into sight. To illustrate this, suppose that you +cannot remember the route of that sleigh-ride. You recall carefully all +the circumstances associated with the ride, in hopes that some one of +them will suggest the route that was taken. You think of your +companions, of the moon being full, of having borrowed extra robes, of +the hot bricks--Ah, there is a clue! The bricks were reheated somewhere. +Where was it? They were placed on a stove,--on a red-hot stove with a +loafers' foot-rail about it. That settles it. Such stoves are found only +in country grocery-stores; and now it all comes back to you. The ride +was by the hill road to Smith's Corners. It is as if there were a string +from the hot-bricks idea to the idea that the bricks were reheated, to +this necessarily being done on a stove, to the peculiar kind of stove it +was done on, to the only place in the neighborhood where such a stove +could be, to Smith's Corners; and this string has led you, like a clue, +to the fact you desired to remember. + +We can now return to the question asked above: In trying to recall +names, why is it so difficult to find a clue? After what has been said, +the question can be put in a better form: Why does not the association +of ideas enable us to recall names as it does other things? The answer +is, that names (proper names) have very few associations, very few +strings, or clues, leading to them. It is easy to see this; for suppose +you moved away from the neighborhood of that sleigh-ride many years +before, and in thinking over past times find yourself unable to recall +the name of the Corners where the store stood. The place can be +remembered perfectly, and a thousand circumstances connected with it, +but they furnish no clue to the name: the circumstances might all remain +the same and the name be any other as well. The only association the +name has is with an indistinct memory of how it sounded. It was of two +words: the second was something like Hollow, or Cross roads, or +Crossing; the first began with an _S_. But it is vain to seek for it: no +clue leads to it. Were it the ride you sought to remember, many of its +details could be recalled, some of which might lead to the desired fact; +but a name has no details, and it is only possible to say of it that it +sounded so and so, if it is possible to say that. + +It may be asked, how, then, is it that we do remember some names, as +those in use every day? Just as the multiplication-table is +remembered,--by force of familiarity. Constant repetition engraves them +in the mind. When in old age the vigor of the mind lessens, the +engraving wears out and names are hard to recall, since there is no +other clue to them than this engraved record. + +There may be mentioned one slight help in recalling names when the case +is important or desperate. It consists in going back to the period when +the name was known and deliberately writing out a circumstantial +account of all the connected incidents, mentioning names of persons and +places whenever they can be remembered. If this is done in a casual way, +without thinking of the purpose in view,--as if one were sending a +gossipy letter of personal history to a friend,--the mind falls into an +automatic condition that may result in producing the desired name +itself. Every one must have observed that it is this automatic activity +of the mind, and not conscious effort, which recovers lost names most +successfully. We "think of them afterwards." + +XENOS CLARK. + + +A Reminiscence of Harriet Martineau. + +It is more than fifty years since I, a mere child, spent a summer with +my parents in a sandy young city of Indiana. Eight or nine hundred +souls, perhaps more, were already anchored within its borders. Chicago, +a lusty infant just over the line, her feet blackened with prairie mud, +made faces, called names, and ridiculed its soil and architecture. +Nevertheless it was a valiant little city, even though its streets were +rivers of shifting sand, through which "prairie-schooners" were +toilsomely dragged by heavy oxen or a string of chubby ponies,--these +last a gift from the coppery Indian to the country he was fast +forsaking. Clouds of clear grit drifted into open casements on every +passing breeze, or, if a gale arose, were driven through every crevice. +Our little city was cradled amid the shifting sand-hills on Michigan's +wave-beaten shore. Indeed, it had received the name of the grand old +lake in loving baptism, and was pluckily determined to wear it worthily. +Its buildings were wholly of wood, and hastily constructed, some not +entirely unpretentious, while others tilted on legs, as if in readiness +at shortest notice to take to their heels and skip away. In those early +days there was only the round yellow-bodied coach swinging on leathern +straps, or the heavy lumber-wagon, to accommodate the tide of travel +already setting westward. It was a daily delight to listen to the +inspiring toot of the driver's horn and the crack of his long whip, as, +with six steaming horses, he swung his dusty passengers in a final grand +flourish up to the hospitable door of the inn. + +One memorable morning brought to the unique little town a literary +lion,--a woman of great heart, clear brain, and powerful pen,--in short, +Harriet Martineau. Her travelling companions were a professor, his +comely wife, and their eight-year-old son. The last-named was much +petted by Miss Martineau, and still flourishes in perennial youth on +many pages of her books of American travel. Michigan City felt honored +in its transient guest. The whisper that a real live author was among us +filled the inn hall with a changing throng eager to obtain a glimpse of +the celebrity. Not among the least of these were "the two little girls" +she mentions in her "Society in America," page 253. At breakfast the +party served their sharpened appetites quite like ordinary folk,--Miss +Martineau in thoughtful quiet, broken now and again by a brisk question +darted at the professor, who answered in a deliberate learned way that +was quite impressive. A shiver of disgust ruffled his plump features at +the absence of cream, which the host excused by the statement that, the +population having outgrown its flocks and herds, milk was held sacred to +the use of babes. Miss Martineau listened to the professor's complaints +with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, while that indignant gentleman +vigorously applied himself to the solid edibles at hand. Shortly after +breakfast the strangers sallied forth in search of floral treasures, +over the low sand-hills stretching toward the lake (a spur of which +penetrated the main street), where in the face of the sandy drift +nestled a shanty quite like the "dug-out" of the timberless lands in +Kansas and New Mexico. The tomb-like structure, half buried in sand, +only its front being visible, seemed to afford Miss Martineau no end of +surprised amusement as she climbed to its submerged roof on her way to +the summit of the hill. A window-garden of tittering young women +merrily watched the progress of the quick-stepping Englishwoman, and, +really, there was some provocation to mirth, from their stand-point. +Anything approaching a _blanket_, plain, plaided, or striped, had never +disported itself before their astonished gaze as a part of feminine +apparel, except on the back of a grimy squaw. Of blanket-shawls, soon to +become a staple article of trade, the Western women had not then even +heard; and here was a civilized and cultivated creature enveloped in +what seemed to be a gay trophy wrested from the bed-furniture! Then, +too, the "only sweet thing" in bonnets was the demure "cottage," +fashioned of fine straw, while the woman in view sported a coarse, pied +affair, whose turret-like crown and flaring brim pointed ambitiously +skyward. Stout boots completed the costume criticised and laughed over +by the merry maidens who yet stood in wholesome awe of the presence of +the wearer. With what a wealth of gorgeous wild flowers and plumy ferns +the pilgrims came laden on their return! Quoting from "Society in +America," page 253, Miss Martineau says, "The scene was like what I had +always fancied the Norway coast, but for the wild flowers, which grew +among the pines on the slope almost into the tide. I longed to spend an +entire day on this flowery and shadowy margin of the inland sea. I +plucked handfuls of pea-vine and other trailing flowers, which seemed to +run all over the ground." + +Miss Martineau piled her treasures on a table and culled the specimens +worthy of pressing, and it seemed to pain her to reject the least +promising of her perishable plunder. She must have had a passion for +flowers, judging from the tenderness with which she handled the lovely +fronds and delicate petals under inspection, while her mouth was +continually open in admiring exclamation. + +And now came what I still fondly remember as the _Musicale_. A little +comrade came in the twilight to sing songs with me. With arms +interlaced, we paced the upper hall, vociferously warbling as breath was +given us, when a door opened, and the gifted, dark-faced woman, with +kindly eyes, beamed out on us. "Come," she called, "come in here, +children, and sing your songs for me: I am very fond of music." Very +bashfully we signified our willingness to oblige,--indeed, we dared not +do otherwise,--and sidled into the room. Closing the door, our hostess +curled herself comfortably on a gayly-cushioned lounge, and proceeded to +adjust a serpent-like, squirming appendage to her ear. With an +encouraging nod, she bade us commence, closing her eyes meanwhile with +an air of expectant rapture. But the vibrating trumpet stirred our +foolish souls to explosive laughter, partially smothered in a +simultaneous strangled cough. Wondering at the double paroxysm and +subsequent hush of shame, she unclosed her eyes, softly murmuring, +"Don't be bashful nor afraid, my dears. I am very far from home, and you +can make me very happy, if you will. Pray begin at once, and then I will +also sing for you." Taking courage, we piped as bidden, rendering in a +childish way the strains of "Blue-Eyed Mary," "Comin' through the Rye," +"I'd be a Butterfly," and "Auld Lang Syne," Our audience, with bright, +attentive looks, regarded the performance in pleased approval, softly +tapping time on her knee with a slender finger. + +"Now it is my turn," said Miss Martineau. Straightening herself and +casting aside the trumpet, primly folding her hands and pursing her +mouth curiously, she began, in a high, quavering voice, a song whose +burden was the fixed objection on the part of a certain damsel to +forsaking the pleasures of the world for the seclusion and safety of a +convent: + + Now, is it not a pity such a pretty girl as I + Should be sent to a nunnery to pine away and die? + But I _won't_ be a nun,--- no, I _won't_ be a _nun_; + I'm _so_ fond of _pleasure_ that I _cannot_ be a nun. + +It is impossible to give an idea of the jerky style of the lady's +singing which so tickled our sensitive ears. At every repetition of the +refrain, Susy and I squeezed our locked fingers spasmodically in order +to suppress the unseemly laughter bubbling to our lips. At every +emphatic word she nodded at us merrily, thus adding to our inward +disquiet. + +I like now, when picturing Harriet Martineau entertaining with noble +themes the men and women of letters she drew around her in England and +America, to remember, in connection with her strong, plain face and +brilliant intellect, the simple kindliness with which she once unbent to +a brace of little Hoosier maids in the "Far West." + +F.C.M. + + + + +LITERATURE OF THE DAY. + +"Louis Agassiz: His Life and Correspondence[A]." Edited by Elizabeth +Cary Agassiz. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +The northeastern corner of the ancient Pays de Vaud, only part of which +is included in the modern canton, is little known to tourists. It lies +away from the chief lines of travel, and it has neither the magnificent +views that draw the visitor aside to Orbe nor the associations that +induce him to stop at Coppet or Clarens. Yet its breezy upland plains +and its quiet villages--some of them once populous and prosperous +towns--are not devoid of charm, or of the interest connected with +historical epochs and famous names. The "lone wall" and "lonelier +column" at Avenches date from the period when this was the Roman capital +of Helvetia. Morat still shows many a mark and relic of its siege by +Charles the Bold and of the overthrow of his forces by the Swiss. +Payerne was the birthplace, in 1779, of Jomini, the greatest of all +writers on military operations, whose precocious genius, while he was a +mere stripling and before he had witnessed any battles or manoeuvres, +penetrated the secret of Bonaparte's combinations and victorious +campaigns, which veteran commanders were watching with mere wonderment +and dismay. At Motiers, a few miles farther north, was born, in 1807, +Louis Agassiz, who at an equally early age displayed a like intuitive +comprehension of many of the workings of Nature, and who subsequently +became the chief exponent of the glacial theory and the highest +authority on the structure and classification of fishes. Each of these +two men gave his ripest powers and longest labors to a great country far +from their common home,--Jomini to Russia, Agassiz to the United States; +and, dissimilar as were their objects and pursuits, their intellectual +resemblance was fundamental. The pre-eminent quality of each was the +power of rapid generalization, of mastering and subordinating details, +of grasping and applying principles and laws. Agassiz differed as much +from an animal-loving collector like Frank Buckland, whose father was +one of his stanchest friends and co-workers, as Jomini differed from a +fighting general like Ney, to whom he suggested the movements that +resulted in the French victory at Bautzen. Switzerland is equally proud +of the great strategist and the great naturalist, but to Americans in +general the former is at the most a mere name, while the career of the +latter is an object of wide-spread and even national interest. + +In the volumes before us the story of that career is clearly and +completely, yet concisely, set forth. Readers of biography who delight +mainly in social gossip may complain of the absence of everything of the +kind; but such matter neither belonged to the subject nor was required +for its elucidation. We are prone to draw a distinction between what we +call a man's personal life and the larger and more active part of his +existence, and to fancy that the clue to his character lies in some +minor idiosyncrasies, or in habits and tastes that were perhaps +accidentally formed. But every earnest worker reveals in his methods and +achievements not alone his intellectual capacities, but all the deep +and essential qualities of his nature. With Agassiz this was +conspicuously the case. The enthusiasm, the singleness of purpose, and +the indefatigable energy that constituted the _fond_, so to speak, of +his character were as open to view as the features of his countenance. +Hence the single and strong impression he produced on all with whom he +came in contact, the sympathy he so quickly kindled, and the +co-operation he so readily enlisted. It was easily perceived that he was +no self-seeker, that no thought of personal interest mingled with his +devotion to science, and that he was not more intent on absorbing +knowledge than desirous of diffusing it. No one has ever more fully and +happily blended the qualities of student and teacher, and it was in this +double capacity that he became so public and prominent a figure and +exerted so wide an influence in the country of his adoption. + +Some men overcome obstacles and attain their ends by sheer persistency +of will, others by tact and persuasiveness, while there is a third +class, before whom the barred doors open as they are successively +approached, through what are called either fortunate accidents or +Providential interventions, but are seen, on closer inspection, to have +been the direct and natural effects of the force unconsciously exerted +by an harmonious combination of qualities. Agassiz's career was full of +such instances. The insistent desire of his parents, while stinting +themselves to secure his education, that he should adopt a bread-winning +profession, yielded, not to any urgent appeals or dogged display of +resolution, but to the proof given by his labors that he was choosing +more wisely for himself. Cuvier, without any request or expectation, +resigned to the neophyte who, after following in his footsteps, was +outstripping him in certain lines, drawings and notes prepared for his +own use. Humboldt, at a critical moment, saved him from the necessity +for abandoning his projects by an unsolicited loan, supplemented by many +further acts of assistance of a different kind. In England every +possible facility and aid was afforded to him as well by private +individuals as by public institutions. In America, men like Mr. +Nathaniel Thayer and Mr. John Anderson needed only in some chance way to +become acquainted with his plans to be ready to provide the means for +carrying them out. It was the same on all occasions. The United States +government, the Coast Survey, the legislature of Massachusetts, private +individuals throughout the country, showed a rare willingness, and even +eagerness, to forward his views. The man and the object were identified +in people's minds, and, as in all such cases, a feeling was roused and +an impulse generated which could have sprung from no other source. + +The attractiveness and charm which everybody seems to have found in him +had perhaps the same origin. It does not appear that his nature was +peculiarly sympathetic, that it was through any unusual flow and warmth +of feeling toward others that he so quickly became the object of their +attachment or regard. Of course, we do not intend to intimate that he +was deficient in strength of affection or in the least degree cold or +unresponsive. But his "magnetism," to use the current word, lay in the +ardor and singleness of his devotion to science, not as an abstraction, +but as a potent agency in civilization, in the union of elevation with +enthusiasm, in an openness that seemed to reveal everything, yet nothing +that should have been hidden. Hence this biography, little as it deals +with purely personal matters, awakens an interest of precisely the same +kind as that which the living Agassiz was accustomed to excite. For the +student of comparative zoology or of glacial action all that is here +told about these subjects can have only an historical value. But no +reader can follow the successive steps of a career that was always in +the truest sense upward without being touched by that inspiring +influence which it constantly diffused, and which Americans, above all +others, have reason to hold in grateful remembrance. + + +Illustrated Books. + +"The Sermon on the Mount." Boston: Roberts Brothers. + +"Poems of Nature." By John Greenleaf Whittier. Illustrated from Nature +by Elbridge Kingsley. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + +"Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." A Romaunt. By Lord Byron. Boston: Ticknor +& Co. + +"The Last Leaf." Poem. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. Illustrated by George +Wharton Edwards and F. Hopkinson Smith. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + +"Pepper and Salt; or, Seasoning for Young Folks." Prepared by Howard +Pyle. New York: Harper & Brothers. + +"Davy the Goblin; or, What Followed Reading 'Alice's Adventures in +Wonderland,'" By Charles E. Carryl. Boston; Ticknor & Co. + +"Bric-à-Brac Stories." By Mrs. Burton Harrison. Illustrated by Walter +Crane. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. + +"Rudder Grange." By Frank R. Stockton. Illustrated by A.B. Frost. New +York: Charles Scribner's Sons. + + +In turning over the pictorial books of the season one experiences a +genuine pleasure in coming upon this illustrated edition of "The Sermon +on the Mount," which belongs to a high order of merit from its +satisfactory interpretation of the subject and the beauty of its general +design and careful detail. It is, of course, a modern performance, and +nothing is more characteristic of most modern art than that it does +consciously, from reminiscence and with a reaching after certain +effects, what was once done simply, intuitively, and from the urgency of +poetic feeling. A great difference must naturally exist not only in the +outward mode but in the spirit of a group of modern artists who set to +work to illuminate a sacred text, and that in which the task was +undertaken by cloistered monks in whose gray lives a longing for beauty, +for color, found expression only here. Thus one realizes that the +decorative borders--which one looks at over and over again in this +volume, and which actually satisfy the eye--do not represent the +artist's own actual dreams, but are founded instead upon the ecstatic +visions of Fra Angelico and others as they bent over their work in their +silent cells; but they are beautiful nevertheless, far transcend what is +merely decorative, and are full of imagination and feeling. In fact, +into this frame-work, which might have contained nothing beyond +conventional imitation, Mr. Smith has put vivid touches which show that +he has the faculty to conceive and the skill to handle which belong to +the true artist. It would be easy to instance several of these borders +as remarkably good in their way: that which surrounds the "Lord's +Prayer" suggests dazzling effects in jewelled glass. The book is made up +in a delightful way, with full-page pictures interspersed with vignettes +illustrating the text and set round with those richly-designed borders +to which we have alluded. Mr. Fenn's pictures of actual places in the +Holy Land, besides striking the key-note of veracity which puts us in a +mood to see the whole story under fresh lights, are full of beauty and +charm. We are inclined to like everything in the book, although in the +various ways in which the beatitudes are interpreted we are conscious of +some incongruities, and wish that certain illustrations had made way for +designs showing more unity of conception among the artists. For +instance, Mr. Church's introduction of a New England scene of +tomahawking Indians cannot be said to throw a flood of light upon the +meaning of "Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' +sake." Mr. St. John Harper's pictures are a trifle obscure; but their +obscurity veils their want of pertinence and suggests subtilties that +flatter the imagination into fitting the application to suit itself. Any +mention of the book which failed to include Mr. Copeland's work on the +engrossed text would be altogether inadequate, for it is very perfect, +very beautiful, full of surprises and delightful quaintnesses, and helps +to make the book what it actually is, a complete whole, which really +answers our wishes of what an illustrated book should be. + +Mr. Whittier's "Poems of Nature" make the felicitous occasion this year +for one of Messrs. Houghton & Mifflin's rich and attractive series of +their authors' selected works. An admirable etching of the poet faces +the title-page, and the poems, chiefly descriptive of New England +scenes, are illustrated by designs from nature, the work of a single +artist. That Mr. Kingsley is in sympathy with the poet, and that he is +an impassioned lover of nature and the various moods of nature, no one +can doubt, and the impression of truthfulness which his work produces on +the mind makes his pictures interesting and full of sentiment even when +they are not entirely successful. Perhaps he aims in general at rather +too large effects to bring them out vividly; for when the scene he +chooses is least composite he is at his best. "Deer Island Pines," for +example, and "The Merrimac" are excellent, and we find much charm in "A +Winter Scene" and in a Boughton-like "November Afternoon." + +There is a certain temerity in undertaking to illustrate a work like +"Childe Harold," which, if it has been read at all, has aroused its own +distinct conceptions of scenery in the mind of its reader which must +make any ordinary pictures setting off familiar lines tame and insipid. +It is the triumph of art when the artist can bring out meanings and +beauties in the text hitherto undreamed of; but we acquit the artists of +the present book of any failure in that respect, for their intention +seems never to have gone beyond amiable commonplace. The little cuts are +all pleasant, trim, and, if not suggestive, at least not sufficiently +the reverse to be displeasing. The head-pieces to the cantos are +extremely good, and the two scenes "There is a pleasure in the pathless +woods" and "There is a rapture on the lonely shore" we like sufficiently +well to exempt them from the accusation of insipidity. + +Happy the poet who lives to see one of the poems he carelessly flung off +in early youth come back to him in his old age in such a setting as is +here given to Dr. Holmes's "Last Leaf." "Just when it was written," the +author says in his delightful and characteristic "_Envoi_" to the +reader, "I cannot exactly say, nor in what paper or periodical it was +first published. It must have been written before April, 1833,"--that +is, when he was in the early twenties. The poem has always been a +favorite, its sentiment suggesting Lamb's "All, all are gone, the old +familiar faces." It must henceforth be ranked as a classic, for it is +the happy destiny of the two artists who have worked together to give it +this exquisite setting forth to make its actual worth clear to every +reader. They have put nothing into the lines which was not there +already, but they have shown fine insight in their choice of subjects +and in conveying delicate and far-reaching meanings. They have +subordinated--as designers do not invariably do--their instinctive +methods and capricious inclinations to a careful study of their subject. +The result is--instead of a pretty but chaotic decorativeness +interspersed with florid and meaningless exaggerations--a complete and +beautiful whole marred by no redundancy or incongruity. Their full play +of intelligence brought to bear upon the suggestions of the poet has +developed a series of pictures which give occasionally a delightful +sense of surprise at their grace and unexpectedness. For example, the +three which illustrate + + The mossy marbles rest + On the lips that he has prest + In their bloom + +have absolutely a magical effect. Besides the full-page pictures, +etchings, and photo-gravures, the minor details of title-lines, +head- and tail-pieces, and the like, are executed in a way so pretty and +clever as to leave nothing to be desired. The rich quarto is sumptuously +bound, and, altogether, as a holiday gift-book the work has every +element of beauty and appropriateness. + +"Pepper and Salt" is one of those brilliantly clever books for little +people which rouse a wonder as to whether the juvenile mind keeps pace +with the highly stimulated imaginative powers of modern artists and +finds solid entertainment in the richly-seasoned feast prepared for it. +There is plenty of humor and whim in this volume, in which many old +apologues appear in new shapes; wit, too, is to be found, and a +sprinkling of wisdom. Effective designs, droll, fantastic, and +invariably ingenious, set off the least of the poems and stories, and +make it as striking and attractive a quarto as will be found among the +young people's books this season. + +"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" gave a new stimulus to children's +literature, with its effective magic for youthful minds and its +brilliant success among all classes of readers. "Davy the Goblin" is one +of the many volumes which have been founded, so to say, on its idea and +been carried along by its impulse. Thus little can be said for the +actual originality of the book, although it deals in new combinations +and abounds in droll situations. It is well printed and illustrated, and +most children will be glad to have a new excursion into Wonderland. + +Mrs. Burton Harrison's "Bric-à-Brac Stories," illustrated by Walter +Crane, make an attractive volume with a good deal of solid reading +within its covers. The stories are told with the _verve_ and skill of a +genuine story-teller, old themes are reset, and new material dexterously +worked in, with characters drawn from fairy- and dream-land, and, set off +by Mr. Crane's delightful drawings, the whole book is particularly +attractive. + +"Rudder Grange" is one of the books which it is essential to have always +with us, and we are glad to see the stories so well illustrated, +although the subject passes the domain of the artist, Mr. Stockton's +humor being of that delicate and elusive order which strikes the inward +and not the outward sense. "Pomona reading" in the wrecked canal-boat is +a droll contribution, and many of the cuts show that the artist is in +full harmony with the spirit of the author. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: On another occasion he remarked of Trollope, "What drivel +the man writes! He is the very essence of the commonplace."] + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +[Note A: Original reads 'Corresponddence'] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE, *** + +***** This file should be named 15840-8.txt or 15840-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/4/15840/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kathryn Lybarger 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: Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 16, 2005 [EBook #15840] +[Date last updated: July 30, 2005] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE, *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kathryn Lybarger and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + <div class="trans-note"> + Note: The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber. Footnotes +and Transcriber's notes will be found at the end of the text. + </div> + +<h1><span class="smcap">LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE</span></h1> +<hr class="short" /> +<h4><i>DECEMBER, 1885</i></h4> +<hr class="short" /> + + +<h3>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h3> +<div class="toc"> + <p>A TOBACCO PLANTATION by PHILIP A. BRUCE. <a href="#A_TOBACCO_PLANTATION">533</a></p> + <p>SCENES OF CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ'S LIFE IN BRUSSELS by THEO. WOLFE. <a href="#SCENES_OF_CHARLOTTE_BRONTES_LIFE_IN_BRUSSELS">542</a></p> + <p>COOKHAM DEAN by MARGARET BERTHA WRIGHT. <a href="#COOKHAM_DEAN">549</a></p> + <p>BIRDS OF A TEXAN WINTER by EDWARD C. BRUCE. <a href="#BIRDS_OF_A_TEXAN_WINTER">558</a></p> + <p>THE FERRYMAN'S FEE by MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. <a href="#THE_FERRYMANS_FEE">566</a></p> + <p>"WHAT DO I WISH FOR YOU?" by CARLOTTA PERRY. <a href="#WHAT_DO_I_WISH_FOR_YOU">580</a></p> + <p>LETTERS AND REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES READE by KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. <a href="#LETTERS_AND_REMINISCENCES_OF_CHARLES_READE">581</a></p> + <p>IN A SUPPRESSED TUSCAN MONASTERY by KATE JOHNSON MATSON. <a href="#IN_A_SUPPRESSED_TUSCAN_MONASTERY">591</a></p> + <p>THE SUBSTITUTE by JAMES PAYN. <a href="#THE_SUBSTITUTE">601</a></p> + <p>NEW YORK LIBRARIES by CHARLES BURR TODD. <a href="#NEW_YORK_LIBRARIES">611</a></p> + <p>THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY by NORMAN PEARSON.<a href="#THE_DRAMA_IN_THE_NURSERY">623</a></p> + <p><a href="#OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP">OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</a></p> + <p class="i4">"The Man Who Laughs." by C.P.W. <a href="#THE_MAN">627</a></p> + <p class="i4">Why We Forget Names by XENOS CLARK. <a href="#WHY_WE">629</a></p> + <p class="i4">A Reminiscence of Harriet Martineau by F.C.M. <a href="#A_REMINISCENCE">631</a></p> + <p>LITERATURE OF THE DAY. <a href="#LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY">633</a></p> + <p class="i4">Illustrated Books. <a href="#ILLUSTRATED_BOOKS">634</a></p> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><a name="Page_533" id="Page_533"></a> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 533]</span></p> + +<h2><a name="A_TOBACCO_PLANTATION" id="A_TOBACCO_PLANTATION"></a>A TOBACCO PLANTATION.</h2> + + +<p>In the following article I propose to give some account of a typical +tobacco-plantation in Virginia and the life of its negro laborers as I +have observed it from day to day and season to season. Although it is +restricted to narrow local bounds and runs in the line of exacting +routine, that life is yet varied and eventful in its way. The negro +stands so much apart to himself, in spite of all transforming +influences, that everything relating to him seems unique and almost +foreign. Even now, when emancipation has done so much to improve his +condition, his social and economic status still presents peculiar and +anomalous aspects; and in no part of the South is this more notably the +case than in the southern counties of Virginia, which, before the late +war, were the principal seat of slavery in the State, and where to-day +the blacks far outnumber the whites. This section has always been an +important tobacco-region; and this is the explanation of its teeming +negro population, for tobacco requires as much and as continuous work as +cotton. There were many hundreds of slaves on the large plantations, and +their descendants have bred with great rapidity and show little +inclination to emigrate from the neighborhoods where they were born. +Some few, by hoarding their wages, have been able to buy land; but for +the most part the soil is still held by its former owners, who +superintend the cultivation of it themselves or rent it out at low rates +to tenants. The negroes are still the chief laborers in the fields and +artisans in the workshops; and, excepting that they are no longer +chattels that can be sold at will, their lives move in the same grooves +as under the old order of things. Their occupations and amusements are +the same. As yet there has been no increase in the physical comforts of +their situation, and but little change in their general character; but +this is the first period of transformation, when it is difficult to +detect and to follow the modifications that are really taking place.</p> + +<p>Every large tobacco-plantation is an important community in itself, and +the social and economic condition of the negro can be observed there as +freely and studied with as much thoroughness as if a wide area of +country were considered for a similar purpose. In the diversity of its +soils and crops and in the variety of its population and modes of life +it bears almost the same relation to the county in which it lies that +the county bears to its section. Indeed, no community could be more +complete in itself, or less dependent upon the outside world. In an +<span class="pagenum">[pg 534]</span> +<a name="Page_534" id="Page_534"></a> +emergency, the inhabitants of one of these large plantations could +supply themselves by their own skill and ingenuity with everything that +they now obtain from abroad; and if cut off from all other associations, +the society which they themselves form would satisfy their desire for +companionship; for not only would its members be numerous and +representative of every shade of character and disposition, but they +would also be bound together by ties of blood and marriage as well as of +interest and mutual affection. Similar tasks and relaxations create in +them a similarity of tastes. The social position of all is identical, +for there are no classes among them, the only line of social division +being drawn upon differences of age; and they are paid the same wages +and possess the same small amount of property. They are attached to the +soil by like local associations, which vary as much as the plantation +varies in surface here and there. Each plantation of any great extent is +like that part of the country, both in its general aspect and its +leading features, just as the employments and amusements of its +population, if numerous, are found reflected in the social life of the +whole of the same section.</p> + +<p>The particular plantation to which I shall so often allude in this +article as the scene of the observations here recorded, like most of the +tobacco-plantations in Virginia, covers a broad expanse of land, +including in one body many thousand acres, remarkable for many +differences of soil and for a varied configuration. It is partly made up +of steep hills that roll upon each other in close succession, partly it +is high and level upland that sweeps back to the wooded horizon from the +open low-grounds contiguous to the river that winds along its southern +border. At least one-half of it is in forest, in which oak, cedar, +poplar, and hickory grow in abundance and reach a great height and size. +The soil of the lowlands is very fertile, for it is enriched every few +years by an inundation that leaves behind a heavy deposit; that of the +uplands, on the other hand, is comparatively poor, but it is fertilized +annually with the droppings of the stables and pens. Patches of new +grounds are opened every year in the woods, the timber being cleared +away for the purpose of planting tobacco in the mould of the decayed +leaves, while many old fields are abandoned to pine and broom-straw or +turned into pastures for cattle.</p> + +<p>The principal crops are tobacco, wheat, corn, and hay, but the first is +by far the most important, both from its quantity and its value. +Everything else is really subordinate to it. The soils of the uplands +and lowlands are adapted to very different varieties of this staple. +That which grows in the rich loam of the bottoms is known as "shipping +tobacco," because it is chiefly consumed abroad, as it bears +transportation in the rough state without injury to its quality. +"Working tobacco" is the name which is given to the variety that +flourishes on the hills; and this is used in the manufacture of brands +of chewing- and smoking-tobacco to meet the domestic as well as the +foreign demand. There is a third variety which grows in small quantities +on the plantation,—namely, "yellow tobacco," so called from the golden +color of the plant as it approaches ripeness; and this tint is not only +retained, but also heightened, when it has been cured, at which time it +is as light in weight as so much snuff. This variety is principally used +as a wrapper for bundles of the inferior kinds, and is prepared for the +market by a very tedious and expensive process; but the trouble thus +entailed and the money spent have their compensation in the very high +prices which it always brings in the market.</p> + +<p>The fields where tobacco has been cultivated during the previous summer +are sown in wheat in the autumn, unless they are new grounds, when the +rotation of crops is tobacco for two years in succession, followed in +the third year by wheat, and in the fourth by tobacco again. The soil is +then laid under the same rule of tillage as land that has been +<span class="pagenum">[pg 535]</span> +<a name="Page_535" id="Page_535"></a> +worked +for many seasons. As a result of this necessity for rotation, much wheat +is raised on the plantation, although the threshing of it interferes +very seriously with the attention which the tobacco requires at a very +critical period of its growth. The greater part of the low-grounds is +planted in Indian corn, the return in a good year being very large; and +even when there has been a drought, the general average in quantity and +quality falls short very little. The soil here is so fertile that +tobacco planted in it grows too coarse in its fibre, while the cost of +cultivating it is so high that the planter is reluctant to run the risk +of an overflow of the river, which destroys a crop at any stage in a few +hours. Although corn is very much injured by the same cause, it is not +rendered wholly useless, for it can be thrown to stock even when it is +unfit to be ground into meal. At a certain season the fields of this +grain along the river present a beautiful aspect, the mass of deep green +flecked by the white tops of the stalks resembling, at a distance, +level, unruffled waters; but sometimes a freshet descends upon it and +obliterates it from sight, the whole broad plain being then like a +highly-discolored lake, with rafts of planks and uprooted trees floating +upon its surface.</p> + +<p>The general plantation is divided into three plantations of equal +extent, each tract being made up of several thousand acres of land; each +has its own overseer, and he has under him a band of laborers who are +never called away to work elsewhere, and who have all their possessions +around them. Each division has its stables, teams, and implements, and +its expenses and profits are entered in a separate account. In short, +the different divisions of the general plantation are conducted as if +they belonged to several persons instead of to one alone.</p> + +<p>It is the duty of the overseer of each division to remain with his +laborers, however employed, and to overlook what they are doing. He sees +that the teams are well fed, the stock in good condition and in their +own bounds, the fences intact, and the implements sheltered from the +weather. He must hire additional hands when they are needed, and +discharge those guilty of serious delinquencies. His position is one of +responsibility, but at the same time of many advantages; for he is given +a comfortable house for his private use, with a garden, a smoke-house, a +store-room, and a stable,—a horse being furnished him to enable him to +get from one locality to another on the plantation under his charge with +ease and rapidity; and he is also supplied with rations for himself and +family every month. The social class to which he belongs is below the +highest,—namely, that of the planter,—and above that of the whites of +meanest condition. Formerly one of the three overseers on the plantation +which I am now describing was a colored man who had been a slave before +the war, a foreman in the field afterward, and was then promoted, in +consequence of his efficiency, to the responsible position which I have +named. He was a man of unusual intelligence, and gave the highest +satisfaction. His mind was almost painfully directed to the performance +of his duties, and the only fault that could be found with him was an +occasional inclination to be too severe with his own race. Very +naturally, he was looked up to by the latter as successful and +prosperous, and his influence in consequence was very great. Unlike most +of his fellows, he was given to hoarding what he earned, and in a few +years was able to buy a plantation of his own; and there he is now +engaged in cultivating his own land.</p> + +<p>There is a population of about four hundred negroes on the three +divisions of the plantation, this number including both sexes and every +age and shade of color. All of the older set, with few exceptions, were +the slaves of their employer, and did not leave him even in the restless +and excited hour of their emancipation. Born on the place, they have +spent the whole of their long lives there, and consider it to be as much +their home as it is that of its owner. In fact, the negroes here are +remote from those influences that lead so many others to migrate. The +plantation is eighteen +<span class="pagenum">[pg 536]</span> +<a name="Page_536" id="Page_536"></a> +miles from a railroad and forty from a town, and +is set down in a very sparsely settled country that has been only +partially cleared of its forests. It has a teeming population of its +own, which satisfies the social instincts of its inhabitants as much as +if they were collected together in a small town. In consequence of all +these facts, and in spite of the new state of things which the war +produced, there survives in its confines something of that baronial +spirit which we observe on a landed estate in England at the present +day, where every man, woman, and child is accustomed to think of the +landlord as the fountain-head of power and benefits. A similar spirit of +loyal subordination prevails particularly among the oldest inhabitants +of the plantation, who were once the absolute chattels of its owner, and +who look upon that fact as creating an obligation in him to support them +in their decrepitude. Being too far in the sere and yellow leaf to work, +they are provided every month with enough rations to meet their wants, +and in total idleness they calmly await the inevitable hour when their +bones will be laid beside those of their fathers. There are few more +picturesque figures than are many of these old negroes, who passed the +heyday of their strength before they were freed, and who, born in +slavery, survived to a new era only to find themselves in the last +stages of old age. They are regarded by their race with as much +veneration as if they were invested with the authority of prophets and +seers. Some of them, in spite of their years, act occasionally as +preachers, and are listened to with awe and trepidation as they lift up +their trembling voices in exhortation or denunciation. As travellers +from a distant past, it is interesting to observe them sitting with bent +backs and hands resting on their sticks in the door-ways of their cabins +on bright days in summer, or by the warm firesides in winter, while +members of younger generations talk around them or play about their +knees.</p> + +<p>The negro laborers marry in early life, and the size of their families +is often remarkable, the ratio of increase being, perhaps, greater with +them than with the families of the white laborers on the same +plantation, and the mortality among their children as small, for the +latter have an abundance of wholesome food, are well sheltered from cold +and dampness, and have good medical attendance. As soon as they are able +to walk so far, they are sent to the public school, which is situated on +the borders of the plantation, where they have a teacher of their own +race to instruct them, and they continue to attend until they are old +enough to work in the fields and stables. They are then employed there +at fair wages, which, until they come of age or marry, are appropriated +by their parents; and in consequence of this many of the young men seek +positions on the railroads or in the towns before they reach their +majority, in order that they may secure and enjoy the compensation of +their own labor. In a few years, however, the greater number wander back +and offer themselves as hands, are engaged, and establish homes of their +own.</p> + +<p>Tobacco being a staple that requires work of some kind throughout the +whole of the year, a large force of laborers are hired for that length +of time. It is not like wheat, in the cultivation and manipulation of +which more energy is put forth at one season than at another, as, for +instance, when it is harvested or threshed. A certain number of laborers +are engaged on the plantation on the 1st of January, who contract to +remain at definite wages during the following twelve months. Whoever +leaves without consent violates a distinct agreement, under which he is +liable in the courts, if it were worth the time and expense to subject +him to the law. He is paid every month by an order on a firm of +merchants who rent a store that belongs to the owner of the plantation +and is situated on one of its divisions; and this order he can convert +into money, merchandise, or groceries, as he chooses, or he gives it up +in settlement of debts which he has previously made there in +anticipation of his wages. The +<span class="pagenum">[pg 537]</span> +<a name="Page_537" id="Page_537"></a> +credit of each man is accurately gauged, +and he is allowed to deal freely to a certain amount, but not beyond; +and this restriction puts a very wholesome check upon the natural +extravagance of his disposition.</p> + +<p>On each division of the plantation there is a settlement where the +negroes live with their families. The houses of the "quarters," as the +settlement is called, are large weather-boarded cabins. In each there is +a spacious room below and a cramped garret above, which is used both as +a bedroom and a lumber-room, while the apartment on the first floor is +chamber, kitchen, and parlor in one, and there most of the inmates, +children as well as adults, sleep at night. The furniture is of a very +durable but rude character, consisting of a bed, several cots, tables +and cupboards, and half a dozen or more rough chairs of domestic +manufacture, while a few pictures, cut from illuminated Sunday books or +from illustrated papers, adorn the whitewashed walls. The brick +fire-place is so wide and open that the fire not only warms the room, +but lights it up so well that no candle or lamp is needed. The negroes +are always kept supplied with wood, and they use it with extravagance on +cold nights, when they often stretch themselves at full length on the +hearth-stone and sleep as calmly in the fierce glare as in the summer +shade, or nap and nod in their chairs until day, only rising from time +to time to throw on another log to revive the declining flames. They +like to gossip and relate tales under its comfortable influence, and it +is associated in their minds with the most pleasing side of their lives. +Those who can read con over the texts of their well-worn Bibles in its +light, while those who have a mechanical turn, as, for instance, for +weaving willow or white-oak baskets or making fish-traps or chairs, take +advantage of its illumination to carry on their work.</p> + +<p>Each householder has his garden, either in front or behind his dwelling, +according to the greater fertility of the soil, and here he raises every +variety of vegetable in profusion: sweet and Irish potatoes, tomatoes, +beets, peas, onions, cabbages, and melons grow there in sufficient +abundance to supply many tables. Of these, cabbage is most valued, for +it can be stored away for consumption in winter, and is as fresh at that +season as when it is first cut. Around the houses peach-trees of a very +common variety have been planted, and these bear fruit even when the +buds of rarer varieties elsewhere have been nipped, both because they +are more hardy and because they are near enough to be protected by the +cloud of smoke that is always issuing from the chimneys. Every +householder is allowed to fatten two hogs of his own, the sty, for fear +of thieves, being erected in such close proximity to his dwelling that +the odor is most offensive with the wind in a certain quarter, and, one +would think, most unwholesome; but his family do not seem to suffer +either in health or in comfort. Every cabin has its hen-house, from +which an abundant supply of eggs is drawn, which find a ready sale at +the plantation store; and in spring the chickens are a source of +considerable income to the negroes. Their fare is occasionally varied by +an opossum caught in the woods, or a hare trapped in the fields; but +they much prefer corn bread and bacon as regular fare to anything else. +They dislike wheat bread, as too light and unsatisfying, and they always +grumble when flour is measured out to them instead of meal. Coffee is a +luxury used only on Sunday. The table is set off by a few china plates +and cups, but there are no dishes, the meat being served in the utensil +in which it is cooked. On working-days breakfast and dinner are carried +to the hands in the fields by a boy who has collected at the different +houses the tin buckets containing these meals.</p> + +<p>The hands are as busy in winter as during any other part of the year. +Much of their time is then taken up in manipulating the tobacco, which +has been stored away in one large barn, and preparing it for market, the +first step toward which is to strip the leaves from the stalk and then +carefully separate +<span class="pagenum">[pg 538]</span> +<a name="Page_538" id="Page_538"></a> +those of an inferior from those of a superior +quality. Although there are many grades, the negroes are able to +distinguish them at a glance and assort them accordingly. They are not +engaged in this work of selection continuously from day to day, but at +intervals, for they can handle the tobacco only when the weather is damp +enough to moisten the leaf, otherwise it is so brittle that it would +crack and fall to pieces under their touch. They like this work, for the +barn is kept very comfortable by large stoves, they do not have to move +from their seats, and they can all sit very sociably together, talking, +laughing, and singing. It contrasts very agreeably with other work which +they are called upon to do at this season,—namely, the grubbing of new +grounds, from which they shrink with unconcealed repugnance, for outside +of a mine there is no kind of labor more arduous or exacting. The land +cleared is that from which the original forest has been cut, leaving +stumps thickly scattered over the surface, from which a heavy +scrub-growth springs up. Active, quick, and industrious as the negroes +may be in the tobacco-, corn-, or wheat fields, they show here great +indolence, and move forward very slowly with their hoes, axes, and +picks, piling up, as they advance, masses of roots, saplings, stumps, +and brush, which, when dry, are set on fire and consumed. The soil +exposed is a rich but thin loam of decayed leaves, in which tobacco +grows with luxuriance.</p> + +<p>In February or March the laborers prepare the plant-patch, the initial +step in the production of a crop that remains on their hands at least +twelve months before it is ready for market. They select a spot in the +depths of the woods where the soil is very fertile from the accumulated +mould, and they then cut away the trees and underbrush until a clean +open surface, square in shape and about forty yards from angle to angle, +is left, surrounded on all sides by the forest. Having piled up great +masses of logs over the whole of this surface, they set them on fire at +one end of the patch, and these are allowed to burn until all have been +consumed, the object being to get the ash which is deposited, and which +is very rich in certain constituents of the tobacco-plant and is +especially conducive to its growth. The ploughmen then come and break up +the ground, hoers carefully pulverize every clod, and the seed is sown, +a mere handful being sufficient for a great extent of soil. The laborers +afterward cover the surface of the patch with bushes, and it is left +without further protection. In a short time the tobacco-plant springs up +in indescribable profusion, and in a few weeks it is in a condition to +be transferred to the fields.</p> + +<p>Before this is done, however, the seed-corn has begun to sprout in the +ground. The first cry of the whippoorwill is the signal for planting +this cereal. The grains are dropped from the hand at regular intervals, +both men and women joining in this work; and they all move slowly along +together, the men bearing the corn in small bags, the women holding it +in their aprons. The wide low-grounds at this season expand to the +horizon without anything to obstruct the vision, a clear, unbroken sweep +of purple ploughed land. The laborers are visible far off, those who +drop the grains walking in a line ahead, the hoers following close +behind to cover up the seed. Still farther in the rear come the harrows, +that level all inequalities in the surface and crush the clods. Flocks +of crows wheel in the air above the scene, or stalk at a safe distance +on the ploughed ground. Blackbirds, which have now returned from the +South, sing in chorus on the adjacent ditch-banks, mingling their harsh +notes with the lively songs of myriads of bobolinks, while high overhead +whistles the plover. The newly-sprung grass paints the road-side a lush +green, the leaves are budding on weed and spray, and over all there hang +the exhilarating influences of spring.</p> + +<p>As soon as the hands have planted the corn, they begin transplanting the +tobacco, which they find a more tedious +<span class="pagenum">[pg 539]</span> +<a name="Page_539" id="Page_539"></a> +task, for they can only +transfer the slips to the fields when the air is surcharged with +moisture and the ground is wet; otherwise the slips will wither on the +way or perish in the hill without taking root. But if the weather is +favorable they flourish from the hour they are thrust into the ground. +It takes the laborers but a short time to plant many acres; and when +their work is done the fields look as bare as before. The original +leaves soon die, but from the healthy stalk new ones shoot out and +expand very rapidly. The soil has been very highly fertilized with guano +and very carefully ploughed, so that every condition is favorable to the +growth of the plant if there is an abundance of rain. At a later period +it passes through a drought very well, being a hardy plant that recovers +even after it has wilted; but very frequently in its early stages the +laborers are compelled to haul water in casks from the streams to save +it from destruction.</p> + +<p>The most jovial operation of the year to the hands is the wheat-harvest +in June; but the introduction of the mechanical reaper has taken away +something of its peculiar character. Much of the grain, however, is +still cut down with the cradle. The strongest negro always leads the +dozen or more mowers, and thus incites his fellows to keep closely in +his wake. As they move along, they sing, and the sound, sonorous and not +unmelodious, is echoed far and wide among the hills. Behind them follows +a band of men and women, who gather the grain into shocks or tie it in +bundles.</p> + +<p>After the harvest is over, the time of the laborers is given up entirely +to the tobacco, which has now grown to a fair size. Their first task is +to "sucker" it,—that is, cut away the shoots that spring up at the +intersection of each leaf and the stalk, and which if left to grow would +absorb half the strength of the plant. They also examine the leaves very +carefully, to destroy the eggs and young of the tobacco-fly. Day after +day they go over the same fields, finding newly-laid eggs and +newly-hatched young where only twelve hours before they brushed their +counterparts off to be trampled under foot. As the tobacco ripens, it +becomes brittle to the touch and is covered with dark yellow spots, and +when this appearance is still further developed the time for cutting has +arrived, which generally is in the first month of autumn, and always +before frost, which is as fatal to this as to every other weed. The +plant is now about three feet in height, with eight or nine large +leaves, the stalk having been broken off at the top in the second stage +of its growth. On the appointed day a dozen or more men with coarse +knives split the stalk of each plant straight down its middle to within +half a foot of the ground. They then strike the plant from the hill and +lay it on one side. The leaves soon shrink under the rays of the sun and +fall. One of the laborers who follow the cutters then takes it up and +places it with nine or ten other plants on a stick, which is thrust +through the angle formed by the two halves of the plant separated from +each other except at one end. It is deposited with the rest in an open +ox-cart and transported to the barn. In the barn poles have been +arranged in tiers from bottom to top to support the sticks; and when the +building is full of tobacco the laborer in charge ignites the logs that +fill parallel trenches in the dirt floor, and a high rate of temperature +is soon produced, and is maintained for several days, during which a +watch is kept to replenish the flames and prevent a conflagration. As +soon as the tobacco has changed from a deep green to a light brown, it +is removed on a wet day to the general barn. The same process of curing +is going on in many barns on the same plantation, and occasionally one +is burned down; for the tobacco is very inflammable, a stray spark from +below being sufficient to set the whole on fire.</p> + +<p>The principal work of the autumn is the gathering of the ripe corn. A +band of men go ahead and pull the ears from the stalks and throw them at +intervals of thirty yards into loose piles and another band following +behind them at a +<span class="pagenum">[pg 540]</span> +<a name="Page_540" id="Page_540"></a> +distance pick the ears up and pitch them into the +ox-carts, which, when fully loaded, return to the granary, around which +the corn is soon massed in long and high rows. When the whole crop has +been got in, a moonlight night is selected for stripping off the shucks; +and this is a gay occasion with the negroes, for they are allowed as +much whiskey as they can carry under their belts. The leading clown +among them is deputed to mount the pile and sing, while the rest sit +below and work. As he ends each verse, they reply in a chorus that can +be heard miles away through the clear, still, frosty air. Their songs +are the ancient ditties of the plantation, and are humorous or pathetic +in sound rather than in sense. And yet even to an educated ear they have +a certain interest, like everything, however trivial, connected with +this strange race.</p> + +<p>Such, in general outline, are the tasks of the laborers on the +plantation during the four seasons of the year. It is beyond question +that they do their work thoroughly. It makes no difference how deep the +low-ground mud is, or how rough the surface, or how lowering the +weather, they go forward with cheerfulness and alacrity. Nothing can +repress or dampen their spirits. How often I have heard them as they +returned through the dusk, after hoeing or ploughing the whole day, +singing in a strain as gay and spontaneous as if they were just going +forth in the freshness of a vernal morning! Their sociable disposition +is displayed even in the fields, for they like to work in bands, in +order that they may converse and joke together. This companionableness +is one of the most conspicuous traits of their character. Even the +strict patrolling of slavery-times could not prevent them from running +together at night; and now that they are free to go where they choose, +they will put themselves to much trouble to gratify their love of +association with their fellows. One reason why a large plantation is so +popular with them is that the number of its inhabitants offers the most +varied opportunities of social enjoyment.</p> + +<p>Sunday is the principal day on which the negroes exchange visits. There +is a settlement, as I have mentioned, on each division of the plantation +which I am now describing, and, although these settlements are situated +at some distance apart, this is not considered to be a serious +inconvenience. At every hour on Sunday, if the day is fair, men and +women, in couples or small parties, neatly and becomingly dressed, are +seen moving along the chief thoroughfare on their way to call on their +friends. The women are decked in gay calicoes, often further adorned +with bunches of wild flowers plucked by the road-side; while the men are +clothed in suits which they have bought at the "store," and they +frequently wear cheap jewelry which they have purchased at the same +establishment. The dandies in the younger set flourish canes and assume +all the languishing airs that distinguish the callow fops of the white +race. Many visitors are received at the most popular houses, and they +are observed sitting with the families of their hosts and hostesses +under the shade of the trees until a late hour of the afternoon. Some +pass from cabin to cabin, not stopping long at any one, but finding a +cordial welcome everywhere. Some linger very late, and make their way +back by the light of the moon. As they move along the low-ground road +their voices can be heard very distinctly from the hills above as they +talk and laugh together; and sometimes they vary the monotony of their +walk by singing a hymn, the sound of which is borne very far on the +bosom of the silence, and is sweet and soft in its cadence, mellowed as +it is by the distance and idealized by the nocturnal hour.</p> + +<p>There are two church-edifices on the plantation, one of which is used +during the week as a public school, but the other was built expressly +for religious worship. Both are plain but comfortable structures, the +outer and inner walls of which have been whitewashed and the blinds +painted a dark green. Around them are wide yards, carefully swept; +otherwise their neighborhoods +<span class="pagenum">[pg 541]</span> +<a name="Page_541" id="Page_541"></a> +are rather forbidding, on account of the +silence and darkness of the forests in which they are situated, the only +proof of their connection with the world at large being the roads which +run by their doors. The pulpit of one is filled by a white preacher of +Northern birth and education, who removed to this section after the war; +and the only objection that can be urged against him is that he often +holds religious revivals at the time when the tobacco-worm is most +active in ravaging the ripening plant. The negroes who have to walk +several miles after their work is over to get to his church are kept up +till a late hour of night and in a state of high excitement, and are so +overcome with fatigue the following day that they dawdle over their +tasks. These revivals are also celebrated at the other church, but +always in proper season; for the minister there is not only sound and +orthodox in his doctrines, but he is also a planter on his own account, +and, therefore, able to understand that the interests of religion and +tobacco ought not to be brought into conflict.</p> + +<p>Many parties are given every year, and they are attended by several +hundred negroes of both sexes, who have come from the different +"quarters," and even from other plantations in the vicinity. The owner +of the plantation always supplies an abundance of provisions—a sheep or +beef, flour and meal—for the feast that celebrates the general housing +of the crops, which is to the laborers what the harvest-supper is to the +peasantry of England. The year, with its varied labors and large +results, lies behind them, the wheat, tobacco, and corn have all been +gathered in, their hard work is done, and though in a few weeks the old +routine will begin again, they are now oblivious of it all. Hour after +hour they continue to dance, a new array of fresh performers taking the +place of those who are exhausted, and then the regular beating of their +feet on the floor can be heard at a considerable distance, with a dull, +monotonous sound, varied only by the hum of voices or noise of laughter +or the shrill notes of the musical instruments. These are the banjo and +accordion, the former being the favorite, perhaps because it is more +intimately associated with the social traditions of the negroes. Their +best performers play very skilfully on both, and indulge in as much +ecstatic by-play as musicians of the most famous schools. They throw +themselves into many strange contortions as they touch the strings or +keys, swaying from side to side, or rocking their bodies backward and +forward till the head almost reaches the floor, or leaning over the +instrument and addressing it in caressing terms. They accompany their +playing with their voices, but their <i>répertoire</i> is limited to a few +songs, which generally consist in mere repetition of a few notes. All +their airs have been handed down from remote generations. Their words +deal with the ordinary incidents of the negro's life, and embody his +narrow hopes and aspirations, but they are rarely connected narratives. +As a rule, they are broken lines without relevancy or coherence, while +the choruses are so many meaningless syllables. The negroes seem to +derive no pleasure from music outside of those songs and airs which they +have so often heard at their own hearthstones, and which have come down +to them from their ancestors.</p> + +<p>The Christmas holidays, extending from the 25th of December to the 2d of +January, are a period of entire suspension of labor on the plantation. +In anticipation of their arrival, a large quantity of fire-wood is +hauled from the forests and piled up around the cabins; but the negroes +spend very little of this interval of leisure in their own homes, unless +a bad spell of weather has set in and continues. They are either out in +the open air or at the "store." This latter serves the purpose of a +club, and is a very popular resort. Even at other times of the year it +is always packed at night; but during the Christmas holidays it is full +to overflowing in the day-time. At this gay season the fires are kept +burning very fiercely; the Sunday suits and dresses are worn every day; +the +<span class="pagenum">[pg 542]</span> +<a name="Page_542" id="Page_542"></a> +tables are covered with more abundant fare of the plainer as well +as rarer sort. All visitors are received with increased hospitality, and +work of every kind that usually goes on in the precincts of the dwelling +is, if possible, deferred until the opening of the new year. Many +strange faces are now seen on the plantation, and many faces that were +once familiar, but whose owners have removed elsewhere. The negro is as +closely bound in affection to the scenes of his childhood as the white +man, and he thinks that he has certain rights there of which absence +even cannot deprive him, although he may have left for permanent +settlement at a distance. When he dies elsewhere he is always anxious in +his last hours that his body shall be brought back and buried in the old +graveyard of the plantation where he was born and where he grew up to +manhood. And when he comes back to the well-known localities for a brief +stay, he feels as if he were at home again in the house of his fathers, +where he has an absolute and inalienable right to be.</p> + +<p class="author">Philip A. Bruce.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SCENES_OF_CHARLOTTE_BRONTES_LIFE_IN_BRUSSELS" id="SCENES_OF_CHARLOTTE_BRONTES_LIFE_IN_BRUSSELS"></a>SCENES OF CHARLOTTE BRONTÉ'S LIFE IN BRUSSELS.</h2> + + +<p>We had "done" Brussels after the approved fashion,—had faithfully +visited the churches, palaces, museums, theatres, galleries, monuments, +and boulevards, had duly admired the beautiful windows and the exquisite +wood-carvings of the grand old cathedral of St. Gudule, the tower and +tapestry and frescos and façade of the magnificent Hôtel-de-Ville, the +stately halls and the gilded dome of the immense new Courts of Justice, +and the consummate beauty of the Bourse, had diligently sought out the +naïve boy-fountain, and had made the usual excursion to Waterloo.</p> + +<p>This delightful task being conscientiously discharged, we proposed to +devote our last day in the beautiful Belgian capital to the +accomplishment of one of the cherished projects of our lives,—the +searching out of the localities associated with Charlotte Bronté's +unhappy school-life here, which she has so graphically portrayed. For +our purpose no guide was available, or needful, for the topography and +local coloring of "Villette" and "The Professor" are as vivid and +unmistakable as in the best work of Dickens himself. Proceeding from St. +Gudule, by the little street at the back of the cathedral, to the Rue +Royale, and a short distance along that grand thoroughfare, we reached +the park and a locality familiar to Miss Bronté's readers. Seated in +this lovely pleasure-ground, the gift of the empress Maria Theresa, with +its cool shade all about us, we noted the long avenues and the paths +winding amid stalwart trees and verdant shrubbery, the dark foliage +ineffectually veiling the gleaming statuary and the sheen of bright +fountains, "the stone basin with its clear depth, the thick-planted +trees which framed this tremulous and rippled mirror," the groups of +happy people filling the seats in secluded nooks or loitering in the +cool mazes and listening to the music,—we noted all this, and felt that +Miss Bronté had revealed it to us long ago. It was across this park that +Lucy Snowe was piloted from the bureau of the diligence by the +chivalrous stranger, Dr. John, on the night when she, despoiled, +helpless, and solitary, arrived in Brussels. She found the park deserted +and dark, the paths miry, +<span class="pagenum">[pg 543]</span> +<a name="Page_543" id="Page_543"></a> +the water "dripping from its trees." "In the +double gloom of tree and fog she could not see her guide, and could only +follow his tread" in the darkness. We recalled another scene under these +same tail trees, on a night when the iron gateway was "spanned by a +naming arch of massed stars." The park was a "forest with sparks of +purple and ruby and golden fire gemming the foliage," and Lucy, driven +from her couch by mental torture, wandered unrecognized amid the gay +throng at the midnight concert of the Festival of the Martyrs and looked +upon her lover, her friends the Brettons, and the secret junta of her +enemies, Madame Beck, Madame Walravens, and Père Silas.</p> + +<p>The sense of familiarity with the vicinage grew as we observed our +surroundings. Facing us, at the extremity of the park, was the +unpretentious palace of the king, in the small square across the Rue +Royale at our right was the statue of General Béliard, and we knew that +just behind it we should find the Rue Fossette and Charlotte Bronté's +<i>pensionnat</i>, for Crimsworth, "The Professor," standing by the statue, +had "looked down a great staircase" to the door-way of the school, and +poor Lucy, on that forlorn first night in "Villette," to avoid the +insolence of a pair of ruffians, had hastened down a flight of steps from +the Rue Royale, and had come, not to the inn she sought, but to the +<i>pensionnat</i> of Madame Beck.</p> + +<p>From the statue we descended, by a quadruple series of wide stone +stairs, into a narrow street, old-fashioned and clean, quiet and +secluded in the very heart of the great city,—the Rue d'Isabelle,—and +just opposite the foot of the steps we came to the wide door of a +spacious, quadrangular, stuccoed old mansion, with a bit of foliage +showing over a high wall at one side. A bright plate embellishes the +door and bears the inscription,</p> + +<div class="center"> +PENSIONNAT DE DEMOISELLES<br /> +<span class="smcap">Héger-parent.</span><br /> +</div> + +<p>A Latin inscription in the wall of the house shows it to have been given +to the Guild of Royal Archers by the Infanta Isabelle early in the +seventeenth century. Long before that the garden had been the orchard +and herbary of a convent and the Hospital for the Poor.</p> + +<p>We were detained at the door long enough to remember Lucy standing +there, trembling and anxious, awaiting admission, and then we too were +"let in by a <i>bonne</i> in a smart cap,"—apparently a fit successor to the +Rosine of forty years ago,—and entered the corridor. This is paved with +blocks of black and white marble and has painted walls. It extends +through the entire depth of the house, and at its farther extremity an +open door afforded us a glimpse of the garden.</p> + +<p>We were ushered into the little <i>salon</i> at the left of the passage,—the +one often mentioned in "Villette,"—and here we made known our wish to +see the garden and class-rooms, and met with a prompt refusal from the +neat <i>portresse</i>. We tried diplomacy (also lucre) with her, without +avail: it was the <i>grandes vacances</i>, the ladies were out, M. Héger was +engaged, we could not be gratified,—unless, indeed, we were patrons of +the school. At this juncture a portly, ruddy-faced lady of middle age +and most courteous of speech and manner appeared, and, addressing us in +faultless English, introduced herself as Mademoiselle Héger, +co-directress of the <i>pensionnat</i>, and "wholly at our service." In +response to our apologies for the intrusion and explanations of the +desire which had prompted it, we received complaisant assurances of +welcome; yet the manner of our kind entertainer indicated that she did +not appreciate, much less share in, our admiration and enthusiasm for +Charlotte Bronté and her books. In the subsequent conversation it +appeared that Mademoiselle and her family hold decided opinions upon the +subject,—something more than mere lack of admiration. She was familiar +with the novels, and thought that, while they exhibit a talent certainly +not above mediocrity, they reflect the injustice, the untruthfulness, +and the ingratitude of their creator. We were obliged to confess +<span class="pagenum">[pg 544]</span> +<a name="Page_544" id="Page_544"></a> +to +ourselves that the family have apparent reason for this view, when we +reflected that in the books Miss Bronté has assailed their religion and +disparaged the school and the character of the teachers and pupils, has +depicted Madame Héger in the odious duad of Madame Beck and Mademoiselle +Reuter, has represented M. Héger as the scheming and deceitful M. Pelet +and the preposterous M. Paul, Lucy Snowe's lover, that this lover was +the husband of Madame Héger, and father of the family of children to +whom Lucy was at first <i>bonne d'enfants</i>, and that possibly the daughter +she has described as the thieving, vicious Désirée—"that tadpole, +Désirée Beck"—was this very lady now so politely entertaining us. To +all this add the significant fact that "Villette" is an autobiographical +novel, which "records the most vivid passages in Miss Bronté's own sad +heart's history," not a few of the incidents being "literal transcripts" +from the darkest chapter of her own life, and the light which the +consideration of this fact throws upon her relations with members of the +family will help us to apprehend the stand-point from which the Hégers +judge Miss Bronté and her work, and to excuse, if not to justify, a +natural resentment against one who has presented them in a decidedly bad +light.</p> + +<p><i>How</i> bad we began to realize when, during the ensuing chat, we called +to mind just what she had written of them. As Madame Beck, Madame Héger +had been represented as lying, deceitful, and shameless, as heartless +and unscrupulous, as "watching and spying everywhere, peeping through +every keyhole, listening behind every door," as duplicating Lucy's keys +and secretly searching her bureau, as meanly abstracting her letters and +reading them to others, as immodestly laying herself out to entrap the +man to whom she had given her love unsought. In letters to her friend +Ellen, Miss Bronté complains that "Madame Héger never came near her" in +her loneliness and illness.</p> + +<p>It was, obviously, some accession to the existing animosity between +herself and Madame Héger which precipitated Miss Bronté's final +departure from the <i>pensionnat</i>. Mrs. Gaskell ascribes their mutual +dislike to Charlotte's free expression of her aversion to the Catholic +Church, of which Madame Héger was a devotee, and hence "wounded in her +most cherished opinions;" but a later writer, in the "Westminster +Review," plainly intimates that Miss Bronté hated the woman who sat for +Madame Beck because marriage had given to <i>her</i> the man whom Miss Bronté +loved, and that "Madame Beck had need to be a detective in her own +house." The recent death of Madame Héger has rendered the family, who +hold her now only as a sacred memory, more keenly sensitive than ever to +anything which would seem by implication to disparage her.</p> + +<p>For himself it would appear that M. Héger has less cause for resentment, +for, although in "Villette" he (or his double) is pictured as "a waspish +little despot," as fiery and unreasonable, as "detestably ugly" in his +anger, closely resembling "a black and sallow tiger," as having an +"overmastering love of authority and public display," as basely playing +the spy and reading purloined letters, and in the Bronté epistles +Charlotte declares he is choleric and irritable, compels her to make her +French translations without a dictionary or grammar, and then has "his +eyes almost plucked out of his head" by the occasional English word she +is obliged to introduce, etc., yet all this is partially atoned for by +the warm praise she subsequently accords him for his goodness to her and +his "disinterested friendship," by the poignant regret she expresses at +parting with him,—perhaps wholly expiated by the high compliment she +pays him of making her heroine, Lucy, fall in love with him, or the +higher compliment it is suspected she paid him of falling in love with +him herself. One who reads the strange history of passion in "Villette," +in conjunction with her letters, "will know more of the truth of her +stay in Brussels than if a dozen biographers had undertaken to tell the +whole tale."</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 545]</span> +<a name="Page_545" id="Page_545"></a> +Still, M. Héger can scarcely be pleased by the ludicrous figure he is +so often made to cut in the novels by having members of his school set +forth as stupid, animal, and inferior, "their principles rotten to the +core, steeped in systematic sensuality," by having his religion styled +"besotted papistry, a piece of childish humbug," and the like.</p> + +<p>Something of the displeasure of the family was revealed in the course of +our conversation with Mademoiselle Héger, but the specific causes were +but cursorily touched upon. She could have no personal recollection of +the Brontés; her knowledge of them is derived from her parents and the +teachers,—presumably the "repulsive old maids" of Charlotte's letters. +One of the present teachers in the <i>pensionnat</i> had been a classmate of +Charlotte's here. The Brontés had not been popular with the school. +Their "heretical" religion had something to do with this; but their +manifest avoidance of the other pupils during hours of recreation, +Mademoiselle thought, had been a more potent cause,—Emily, in +particular, not speaking with her school-mates or teachers except when +obliged to do so. The other pupils thought them of outlandish accent and +manners and ridiculously old to be at school at all,—being twenty-four +and twenty-six, and seeming even older. Their sombre and +grotesquely-ugly costumes were fruitful causes of mirth to the gay +young Belgian misses. The Brontés were not especially brilliant +students, and none of their companions had ever suspected that they were +geniuses. Of the two, Emily was considered to be, in most respects, the +more talented, but she was obstinate and opinionated. Some of the pupils +had been inclined to resist having Charlotte placed over them as +teacher, and may have been mutinous. After her return from Haworth she +taught English to M. Héger and his brother-in-law. M. Héger gave the +sisters private lessons in French without charge, and for some time +preserved their compositions, which Mrs. Gaskell copied. Mrs. Gaskell +visited the <i>pensionnat</i> in quest of material for her biography of +Charlotte, and received all the aid M. Héger could afford: the +information thus obtained has, for the most part, we were told, been +fairly used. Miss Bronté's letters from Brussels, so freely quoted in +Mrs. Gaskell's "Life," were addressed to Miss Ellen Nussy, a familiar +friend of Charlotte's, whose signature we saw in the register at Haworth +Church as witness to Miss Bronté's marriage. The Hégers had no suspicion +that she had been so unhappy with them as these letters indicate, and +she had assigned a totally different reason for her sudden return to +England. She had been introduced to Madame Héger by Mrs. Jenkins, wife +of the then chaplain of the British Embassy at the Court of Belgium; she +had frequently visited that lady and other friends in Brussels,—among +them Mary and Martha Taylor and their relatives, and the family of a +Dr. —— (<i>not</i> Dr. John),—and therefore her life here need not +have been so lonely and desolate as it has been made to appear.</p> + +<p>The Hégers usually have a few English pupils in the school, but have +never had an American.</p> + +<p>Some American tourists had before called to look at the garden, but the +family are not pleased by the notoriety with which Miss Bronté has +invested it. However, Mademoiselle Héger kindly offered to conduct us +over any portion of the establishment we might care to see, and led the +way along the corridor, past the class-rooms and the <i>réfectoire</i> on the +right, to the narrow, high-walled garden. We found it smaller than in +the time when Miss Bronté loitered here in weariness and solitude. +Mademoiselle Héger explained that, while the width remains the same, the +erection of class-rooms for the day-pupils has diminished the length by +some yards. Tall houses surround and shut it in on either side, making +it close and sombre, and the noises of the great city all about it +penetrate here only as a far-away murmur. There is a plat of verdant +turf in the centre, bordered by scant flowers and damp gravelled walks, +along which shrubs of evergreen and laurel are irregularly +<span class="pagenum">[pg 546]</span> +<a name="Page_546" id="Page_546"></a> +disposed. A +few seats are placed here and there within the shade, where, as in Miss +Bronté's time, the <i>externals</i> eat the luncheon brought with them to the +school; and overlooking it all stand the great old pear-trees, whose +gnarled and deformed trunks are relics of the time of the hospital and +convent. Beyond these and along the gray wall which bounds the farther +side of the enclosure is the sheltered walk which was Miss Bronté's +favorite retreat,—the "<i>allée défendue</i>" of her novels. It is screened +by shrubs and perfumed by flowers, and, being secure from the intrusion +of pupils, we could well believe that Charlotte and her heroine found +here restful seclusion. The coolness and quiet and—more than all—the +throng of vivid associations which fill the place tempted us to linger. +The garden is not a spacious nor even a pretty one, and yet it seemed to +us singularly pleasing and familiar,—as if we were revisiting it after +an absence. Seated upon a rustic bench close at hand, possibly the very +one which Lucy Snowe had cleansed and "reclaimed from fungi and mould," +how the memories came surging up into our minds! How often in the summer +twilight poor Charlotte had lingered here in restful solitude after the +day's burdens and trials with "stupid and impertinent" pupils! How +often, with weary feet and a dreary heart, she had paced this secluded +walk and thought, with longing almost insupportable, of the dear ones in +far-away Haworth parsonage! In this sheltered corner her other +self—Lucy Snowe—sat and listened to the distant chimes and thought +forbidden thoughts and cherished impossible hopes. Here she met and +talked with Dr. John. Deep beneath this "Methuselah of a pear-tree," the +one nearest the end of the alley, lies the imprisoned dust of the poor +young nun who was buried alive ages ago for some sin against her vow, +and whose perambulating ghost so disquieted poor Lucy. At the root of +this same tree one miserable night Lucy buried her precious letters, and +"meant also to bury a grief" and her great affection for Dr. John. Here +she had leant her brow against Methuselah's knotty trunk and uttered to +herself those brave words of renunciation which must have wrung her +heart: "Good-night, Dr. John; you are good, you are beautiful, <i>but you +are not mine</i>. Good-night, and God bless you!" Here she held pleasant +converse with M. Paul, and with him, spell-bound, saw the ghost of the +nun descend from the leafy shadows overhead and, sweeping close past +their wondering faces, disappear behind yonder screen of shrubbery into +the darkness of the summer night. By that tall tree next the class-rooms +the ghost was wont to ascend to meet its material sweetheart, Fanshawe, +in the great garret beneath yonder skylight,—the garret where Lucy +retired to read Dr. John's letter, and wherein M. Paul confined her to +learn her part in the vaudeville for Madame Beck's <i>fête</i>-day. In this +nook where we sat, Crimsworth, "The Professor," had walked and talked +with and almost made love to Mademoiselle Reuter, and from yonder window +overlooking the alley had seen that perfidious fair one in dalliance +with his employer, M. Pelet, beneath these pear-trees. From that window +M. Paul watched Lucy as she sat or walked in the <i>allée défendue</i>, +dogged by Madame Beck; from the same window were thrown the love-letters +which fell at Lucy's feet sitting here.</p> + +<p>Leaves from the overhanging boughs were plucked for us as souvenirs of +the place; then, reverently traversing once more the narrow alley so +often traced in weariness by Charlotte Bronté, we turned away. From the +garden we entered the long and spacious class-room of the first and +second divisions. A movable partition divides it across the middle when +the classes are in session; the floor is of bare boards cleanly scoured. +There are long ranges of desks and benches upon either side, and a lane +through the middle leads up to a raised platform at the end of the room, +where the instructor's chair and desk are placed.</p> + +<p>How quickly our fancy peopled the place! On these front seats sat the +gay +<span class="pagenum">[pg 547]</span> +<a name="Page_547" id="Page_547"></a> +and indocile Belgian girls. There, "in the last row, in the +quietest corner, sat Emily and Charlotte side by side, so absorbed in +their studies as to be insensible to anything about them;" and at the +same desk, "in the farthest seat of the farthest row," sat Mademoiselle +Henri during Crimsworth's English lessons. Here Lucy's desk was rummaged +by M. Paul and the tell-tale odor of cigars left behind. Here, after +school-hours, Miss Bronté taught M. Héger English, he taught her French, +and M. Paul taught Lucy arithmetic and (incidentally) love. This was the +scene of their <i>tête-à-têtes</i>, of his earnest efforts to persuade her +into his faith in the Church of Rome, of their ludicrous supper of +biscuit and baked apples, and of his final violent outbreak with Madame +Beck, when she literally thrust herself between him and his love. From +this platform Crimsworth and Lucy Snowe and Charlotte Bronté herself had +given instruction to pupils whose insubordination had first to be +confronted and overcome. Here M. Paul and M. Héger gave lectures upon +literature, and Paul delivered his spiteful tirade against the English +on the morning of his <i>fête</i>-day. Upon this desk were heaped his +bouquets that morning; from its smooth surface poor Lucy dislodged and +fractured his cherished spectacles; and here, <i>now</i>, seated in Paul's +chair, at Paul's desk, we saw and were presented to Paul Emanuel +himself,—M. Héger.</p> + +<p>It was something more than curiosity which made us alert to note the +appearance and manner of this man, who has been so nearly associated +with Miss Bronté in an intercourse which colored her whole subsequent +life and determined her life work, who has been made the hero of her +best novels and has even been deemed the hero of her own heart's +romance; and yet we <i>were</i> curious to know "what manner of man it is" +who has been so much as suspected of being honored with the love and +preference of the dainty Charlotte Bronté. During a short conversation +with him we had opportunity to observe that in person this "wise, good, +and religious" man must, at the time Miss Bronté knew him, have more +closely resembled M. Pelet of "The Professor" than any other of her +pen-portraits: indeed, after the lapse of more than forty years that +delineation still, for the most part, aptly applies to him. He is of +middle age, of rather spare habit of body; his face is fair and the +features pleasing and regular, the cheeks are thin and the mouth +flexible, the eyes—somewhat sunken—are of mild blue and of singularly +pleasant expression. We found him elderly, but not infirm; his +finely-shaped head is now fringed with white hair, and partial baldness +contributes an impressive reverence to his presence and tends to enhance +the intellectual effect of his wide brow. In repose his countenance +shows a hint of melancholy: as Miss Bronté has said, "his physiognomy is +<i>fine et spirituelle</i>;" one would hardly imagine it could ever resemble +the "visage of a black and sallow tiger." His voice is low and soft, his +bow still "very polite, not theatrical, scarcely French," his manner +<i>suave</i> and courteous, his dress scrupulously neat. He accosted us in +the language Miss Bronté taught him forty years ago, and his accent and +diction do honor to her instruction. He was, at this time, engaged with +some patrons of the school, and, as his daughter had hinted that he was +averse to speaking of Miss Bronté, we soon took leave of him and were +shown through other parts of the school. The other class-rooms, used for +less advanced pupils, are smaller. In one of them, the third, Miss +Bronté had ruled as monitress after her return from Haworth. The large +dormitory of the <i>pensionnat</i> was above the long class-room, and in the +time of the Brontés most of the boarders—about twenty in number—slept +here. Their cots were arranged along either side, and the position of +those occupied by the Brontés was pointed out to us at the extreme end +of the long room. It was here that Lucy suffered the horrors of +hypochondria, so graphically portrayed in "Villette," and found the +discarded costume of the spectral nun lying upon her bed, and here Miss +Bronté passed +<span class="pagenum">[pg 548]</span> +<a name="Page_548" id="Page_548"></a> +those nights of "dreary, wakeful misery" which Mrs. +Gaskell describes.</p> + +<p>A long and rather narrow room in front of the class-rooms was shown us +as the <i>réfectoire</i>, where the Brontés, with the other boarders, took +their meals, presided over by M. and Madame Héger, and where, during the +evenings, the lessons for the ensuing days were prepared. Here were held +the evening prayers, which Charlotte used to avoid by escaping into the +garden. This, too, was the scene of M. Paul's whilom readings to +teachers and pupils, and of some of his spasms of petulance, which +readers of "Villette" will remember. From the <i>réfectoire</i> we passed +again into the corridor, where we made our adieus to our affable +conductress. She gave us her card, and explained that, whereas this +establishment had formerly been both a <i>pensionnat</i> and an <i>externat</i>, +having about seventy day-pupils and twenty boarders when Miss Bronté was +here, it is now, since the death of Madame Héger, used as a day-school +only,—the <i>pensionnat</i> being at some little distance, in the Avenue +Louise, where Mademoiselle is a co-directress.</p> + +<p>The genuine local color Miss Bronté gives in "Villette" enabled us to be +sure that we had found the sombre old church where Lucy, arrested in +passing by the sound of the bells, knelt upon the stone pavement, +passing thence into the confessional of Père Silas. Certain it is that +this old church lies upon the route she would naturally take in the walk +from the Rue d'Isabelle to the Protestant cemetery, which she had set +out to do that dark afternoon, and the narrow streets of picturesque old +houses which lie beyond the church correspond to those in which she was +lost. Certain, too, it is said to be that this incident is taken +directly from Miss Bronté's own experience. A writer in "Macmillan" +says, "During one of the long holidays, when her mind was restless and +disturbed, she found sympathy, if not peace, in the counsels of a priest +in the confessional, who pitied and soothed her troubled spirit without +attempting to enmesh it in the folds of Romanism."</p> + +<p>Our way to the Protestant cemetery, a spot sadly familiar to Miss +Bronté, and the usual termination of her walks, lay past the site of the +Porte de Louvain and out to the hills a mile or so beyond the old city +limits. From our path we saw more than one tree-surrounded farm-house +which might have been the place of M. Paul's breakfast with his school, +and at least one old-fashioned manor-house, with green-tufted and +terraced lawns, which might have served Miss Bronté as the model for "La +Terrasse," the suburban home of the Brettons, and probably the temporary +abode of the Taylor sisters whom she visited here. From the cemetery are +beautiful vistas of farther lines of hills, of intervening valleys, of +farms and villas, and of the great city lying below. Miss Bronté has +well described this place: "Here, on pages of stone, of marble, and of +brass, are written names, dates, last tributes of pomp or love, in +English, French, German, and Latin." There are stone crosses all about, +and great thickets of roses and yew-trees,—"cypresses that stand +straight and mute, and willows that hang low and still;" and there are +"dim garlands of everlasting flowers."</p> + +<p>Here "The Professor" found his long-sought sweetheart kneeling at a +new-made grave, under these overhanging trees. And here <i>we</i> found the +shrine of poor Charlotte Bronté's many weary pilgrimages hither,—the +burial-place of her friend and schoolmate Martha Taylor, the Jessy Yorke +of "Shirley," the spot where, under "green sod and a gray marble +headstone, cold, coffined, solitary, Jessy sleeps below."</p> + +<p class="author">Theo. Wolfe.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum">[pg 549]</span> +<a name="Page_549" id="Page_549"></a></p> +<h2><a name="COOKHAM_DEAN" id="COOKHAM_DEAN"></a>COOKHAM DEAN.</h2> + + +<p>For a long time "the Dean" had had a certain familiarity for us. We +heard it continually spoken of among our artist friends, and had even +come to recognize many of its picturesque features as we came across +them in our usual studio-haunts and in the exhibitions. We seemed to +know those green, billowy swells at sight, as well as the thatched and +tiled roofs and old-fashioned gardens, the swinging barred gates and +stagnant, goose-tormented pools,—even the coarse-limbed rustics in +weather-beaten "store-clothes," picturesque only in mellow fadedness.</p> + +<p>We knew all this; yet, when we set eyes and feet upon Cookham Dean for +the first time, behold, the half had not been told us! We had directed +many a letter to Cookham Dean, and knew them to have been duly delivered +by a bucolic postman on a tricycle. But a hundred canvases, and almost +as many tongues, had failed to tell us of the sunny slopes and shadowy +glades, the sylvan lanes and ribbon-like roads, the old stone inn with +open porch and sign swinging from lofty post set across the way, as +Italian campanile stand away from their churches, all coming under the +name of "Cookham Dean," although that "Dean," properly speaking, is only +their geographical and artistic centre.</p> + +<p>Long before we reached <i>Ye Hutte</i> from Cookham station—Ye Hutte set +amid bushy and climbing roses upon a prominent knoll of the many-knolled +Dean—we ceased to wonder that our picturesque imaginings of the region +we were passing through had been so various. Artists were before us, +artists behind us, artists on every side of us, two sketching-umbrellas +glinting like great tropical flowers in a corn-field, another like a +huge daisy in the dim vista of a long lane.</p> + +<p>"C—— lodges in that red cottage, B—— in the next one, H—— in this +tumble-down farm-house, the L——s in that row of laborers' cottages, +the D——s in the inn," said Mona, tripping lightly over well-known +names, whose most accustomed place is in the exhibition catalogues.</p> + +<p>Through the open windows of a hideous brick row, built to hold as many +laborers' families all the year round and as many Bohemian summer +artists as can crowd therein, we caught glimpses of tapestries worth +their weight in gold. One well-known artist has taken possession of the +end of this uncomely row, intended for a supply-shop to the +neighborhood. This shop is his studio, which he has filled with +treasures of Japanese art. As a Cookhamite assured us, "Mr. C—— goes +in for the <i>Japanesque</i>;" and he screens the large display-windows +intended for cheese, raisins, and potted meats with smiling mandarins +and narrow-eyed houris under octopus-like trees.</p> + +<p>At the rear of the same "Row" we recognized a broad-hatted figure once +familiar to us in the Quartier Latin and the artistic <i>auberges</i> of the +Forest of Fontainebleau. The very personification of <i>insouciance</i> and +<i>laissez-aller</i>, he whose tiny bedroom-studio up-stairs ran riot with +color caught among California mountains, in cool gray France and +ochreous England, was bending the whole force of his mind to sketching a +pouter pigeon preening itself upon a barrel.</p> + +<p>Still another of the ugly cottages, cursed by artists but inhabited by +them, was hired at ten pounds a year by two young landscapists. A +charwoman came every morning to quell the mad riots in which the +household gods (or demons) diurnally engaged, but at all other times the +landscapists manoeuvred for themselves. That the domestic manoeuvring of +young landscapists is not always <i>toute rose</i> we saw reason later to +believe. For not once, twice, nor yet so seldom as a dozen times, have +we seen these +<span class="pagenum">[pg 550]</span> +<a name="Page_550" id="Page_550"></a> +young manoeuvrers begin to dine at four, when shadows +were growing too long upon field, thicket, and stream, only to finish we +knew not when, so late into darkness was that "finish" projected. We +could see one of the diners passing along the road from the public +house, an eighth of a mile away, at four, with the <i>pièce de résistance</i> +of the meal in an ample dish enveloped in a towel. Ten minutes later the +other rushes by, contrariwise of direction, in pursuit of beer and the +forgotten bread. A little later, and a scudding white dust-cloud in the +road informs us that one of the dining 'scapists flees breathlessly +vinegar- or salt-ward. Still another five minutes, and the other diner +hies him in chase of the white scud, calling vigorously to it that there +is no butter for the rice, no sugar for the fruit.</p> + +<p>We saw at once that this Berkshire corner abounds more in dulcet and +sylvan landscape bits than in picturesque motifs for those who paint +<i>genre</i>. The peasants have a certain inchoate picturesqueness, as of +beings roughly evolved from the life of this fair material nature, and +sometimes, in silhouette against dun-gray skies and amid rugged fields, +give one vague feeling of Millet's pathos of peasant life and labor. The +yokel himself, however,—and particularly <i>herself</i>,—seems determined +to deny all poetic and picturesque relations, by clothing himself—and +herself—in coarse, shop-made rubbish, in battered, <i>démodé</i> town-hats +and flounced gowns from Petticoat Lane.</p> + +<p>From certain points of the "Dean" the distances are dreamy and wide, +with high horizon-lines touching wooded hills and shutting the Thames +into a middle distance toward which a hundred little hills either +descend abruptly or decline gently upon broad green meadows. Nature here +smiles, not with pure pagan blitheness, but with a tenderer grace, as of +a soul grown human and fraught with countless memories of man's smiles +and tears, his hard, bitter labor, his sins, sorrows, and longings. But +it is very tender, and not even the wildest storm-effects raise the +landscape to any expression of tragic grandeur, but only suede its fair +hues and soft outlines to the wan pathos peculiar to English moorlands.</p> + +<p><i>Ye Hutte</i> is a misnomer for the extraordinary establishment, studio and +domicile combined, at which we dismounted. It is not a <i>hut</i>, and +neither in architectural motive nor the artistic proclivities of its +inmates has it aught to do with the centuries when our English tongue +was otherwise written or spoken than it is to-day. Ye Hutte is a vast, +barn-like building, plain and bare save for an inviting vine-grown porch +vaguely Gothic in reminiscence, although nondescript in fact. It was +erected by some dissenting society for public worship: hence its +interior is one immense vaulted room, with cathedral-like windows and +choir-gallery across one end. "The body of the house," to speak +ecclesiastically, is cumbered with easels and the usual chaotic +<i>impedimenta</i> of painters. The choir, ascended by a ladder, holds three +tiny cot-beds, while beneath the choir and concealed by beautiful +draperies are stored the domestic and culinary paraphernalia,—pots, +pans, brushes, dishes, and, above all, the multiplicity of petroleum- and +spirit-stoves in which the Bohemian artistic soul delights. Ye Hutte is +an artist's studio, and its name may be found in all the exhibition +catalogues, for several generations of painters drift through it every +year. As one inmate rushes off to the Continent, the sea-shore, or the +mountains, another takes his place. Yet Ye Hutte holds scant place in +its real owner's esteem compared with that larger studio owned by all +the Dean artists in common, where all their summer's work is done, and +which is parquetted with grain-field gold and meadow emerald, walled +with rainbow horizons, and roofed with azure festooned with spun silk. +Ye Hutte is better appreciated as evening rendezvous for the +palette-bearing hosts, both male and female, who, sunbrowned and tired, +partake there of restful social converse as well as of the hospitable +cup that +<span class="pagenum">[pg 551]</span> +<a name="Page_551" id="Page_551"></a> +cheers. Evening after evening, by twos and threes, they sit in +the moonlight under the silver-touched vines and dewy blossoms of the +porch, listening to the far-away cry of night-birds, the murmur of +drowsy bells upon cattle stirring in sleep, or of human voices idealized +by remoteness into faint haunting music, while before them white light +touches the wooded heights of Cliefden,—distant heights full of +picturesque mystery and passionate history,—touches and idealizes into +a semblance of poetic realism the sham ruins of Hedsor, and spreads a +pearly sheen over the unseen Valley of the Shadow of Light through which +winds the quiet Thames.</p> + +<p>To the usual artistic circle of Ye Hutte is often added a not +uncongenial element from the outside world, sometimes even from within +the borders of Philistia. Story-tellers, moved by the subtile magnetism +of the artistic creative faculty, whether of brush, chisel, or pen, come +up sometimes from London, bringing with them an atmosphere of +publishers' offices, of romance in high and low life, of professional +gossip and criticism. Often a stalwart bicyclist rolls up from the +capital, bringing with him such a breeze from the world of newspapers, +theatres, and crack restaurants that Ye Hutte straightway determines to +order some weekly journal, waxes ardent for flesh-pots other than of +Cookham, and resolves upon having a Lyceum twice a week when the Dean +shall be swept by the blasts and St. John's Wood studios swallow us up +for the winter.</p> + +<p>The Dean is little favored of the ordinary fashionable visitor, for whom +artistic accommodations are quite too scantily luxurious. Now and then, +for the sake of the river, a rustic cot is taken for a few weeks by a +party of boating-people. Then the quaint, old-fashioned gardens blossom +with a sudden luxuriance of striped tents and flaming umbrellas, while +bright women in many-hued boating-costumes flit among cabbages and +onions like curious tropical birds and butterflies. As a rule, however, +the Dean is abandoned to its usual rustic population and to artists, +numbers of the latter remaining all winter in the haunts whence the +majority of their kind have flown.</p> + +<p>The social and artistic peculiarities of the Dean are, of course, too +many to be specified. In a collection of various nationalities, many of +whose number have drifted like thistledown hither and yon over the fair +earth, how could it well be otherwise? It may be observed, however, that +here, as everywhere else in this right little tight little isle, where +habit is the very antithesis of the airy license of "Abroad," it is +<i>not</i>, as it is in the artistic haunts of the Continent, <i>en règle</i> to +vaunt one's self on the paucity of one's shekels or to acknowledge +acquaintance with the Medici's pills in their modern form of the Three +Golden Balls.</p> + +<p>Once upon a time, in a Barbizon <i>auberge</i>, a certain famous artist and +incorrigible Bohemian brought down the table by describing an incident +of his releasing a friend's valuables from durance.</p> + +<p>"The moment I turned in at the Mont de Piété," he said, "<i>my</i> watch took +fright, and stopped ticking on the spot."</p> + +<p>That same Bohemian, after years of the Latin Quarter and Mont de Piété, +found himself one summer on the Dean. One evening at the porch of Ye +Hutte he met a lively group of painters and paintresses, just returned +from corn-field and meadow.</p> + +<p>During the short halt the Bohemian's watch was so largely and frequently +<i>en évidence</i> as to attract attention.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, with colossal, adamantine impudence, "I've just got it +back from a two-years' visit to 'my uncle'."</p> + +<p>Only a few evenings later the same party met again in the same spot.</p> + +<p>"What time is it, Mr. S——?" asked Sophia Primrose, amiably disposed to +resuscitate a forlorn joke.</p> + +<p>A mammoth blush submerged the luckless Bohemian. For Dean propriety was +already becoming engrafted upon Continental habit, and he crimsoned at +<span class="pagenum">[pg 552]</span> +<a name="Page_552" id="Page_552"></a> +having to confess what once he would have proclaimed upon the +house-top,—that his watch was again with his "uncle."</p> + +<p>Probably nine-tenths of the Continental artists who are not entirely +beyond the dread of yet eating "mad cow" travel third-class. But Dean +artists, however they may travel when out of England, generally slip +quietly away from the sight of their acquaintances when their tickets +are other than at least second. Our Bohemian was once presented with a +second-class ticket to London. As he scrambled in upon the unwonted +luxury of cushioned seats, he saw familiar faces blushing furiously.</p> + +<p>"The first time we ever travelled second-class in our lives," murmured +Materfamilias.</p> + +<p>"I too," responded the cheeky Bohemian.</p> + +<p>Another difference between Dean Bohemianism and Continental is +characteristic of the whole race whose land this is. Whereas artists in +France, Italy, and Germany are of gregarious habit and gather for their +summers in rural inns, where they form a community by themselves, the +Dean artist sets up his own vine and fig-tree and has a temporary home, +if ever so small and mean. The farm-houses and cottages of the Dean are +filled with lodgers, all dining at separate tables and living as aloof +from each other as the true Briton always lives. There are advantages in +this aloofness, but it certainly lacks the <i>camaraderie</i>, the jolly +good-fellowship, of those picturesque <i>auberges</i> and <i>osterie</i> where +twenty or thirty of one calling are gathered together under one roof, +meeting daily at table, where artistic criticism is pungent and free, +artistic assistance ungrudging, tales of artistic experience and +adventure racy, the atmosphere stimulative to the spreading out of every +artistic theory possible to the sane and insane mind.</p> + +<p>In one of these Continental <i>auberges</i> rough boards a foot in width ran +in one unbroken line round the four sides of the <i>salle-à-manger</i>. These +boards were perhaps hazily intended for seats, but their real office +was to hold all the artistic rubbish—smashed color-tubes, broken +stretchers, ragged canvases, discarded palettes, disreputable paint-rags +and oil-tubes—the <i>auberge</i> possessed. But every sunset, as the stream +of artists set in from forest and field, the boards came into other +service. All the work of the day was ranged upon them along the wall, +and while the painters sat at meat comment and criticism grew rampant, +every canvas coming in for its share. That many good lessons were given +and taken in this wise <i>va sans dire</i>. That also artistic progress was +punctuated not unseldom with "<i>bêtise</i>," "<i>imbécile</i>," "<i>nom du chien</i>," +"you're a goose," and "you're another," goes equally without saying to +all who know the unrestraint of artistic Bohemia and the usual attitude +of the human mind under criticism.</p> + +<p>The walls of this <i>salle-à-manger</i> were—and are—arranged with panels, +in which <i>messieurs les artistes</i> exercised their skill. It is a marked +peculiarity of these artistic communities that no branch of art is so +popular as caricature. Sometimes these caricatures are amiable, +sometimes the reverse. Thus, when a certain blithe widow was represented +colossally upon the wall with a little man in her eye, the likenesses +were so good and the truth of the caricature so palpable that the widow +herself was moved to as quick laughter as the others. But when American +Palmer worked all day upon a panel to create a sunny sea laughing +radiantly back at a sunny sky, while fantastic lateen-sailed craft +floated like bits of jewelled color between, it was mean, to say the +least, of Scotch Willie to take advantage of the American's departure +and paint out those fairy boats, filling their places with horrible +bloated corpses, floating upon the bright water like a nightmare upon +innocent sleep.</p> + +<p>It was in this same <i>auberge</i> that our landlady made this piteous +supplication: "Caricature each other on the walls, <i>messieurs et +mesdames, si vous voulez</i>; make portrait busts of the bread and +figurines of the potatoes, and decorate +<span class="pagenum">[pg 553]</span> +<a name="Page_553" id="Page_553"></a> +the plates in whatever style of +art you please; but don't, <i>je vous en supplie</i>, don't blacken the +table-cloths before they are three days old."</p> + +<p>Alas! this was eloquence lost; for, at that very dinner, conversation +chancing to turn upon the subtile malignity of Fanny Matilda's smiles, +Fanny Matilda being there present, in less time than it takes to tell it +twenty crayon smiles writhed and wriggled upon the spick-span cloth.</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu! mon Dieu</i>!" moaned Madame. "And only yesterday every +handkerchief upon the line came in bearing the noses of <i>messieurs et +mesdames</i>!"</p> + +<p>Aloofly though the Deanite lives, he is not altogether an unsocial +being. Neither are his domestic habits always as invisible to the finite +eye as he perhaps intends them to be. Tent-life has scant privacy, and +the circumscribed accommodation of the Dean leads to frequent "slopping +over" into cloth annexes.</p> + +<p>Opposite our windows a certain painter spent no inconsiderable time in +the peak-roofed tent upon the grass-plot. There the young +foreign-looking wife, in scarlet <i>birette</i> and jaunty petticoats just +touching high boot-tops, with long, flowing hair, as bright and +effective as any pictured <i>vivandière</i>, made tea and coffee over a +petroleum-stove, laid the table, sat at her sewing, posed for her +husband, received her callers, as charming a gypsy picture as ever +brightened canvas.</p> + +<p>For the very best of reasons, we were not 'cyclists, although in a +country set with 'cycles as the fields with flowers or the sky with +stars.</p> + +<p>For reasons equally good, we were not boatists, although the watery way +from Oxford to the sea flowed so near our door, and our village was one +of the gayest head-quarters not only of the fresh-water navy, whose arms +are flashing oars and whose oaths are of the universities, but equally +that of regiments of painters, whose arms are sketching-umbrellas and +easels and who swear not at all,—or at least not to feminine hearing.</p> + +<p>Our lodgings were among the artists in the region farther back from the +river than that monopolized by the boating-people. We were back among +the sunny slopes and smiling meadows, the red-tiled farm-houses and +dusky lanes, of the still primitive natives of the region, while the +navy covered the shining river by day and overran the river-side +hostelries by night.</p> + +<p>Our lodgings were not picturesque, if truth must be told, although +surrounded by picturesqueness as by a garment,—a circular cloak of it, +so to say. We had the chief rooms of a staring new and square brick +cottage, glaring with white walls inside, shutterless outside, majestic +with a bow-window too high to look from except upon one's legs, owned by +my Lady H——'s gardener, and elegantly named "Ethel Cottage," as a +stucco plaque in its frieze bore witness. We should have preferred +accommodations in any of the ivy-grown, steep-roofed cots about us, or +in the old stone inn, with its peaked porch, where honest yokels quaffed +nutty ale and a sign-board creaked and groaned from its gibbet across +the road. But we had come too late in the painting-season for any other +than Hobson's choice: the tidbits of grime and squalor were all taken, +and we must e'en content ourselves to be mocked and reviled for the +philistinism of our domestic establishing, or else hie us hence where +artists were not and Ethel Cottages as yet unknown.</p> + +<p>But where, tell me where, are not artists in England? And where, tell me +where, do artists gather in squads that Ethel Cottages do not spring up +like the tents of an army with banners? For even painters must eat and +be lodged, the aboriginal habitations are not of elastic capacity, the +inns are of feeble digestion, and the third summer of an artistic +invasion is sure to find "Ethels" and "Mabels" in red brick and stunning +whitewash, and, like our row of laborers' cottages, cursed by artists, +but inhabited by them.</p> + +<p>It was a <i>soulagement</i> of our æsthetic discomfort that so long as we +remained hidden within it we never realized our own hideousness. Now and +then we +<span class="pagenum">[pg 554]</span> +<a name="Page_554" id="Page_554"></a> +saw the ugly squareness of our afternoon shadow upon our +aristocratically-gravelled front yard, but ordinarily we saw only dreamy +distances melting into piny duskiness against the far-off sky, the +serpent-like windings of the tranquil river, upon which its navy looked +like dust-motes, fair fields of golden grain, and the farm-houses and +cottages which looked upon our blank brickness with admiration and +wondered why we were despised of our less beautifully housed kind, when +our forks were four-pronged and of silvery seeming and our floors +carpeted to our sybaritic feet. It was only when we returned to our +Ethel after long tramps over the country-side, from a four-miles-distant +Norman tower or a ten-miles-away pre-Reformation abbey, now stable or +granary, that we figuratively beat our breasts and tore our hair because +Fate had not made us <i>real</i> tramps, privileged to sleep in +pre-Reformation stables or 'neath pre-Reformation stars, rather than the +imitation tramps we were, wedded to the habits but loathing the aspect +of red-faced, staring Ethels.</p> + +<p>What would we not have given for an invitation to pass a time, as Miss +Muloch was, in one of those Thames monsters concerning which she wrote +her fascinating pages, "A Week in a House-Boat"! We could scarce catch a +glimpse of the river upon our tramps—and it was our constant silvery +accompaniment, as the treble to a part-song—without coming across these +ungraceful, unwieldy creatures, seeming like bloated denizens of depths +below come to bask upon the surface. Hundreds of them dot the river +between Teddington and Oxford: once we counted ten between Ethel and the +wooded island whither we rowed every Sunday to dine from ponderous +hampers upon a huge tree-stump. Many of them are owned and occupied by +artists, who have them towed by horses up and down the river every week +or two, or moor them for months in one place while painting +river-scenery. Some are inhabited by maniacal fishermen, who sit day +after day all day long at the end of poles protruding from front or +back doors or bedroom windows. Some are inhabited by Londoners in whom +primeval instincts for air, space, sunshine, and liberty break out every +summer from under the thick crust of modern habits and conventions and +cause them to breathe, as we did, not angelical aspirations, but "I want +to be a gypsy."</p> + +<p>Some of these house-boats are miracles of microscopic luxury, doll-like +bedrooms and dining-rooms for pygmies. In some, also, marvels of +culinary skill are evolved in pocket-space by French <i>chefs</i> who spend +their days creating the banquets to which the boaters invite their +<i>convives</i> at evening, when the cold river-mists have driven the navy +into harbor for the night. Others are much simpler in construction and +furnishing, and the inhabitants live largely upon tinned and potted +viands and such light cooking as comes within the possibilities of +oil-stoves and fires of fagots on the banks. Still others—and we often +saw their lordly and corpulent owners reading the "Times" upon the +handkerchief space which serves for porch or piazza before their front +doors—move up and down the river from crack hotel to cracker, taking no +note of picturesque "bits" or of mooring-places where Paradise seems +come down to lodge between Berks and Bucks, caring naught that at this +point four exquisite churches and two interesting manor-houses are +within tramping-distance, at that a feudal castle and the fairest inland +picture that England and nature can offer their lovers, caring only that +at the "King" the trout are the best cooked on the whole river, at the +"Queen" the chops are divine, while at the "Prince" the <i>perdrix aux +truffes</i> are worth mooring there a week for. These house-boaters are +generally accompanied by garish wives and daughters, who spend their +time in the streets of the town where they chance to be moored,—and +they seldom are moored elsewhere than at the larger towns,—exchanging +greetings and chatting with such acquaintances as they there meet, or +idling up and down the river in the luxurious small boats of their +river-made +<span class="pagenum">[pg 555]</span> +<a name="Page_555" id="Page_555"></a> +friends. This type of house-boater himself is generally +spoken of in brisk naval asides as a "duffer," the kitchen of his boat +is a wine-closet, and, to look at him poring for hours over his paper, +one may well believe that time is heavy on his hands and that he arrives +during every summer vacation at depths of mortal ennui where "nothing +new is, and nothing true is, and no matter!"</p> + +<p>Americans personally unacquainted with England can form little idea of +the extent to which physical culture is carried here, and the universal +summer madness for athletic sports and out-of-door amusements. The +equable climate, never too hot, never too cold, for river-pull or +cricket, is Albion's advantage in this respect over almost all the rest +of the world, and particularly over our fervid and freezing clime. Even +although this is pious England, where the gin-shops cannot open after +the noon of Sunday until the bells ring for the evening service and +"Pub" and church spring open and alight simultaneously, even in pious +England Sunday is the day of all the week on which the river takes on +its merriest aspect, and from the multitudes of familiar faces and +frequency of friendly greetings reminds one of Regent Street and the +Parks. All prosperous and proper London—the amusement is too costly for +'Arry—seems to float itself upon Thames water that day, coming up forty +land-miles from the metropolis to do so. Boats are furiously in demand, +every picnic nook is pre-empted from earliest morning, the river-side +tea-gardens are thronged, the inns are depleted of men and women in +yachting-costumes, and the locks are jammed as full as they can be of +highly-draped boats, gayly-dressed women, and circus-costumed men, the +whole scene gayer, brighter, more fantastic than any Venetian carnival +since the days of the most sumptuous of the Adriatic doges.</p> + +<p>One or two real Venetian gondolas are kept at that river-reach where we +spent our summer. The owner of the principal one is an English nobleman +who lived long in Italy and whose twelve daughters were born there. It +is a sight to see those twelve beautiful sisters, from six years of age +to twenty-four, poled down the river to church every Sunday morning by a +swarthy and veritable Venetian gondolier. Whether or not that +hearse-like craft has sacred associations in the minds of the twelve +maidens all in a row, or whether its grimness and want of swiftness seem +out of place amid the carnival brilliancy of Sunday afternoon, it is +certain that it is never used except for church-going, and the maidens +appear later in the day each in her own swift little canoe, or two or +three sisters together in a larger one, darting to and fro, hither and +yon, with almost incredible swiftness, almost more like winged thoughts +than like even swallows on the wing. The gabled and ivy-wreathed +Elizabethan manor-house which is the summer home of the maidens stands +but a few rods from the river's bank. Here, amidst decorous shrubbery, +upon smooth shaven and rolled turf, where marble vases overflow with +gorgeous flowers, sit Pater and Mater among their dozens of guests. Some +of the gentlemen are in correct morning dress, some in boating-costumes, +and some in that last stage of unclothedness or first of clothedness +which is the English bathing-dress. In their striped tights on land +these last look exactly like saw-dust and rope ring clowns, but when +they dive into the water from that well-bred lawn and dart in wild +pursuit of the maidens, who beat them off with oars from climbing into +the canoes, amid shouts of aquatic and terrestrial laughter, one would +almost swear they were neither the clowns they looked a moment ago, nor +yet the English gentlemen they really are, but fantastic mermen bent +upon carrying earth-brides back with them into their cool native depths +beneath the bright water.</p> + +<p>That is what it looks like. But a single glimpse into those cool dappled +depths, where the sunny water is shoal enough to show bottom, reveals, +alas! how little mermaiden and romantic those +<span class="pagenum">[pg 556]</span> +<a name="Page_556" id="Page_556"></a> +depths are. For London +does not disport itself every Sunday on the Thames without leaving ample +traces of that disporting. We see those traces gleaming and glooming +there,—empty beer- and wine-bottles, devitalized sardine-boxes, osseous +remains of fish, flesh, and fowl, scooped cheese-rinds, egg-shells, the +buttons of defrauded raiment, and the parted rims of much-snatched-at +and vigorously-squabbled-for straw hats.</p> + +<p>A favorite boating-trip is from Teddington up to Oxford, or <i>vice +versa</i>, spending a week or two on the way, and stopping at river-side +inns at night. In the season these inns are full to overflowing, and the +roughest and smallest of water-side hamlets holds its accommodations at +lofty premiums. A number of public pleasure-steamers and many private +steam-launches ply up and down, making the whole trip in two or three +days, drawing up at night at towns, and by day provoking curses both +loud and deep by the swash of their tidal waves against the liliputian +navy. Many of the merry boating-parties of men and women seek only +sleeping-accommodations at the inns, and do their own cooking upon bosky +islands, on the wooded or sunny banks of the river, by means of +kerosene- or charcoal-stoves and tiny tents. How appetizingly we have +thus smelt the broiling steak and grilled chop done to a turn even in a +camp frying-pan, as we tramped along the river heights and looked down +upon chatting groups below! How like airs of Araby the Blest the odors +of steaming coffee! how more stimulating than breath of fair Spice Isles +the pungent incense of hissing onions!</p> + +<p>As a consequence of this return of Nature's children to Nature's breast, +the <i>genii loci</i>, the sylvan sprites, are all frightened inland from the +borders of the beautiful river. Except here and there where huge boards +threaten trespassers and announce that landing is forbidden upon this +Private Property, wild flowers will not grow, the grass looks trampled +and dim, the soft summer zephyrs play among empty paper bags and +relics of grocers' parcels, with sound and sentiment vastly unlike their +natural music among green, waving leaves. The river is spoiled for the +poet and the dreamer, and even the artist must choose his bits with +care. Hyde Park and Piccadilly have come up to the Thames; and what does +Hyde Park care for the poetry of dreaming nature, or what the +river-madmen for aught else than glorious expansion of muscle and +strengthening of sinew and the godlike sense of largeness and lightness +which comes with that strengthening and expanding?</p> + +<p>Gliding up and down the river, one would suppose all London had taken to +boats. But we as trampists came to other conclusions as we pegged along +the white Berkshire highways, smooth and even as parquetted floors, day +after day. There the bicycle holds its own, and more too, being largely +adopted not only by genuine 'cyclists, but by others as well whose only +interest is to cover the ground as quickly as possible,—amateur +photographers lashed all over with apparatus, artists shapelessly ditto, +and pastoral postmen square-backed with letter-pouches. Women +tricyclists are only less numerous, and the dignity and modesty must be +crude indeed that find objections to this manner of feminine +peregrination. The costume is simple and plain,—close-fitting upper +garments, without fuss of furbelow, and plain close skirts, met at the +ankles by high buttoned boots. A lady's seat upon a tricycle is far less +conspicuous than upon a horse, her bodily motion is less, and the +movement of her feet scarcely more than is necessary to run a +sewing-machine. She sits at her ease in a perfectly lady-like manner, +and flies over the ground like a courser of the desert, if she pleases, +or rolls quietly and smoothly along, chatting easily with the +pedestrians who amble at her side.</p> + +<p>Lady tricyclists attract no attention whatever in Oxford Street. Imagine +one flying down Broadway!</p> + +<p>As trampists our femininely-encumbered party in those delicious English +days considered fourteen quotidian miles +<span class="pagenum">[pg 557]</span> +<a name="Page_557" id="Page_557"></a> +not discreditable to us, +particularly when taking into consideration the bleats and baas and +whimpering laggardness with which we returned from three-mile excursions +during the first few days we were in the tramping-line. By degrees we +thus explored the whole country within a radius of seven miles of Ethel. +With this we were content, yea, even proud; for did not many of our +boating women-neighbors grumble even at their walk to the river and +declare they would rather row five miles than walk one? We were proud, +for we knew every church, every picturesque cottage and ruin, within our +radius, while our aquatic friends knew only those bordering the river. +We were proud—until, ah me! until that desolate day when a merrily, +merrily flying squad swooped down upon us and declared they had 'cycled +every inch of the <i>twenty-mile</i> periphery of which Ethel's neighboring +church tower was the centre!</p> + +<p>That cutting down of our pedal pride resulted in our subscribing to a +daily paper. Every morning before stretching out to our regular day's +tramp we had been wont to trot through dewy lanes, over stiles, and +across subtly-colored turnip- and cabbage-fields, to purchase in the town +of M—— a luxury not to be had in our own hamlet,—the "Daily News." +Rain or shine, that trot must be trotted, for there were those among us +who would have tramped sulkily all day and sniffed the sniff of wrath at +ivied church and thatched cottage were the acid of their natures not +made frothy and light by the alkali of their morning paper. It had never +occurred to us, not even when we camped beneath wayside shade around our +sandwiches and ale or in some stiff and dim inn-parlor and listened to +the reading of the "News," that in reality the town of M——, and not +the brickhood of Ethel, was thus the centre of all our ambulatory +circumferences. It had never before dawned upon us that we thus added +three uncounted miles to our fourteen diurnally counted ones. What +astonishment at our own pedometric weakness of calculation! What disgust +to find our periphery thus three whole miles smaller than it need have +been!</p> + +<p>The next day we subscribed to the "News," and walked nine miles as the +bee flies from the front door of Ethel even unto the ruins of Medmenham. +And we vowed by all our plaster gods and painted goddesses that another +summer we would tramp no more. We would 'cycle.</p> + +<p>A mile away from Ethel is the village proper of Cookham. It is a sleepy +town, save in the boating-season; and whoever enters the post-office in +any season finds it empty and inhospitable. Raps upon a tightly-closed +inner door call a woman attendant from rattling sewing or noisy gossip +of the invisible penetralia; and as soon as the business is done the +inhospitable door swings shut again in the stranger's face.</p> + +<p>Cookham houses are quaint, often timbered, frequently ivy-grown from +basement to roof. One imagines them assuming a half-sullen air at this +yearly breaking of their dreamy repose by incursions of parti-colored +hordes for whom life seems to hold but two supreme objects,—boats and +pictures.</p> + +<p>The most picturesque feature of the place is the old church, set amid +tombs whose mossy and time-gnawed cherubs have exchanged grins for two +hundred years and more. The old flint tower is grave and grim, but +softened by a wonderful centuries old ivy in a veil of living green. A +pathetic interest to artists hallows the venerable church-yard. Here +sleeps Frederick Walker, a genius cut off before his meridian, and +resting now amid his kindred in a lowly grave, over which the Thames +waters surge every spring, leaving the grave all the rest of the year +the sadder for its cold soddenness and for the humid mildew and decay +eating already into the headstone, as yet but twelve years old. In the +church itself is Thorneycroft's mural tablet to the dead artist, a +portrait head of him who was born almost within the old church's shadow, +and whose pencil dealt always so lovingly with the poetic aspects of his +native region.</p> + +<p class="author">Margaret Bertha Wright.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum">[pg 558]</span> +<a name="Page_558" id="Page_558"></a></p> +<h2><a name="BIRDS_OF_A_TEXAN_WINTER" id="BIRDS_OF_A_TEXAN_WINTER"></a>BIRDS OF A TEXAN WINTER.</h2> + + +<p>White of Selborne was, on the whole, tolerably content to plunge his +swallows, or a good proportion of them, into the mud and deposit them +for the winter at the bottom of a pond. Professionally conservative, as +a fine old Church-of-England clergyman, though constitutionally +sceptical, as became one of the earliest of really observant +naturalists, he was loath to break flatly with the consensus of +contemporary opinion, rustic and philosophic, and found a <i>modus +vivendi</i> in the theory that a great many, perhaps a majority, of the +swifts and barn-swallows did go to Africa. He had seen them organizing +their emigration-parties and holding noisy debate over the best time to +start and the best route to take. The sea-part of the travel was of +trifling length, and baiting-places were plenty in France, Spain, and +Italy. Sometimes, such was their power of wing, they were known to take +the outside route and strike boldly across the Bay of Biscay, for they +had alighted on vessels. Probably the worthy old man was reluctant to +wrench from the rural mind a harmless remnant of superstition,—if +superstition it might be called, in view of the fact that sundry +saurians and chelonians, held by classifiers to be superior in rank to +birds, do hibernate under water, and that, more marvellous than all, the +quarrymen of his day, like those of ours, insisted that living frogs +occasionally sprang from under their chisel, leaving an unchallengeable +impress in the immemorial rock. It must indeed have been up-hill work to +extinguish the old belief in the minds of men who had seen the +water-ouzel pattering in perfect ease and comfort along the floor of the +pellucid pool, and who had heard from their fisher friends from the +north coast of the gannets that were drawn up in the herring-nets.</p> + +<p>Most of us, even <i>color chi sanno</i>, like to retain a spice of mystery in +our mental food. It may constitute no part of the nutriment, and may +often be deleterious, but it meets a want, somehow or other, and wants, +however undefinable, must be recognized. It is a spur that titillates +the absorbent surfaces and helps to keep them in action. It is a craving +that the race is never going to outlive, and that will afford occupation +and subsistence to a considerable class of its most intelligent and +respectable members until the year one million, as it has done since the +year one. The great mass of us like to see the absolute reign of reason +tempered by the incomprehensible, and are ever ready to lend a kindly +ear to men and things that humor that liking.</p> + +<p>Where do all the birds, myriads in number and scores in species, go when +they leave the North in the winter? A small minority lags, not +superfluous, for we are delighted to have them, but in a subdued, +pinched, and hand-to-mouth mode of existence in marked contrast to their +summer life and perceptibly marring the pleasure of their society. They +flock around our homes and assume a mendicant air that is a little +depressing. Unlike the featherless tramps, they pay very well for their +dole; but we should prefer them, as we do our other friends, to be +independent, and that although we know they are but winter friends and +will coolly turn their backs upon us as soon as the weather permits. The +spryest and least dependent of them all, the snow-bird, who sports +perpetual full dress, jerks at us his expressive tail and is off at the +first thaw, black coat, white vest, and all. No tropics or sub-tropics +for him. He can stand our climate and our company with a certain +condescending tolerance so long as we keep the temperature not too much +above zero, but grows contemptuous when Fahrenheit grows effeminate and +forty. Nothing for it then but to cool off his thin and unprotected legs +and +<span class="pagenum">[pg 559]</span> +<a name="Page_559" id="Page_559"></a> +toes in the snows of Canada. "The white North hath his" heart. Our +winter is his summer. There is nothing in his anatomy to explain this +idiosyncrasy. His physical construction closely resembles that of his +insessorial brethren, most of whom go when he comes. He has no +discoverable provision against cold. Adaptation to environment does not +seem to cover his case. It does not cover his legs. They remain +unfeathered. We shudder to see his translucent little tarsi on top of +the snow, which he obviously prefers as a stand-point to bare spots +where the snow has been blown away. Compared with the ptarmigan and the +snowy owl, or even the ruffed grouse, all so well blanketed, he suggests +a survival of the unfittest.</p> + +<p>The movements of this tough little anti-Darwinian are overlapped by the +bluebird and the robin,—our robin, best entitled to the name, inasmuch +as it is accorded him by fifty-odd millions against thirty millions who +give it to the redbreast,—who are usually with him long before he gets +away. They never move very far southward, but watch the cantonments of +Frost, ready to advance the moment his outposts are drawn in and signs +appear of evacuation. Their climate, indeed, is determined in winter +rather by altitude than by latitude. The low swamps and pineries that +skirt tide-water in the Middle States furnish them a retreat. Thence +they scatter themselves over the tertiary plain as it widens southward +beneath the granite bench that divides all the great rivers south of the +Hudson into an upper and a lower reach. Detachments of them extend their +tour to the Gulf. Readers of "A Subaltern on the Campaign of New Orleans +in 1814-15" will recall his mention of the assemblage of robins hopping +over the Chalmette sward that were the first living inhabitants to +welcome the weary invaders on emerging from the palmetto marshes. They +can hardly be said to reach the particular region of which we propose to +speak, both species, the bluebird especially, being almost strangers to +it.</p> + +<p>Other species, the cardinal grosbeak among them, may be said to stop, +as it were, just out of hearing, the echo of their song slumbering in +the thin, keen air, ready to swell again into unmistakable reality. +Between these stubborn fugitives and those who follow the butterflies to +the tropics there is a wide variety in the extent of travel in which our +winged compatriots indulge.</p> + +<p>Quadrupeds, whose movements are less speedy and more limited, have to +adapt themselves to the Northern winter as best they may. Hard and long +training has made them less the creatures of climate than their +feathered associates, who might themselves in many cases have learned +perforce to stay where they were reared but for possessing the light and +agile wings which woo them to wander. We may fancy Bruin, with his +passion for sweet mast and luscious fruits, eying with envy the martin +and the wild fowl as they sweep over his head to the teeming Southland, +and wondering, as he huddles shivering into his snowy lair, why Nature +should be so partial in her gifts. The call of the trumpeting swan, the +bugler crane, and the Canada goose falls idly upon his ear. To their +breezy challenge, "A new home,—who'll follow?" he cannot respond.</p> + +<p>Let us join this tide of travel and move sunward with some of those who +take through-tickets. We can easily keep up with them now. Steam is not +slower than wings,—often faster. Sitting at ease, yet moved by iron +muscles, we can time the coursers of the air. A few decades ago, when +this familiar motor was a new thing comparatively, we could not do so. +At the jog of twenty miles an hour, even the sparrow could pass us on a +short stretch, and the dawdling crow soon left us in the rear. Our gain +upon their time is so recent that the birds have not yet fully realized +it. Unaccustomed to being beaten by anything <i>on earth</i>, they will skim +along abreast of a train till, to their unspeakable, or at least +unspoken, wonderment, they find that what they are fleeing from is +fleeing from them. +<span class="pagenum">[pg 560]</span> +<a name="Page_560" id="Page_560"></a> +One morning last winter I was speeding eastward to +the Crescent City, the freshest of my memories a struggle at Houston +with one of those breakfasts which so atrociously distinguish the reign +of the magnate who is said to supply under contract all the meals of the +Southern railway-restaurants, and who, "if ever fondest prayer for +others' woe avail on high," will certainly be booked, with the vote of +some of his victims, for a post-mundane berth a good deal warmer than +his coffee and more sulphurous than his eggs. Afar off to the right the +sun was rounding up from the Gulf and clearing the haze from his broad, +red face, the better to look abroad over the glistening prairie and see +if the silhouetted pines and cattle were where he had left them the day +before. Glancing to the left, which was my side of the car, I became +aware of a large bird suspended in the air, not motionless, for his +wings were doing their best, but to all appearance as stationary as the +scattered trees and cattle, and about fifteen yards distant. Every +feature and marking of the "chicken," or pinnated grouse, was as +distinct to the eye as though, instead of making thirty-two miles an +hour, he were posing for his photograph. For full two hundred yards he +sustained the race, until, finding that his competitor had the better +wind, he gave it up and shot suddenly into the sedge. How much longer +the match had lasted I could not say. He must have got up near the +engine—of course losing some time in the act of rising—and fallen back +gradually to my place, which was in a rear car. But when a schedule for +birds comes to be framed, it is safe to set down <i>Tetrao cupido</i> at +about the speed above named. Timed from a rail-car, that is; for, looked +at over a gun, he seems to move five times as fast. The double-barrel is +a powerful binocular.</p> + +<p>Steam, then, soon carries us to the resort of the lost truants, who have +travelled with the lines of longitude by guides and tracks over that +invisible road as unerring as those of the railway. We shall find them +in close companionship with friends unknown in our latitude, whose +abiding-places are at the South, as those left behind are fixed dwellers +at the North.</p> + +<p>From the window at which I sit on this morning late in January and this +parallel of thirty degrees,—window open, as well as the door, for no +norther is on duty to-day,—I see flocks of our familiar redwings, +cowbirds, and blackbirds, all mingled together as though the hard and +fast lines of species had been obliterated and made as meaningless as +the concededly evanescent shades of variety, trooping busily over the +lawn and blackening the leafless China-trees. But they have a crony +never seen by us. This is the crow-blackbird of the South, or jackdaw as +it is wrongly called, otherwise known as the boat-tailed grackle, from +his over-allowance of rudder that pulls him side-wise and ruins his +dead-reckoning when a wind is on. His wife is a sober-looking lady in a +suit of steel-gray, and the pair are quite conspicuous among their +winter guests. The latter are far less shy than we are accustomed to +find them, a majority being young in their first season and with little +or no experience of human guile. No one cares to shoot them, in the +abundance of larger game, and the absence of stones from the fat +prairie-soil places them out of danger from the small boy. Their only +foe is the hawk, who levies blackmail on them as coolly and regularly as +any other plumed cateran. Partly, perhaps, by reason of this outside +pressure, they are cheek by jowl with the poultry,—the cow-bunting, +which is the pet prey of the hawk, following them into the back porch +and insisting sometimes on breakfasting with Tray,—or rather with +Legion, for that is the name of the Texas dog. In this familiarity they +are approached, though not equalled, by that more home-staying bird the +meadow-lark, who is here a dweller of the lawn and garden and adds his +mellow whistle to the orchestra of the mocking-bird. This so-called lark +is classed by most naturalists among the starlings, as are two of the +blackbirds, which two he resembles in some of his habits, but not in +migrating, being about as much of a continental as +<span class="pagenum">[pg 561]</span> +<a name="Page_561" id="Page_561"></a> +any other biped +American. Nor is he like his cousins in changes of dress. Out of a dozen +of the latter that may be brought down at a shot, you will scarcely find +three exactly alike. They moult at the South, and the young pass +gradually into adult plumage. The male redwing, up to his first autumn, +is hardly distinguishable in dress from his mother. Here he dons his +epaulettes, beginning with the threadbare worsted yellow of the private, +and rising in grade to the rich scarlet and gold of the officer fully +commissioned to flame upon the marsh and carry havoc among its humblest +inhabitants.</p> + +<p>A month or two hence, the plover, as shy in his Northern haunts as the +lark, will, in three species, be as much at home upon the lawn. Youth +and inexperience must, as in the case of the other birds, be one +explanation of this unwonted familiarity. Among other reasons is the +abundance of food, under a mild sky, with but rare frosts to bind the +earth and no snows to cover it. The temperature of an average winter day +is 60° or 65°. A norther is apt to blow three or four times in the +season, and it brings the mercury down to freezing-point or some degrees +lower. After the two or three days of its duration, the first warm +morning covers the walks and most other bare parts of the soil with +worm-casts,—revealing the larders of the smaller birds. At an average, +too, of four or five places in an acre one notices a hillock two or +three feet in diameter tipped with a yellowish spot that deepens into +orange and broadens as the air grows warm. These erections are the work +of ants, the emergence of which intelligent insects in greater or less +numbers, according to the temperature, causes the coloring which we +observe. Intelligent we cannot help terming a creature so remarkable in +its various species for the evidences of calculation furnished by its +habits of life,—evidences nowhere better worth studying than among the +leaf-cutting, slave-holding, and shade-planting ants of Texas; but we +are sometimes tempted to deny the character to this particular species +when we perceive the utter indifference to safety with which it selects +a site for its communistic abode. One of these is located in the middle +of the principal (sandy and unpaved) street of a village, within twenty +steps of the railroad-track, and subject to the impact of wheels and +mule-, ox-, or horse-hoof many times an hour; yet the semblance of a +dwelling is maintained, and the little tawny cloud comes up smiling +whenever the sun allows, asking no other permission. These ant-hills, I +am persuaded, supply a foundation to certain tufts of low trees which +spring up in dampish places where the spring fires have less sweep. The +hillocks are well drained, as appears from their composition of clear +gravel, a material of which you will find more in one of them than on a +surface of many feet around; and you may see the sweeter grasses +gradually mantling them, these being followed by herbage of larger +growth, which, accumulating humors at their roots, bourgeon into +arborescence, until, one vegetable entity shouldered into substance and +thrift by another, the nucleus built by our tiny red friends has +broadened into a tree-clad knoll. The mezquit, not many years ago +confined for the most part to the arid region beyond the Nueces, is +spreading eastward, and the clumps of it which begin to skirt the +original copses here may be supposed to owe their first foothold to the +ant. This humble promoter of forestry is duly appreciated, if only as a +viand, by his neighbors. Full-grown, and still more in the larval stage, +he is esteemed by them as both a toothsome and a beaksome bit. He—or, +more numerously, she, if we insist on sex and decline the more +practically correct <i>it</i>—forms thus the lowest term in an ascending +series of animal life that grows out of the ant-hill like the tree. So +much may one such settlement in a rood of ground do for the maintenance +of organic existence.</p> + +<p>A still more diffused, perhaps, if less productive, source of life +exists in another burrower and mound-builder, the crawfish. Unlike the +ant, which likes +<span class="pagenum">[pg 562]</span> +<a name="Page_562" id="Page_562"></a> +to drain, he is an advocate of irrigation. In this art +he can give our well-diggers odds in the game. His genius for striking +water is wonderful. On the dryest parts of the prairie, miles from any +permanent stream, his ejections of mud may be found. Shallow or deep, +his borings always reach water. He is always at home, but less +accessible to callers than the ant. To the smaller birds he is forbidden +fruit. In wet weather, when his vestibule is shallow, the sand-hill +crane may burglarize him, or even get a snap judgment on him at the +front door. The bill of the great curlew cannot be sent in so +effectively, not being so rightly drawn; but that bird, more common in +the season than anywhere else away from the coast, finds plenty of other +food. He is not here in the winter. His place just now is filled by the +jacksnipe, which flutters up from every boggy place and comes to bag in +a condition anything but suggestive of short commons. The snipe's +terrestrial surface lies two and a half inches beneath ours. At that +distance he strikes hard pan; but it is margin enough for his +operations, and he is not often caught among the shorts. Gourmands +assure us that he lives "by suction," and that there is consequently no +harm in eating his trail. There is comfort in this creed, whatever may +be our private belief in the substantiality of what the bird absorbs; +and we cheerfully eat, after the suggestion of Paul, "asking no +questions," the while tacitly assuring ourselves, like old Fuller with +the strawberry, that a better bird might doubtless have been made, but +as certainly never was. For game flavor not even the partridge (Bob +White), also exceptionally abundant here, is his superior.</p> + +<p>But think, ye snow-bound, of the state of things implied in this +embarrassment of riches,—of a mid-winter table balanced between such a +choice, or, better, balanced by the adoption of both, one at each end! +Nor would this be near telling the whole story. Excluding fur and +sticking to feather, we have a wide range beyond. The larger birds we +may begin on, very moderately, with crane-steak, a transverse section +of our stately but distant friend the sand-hill. That is the form in +which he is thought to appear to best advantage. By the time you have +circumvented him by circumscribing him in the gradually narrowing +circuit of a buggy,—for stalking him, unless in higher grass than is +common at this season, is but vexation of spirit,—you will feel vicious +enough to eat him in any shape. His brother, the beautiful white bugler, +you will hardly meet at dinner, he being the shyest of his kind. A +Canada goose—not the tough and fishy bird of the Northern coast, but +grain- and grass-fed from fledging-time—is tender, delicate, and +everyway presentable. From the back upper gallery that looks upon the +prairie you are likely to see a company or battalion of his brethren, +their long black necks and white ties "dressing" capitally in line, and +their invisible legs doing the goose-step as the inventors of that +classic manoeuvre ought to do it. This bird seems to affect the +<i>militaire</i> in all his movements. What can be more regular than the +wedge, like that so common in tactical history, in which he begins his +march, moving in "a column of attack upon the pole"? Even when startled +and put to flight, he goes off smoothly and quietly, company-front. In +foraging he is strictly systematic, and never forgets to set sentinels. +We cannot fail to respect him while doing him the last honors. Of not +inferior claim is his prairie chum and remote cousin the mallard. They +are not often in close companionship, though I have seen a dozen and a +half of each rise from the border and the bosom of a pond forty yards +across,—one loving the open, and the other taking repose, if not food, +upon the water. That there should be ponds upon these prairies is as +striking to one accustomed to hill and dale as that so unpromising a +surface should so teem with life. The prairie is as flat as if cast like +plate-glass and rolled out,—only the table is slightly tilted toward +the Gulf at the rate of two or three hundred feet in a hundred miles. At +night you may see the head-light +<span class="pagenum">[pg 563]</span> +<a name="Page_563" id="Page_563"></a> +of an engine fifteen miles away, like +a low star that you wonder does not rise. It grows slowly in size, a +Sirius, a Venus, a moon, as though the earth had stopped rotating and +adopted a direct motion toward the heavenly bodies. Early on fine +mornings the horizon gets tired, as it were, of being suppressed, and +looms up in a mirage, with an outfit of imaged trees and hills reflected +in an imaginary lake,—a pictured protest of Nature against monotony. +There are local depressions, nevertheless, which you would not believe +in but for the shallow little ponds which fill them and which are +indicated from a distance at this season by the lead-colored grass that +veils them and conceals their glitter. And there are longer swells, +begotten of drainage, sometimes of eight or ten feet in a mile, which +deceive you, as you advance, into the expectation of a grand prospect +when once you shall have got to the top of them. That, practically, you +never do. Arrived at what seems to be the crest of a ridge, you see +nothing but more flat. The eye, in despair, gives, when you come in +sight of it, an inclination to the water. The pond-surface ceases to be +horizontal. The principle of gravitation stands contradicted +point-blank.</p> + +<p>The most frequent vedette of these miniature lakes is the +heron,—usually the blue, sometimes the larger white, the latter a most +beautiful bird. Yet neither is common. Still rarer in such situations is +the bittern, the Timon of birds, the rushes being seldom high enough to +afford him the strict concealment he likes. The mallard has to be his +own sentinel, as a rule. He does not depend on these ponds for food, +and, like other wild creatures, he reserves his chief vigilance for +feeding-time. They are places of repose, at mid-day and at night, for +the ducks of this and two or three other species, notably the blue- and +green-winged teal, which at other times haunt the clumps of oak and +pecan that skirt the sparse streams and their summer-dry affluents, +where nuts and acorns in great variety, those of the live-oak being very +sweet, supply unfailing winter provision. The thickets of ilex that +shade off these wooded reaches into the treeless prairie are the resort +of many partridges. You are led back into the open ground by another +game-bird, the pinnated grouse, the widest ranger of its genus, but at +the North disappearing only less rapidly than the buffalo. As yet his +most destructive foe in this region is perhaps the hawk, although he is +raided from the timber by the opossum, raccoon, and three species of +cat, while on the open his nest has marked attractions for the skunk and +probably the coyote. He has survived these dumb discouragers so long, +and the heat at his proper season is so trying to his human foe, that he +may long find a refuge here and proudly lead forth his young Texans for +scores of Augusts. He and his family will often quietly walk off while +the panting pointer seeks the shade of the wagon and the gunner cools +off under the heavy felt sombrero that is here found to be the best +headgear for summer. A very moderate game-law, well executed, would +sustain this fine bird indefinitely in the struggle for existence. But +law of any kind seems a foreign idea on these sea-like primeval plains. +It is like thinking of a parliament in the Pleiocene, or of a +court-house on the Grand Banks.</p> + +<p>Any transcendentalist who wishes to furbish up his philosophic furniture +will find this a good workshop for the purpose. There is ample room for +any school, positive or negative,—plenty of cloud-land for all +conceits. Kant could have picked up pure reason among the crowds of +simply reasoning creatures who have possessed the scene since long +before the brain of man was created. Covies of immemorial Thoreaus +bivouac under those hazy woods, and pre-glacial Emersons are circling +overhead. The problem of successfully living they have all solved. What +more have any of us done? The greatest good of the greatest number they +unpresumingly display as a practically triumphant principle; and the +greatest number is not by any means with them, any more than with us, +number one. Had it been, they would all +<span class="pagenum">[pg 564]</span> +<a name="Page_564" id="Page_564"></a> +have been extinct long ago. +Nature may be "red with tooth and claw," but not suicidally so. It is to +quite a peaceable, if not wholly loving, world that she invites us. And +just here we can see so much of it; we can study it so broadly and so +freely. Concord and Walden dwindle into the microscopic. It was under +precisely such a sun as this, in a warm, dry atmosphere, on a nearly +treeless soil, that the Stagyrite did all the thinking of sixty +generations. Could he have done it in an overcoat and muffler, with a +chronic catarrh?</p> + +<p>If, impatient of a host of inarticulate instructors, we prefer communing +with our kind and falling back on human story, some of that, too, is at +hand. Half a century ago, to a year, a short string of forlorn and +forlorn-looking people crossed the prairie close by, from west to east, +from the Colorado to the Brazos. The head of it was Sam Houston's +"army," three or four hundred strong, with all its <i>matériel</i> in one +wagon. The rest consisted of the débris of all the Anglo-American +settlements, women, children, cows, and what poor household stuff could +be moved. Slowly ferrying the Brazos, and as slowly making its way down +the left bank, picking up as it went the rest of the homesteads and some +more fighting-men, it turned to the right at the head of the estuary. +Then the little column, strengthened with some sea-borne supplies and +relieved of its wards, turned to face its pursuers. These were twice its +numbers, with four or five thousand reserves some days behind. +Generalship was given the go-by on both sides, the <i>cul-de-sac</i> of San +Jacinto being closed at both ends. Thirty minutes of noise and smoke, +and the empire of Cortez and Montezuma was split in two. Clio nibbed +another quill, steel pens not having then been invented. The gray geese +who might have supplied it recomposed themselves on the prairie, and all +the rest of their feathered friends followed their example, as the +military interlude melted away and left them their ancient solitary +reign.</p> + +<p>Of the feathered spectators of the scene we have episodically glanced +at, the most interested were those constant supervisors, the vultures. +Of these there are three species, one of which—the Mexican vulture—is +but an occasional visitor. The other two—the black vulture and the +turkey-buzzard—are monopolists in their peculiar line. They constitute +here, as generally throughout the warmer parts of the continent and its +islands, the recognized sanitary police. No law protects them, but they +do not need it. They are too useful not to command that popular sympathy +which is the higher law. The flocks and herds upon a thousand plains are +theirs. Every norther that freezes and every drought that starves some +of the wandering cattle and sheep brings to them provision. The +railroads also, not less than the winds of heaven, are their friends, +the fatal cow-catcher being an ever-busy caterer. The buzzards are, of +course, under such circumstances, warm advocates of internal improvement +and welcome the opening of every new railway. Their ardor in this +respect, however, has of late years been damped by the building of wire +fences along the track, an interference with vested rights and an +assault upon the hoary claims of infant industries against which in +their solemn assemblies they doubtless often condole with each other. +Unfortunately for their cause, they cannot lobby.</p> + +<p>Somehow, there seems to be always a wag or clown among each group of +animals,—some one species in which the amusing or the grotesque is +prominent. Among these clownish fellows I should class the black +vulture, or john-crow. He is not a crow at all, but gets that name +probably because so historic a tribe as Corvus must have some +representative, and the real crow, so common at the North, is one of the +few birds that are not much seen in this quarter. John unites in his +ways at once fuss and business. He alternates oddly between bustle and +gravity. Seated stately and motionless for hours on a leafless tree, he +will suddenly, as if struck by a new idea, start off on a tour that +might +<span class="pagenum">[pg 565]</span> +<a name="Page_565" id="Page_565"></a> +have been dictated by telegram. He does not sail and circle like +his friend and comrade, never being distracted by soaring pretensions, +but goes straight to his object. His flight is a regular succession of +short flaps, with quiescent intervals between the series. The flaps are +usually four, sometimes five or six. I am sure he counts them. You have +seen a pursy gentleman in black hurrying along the street and tapping +his boot with a cane, as though keeping time. Fancy this gentleman in +the air, dressed in feathers, his coat-skirt sheared off alarmingly +short and square, and looking like a cherub in jet, all head and +wings,—although John is not exactly a cherub in his habits. A white +spot on each wing adds a bit of the harlequin to his style.</p> + +<p>Were I to seek a "funny man" among the quadrupeds, I should name another +dweller of the Southwestern prairies, the jack-rabbit,—John II. let us +call him. Nobody ever gets quite accustomed to the preternatural ears of +this hare. In proportion they are to those of others of the Leporidæ +nearly what the ears of the mule are to those of the horse. When this +bit of bad drawing, as big as a fawn and weighing ten pounds or so, +jumps up before you and bounds away at railroad speed, he makes you rub +your eyes. You expect the apparition to disappear like other +apparitions, especially as it moves off with vast rapidity. But it does +not. As suddenly as it started it is transformed into a prong like an +immense letter V, projecting in perfect stillness from the grass a +hundred yards off. You advance, and the same proceeding is repeated. +Jack is obviously deep in guns, and knows the difference in power +between a muzzle- and a breech-loader, if he has not ascertained, indeed, +what number shot you have in your cartridge. He varies his distance +according to these contingencies. Only, he has not as yet learned to +gauge the greyhound: that dog is frequently kept for his benefit.</p> + +<p>A special endowment of this immediate locality is a large and permanent +sheet of water, three or four miles by one, which bears, and deserves, +the name of Eagle Lake. For, though overhung by no cliffs or lofty +pines, it is far more the haunt of eagles, of both the bald and the gray +species, than most tarns possessing those appendages of the romantic. +Its dense fringe of fine trees, among them live-oaks a single one of +which would make the fortune of an average city park, can well spare the +Conifers. They are all hung with Spanish moss, a feature which conflicts +with the impression of lack of moisture conveyed by the light ashen +color of the bark and short annual growth of many of the smaller trees. +Here and there tiny inlets are overhung with undergrowth which supplies +a safe nesting-place to a multitude of birds of many kinds. The surface +of the lake I have never seen free from ducks of one species or another, +and generally of half a dozen. Almost the whole family, if we except the +canvas-back and the red-head, visit it at one or another period. One +item in their bill of fare is the nut of the water-lily, the receptacles +of which, resembling the rose of a watering-pot, dot the shallows in +great quantity. The green, cable-like roots of this plant are afloat, +forming at some points heavy windrows. Some say they are torn up from +the bottom by the alligators; but it is more probable that they are +loosened and broken by the continual tugging of the divers. The +alligators are not vegetarians, and they are not using their snouts much +at this season. The young shoots of the Nymphæa are doubtless tempting +food, as those of the Vallisneria are on the Chesapeake and the North +Carolina sounds. Sustenance may be drawn also from the roots of the +rushes and reeds which cover with their yellow stems and leaves many +acres of the lake, and are thronged now by several species of small +birds.</p> + +<p>Hawks, of course, are always in sight, and that in astonishing variety, +from the osprey down to two or three varieties of the sparrow-hawk. A +monograph on the Raptores of Eagle Lake would be a most comprehensive +work. +<span class="pagenum">[pg 566]</span> +<a name="Page_566" id="Page_566"></a> +The osprey, notwithstanding the abundance of his scaly prey, is +not common: probably the field is too limited for him. Ducks are the +attraction of the other large species. In summer, ducks are rather +secondary among the water-birds, the ibis, water-turkey, and flamingo +imparting a tropical character to the scene that somewhat obscures the +more familiar forms. There is even a survival here of birds that have +nearly disappeared from the American fauna,—the paroquet, once so +common in the Mississippi Valley as far north as the Ohio, being +sometimes seen, and, if I mistake not, a second species of humming-bird +straying north by way of Mexico.</p> + +<p>From where we stand, under a canopy of rich green leaves, looking out +upon the sunny water through a banian-like colonnade of mighty trunks +and hanging vines, the pearly moss tempering the light like jalousies, +summer seems but a relative idea. Fly-catchers flit back and forth, +barn-swallows and sand-martins skim the lake, and an occasional splash +or ripple at our feet shows that humbler life is getting astir. The +highest life, or what modest man calls such, we have all to ourselves. +Yet not quite; for there is visible yonder, beneath the outer tip of a +live-oak which we have found to stretch and droop twenty-four paces from +the seven-foot trunk, a little fleet of canoes. They belong to the +professional fisherman whose too tarry nets are quite an encumbrance +for some yards of the sandy beach, and whose well may be noticed about a +rifle-shot out from the shore. More than that, though Piscator is +absent, some one is inspecting his boats. In fact,—and it <i>is simple +fact</i>, and I am not smuggling in a bit of padding in the shape of +sentiment,—two persons become perceptible, both with their backs +towards us, now and studiedly all the time. One, a man, chooses a boat +after trying several, and, with similar show of unavoidable delay, is +cushioning the seats with carefully-arranged moss in four times the +necessary quantity. During this absorbing process he rips one of his +cuffs, or tears off a button from it, or smears it with the tar that +besets the boat and its oars. This calamity supplies the lady, a neat +young person, with a pretext for occupation, and she uses it to the +fullest and most affectionate extent. It is growing late, and unless we +relieve the couple of our obviously detected presence we shall deprive +them of their Sunday-afternoon row. That it is a row with the stream we +find ten days later, when their wedding becomes the sensation of the +little village.</p> + +<p>The old, old story! how pat it comes in! How could it have failed to +come in, when the talk is of birds?</p> + +<p class="author">Edward C. Bruce.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FERRYMANS_FEE" id="THE_FERRYMANS_FEE"></a>THE FERRYMAN'S FEE.</h2> + +<h3>I.</h3> + + +<p>"I am going," said the professor to his friend Miss Eldridge, "to marry +a young woman whose mind I can mould."</p> + +<p>Somebody was uncharitable enough to say that he couldn't possibly make +it any mouldier than his own. This was a slander. In the high dry Greek +atmosphere which surrounded and enclosed his mind, mould, which requires +dampness before it can exist, was an impossibility.</p> + +<p>When an engagement is announced, it is almost invariably followed by one +question, with a variable termination. The dear five hundred friends +exclaim, with uplifted hands,—</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 567]</span> +<a name="Page_567" id="Page_567"></a> +"What could have possessed him," or "her"?</p> + +<p>In the present case the latter termination was adopted, with but one +dissenting voice: Miss Christina Eldridge said, in low, shocked tones, +"Alas that a man of his simply colossal mind should have been ensnared +by a pretty face, whose soulless beauty will depart in a few short +years!"</p> + +<p>The professor would have been very indignant had any one ventured to +suggest to him that the pretty face had anything to do with it. He +imagined himself entirely above and beyond such flimsy considerations. +Yet it is sadly doubtful whether an example in long division, on a +smeared slate, brought to him with tears and faltering accents by Miss +Christina, would have produced the effect which followed when Miss +Rosamond May betrayed her shameful ignorance by handing him the slate +and saying forlornly, "I've done it seven times, and it comes out +differently wrong every time. Can <i>you</i> see what's the matter?" and two +wet blue eyes looked into his through his spectacles, with an expression +which said plainly, "You are my last and only hope."</p> + +<p>She was standing by the massive marble-topped table which was the +central feature of the parlor of their boarding-house. One plump +hand—with dimples where the knuckles should have been—rested upon the +unresponsive marble, in the other she held the slate. She was a teacher +of some of the lowest classes in Miss Christina Eldridge's academy for +young ladies, and only Miss Christina knew the almost fathomless depths +of her ignorance.</p> + +<p>But her father had been a professor, and a widower; and shortly before +he died he had manifested an appreciation of the stately principal +which, but for his untimely death,—he was only seventy,—might have +expanded into "that perfect union of souls" for which her disciplined +heart secretly pined.</p> + +<p>So when it was first whispered, and then exclaimed, that Professor May +had left nothing, absolutely nothing, for his daughter but a very small +life-insurance premium and the furniture of their rented house, with a +little old-fashioned jewelry and silverware of the smallest possible +intrinsic value, Miss Christina called upon Miss May and told her that, +if she would accept it, there was a vacancy in the academy, with a +salary of two hundred dollars a year and board, but not lodging.</p> + +<p>"And if you remain with me, my dear, as I hope you will, I can give you +a room next year, after the new wing is added; and, meanwhile, I know of +a vacant room, at two dollars a week, in a highly-respectable +lodging-house."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," replied Rosamond, in a quivering voice. "But indeed +I am afraid I don't know enough to teach even the very little girls. So +I'm afraid you'd better get somebody else. Don't you think you had?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Miss Christina, patting the useless little hand which lay on +her lap. "You will only be obliged to hear spelling- and reading-lessons, +and teach the class of little girls who have not gone beyond the first +four rules of arithmetic, and perhaps you will help them to play on +their holidays: you could impart an element of refinement to their +recreations more readily than an older teacher could."</p> + +<p>"Is <i>that</i> all?" exclaimed Rosamond, almost cheerfully. "Oh, I can +easily do that much. I love little girls. I will be so good to all the +homesick ones. When shall I come?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as you can, my dear," replied Miss Christina.</p> + +<p>In a few weeks Rosamond had settled into the routine of her new +life,—going every morning to the academy, where she spent the day in +hearing lessons, binding up broken hearts, playing heartily with her +scholars in the intermissions, and being idolized by them in each of her +various capacities. She did not forget her father, but it was impossible +for her sweet and childlike nature to remain in mourning long.</p> + +<p>Professor Silex had felt a profound pity for his old friend's daughter, +and had come down out of the clouds long enough to express it in +scholarly terms +<span class="pagenum">[pg 568]</span> +<a name="Page_568" id="Page_568"></a> +and to offer any assistance in his power. They met +sometimes on the stairs and in the dreary parlor, and his eyes beamed +with such a friendly light upon her over the top of his spectacles that +she began to tell him her small troubles and to ask his advice in a +manner which sometimes completely took his breath away. He had never had +a sister, his mother died before his remembrance, and he had been +brought up by two elderly aunts. Fancy, then, his consternation when he +was suddenly and beseechingly asked, "Oh, Professor Silex, <i>would</i> you +get a little felt bonnet, if you were me, or one of those lovely +wide-brimmed beaver hats? The hats are a dollar more; but they <i>are</i> so +lovely and so becoming!"</p> + +<p>"My dear child," stammered the professor, "have you no female friend +with whom you can consult? I am profoundly ignorant. Miss Eldridge—"</p> + +<p>"She says to get the felt," pouted the dear child; "just because it's +cheaper. And papa used always to advise me, when I asked him, to get +what I liked best." The blue eyes filled, as they still did at the +mention of her father.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the professor hurriedly,—they were standing on the +first landing, and he heard the feet of students coming down the +stairs,—"I should advise you, by all means, to get the—the one you +like best. Excuse my haste, but I—I have a class."</p> + +<p>She was wearing the beaver when she next met him, and she beamed with +smiles as she called his attention to it. He looked at her more seeingly +than he had yet done, and a feeling like a very slight electric shock +penetrated his brain.</p> + +<p>"See!" she cried gayly. "It <i>is</i> becoming, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It is, indeed," he answered cordially. "And I should think it would be +quite—quite warm,—there is so much of it, and it looks so soft."</p> + +<p>"I told Miss Eldridge you advised me to get it," continued she +triumphantly, "and she didn't say another word."</p> + +<p>The professor was aghast. He felt a warm wave stealing over his face. +This must be stopped, and at once. Fancy his class, his brother +professors, getting hold of such a rare bit of gossip! But he would not +hurt her feelings. She was so young, so innocent, and her frank blue +eyes were so like those of his dead friend.</p> + +<p>"My child," he said softly, "you honor me by your confidence; but may +I—might I ask you, when you seek my advice upon subjects—ah—not +congruous to my age and profession, not to repeat the result of our +conferences? With thoughtless people it might in some slight measure be +considered derogatory to my professional dignity. Not that I think it +so," he hastily added. "All that concerns you is of great, of heartfelt +interest to me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't tell anybody but Miss Eldridge," said the culprit penitently; +"and I know she won't repeat it; and I'll never do so any more, if +you'll let me come to you with my foolish little troubles. It seems +something like having papa again."</p> + +<p>Now, why this touching tribute should have irritated the professor who +can say? He was startled, shocked, at the irritation, and he strove to +banish all trace of it from his voice and manner as he said, gravely and +kindly, "Continue to come to me with your troubles, my dear, if I can +afford you either help or comfort."</p> + +<p>A few days passed, and she waylaid him again. Her pretty face was pale, +and her soft yellow hair was pushed back from her forehead, showing the +blue veins in her temples.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I shall do," she said, in a troubled voice. "Those +children have caught up with me in arithmetic, and by next week they'll +be ahead of me; and I feel as if I oughtn't to take Miss Eldridge's +money if I can't do all she engaged me for. What would <i>you</i> do if you +were me?"</p> + +<p>"Could you not prepare yourself by study, and so keep in advance of your +little pupils?" he inquired kindly.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I could," she replied despondently. "I tried to do the +sums +<span class="pagenum">[pg 569]</span> +<a name="Page_569" id="Page_569"></a> +that came next, last night, and they wouldn't come right, all I +could do; and I got a headache besides."</p> + +<p>"I have an hour to spare," said the professor, pulling out his watch: +"perhaps, if you will bring me your book and slate, I can elucidate the +rule which is perplexing you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, will you <i>really</i>?" she exclaimed, a radiant smile lighting up her +troubled face. "I'll bring them right away. How kind, how <i>very</i> kind +you are, to bother with my sums, when you have so much Greek in your +head!" And, obeying an impulse, as she so often did, she caught his hand +in both her own and kissed it heartily. Then she skimmed across the +parlor, and he heard her child's voice "lilting lightly up the" stairs +as he stood—in a position suggestive of Mrs. Jarley's wax-works—gazing +fixedly at the hand which she had kissed.</p> + +<p>"She regards me as a father," he said to himself severely. "Am I going +mad? Or becoming childish? No; I am only sixty. But, even if it were +possible, it would be base, unmanly, to take advantage of her +loneliness, her gratitude. No, I will be firm."</p> + +<p>So, when the offending "example" was handed to him, with the +above-quoted touching statement as to its total depravity, he looked +only at the slate. Gently and patiently, as if to a little child, he +pointed out the errors and expounded the rule, amply rewarded by her +joyful exclamation, "Oh, I see <i>exactly</i> how it's done, now! You do +explain things beautifully. I really think I could have learned a good +deal if I'd had a teacher like you when I went to school."</p> + +<p>"Come to me whenever your lessons perplex you, my dear," he answered, +still looking at the slate; "come freely, as if—as if I were your +father."</p> + +<p>"Ah, how kind, how good you are to me!" she cried, seizing his slender, +wrinkled hand and holding it between her soft palms. "How glad papa must +be to know it! It almost seems like having him again. Must you go? +Good-night."</p> + +<p>And, innocently, as if to her father, she held up her face for a kiss.</p> + +<p>The professor turned red, turned pale, hesitated, faltered, and then +kissed her reverently on her forehead,—or, if the truth must be told, +on her soft, frizzled hair, which, according to the fashion of the day, +hung almost over her eyes.</p> + +<p>Two evenings in the week after this were devoted to arithmetic. The +professor was firm—as a rule; but when her joyous "Oh, I see <i>exactly</i> +how it's done, now!" followed his patient reiteration of rules and +explanations, how could he help rewarding himself by a glance at the +glowing face? how could he keep his eyes permanently fixed upon that +stony-hearted slate?</p> + +<p>So it went on through the winter and spring, till it was nearing the +time for the summer vacation. The professor knew only too well that +Rosamond had been invited to spend it with some distant +cousins,—distant in both senses of the word,—and that on her return +she would be swallowed up by the academy and would brighten the dingy +boarding-house no more. How could he bear it? His arid, silent life had +never had a song in it before. Must the song die out in silence?</p> + +<p>When the last evening came, and when, realizing the long separation +before them, she once more held up her face for a kiss, with trembling +lips and blue eyes swimming in tears, as she told him how she should +miss him, how she did not see what she should do without him, his +hardly-won firmness was as chaff before the wind. He implored her to +marry him; he told her of the beautiful home he would make for her.</p> + +<p>"For I am rich, Rosamond," he said hurriedly, before, in her surprise, +she could speak. "I have not cared for money, and I believe I have a +great deal. You shall do what you will with it, and with me. We will +travel: you shall see the Old World, with all its wonders. And I will +shield you: you shall never know a trouble or a care that I can take on +myself; for—I love you."</p> + +<p>Then, as she remained silent, too +<span class="pagenum">[pg 570]</span> +<a name="Page_570" id="Page_570"></a> +much astonished to speak, he said +beseechingly,—</p> + +<p>"You <i>do</i> love me a little? You could not come to me as you do, with all +your little cares and perplexities, if you did not: could you?"</p> + +<p>"But I came just so to papa," she said, finding voice at last; and her +childish face grew perplexed and troubled.</p> + +<p>The professor had no answer for that. He hid his face in his hands. In a +moment her arms were about his neck, her kisses were falling on his +hands.</p> + +<p>"You have been so good to me," she cried, "and I am making you unhappy, +ungrateful wretch that I am! Of course I love you; of course I will +marry you. Take away your hands and look at me—Paul!"</p> + +<p>Ah, well! they tell in fairy-stories of the fountain of youth, and even +amid the briers of this work-a-day world it is found sometimes, I think, +by the divining-rod of Love. But many students gnashed their teeth, and, +as we have said, Miss Christina Eldridge alone, of all the dear five +hundred, said, "What possessed <i>him</i>?"</p> + + +<h3>II.</h3> + +<p>The summer vacation was over, and students, more or less reluctantly, +had returned to college and academy. The professor came back in a +brand-new and very becoming suit of clothes; his hair and beard had been +trimmed by a fashionable barber, and his old-fashioned high "stock" +exchanged for a modern scarf, in the centre of which gleamed a modern +scarf-pin. He ran lightly up the steps of the academy and inquired for +Miss May. Courtesy, as his uneasy conscience told him, dictated an +inquiry for Miss Eldridge also, but he compounded with conscience: he +would ask to see her after he had seen Rosamond.</p> + +<p>"Why, how very nice you look! You are really handsome!" And the +dignified professor was turned about, as if he had been a graven image, +by two soft little hands, which he caught in his own, and—so forth.</p> + +<p>She was very sure now that she loved him, as in a certain sense she did. +But she would not consent to an immediate marriage, nor to the building +of a miniature palace for her reception. She owed it to Miss Eldridge, +she said, to fulfil her engagement and not to go away just as she was +beginning to be really useful. And as for a house, would it not be +pleasanter to live in lodgings and be free to come and go as they would? +So his wishes, as usual, were deferred to hers. The long fall evenings +began, and he brought, at her request, carefully-selected "improving" +books, to be interrupted, as he read, by earnest questions, such as,—</p> + +<p>"<i>Would</i> you embroider this linen dress with its own color or a +contrasting one, if you were me?"</p> + +<p>Spring came again, and the professor, looking ten years younger than he +had looked a year ago, brought to his "rose of all the world" a bunch of +the first May roses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the lovely, lovely things!" she exclaimed delightedly. "You shall +have two kisses for them, Paul. Where <i>did</i> they come from, so early in +May?"</p> + +<p>"From the south side of the wall of an old garden which I used to weed +when I was a boy."</p> + +<p>"Will you take me there? Is it near here?" she asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I will take you there," he answered, "some day; but it is not near +here: it is more than a hundred miles away."</p> + +<p>"And you sent all that way for them just for me? How good, how kind you +are! There, I will take two of the half-blown ones for my hat, and two +for my neck, and one for your button-hole—oh, yes, you shall! Hold +still till I pin it. Now just see how nice you look! And the rest I will +put in this glass, and then Miss Christina can enjoy them too; she's so +kind, and I can't do anything for her. Oh, that makes me think! I have +to go across the river this afternoon to hunt up a dress-maker she told +me about, a delightfully cheap and good one, and she said you would know +if there were any way of crossing anywhere near —— Street, the bridge +is so far from where I want to go. Is there?"</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 571]</span> +<a name="Page_571" id="Page_571"></a> +"Yes," he replied, "there's a rather uncertain way: an old fellow who +owns a boat lives close by there, and if he's at home he will be only +too glad to row you over for a few cents. It would not make your walk +much longer to go round that way first and see. I have often crossed in +his boat, and I like to talk with him: he's an original character."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is charming!" she said delightedly. "Can't you come too? You +can sit and talk with him while I'm talking to the dress-maker."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could," he answered, "but I promised to meet the president in +the college library at four, and—bless me! it only wants ten minutes of +it now. Try to get back by sunset, dear: the evenings are chilly yet."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will; I'm going right away," she said, with the deference to his +least wish which so often gave him a heartache. "You'll be in this +evening? Of course you will. Thank you so very, very much for the +roses."</p> + +<p>She watched him go down the steps, waving her hand to him as she closed +the door, and then, with the roses still in her hat and at her throat, +walked toward the river-bank, whispering a gay little song to herself. +It was such a bright day! she was so glad "the winter was over and +gone!" how good and kind everybody was! how grateful she ought to be!</p> + + +<h3>III.</h3> + +<p>"I wish," said Mr. Symington bitterly, "that I could find a commodious +desert island containing a first-class college and not a single girl. I +would have the island fortified, and death by slow torture inflicted +upon any woman who managed—as some of them would, in spite of all +precautions—to effect a landing."</p> + +<p>"But the married girls are so stupid, my dear boy," ejaculated his +room-mate, Mr. Fielding. "You must admit that, if one must have either, +the single ones are decidedly preferable, or at least the young single +ones."</p> + +<p>"Don't try to be funny," said Symington savagely: "you only succeed in +being weak. I have"—and he pulled out a note-book and glared at its +contents—"an engagement to take two to a concert this evening, other +two to a tennis-match on Saturday, and another one out rowing this +afternoon. And it's time for me to go now."</p> + +<p>"It strikes me <i>you've</i> been pretty middling weak," commented Fielding. +"Either that, or you're yarning tremendously about its being a bore: you +can take your choice."</p> + +<p>"I leave it with you," said Symington wearily. "That Glover girl is +probably cooling her heels on the bank, and I must go."</p> + +<p>"Alas, my brother! it is long since one of those Glover girls captured +me!"</p> + +<p>The victim was a little late for his engagement, but no indignant Glover +girl lay in wait for him. The bank, green with the first soft grass of +spring, was deserted. Had she come and gone? He arranged himself +comfortably in the boat and began to sing, the balmy air and the +surroundings suggesting his song,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, hoi-ye-ho, ho-ye-ho, who's for the ferry?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and went through the first verse, beginning softly, but unconsciously +raising his voice as he went on, until, as he came to the second, he was +singing very audibly indeed, and Rosamond, standing on the bank, looking +uncertainly about her for the old boatman, was in time to hear,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"And sure and you're welcome to Twickenham town."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The curious feeling which makes one aware of being looked at caused him +to turn and look up as he finished the verse, and he longed for the +self-possession of his room-mate as he vainly struggled to think of +something to say which should not be utterly inane. He felt himself +blushing, but he was well aware that a blush on his sunburned face was +<span class="pagenum">[pg 572]</span> +<a name="Page_572" id="Page_572"></a> +not so charmingly becoming as it was to the vision on the bank. It was +she who spoke at last, with the ghost of a smile accompanying her +speech.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," she said, "but I was told that I should probably +find an old man here who would row me across. Do you know where he's +gone?"</p> + +<p>"He is—that is—I think—I believe he's gone to dinner," stammered this +usually inflexible advocate of truth.</p> + +<p>And it did not occur to Rosamond to suggest that between four and five +in the afternoon was an unusual dinner-hour for a ferryman.</p> + +<p>She looked very much disappointed, and turned as if to go.</p> + +<p>"Won't you—may I—" eagerly stammered the youth, and added desperately, +"I'm here in his place," mentally explaining to an outraged conscience +that this was literally true, for was not his boat tied to a stake, and +must not that stake have been driven by the old man for <i>his</i> boat? Dr. +Watts has told us that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sinners who grow old in sin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are hardened in their crimes,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>and the hardening process must sometimes take place with fearful +rapidity, for when Rosamond, having guilelessly accepted the statement +and allowed the ferryman to help her to the broad cushioned seat in the +stern of the boat, asked innocently, "How much is it—for both ways, I +mean? for I want to come back, if you don't mind waiting a little," he +answered, with a look of becoming humility, "It is five cents, please."</p> + +<p>"You mean for one way?" she inquired, as she fished a very small purse +up from the depths of her pocket.</p> + +<p>And he, reflecting that two and a half cents for one way would have an +air of improbability about it, answered promptly, "Yes, if you please."</p> + +<p>She opened her purse and introduced a thumb and finger, but she withdrew +them with a promptness and a look of horror upon her face which +suggested the presence of some noxious insect.</p> + +<p>"You'll have to take me back, please," she said faintly. "I forgot to +put any money in my purse, and I've only just found it out."</p> + +<p>"It is not of the least consequence," he began hurriedly, adding, in +business-like tones, "You can make it all right the next time, you know. +I suppose it will not be long before you cross again?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she replied. "That depends upon whether or not I find—" +and then, remembering that the professor had gently cautioned her about +talking over her small affairs with any one but himself, she changed the +end of her sentence into "I have to. But I will bring you the money +to-morrow afternoon, if you will be here," she went on. "I am so ashamed +that I forgot it; and you're <i>very</i> kind to trust me, when I'm such a +perfect stranger to you. Don't people ever cheat you?"</p> + +<p>"Sometimes," replied the ferryman; "and I don't trust everybody. I go a +good deal by people's faces."</p> + +<p>It did not seem to Rosamond that this remark required an answer, so she +sat silent, while his vigorous strokes sent the little boat swiftly +across the river, when he beached it, and, giving her his hand, helped +her to spring to dry ground. Then she said,—</p> + +<p>"That's where I'm going,—that white house across the first street; and +I shall only be a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry," he said, as she turned away. "I've nothing more to do +this evening after I take you back."</p> + +<p>He really did forget for the moment the "other two" and the concert.</p> + +<p>The blissful meditation which enwrapped him made the fifteen minutes of +her absence seem as five. She came down the bank, blushing and smiling.</p> + +<p>"'And, oh, she looked sweet!'" mentally ejaculated the ferryman.</p> + +<p>"Did I keep you long?" she said, as he helped her in. "I hurried as much +as I could. And if you, or the old man, will be here to-morrow at +half-past four, I should like to cross again: it saves me such a long +walk. And I'll be <i>sure</i> to bring the money."</p> + +<p>"You didn't keep me—that is, waiting—at +<span class="pagenum">[pg 573]</span> +<a name="Page_573" id="Page_573"></a> +all," he answered dreamily; +"and I'll be here at half-past four, sharp, to-morrow. You may depend on +me."</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said contentedly, as she settled herself among the +cushions, which in her absence he had arranged for her greater comfort, +adding, "What a very nice boat you have! I don't see how you keep it so +neat and fresh, taking so many people across, and being out, as I +suppose you must be, in all sorts of weather."</p> + +<p>"It's a new boat," he said hurriedly, "and you're my first passenger. +Would you mind telling me your name?—your first name I mean, of +course?"—for the horrible idea occurred to him that she might think he +was anxious about his fare. "I haven't named her yet, and I thought, +perhaps, <i>as</i> you're my first fare, you'd let me name her after +you,—for luck, you know."</p> + +<p>"Is that considered lucky?" she asked innocently, "If it is, of course +you may. My name is Rosamond; but it seems to me that's rather long for +a boat. Suppose you call her the Rose. Papa—my father, I mean—used to +call me that oftener than Rosamond, and—one or two other people do +yet."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Rosamond would be too long," he said thoughtfully, "but +it shall be as you wish, of course. I will have 'Rose' painted on the +stern, and I can call her Rosamond to myself. May I have one of your +roses, just to—to remember it by, till I can see the painter?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, I suppose so." And she unfastened one of the two at her +throat, and handed it to him.</p> + +<p>He placed it carefully in his pocket-book, which, as she observed with +some surprise, was of the finest Russia leather. Ferrying must be +profitable work, to provide the ferryman with such boats and +pocket-books.</p> + +<p>There was a brief silence, and then she said, "You were singing as I +came down the bank. Would you mind singing again? It sounds so pretty on +the water."</p> + +<p>He made no answer in words, but presently his voice arose, softly at +first,and then with passionate fervor, and this time his song was, +"Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!"</p> + +<p>"Thank you; that was beautiful," said Rosamond calmly, as he finished +and the boat grazed the bank at one and the same moment. "What a good +voice you have! And you must have taken lessons, to sing so correctly: +haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—a few," he answered, springing from the boat and drawing it up on +the bank. She rose to follow him, but stopped short, with a little +exclamation of dismay.</p> + +<p>"Why, this isn't where we ought to have landed!" she exclaimed. "It's a +place a mile farther down the river."</p> + +<p>He looked very much confused.</p> + +<p>"I have made some stupid blunder," he stammered. "I owe you a thousand +apologies, but I was singing, and I suppose I passed the landing without +noticing it. I will not keep you long, though. I can row back in ten +minutes."</p> + +<p>"I oughtn't to have asked you to sing when you were rowing," she said +remorsefully. "I'm so sorry you should have all that extra work."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mind that," he said, trying to speak coolly, "if the delay +won't incommode you."</p> + +<p>"No," she said. "We shall be back before dark, and that will be time +enough. I <i>shouldn't</i> like to have to walk home after dark."</p> + +<p>Eager words rose to the ferryman's lips, but he wisely suppressed them, +bending to his oars till the little boat sprang through the water.</p> + +<p>The sun dropped into the river, allowing the faintly-traced sickle of +the new moon to show, as the boat once more touched land,—at the right +place this time.</p> + +<p>Rosamond tripped up the bank, with a friendly "Good-evening," and at the +top she met the professor. "Oh, how nice of you to come and meet me!" +she cried, slipping her hand through his arm. "It grows dark so quickly +after the sun goes down that I was beginning to be just a little +scared."</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 574]</span> +<a name="Page_574" id="Page_574"></a> +"I would have been here an hour ago," he said, "but the president kept +me. I called at Miss Eldridge's, thinking to find you returned, and +then, when she said you were still absent, I hurried down here, feeling +unaccountably disquieted. It was absurd, of course. But were you not +detained longer than you anticipated?"</p> + +<p>"No, it wasn't absurd," she said, clasping her other hand over his arm +and giving it a little squeeze. The spring dusk had fallen around them +like a veil by this time, and they were still a little way from any +much-travelled street.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't absurd <i>at all</i>," she repeated "there's nobody but you to +care whether I come in or go out, and I like you to be worried,—just a +little, I mean,—not enough to make you, really wretched. I've had the +funniest time! The old man wasn't there, and I was turning back, quite +disappointed, when a young man,—quite young, and very nice +looking,—who was singing in a foolish sort of way in a pretty little +boat tied to a stake, said he was there in the old boatman's place, and +asked me to go with him; and I went. At first I was puzzled, for he +looked like a gentleman in most respects, and I didn't think he could be +the son of the old man you told me about; but the longer I was with him +the more I saw that there was something queer about him. He was very +kind and polite, but had a sort of abrupt, startled manner, as if he +were afraid of something, and I came to the conclusion that he must be a +harmless insane person, and that they let him have the ferry because +there isn't anything else much that he could do. He had a most lovely +little boat, all cushioned at one end, and he rowed beautifully."</p> + +<p>"But it was not safe," said the professor, in alarm. "If a man be ever +so slightly insane, there is no telling what form his insanity will +take: he might have imagined you to be inimical to him, and have thrown +you overboard." And Rosamond felt a nervous tremor through the arm upon +which she leaned. She laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>"You'd not feel that way if you could see him, dear," she said. "He's +as gentle as a lamb, and a little sheepish into the bargain. And I +promised to let him row me over to-morrow afternoon at half-past four. +Indeed, there's no danger. The only really queer thing he did was to +carry me a mile down the river; and that was my fault, for I asked him +to sing again. He has a delightful voice, and he sang that song you like +so much,—'Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!'—and while he was singing +he missed the landing. But he apologized, and rowed me back like +lightning: so it really didn't matter,—especially as you met me, like +the dear that you are."</p> + +<p>If a member of the professor's class had used the figures of speech too +frequently employed by Rosamond, he would have received a dignified +rebuke for "hyperbolical and inelegant language;" but it never occurred +to the deluded man that anything but pearls of thought and diamonds of +speech could fall from those rosy lips.</p> + +<p>"I prefer, however, that you should run no risk, however slight, my +Rose," said the professor, so gently that the words were more an +entreaty than a command.</p> + +<p>"But I don't see how I can help it," she said, in dismayed tones, "for I +did such a dreadful thing that I shouldn't tell you of it if I hadn't +firmly made up my mind to tell you everything. I think +engaged—and—and—married people always ought to do that. I forgot to +take any money, and it was ten cents there and back, you know; and he +was so kind and polite about trusting me. I wanted him to take me back +as soon as I found it out, but he said he would trust me, that I could +bring it to him next time; and I promised to go to-morrow and pay him +for both trips at once: so, you see, I <i>must</i>."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said the professor, after a moment's thought. "I do not +wish you to break your word, of course: so I will go with you. I can +have a little talk with this unfortunate young man while you are engaged +with your dress-maker, +<span class="pagenum">[pg 575]</span> +<a name="Page_575" id="Page_575"></a> +and perhaps his condition may be ameliorated. He +could surely engage in some more remunerative occupation than that which +he is at present pursuing; and there are institutions, you know, where +much light has been thrown upon darkened minds."</p> + +<p>"How good, how kind you are!" she cried, her sweet eyes filling with +happy tears, unseen in the gathering darkness. "You're sure you've made +up your mind not to be disappointed when you find out just how foolish +and trifling I really am?" she asked timidly.</p> + +<p>The professor's answer need not be recorded. It was satisfactory.</p> + +<p>It is a curious thing that the "sixth sense," which draws our thoughts +to long-forgotten friends just before we hear from them, which leads our +eyes to meet other eyes fixed earnestly upon them, which enables people +to wake other people by staring at them, and does a variety of similar +things, admitted, but not accounted for, fails to warn the victims of +approaching fate. Serenely, blissfully, did Mr. Symington wend his way +to the bank on that golden afternoon. It had occurred to him to exchange +his faultless and too expensive boating-costume for a cheap jersey and +trousers; but he feared that this might excite suspicion: he had still +sense enough left to be aware that there had been no shadow of this in +the sweet blue eyes yesterday.</p> + +<p>He had not sung</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>more than five hundred times since the previous evening: so, by way of +variety, he was humming it softly to himself as he approached the bank. +He was a little early, of course. She had not come yet. So he dusted the +cushions, and sponged up a few drops of water from the bottom of the +boat, and then sat down to wait. He was not kept waiting long. He heard +voices approaching, then a clear, soft laugh, and she was there; +but—oh, retribution!—with her, supporting her on his arm, was +Professor Silex! Wild thoughts of leaping into the river and +swimming—under water—to the opposite bank passed through the brain of +this victim of his own duplicity; but he checked himself sternly,—he +was proposing to himself to act the part of a coward, and before her, of +all the world. No, he would face the music, were it the "Rogue's March" +itself. And then a faint, a very faint hope sprang up in his heart: the +professor was noted for his absent-mindedness: perhaps there would be no +recognition. Vain delusion.</p> + +<p>"Your boatman has not kept his appointment," said the professor, +advancing inexorably down the bank; "but I see a member of my class—an +unusually promising young man—with whom I wish to speak. Will you +excuse me for a moment?"</p> + +<p>Rosamond turned her puzzled face from one to the other, finally +ejaculating, "Why, <i>that's</i> the ferryman!"</p> + +<p>"There is some mistake here," said the professor, unaware of the +sternness of his tones.</p> + +<p>They had continued to advance as they spoke, and the ferryman could not +avoid hearing the last words. He sprang from the boat and up the bank +with the expression of a whole forlorn hope storming an impregnable +fortress, and spoke before the professor could ask a question.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, Professor Silex," he said; "there is no mistake. +Miss—this lady, who is, I imagine, Miss May" (the professor bowed +gravely), "was looking yesterday for the old man who acts as ferryman +here sometimes. He was absent, and, seeing that Miss May seemed +disturbed, I volunteered to take his place. It gave me great pleasure to +be of even that small amount of use."</p> + +<p>The professor's grave face relaxed into a smile. Memories of his youth +had of late been very present with him, and to them were added those of +Rosamond's estimate of the amateur boatman. He waved his hand +graciously; but, before he could speak, Rosamond indignantly exclaimed, +"But you told me it was ten cents, and that people sometimes cheated +you, and that you +<span class="pagenum">[pg 576]</span> +<a name="Page_576" id="Page_576"></a> +were here in that poor old man's place, and—oh, I +can't <i>think</i> of all the—things you told me."</p> + +<p>A burning blush scorched the face of the ferryman. This was speedy +judgment indeed. But his courage rose to the emergency. He met the blue +eyes steadily with his dark-brown ones as he said, "I told you no +untruths, Miss May. My boat was, literally speaking, in the place of +that which the old man actually keeps here: I knew it must be, because +there was only one stake. I have been cheated, frequently and +egregiously: few men of my age, I imagine, have not. And I have great +faith in physiognomy. You <i>were</i> my first fare; and I meant to accept +the ten cents,—I assure you I did. If you can think of any of the other +'things,' I shall be happy to explain them."</p> + +<p>"It's all sophistry," she began, with something very like a pout.</p> + +<p>But the professor gently interrupted her: "Let us not judge a kind +action harshly. Mr. Symington meant only to relieve you from an annoying +dilemma, and he naturally concluded that this would be impossible should +he disclose his real name and position. It seems that he merely allowed +your inferences to go uncontradicted, and was, practically, most kind. +An introduction between you is now scarcely necessary; but I am glad +that you have met. But for the fact that a selection would have looked +invidious, I should have asked you ere this to permit me to bring Mr. +Symington to see you."</p> + +<p>"And will you—may I?" asked the culprit eagerly, glancing from one to +the other.</p> + +<p>"That must be as Miss May says," replied the professor, with a kind +smile.</p> + +<p>And Rosamond, ashamed of her unwonted outburst, gave Mr. Louis Symington +her hand, saying penitently, "I was very rude just now, and unjust +besides: will you forgive me and come with the professor to see me?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure,—with the greatest pleasure," he answered eagerly. "And +you will let me row you across? You will not make me miserable by +refusing?"</p> + +<p>Rosamond glanced at the professor.</p> + +<p>"To be sure we will," he said cheerfully. "I shall be glad of the +opportunity for a little conversation with you while Miss May is +executing her errand."</p> + +<p>So he rowed them across; and then, while Rosamond discussed plaits and +gores with the new dress-maker, he discoursed his best eloquence and +learning to the professor, with such good effect that the latter said to +Rosamond, as they walked home through the twilight, having been +persuaded to extend the row a little, "I am glad, dear, that this +opportunity of presenting young Symington to you without apparent +favoritism has arisen. He is a most promising young man, but a little +inclined, I fear, from what I hear of him in his social capacity, to be +frivolous. We may together exercise a restraining influence over him."</p> + +<p>"I thought he talked most dreadfully sensibly," said Rosamond, laughing; +"but I like him, and I hope we shall see him often."</p> + +<p>They did. He called at first with the professor, afterward, at odd +times,—never in the evening,—without him. He persuaded Rosamond to +continue her patronage of his boat. Sometimes the professor went, +sometimes he did not. Mr. Symington was frequently induced to sing when +they were upon the water, and once or twice Rosamond joined her voice to +his.</p> + +<p>The 30th of June had at last been appointed for the wedding-day. They +were to go to Europe at once, and spend the vacation travelling wherever +Rosamond's fancy should dictate. All through the winter she had +discussed their journey with the liveliest interest, sometimes making +and rejecting a dozen plans in one evening. But of late she had ceased +to speak of it unless the professor spoke first; and this, with the +gentle tact which he had always possessed, but which had wonderfully +developed of late, he soon ceased to do.</p> + +<p>She was sometimes unwarrantably irritable with him now, but each little +fit +<span class="pagenum">[pg 577]</span> +<a name="Page_577" id="Page_577"></a> +of petulance was always followed by a disproportionate penitence +and remorse. At such times she hovered about him, eagerly anxious to +render him some of the small services which he found so sweet. But she +was paler and thinner than she had ever been, and Miss Christina +noticed, with a kindly anxiety which did her credit, that Rosamond ate +less and less.</p> + +<p>May was gone. It was the first day of June,—and such a day! Trees and +shrubs were in that loveliest of all states,—that of a half-fulfilled +promise of loveliness. Rosamond felt the spell, and, in spite of all +that was in her heart, an unreasoning gladness took possession of her. +She danced down the path of the long garden behind the seminary and +danced back again, stopping to pick a handful of the first June roses. +It was early morning, and the professor stopped—as he often did—for a +moment's sight of her on his way from the dreary boarding-house to the +equally dreary college. She caught both his hands and held up her face +for a kiss. Then she fastened a rosebud in his button-hole.</p> + +<p>"You are not to take that out until it withers, Paul," she said, +laughing and shaking a threatening finger at him. "Do you know what it +means,—a rosebud? I don't believe you do, for all your Greek. It means +'confession of love;' and I <i>do</i> love you,—I do, I do."</p> + +<p>"I know you do, my darling," he said gently; "and it shall stay +there—till it withers. But that will not be long. I stopped to tell you +that I cannot go with you this afternoon; but you must not disappoint +Mr. Symington. I met him just now, and told him I should be detained, +but that you would go."</p> + +<p>"You had no right to say so without asking me first," she said sharply. +"I don't wish to go. I <i>won't</i> go without you. There!"</p> + +<p>He was silent, but his deep, kind eyes were fixed pityingly upon her +flushed, excited face.</p> + +<p>She dropped it on his arm and burst into tears, and he stroked her hair +gently, as if she had been a little child and he a patient, loving +father. She raised her face presently, smiling, though her lips still +quivered.</p> + +<p>"Do you really and truly wish me to go with—this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>It seemed to him that for a full minute he could not speak, but in +reality the pause was so brief that she did not notice it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said quietly, "I really and truly do. It would not be fair to +disappoint Mr. Symington, after making the engagement."</p> + +<p>"And can't you possibly go, dear?" she asked entreatingly.</p> + +<p>I think only one man was ever known to pull the cord which set in motion +a guillotine that took off his own head. But there is much unknown, as +well as unwritten, history.</p> + +<p>"Not without neglecting some work which I ought to do to-day," he said.</p> + +<p>"I think you care more for your work sometimes than you do for me." +There was a little quaver in her voice as she spoke. "And I wish you'd +stop behaving as if I were your daughter. I don't know what ails you +this morning; but if you go on this way I shall call you Professor Silex +all the time. How would you like that?"</p> + +<p>A passionate exclamation rose to his lips, and died there. A spasm of +bitter pain made his face for a moment hard and stern. Then he smiled, +and said gently, "I should not like it at all, as you know very well. +But I must go now, or I shall be late for my class. Good-by, dear +child." And, parting her soft, curling hair, he pressed a fatherly kiss +upon her forehead.</p> + +<p>She threw her arms about his neck, crying, "No!—on my lips." And, +pressing an eager kiss upon his mouth, she added, "There! that is a +sealing, a fresh sealing, of our engagement; and I wish—oh, how I +wish!—that we were to be married to-morrow—to-day!"</p> + +<p>The professor gently disengaged himself from her clinging arms, saying, +still with a smile, "But I thought the wedding-gown was still to make? +Good-by. I will come early this evening and hear all about the enchanted +island."</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 578]</span> +<a name="Page_578" id="Page_578"></a> +For the expedition which had been planned by the three for that +afternoon was to explore a little island far down the river, farther +than any of them had yet gone.</p> + +<p>Rosamond wore no roses when she went slowly down the bank that day,—not +even in her cheeks.</p> + +<p>And when Louis Symington saw her coming alone, only the sunbrown on his +face concealed the sudden rush of blood from it to his heart.</p> + +<p>"The professor could not come," she said hurriedly, "so he made me come +without him; that is—I mean—" And she stopped, confused.</p> + +<p>"If you prefer to wait until he can go with us, pray do not hesitate to +say so," he replied stiffly, and pausing—with her hand in his—in the +act of helping her into the boat.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I did not mean to say anything rude," she exclaimed penitently; and +she stepped across the seats to the cushioned end of the boat. "Of +course we will go; but perhaps—would you mind—couldn't we just take a +little row to-day, and save the island until the professor can go?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he said, still in the same constrained tone; and, without +another word, he helped her to her place and arranged the cushions about +her.</p> + +<p>The silence lasted so long that she felt she could bear it no longer.</p> + +<p>"Will you please sing something?" she said at last, desperately, "You +know you sang that first day; and it sounded so lovely on the water. Do +you remember?"</p> + +<p>He looked at her fixedly for a moment. Then he said simply, "Yes, I +remember," and began at once to sing. But he did not sing "Twickenham +Ferry" to day. He would have given all he was worth, when he had sung +one line, if he could have changed it into a college song, a negro +melody,—anything. For this was what he found himself singing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How can I bear to leave thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One parting kiss I give thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, whate'er befalls me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I go where Honor calls me."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>She would not hide her face in her hands, but she might turn it away: +how was he to know that she was not watching with breathless interest +the young couple straying along the bank, arm closely linked in arm, in +the sweet June sunshine?</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said faintly, when the last trembling note had died +away: "that was—very pretty."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you liked it," he said, with quiet irony in his tones.</p> + +<p>And then there was another alarming pause. Anything was better than +that, and she began to talk almost at random, telling of various +laughable things which had occurred among her scholars, laughing +herself, somewhat shrilly, at the places where laughter was due.</p> + +<p>He sat silent, unsmiling, through it all until they stepped from the +boat. Then he said, "It is really refreshing to see you in such good +spirits. I had always understood that even the happiest <i>fiancée</i> was +somewhat pensive and melancholy as the day of fate drew near."</p> + +<p>"You have no right to speak to me in that way,—in that tone," she +cried, with sudden heat.</p> + +<p>He bowed low, saying, "Pardon me; I am only too well aware that I have +no rights of any kind so far as you are concerned. But it is impossible +to efface one's self entirely."</p> + +<p>"Now you are angry with me," she said forlornly; "and I don't know what +I have done."</p> + +<p>"I angry with <i>you</i>!" he cried. "Oh, Rosamond! Rosamond!"</p> + +<p>"I am glad if you are not," she said,—"very glad; but I must go—the +professor—" And she sped up the bank before he could speak again.</p> + + +<h3>IV.</h3> + +<p>The professor came early to the seminary that evening, but Rosamond was +ready for him, dressed in a gown of some soft white fabric which he had +noticed and praised. She had roses in her hair, at her throat, in her +belt, but the bright, soft color in her cheeks out-shone them all.</p> + +<p>She began, almost as soon as they had +<span class="pagenum">[pg 579]</span> +<a name="Page_579" id="Page_579"></a> +exchanged greetings, to talk +about her father, asking the professor how long he had known him, and +what Dr. May had been like as a young man.</p> + +<p>"Very shy and retiring," he replied. "I think that was the first link in +our friendship: we both disliked society, and finally made an agreement +with each other to decline all invitations and give up visiting. We +found that everything of the kind interfered materially with advancement +in our studies. But your father had already met your mother several +times when we made this agreement. Their tastes were very similar, and +her quiet, tranquil manner was extremely pleasant to him,—for, as you +know, he was somewhat nervous and excitable,—so he claimed an exception +in her favor; and, after two years of most pleasing intellectual +companionship, they were married. It was a rarely complete and happy +union."</p> + +<p>"And I suppose," said Rosamond, with a curious touch of resentment in +her voice, "that because he had never been like other young people, had +never cared for young friends and pleasant times, it did not occur to +him that I ought to have them? Oh, I don't see how he dared to rob me of +my rights,—of my youth, which could only come once, of all life and +pleasure and sunshine!"</p> + +<p>"My dear," said the professor, looking very much startled and shocked, +"he had no thought of robbing you: he loved you far too tenderly for +that. You always seemed happy and bright, and you were very young when +he died. No doubt, had he lived until you were of an age to enter +society—"</p> + +<p>But here she interrupted him with bitter self-reproaches.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what have I said?" she cried. "He was all goodness, all love to me, +and I have dared to find fault with him! Oh, what a base, wicked girl I +am!"</p> + +<p>A choking sob stopped her, but only one. She conquered the rest, and +made a forlorn attempt to change the subject.</p> + +<p>"I had something to tell you to-night, dear child," said the professor, +when she was quiet again: "you seem tired, so I will make it as brief +as possible."</p> + +<p>A startled look came into her eyes, and she was about to speak, when he +continued:</p> + +<p>"Let me first say what is upon my mind, and then you shall have your +turn. I wished to tell you that I think we—I—have made a mistake. I am +too confirmed an old bachelor to fall into home ways and make a good +husband. I shall always love you as a dear young daughter, I shall ask +you to let me take in every way your father's place, but I think, if you +will let me off, that we will not have that wedding on the 30th of June, +my little girl."</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes in wondering incredulity to his face. He was +smiling! He was speaking playfully! He was giving her back her freedom +with a light heart and a good will. Plainly, the relief would be as +great for him as for her. Laughing and crying in a breath, she clasped +her arms about his neck.</p> + +<p>"Ah, how good you are! How I love you <i>now</i>!" she said, as soon as she +could speak. "All the time we have been engaged,—yes, even +before,—from the first I have longed to tell you that I would so much +rather be your daughter than your wife; but I thought it would be so +ungracious, after all your kindness to me. <i>Now</i> we shall be happy; you +will see how happy I shall make you. And, oh, how good, how noble you +are to tell me, when, if you had not spoken,—yes, I should have married +you, dear father. I shall always call you father now: papa will not mind +it, I know."</p> + +<p>The professor had nothing more to do or say after that until he rose to +go. But when she held up her glowing, sparkling face for his good-night +kiss, he once more parted the curls and kissed her on her forehead, +whereat she pouted a little, saying, with half-pretended displeasure, +"Papa didn't kiss my forehead: he kissed me <i>right</i>."</p> + +<p>The professor passed his hand, which trembled a little, over her shining +hair, saying, with a paternal smile, "I shall kiss my daughter in the +way that best +<span class="pagenum">[pg 580]</span> +<a name="Page_580" id="Page_580"></a> +pleases me. I am going to be a very strict and exacting +father."</p> + +<p>She laughed gleefully, as if it were the best joke in the world, and her +merry "Good-night, dear father," followed him as he went out into the +darkness.</p> + +<p>He held Mr. Symington to his engagement to row Rosamond and himself to +the island, but he took with him a large canvas bag and a geological +hammer. And how, pray, could any one talk to, or even stand very near, +him, when he was pounding off bits of rock for specimens with such +energy that fragments flew in all directions? The sound of the hammer +ceased as soon as his companions had disappeared among the trees; they +were going to look for a spring, but, strangely enough, they did not +notice this. No need now for him to school his face, his voice, his +trembling hands. They found the spring.</p> + +<p>And did my professor die of a broken heart, and leave a lock of +Rosamond's hair and a thrilling heart-history, in the shape of a +neatly-written journal, to proclaim to the world his sacrifice? No; that +was not his idea of a sacrifice. He burnt that very night each +token—and there were many—which he had so jealously cherished,—each +little, crookedly-written, careless note, and, last, the long bright +curl which, before her heart awoke, she had so freely given him.</p> + +<p>It is true that there was a gradual but very perceptible change in him. +He had been indifferent formerly to the members of his class, excepting +from an intellectual stand point. Now he began to take an interest in +that part of their lives which lay outside his jurisdiction, to ask them +to his rooms of an evening, to walk with them and win their confidence. +Not one of them ever regretted that it had been bestowed.</p> + +<p class="author">Margaret Vandegrift.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WHAT_DO_I_WISH_FOR_YOU" id="WHAT_DO_I_WISH_FOR_YOU"></a>"WHAT DO I WISH FOR YOU?"</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What do I wish for you? Such swift, keen pain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As though all griefs that human hearts have known<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were joined in one to wound and tear your own.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such joy as though all heaven had come again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into your earth, and tears that fall like rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the roses that have ever blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sharpest thorn, the sceptre and the throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The truest liberty, the captive's chain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cruel, you say? Alas! I've only prayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such fate for you as everywhere, above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All others, women wish,—that unafraid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They clasp in eager arms. So, little dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I give you to the hawk. Nay, nay, upbraid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Me not. Have you not longed for love?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="author">Carlotta Perry.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum">[pg 581]</span> +<a name="Page_581" id="Page_581"></a></p> +<h2><a name="LETTERS_AND_REMINISCENCES_OF_CHARLES_READE" id="LETTERS_AND_REMINISCENCES_OF_CHARLES_READE"></a>LETTERS AND REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES READE.</h2> + + +<p>I knew Charles Reade in England far back in "the days that are no more," +and dined with him at the Garrick Club on the evening before I left +London for New York in 1860, when he gave me parting words of good +advice and asked me to write to him often. Then he added, "I am very +sorry you are going away, my dear boy; but perhaps you are doing a good +thing for yourself in getting out of this God-forsaken country. If I +were twenty years younger, and enjoyed the sea as you do, I might go +with you; but, if travel puts vitality into some men and kills others, I +should be one of the killed. What is one man's food is another's +poison."</p> + +<p>He was my senior by more than twenty years, and no man that I have known +well was more calculated to inspire love and respect among his friends. +To know him personally, after only knowing him through his writings and +his tilts with those with whom he had "a crow to pick," was a +revelation. He had the reputation of being always "spoiling for a +fight," and the most touchy, crusty, and aggressive author of his time, +surpassing in this respect even Walter Savage Landor. But, though his +trenchant pen was sometimes made to do almost savage work, it was +generally in the chivalric exposure of some abuse or in the effort to +redress some grievous wrong. Then indeed he was fired with righteous +indignation. The cause had to be a just one, however, before he did +battle in its behalf, for no bold champion of the right ever had more +sterling honesty and sincerity in his character, or more common sense +and less quixotism.</p> + +<p>His placid and genial manner and amiable characteristics in his +every-day home-life presented a striking contrast to his irritability +and indignation under a sense of injury; for whenever he considered +himself wronged or insulted his wrath boiled up with the suddenness of a +squall at sea. He resented a slight, real or imaginary, with unusual +outspokenness and vigor, and said, "I never forgive an injury or an +insult." But in this he may have done himself injustice. Generally, he +was one of the most sympathetic and even lovable of men, and his pure +and resolute manhood appeared in its truest light to those who knew him +best.</p> + +<p>While genial in disposition, he could not be called either mirthful or +jovial, and so could neither easily turn any unpleasant incident off +with a joke or be turned off by one. He needed a little more of the +easy-going good humor and freedom from anxiety that fat men are +popularly supposed to possess to break the force of collisions with the +world. Had he been more of an actor and less of a student in the drama +of life, he would have been less sensitive.</p> + +<p>His conscientiousness and honesty of purpose were really admirable; and +rather than break a contract or disappoint any one to whom he had made a +promise he would subject himself to any amount of inconvenience. For +example, he would, whenever necessary, retire to Oxford and write +against time in order to have his manuscript ready for the printer when +wanted. Much, too, as he disliked burning the midnight oil or any kind +of night-work, and the strain that artificial light imposed upon his +eyes, he would write late in his rooms, or read up on subjects he was +writing about in the reading-room in the Radcliffe Library building till +it closed at ten <span class="smcap">p.m.</span> He had, it will be seen, a high sense of duty, and +"business before pleasure" was a precept he never neglected.</p> + +<p>In personal appearance Charles Reade, without being handsome, was +strongly built and fine-looking. He was about six feet in height, +broad-chested and +<span class="pagenum">[pg 582]</span> +<a name="Page_582" id="Page_582"></a> +well proportioned, and without any noticeable +physical peculiarity. His head was well set on his shoulders, and, +though not unusually small, might have been a trifle larger without +marring the symmetry of his figure.</p> + +<p>His features were not massive, but prominent, strong, and regular, and +his large, keen, grayish-brown eyes were the windows of his mind, +through which he looked out upon the world with an expressive, eager, +and inquiring gaze, and through which those who conversed with him could +almost read his thoughts before he uttered them. He had a good broad +forehead, well-arched eyebrows, and straight, dark-brown hair, parted at +the side, which, like his entirely unshaven beard, he wore short until +late in life. In his dress and manner he was rather <i>négligé</i> than +precise, and he bestowed little thought on his personal appearance or +what Mrs. Grundy might say. Taking him all in all, the champion of James +Lambert looked the lion-hearted hero that he was.</p> + +<p>In his personal habits and tastes he was always simple, quiet, regular, +and he was strictly temperate. He had no liking for dissipation of any +kind. He found his pleasure in his work, as all true workers in the +pursuit for which they are best fitted always do. The proper care he +took of himself accounted in part for his well-developed muscular system +and his good health until within a few years of his death, +notwithstanding his studious and sedentary life.</p> + +<p>Among literary men he had few intimates, and he was not connected with +any clique of authors or journalists. He thought this was one reason why +the London reviewers—whom he once styled "those asses the +critics"—were so unfriendly toward him. He was not of their set, and +some of them regarded him as a sort of literary Ishmael, who had his +hand raised against all his contemporaries, a quarrelsome and +cantankerous although very able man, and therefore to be ignored or sat +down upon whenever possible. He once said, "I don't know a man on the +press who would do me a favor. The press is a great engine, of course, +but its influence is vastly overrated. It has the credit of leading +public opinion, when it only follows it; and look at the +rag-tag-and-bobtail that contribute to it. Even the London 'Times' only +lives for a day. My books have made their way in spite of the press."</p> + +<p>Speaking of publishers, he said, "They want all the fat, and they all +lie about their sales. Unless you have somebody in the press-room to +watch, it is almost impossible to find out how many copies of a book +they print. Then there is a detestable fashion about publishers. I had +to fight a very hard battle to get the public to take a novel published +by Trübner, simply because he was not known as a novel-publisher; but I +was determined not to let Bentley or any of his kidney have all the fat +any longer."</p> + +<p>Trübner, I may mention, published for him on commission, and under this +arrangement he manufactured his own books and assumed all risks.</p> + +<p>In the sense of humor and quick perception of the ludicrous he was +somewhat deficient, and he was too passionately in earnest and too +matter-of-fact about everything ever to attempt a joke, practical or +otherwise. Life to him was always a serious drama, calling for tireless +vigilance; and he watched all the details of its gradual unfolding with +constant anxiety and care, in so far as it concerned himself.</p> + +<p>His love for the glamour of the stage led him often to the theatre; but +whenever he saw anything "murdered" there, especially one of his own +plays, it incensed him, and sometimes almost to fury. He loved +music,—not, as he said, the bray of trumpets and the squeak of fiddles, +but melody; and occasionally, seated at a piano, he sang, in a voice +sweet and low and full of pathos, some tender English ditty.</p> + +<p>Charles Reade had a real talent for hard work, not that occasional +exclusive devotion to it during the throes of composition to which +Balzac gave himself up night and day to an extent that utterly isolated +him from the world for the time being, but steady, systematic, willing +<span class="pagenum">[pg 583]</span> +<a name="Page_583" id="Page_583"></a> +labor,—a labor, I might say, of love, for he never begrudged it,—which +began every morning, when nothing special interfered with it, after a +nine-o'clock breakfast and continued until late in the afternoon. He was +too practical and methodical to work by fits and starts. Generally he +laid down his pen soon after four <span class="smcap">p.m.</span>; but often he continued writing +till it was time to dress for dinner, which he took either at home or at +the Garrick Club, as the spirit moved him, except when he dined out, +which was not very often,—for, although he was most genial and social +in a quiet way among his intimates, he had no fondness for general +society or large dinner-parties. Yet his town residence, at No. 6 Bolton +Row, was not only at the West End, but in Mayfair, the best part of it; +and, although a bachelor to the end of his days, he kept house. He +afterwards resided at No. 6 Curzon Street, also in Mayfair, and then +took a house at No. 2 Albert Terrace, Knightsbridge, but gave it up not +long before his death, which occurred in Blomfield Terrace, Shepherd's +Bush, a London suburb.</p> + +<p>"This capacity, this zest of yours for steady work," I once remarked to +him, "almost equals Sir Walter Scott's. With your encyclopædic, +classified, and indexed note-books and scrap-books, you are one of the +wonders of literature."</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied, "these are the tools of my trade, and the time and +labor I spend on them are well invested." Then he went on to say of +literary composition, "Genius without labor, we all know, will not keep +the pot boiling. But I doubt whether one may not put too much labor into +his work as well as too little, and spend too much time in polishing. +Rough vigor often hits the nail better than the most studied and +polished sentences. It doesn't do to write above the heads or the tastes +of the people. I make it a rule to put a little good and a little bad +into every page I write, and in that way I am likely to suit the taste +of the average reader. The average reader is no fool, neither is he an +embodiment of all the knowledge, wit, and wisdom in the world."</p> + +<p>He valued success as a dramatic author more highly than as a novelist, +and was always yearning for some great triumph on the stage. In this +respect he was like Bulwer Lytton, who once said to me, "I think more of +my poems and 'The Lady of Lyons' and 'Richelieu' than of all my novels, +from 'Pelham' to 'What will he do with it?'" (which was the last he had +then written). "A poet's fame is lasting, a novelist's is comparatively +ephemeral." Moved by a similar sentiment, Reade once said, "The most +famous name in English literature and all literature is a dramatist's; +and what pygmies Fielding and Smollett, and all the modern novelists, +from Dickens, the head and front of them, down to that milk-and-water +specimen of mediocrity, Anthony Trollope, seem beside him!"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>He had little taste for poetry, because of his strong preference for +prose as a vehicle of thought and expression. He, however, greatly +admired Byron, Shelley, and Scott, and paid a passing compliment to +Swinburne, except as to the too fiery amatory ardor of his first poems; +but he considered Tennyson, with all his polish, little better than a +versifier, and said his plays of "Dora" and "The Cup" would have been +"nice enough as spectacles without words." For those great masters of +prose fiction and dramatic art, Victor Hugo and Dumas <i>père</i>, he had +unbounded admiration, and of the former in particular he always spoke +with enthusiasm as the literary giant of his age, and to him, +notwithstanding his extravagances, assigned the first place among +literary Frenchmen. Dumas he ranked second, except as a dramatist; and +here he believed him to be without a superior among his contemporaries.</p> + +<p>For several years after I came to New York Charles Reade and I kept up a +close friendly correspondence, and he sent me proof-sheets of "The +Cloister and the Hearth" in advance of its publication in England, so +that the American +<span class="pagenum">[pg 584]</span> +<a name="Page_584" id="Page_584"></a> +reprint of the work might appear simultaneously +therewith, which it did through my arrangements with Rudd & Carleton. He +also sent me two of his own plays,—"Nobs and Snobs" and "It is Never +Too Late to Mend," drawn from his novel of that name,—in the hope that +the managers of some of the American theatres would produce them; but, +notwithstanding their author's fame, their own superior merit, and my +personal efforts, the expectation was disappointed, owing, as Mr. Reade +said, to their preferring to steal rather than to buy plays,—a charge +only too well sustained by the facts. Another play, written by a friend +of his, that he sent me, met with a like reception.</p> + +<p>The first letter I received from Charles Reade after my arrival in New +York ran thus:</p> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">6 Bolton Row, Mayfair</span>, July 14 [1860].</p> + +<p>"Dear Cornwallis,—I was much pleased to hear from you, and to find you +were one of the editors of the 'New York Herald.' A young man of talent +like you ought to succeed, when so many muffs roll in one clover-field +all their days.</p> + +<p>"Not to be behindhand in co-operating with your fortunes, I called on +Trübner at once about your Japanese letters....</p> + +<p>"If you will be my prime minister and battle the sharps for me over +there, I shall be very glad. I am much obliged by your advice and +friendly information. Pray continue to keep me <i>au fait</i>.</p> + +<p>"My forthcoming work, 'The Eighth Commandment,' is a treatise. It is +partly autobiographical. You shall have a copy....</p> + +<p>"I should take it very kindly of you if you would buy for me any copies +(I don't care if the collection should grow to a bushel of them, or a +sack) of any American papers containing characteristic +matter,—melodramas, trials, anything spicy and more fully reported than +in the 'Weekly Tribune,' which I take in. Don't be afraid to lay out +money for me in this way, which I will duly repay; only please write on +the margin what the paper contains that is curious. You see I am not +very modest in making use of you. You do the same with me. You will find +I shall not forget you.</p> + +<p class="closing">"Yours, very sincerely,</p> +<p class="author">Charles Reade."</p> + + +<p>In a letter dated February 8, 1861, he wrote me, "Your London publishers +sent me a copy of your narrative of your tour with the Prince of Wales" +("Royalty in the New World, or The Prince of Wales in America"), "which +I have read with much pleasure....</p> + +<p>"I have on hand just now one or two transactions which require so much +intelligence, firmness, and friendly feeling to bring them to a +successful issue that, as far as I am concerned, I would naturally much +rather profit by your kind offer than risk matters so delicate in busy, +careless, and uninventive hands. I will, therefore, take you at your +word, and make you my plenipotentiary.</p> + +<p>"I produced some time ago a short story, called 'A Good Fight,' in 'Once +a Week.' I am now building on the basis of that short tale a large and +very important mediæval novel in three volumes" ("The Cloister and the +Hearth"), "full of incident, character, and research. Naturally, I do +not like to take nothing for manuscript for, say, seven hundred pages at +least of fresh and good matter. But here pinches the shoe.... Please not +to show this to any publisher, but only the enclosed, with which you can +take the field as my plenipotentiary. I think this affair will tax your +generalship. I shall be grateful in proportion as you can steer my bark +safe through the shoals. Shall be glad to have a line from you by +return, and will send a part of the sheets out in a fortnight. I think +you may speak with confidence of this work as likely to produce some +sensation in England."</p> + +<p>In July he wrote, "You had better agree with them" (Rudd & Carleton) +"for twenty per cent., and let me take care of you, or I foresee you +will get nothing for your trouble. I only want fifteen for myself, and a +<i>true return</i> of +<span class="pagenum">[pg 585]</span> +<a name="Page_585" id="Page_585"></a> +the copies sold. That is where we poor authors are +done. Will you look to that? I have placed five pounds to your +credit,—this with the double object of enabling you to buy me an +American scrap-book or two (no poetry, for God's sake!) of +newspaper-cuttings, and also to reimburse a number of little expenses +you have been at for me and too liberal to mention."</p> + +<p>On September 12, 1861, he wrote, "I send you herewith the first +instalment of early sheets of my new novel. The title is 'The Cloister +and the Hearth.' I am ashamed to say the work will contain fifteen +hundred of these pages. If you are out of it, I will take fifteen per +cent.; if you are in it, twelve. But I look to you to secure a genuine +return, for that is the difficulty with these publishers. There is +considerable competition among publishers here to have the book, and I +am only hanging back to get you out the sheets. Now you know the number +of pages (for the work is written), it would be advisable to set up +type."</p> + +<p>On September 26, 1861, he wrote, "As we shall certainly come out next +week, I shall be in considerable anxiety until I hear from you that all +the instalments sent by me have safely arrived and are in type. To +secure despatch, I have sent them all by post, and, owing to the +greediness of the United States government, it has cost me five pounds. +I do not for a moment suppose the work will sell well during the civil +war; but it is none the less important to occupy the shops with it, and +then perhaps on the return of peace and the fine arts it will not be +pirated away from us. I hope I have been sufficiently explicit to make +you master of this book's destiny."</p> + +<p>On October 18, 1861, he wrote, "We have now been out a fortnight, and, +as it is my greatest success, we are gone coons if you are not out by +this time."</p> + +<p>A week later his uneasiness had been allayed by a letter from me +announcing the publication of the work in New York, and he wrote, "I +think you have done very well, considering the complicated difficulties +you have had to contend against in this particular transaction. The +work is quite the rage here, I assure you. We sold the first edition (a +thousand) at one pound eleven shillings and sixpence in one fortnight +from date of publication, and have already orders for over two hundred +of the second at same price, which we are now printing.</p> + +<p>"I will this day place in S. Low's hands for you the manuscript of 'Nobs +and Snobs,' a successful play of mine, luckily unpublished. Treat with a +New York manager or a Boston manager for this on these terms. Sell them +the sole use of it in one city only for ten dollars per night of +representation, the play not to be locked up or shelved, but to return +to you at the conclusion of the run."</p> + +<p>Then follows a "sketch of agreement" to be made with managers; for in +all business-matters he was extremely particular, and sometimes +needlessly anxious about trifles.</p> + +<p>In the same letter he went on to remark, "I say ten dollars as being +enough and not a halfpenny too much. It is all I ask. If you can get +fifteen dollars on these terms, pocket the balance. But never sell the +provincial right to a New York manager. It is worth a great deal more +than the New York right, properly worked. It is no use showing it to +Laura Keene. I spoke to her in England about it.</p> + +<p>"With many thanks for your zeal and intelligence, and hoping that we may +contrive, somehow or other, one day or other to make a hit together, I +am yours, etc."</p> + +<p>On November 19, 1861, he wrote, "Now for your book. Trübner is +fair-dealing, but powerless as a publisher. All the pushing is done by +me. I have had a long and hard fight to get the public here to buy a +novel published by him, and could hardly recommend another to go through +it. If done on commission and by Trübner, I could take it under my wing +in the advertisements.</p> + +<p>"Next week I expect to plead the great case of Reade <i>v.</i> Conquest" +(manager of the Grecian Theatre, London) +<span class="pagenum">[pg 586]</span> +<a name="Page_586" id="Page_586"></a> +"in the Court of Common Pleas. +If I win, I shall bring out my drama 'Never Too Late to Mend' and send +it out to you to deal with. Please collect Yankee critiques (on 'The +Cloister and the Hearth') for me; the more the better."</p> + +<p>On November 1, 1861, he wrote, "I send you 'Saunders & Otley's Monthly,' +containing an elaborate review of 'The Cloister,' etc. I don't know the +writer, but he seems to be no fool. I do hope, my dear fellow, you will +watch the printers closely, and so get me some money, for I am weighed +down by <i>law-expenses</i>,—Reade <i>v.</i> Bentley, Reade <i>v.</i> Lacy, Reade <i>v.</i> +Conquest,—all in defence of my own. And don't trust the play above +twenty-four hours out of your own hand. Theatricals are awful liars and +thieves. I co-operate by writing to Ticknors and H—— not to pirate you +if they wish to remain on business terms with me. Second edition all but +gone; third goes to press Monday. Everybody says it is my best book."</p> + +<p>On the next day he wrote, "I am a careful man, and counted every page I +sent you, and sealed and posted them with my own hand. I am quite +satisfied with the agreement with Rudd & Carleton, if there is to be no +false printer's return. The only thing that makes me a little uneasy is +your apparent confidence that they could not cheat us out of twenty +thousand dollars by this means if extraordinary vigilance were not used. +They can, and will, with as little remorse as a Newgate thief would, +unless singular precautions are used. If I was there I would have a +secret agent in the printing-house to note each order, its date and +amount, in writing. The plates being yours, you have, in fact, a legal +right to inspect the printer's books. But this is valueless. The printer +would cook his books to please the publisher. You can have no conception +of the villany done under all these sharing agreements. But forewarned +forearmed. Think of some way of baffling this invariable fraud. Ask a +knowing printer some way. Do anything but underrate the danger.</p> + +<p>"The importance of the work not being the least foreseen, I believe +Rudd & Carleton have 'The Cloister' all to themselves.... Every American +who has seen Ticknors' returns assures me they are false, and +ridiculously so. It goes against my heart to believe it, but everybody +is seldom wrong. My opinion is they will all make a false return if they +can. <i>Verbum sap.</i> And now, my dear boy, let me thank you for all the +trouble you have taken in this complicated affair, and assure you that +if I am anxious for a just return it is partly in order that I may be in +a position to take care of <i>you</i>. For I am sure if <i>I</i> don't nobody else +will.</p> + +<p>"'Nobs and Snobs,' a play, has gone out in Low's parcel. If the managers +will be quick, you can make this copyright by not calling it 'Honor +before Titles'" (the sub-title under which it had been copyrighted in +England). "Then, to bind the thing together, I write a different +conclusion to the second act, and send it you enclosed. It is hasty, but +it will do; and if you can get Jem Wallack to play Pierre, he will do +wonders with the change from drunkenness to sobriety and then to +incipient madness. The only stage directions required will occur at once +to you. Drop should fall on Pierre with a ghastly look, like a man +turned to stone, between the two females. I now close, wishing us both +success in this attempt to open new veins of ore. I have other plays in +manuscript, and one in progress."</p> + +<p>On November 9 he wrote under a misapprehension of the terms of an +agreement about which I had written to him, and evinced his usual +anxiety and impatience when anything seemed to go wrong. If, said he, +this and that happens, "Rudd & Carleton can swindle us out of every +dollar. I confess this stipulation terrifies me. If you have not done +so, for God's sake draw a written agreement in these terms. I shall pass +a period of great anxiety until I hear from you. But, for heaven's sake, +a written agreement, or you will never get one halfpenny. These fears +seem ungracious, after all the trouble you have taken. But it is a most +dangerous situation, +<span class="pagenum">[pg 587]</span> +<a name="Page_587" id="Page_587"></a> +and not to be remained in a day or an hour. Draw +on Rudd & Carleton as soon as ever you can."</p> + +<p>On the 9th of December following he had heard from me again, and found +he was mistaken. He wrote, "I am in receipt of your last, which is very +encouraging. You were quite right to do as you did. Give Rudd & Carleton +no loop-hole. They will soon owe us a good round sum, and will writhe +like Proteus to escape paying it."</p> + +<p>On January 17, 1862, he wrote, "It puts me in some little doubt whether +to take your book 'Pilgrims of Fashion' to Trübner or Low. Low will sell +more copies if he tries, but he will charge more percentage, and I shall +not be able to creep you in among my own advertisements. However, you +give me discretion, and I shall look to your advantage as well as I can. +To-day I had to argue the great case of Reade <i>v.</i> Conquest. I argued it +in person. Judgment is deferred. The court raised no grave objections to +my reasoning, but many to the conclusions of defendant's counsel: so it +looks pretty well.</p> + +<p>"As to 'Nobs and Snobs,' I know the theatrical managers: they will not +deal except with thieves, if they can help it. Keep it ten years, if +necessary, till some theatre will play it. You will find that all those +reasons they have given you will disappear the moment it is played in +England, and then the game will be to steal it. Copyright it in your +name and mine, if a manuscript can be so protected, and I will enter it +here in my name and yours.</p> + +<p>"Considering the terrible financial crisis impending over the United +States, I feel sad misgivings as to my poor 'Cloister.' It would indeed +be a relief if the next mail would bring me a remittance,—not out of +your pocket, but by way of discount from the publishers. I am much +burdened with lawsuits and the outlay, without immediate return, of +publishing four editions" (of "The Cloister and the Hearth"). "Will you +think of this, and try them, if not done already? Many thanks for the +scrap-book and for making one. Mind and classify yours. You will never +regret it. Dickens and Thackeray both offer liberally to me for a serial +story." (Dickens then edited "All the Year Bound," and Thackeray "The +Cornhill Magazine.")</p> + +<p>On January 27, 1862, he wrote, "The theatrical managers are all liars +and thieves. The reason they decline my play is, they hope to get it by +stealing it. They will play it fast enough the moment it has been +brought out here and they can get it without paying a shilling for it. +Your only plan is to let them know it shall never come into their hands +gratis."</p> + +<p>In a letter undated, but written in the same month, he wrote, "My next +story" ("Very Hard Cash"). "This is a matter of considerable importance. +It is to come out first in 'All the Year Round,' and, foreseeing a +difficulty in America, I have protected myself in that country by a +stringent clause. The English publishers bind themselves to furnish me +very early sheets and not to furnish them to any other person but my +agent. This and another clause enable me to offer the consecutive early +sheets to a paper or periodical, and the complete work in advance on +that to a book-publisher. I am quite content with three hundred pounds +for the periodical, but ask five per cent. on the book. It will be a +three-volume novel,—a story of the day, with love, money, fighting, +manoeuvring, medicine, religion, adventures by sea and land, and some +extraordinary revelations of fact clothed in the garb of fiction. In +short, unless I deceive myself, it will make a stir. Please to settle +this one way or other, and let me know. I wrote to this effect to +Messrs. Harper. Will you be kind enough to place this before them? If +they consent, you can conclude with them at once."</p> + +<p>Messrs. Harper Brothers had always dealt very generously and courteously +toward Mr. Reade, and they were offered "The Cloister and the Hearth" in +the first instance, but did not feel willing to pay as high a royalty as +Messrs. Rudd & Carleton did, in the then depressed condition of the +book-trade and in view of their having previously published and +<span class="pagenum">[pg 588]</span> +<a name="Page_588" id="Page_588"></a> +paid +for "A Good Fight," and hence the agreement made with the latter firm. +They evinced a spirit of kind forbearance in refraining from printing a +rival edition of the work, and Mr. Reade remained on very friendly terms +with them to the end of his days.</p> + +<p>On February 13, 1862, he wrote from Magdalen College, Oxford, "I have +defeated Conquest, and am just concluding the greatest drama I ever +wrote,—viz., my own version of 'Never Too Late to Mend.' I will send +you out a copy in manuscript, and hold back for publication. But I fear +you will find that no amount of general reputation or particular merit +of the composition offered will ever open the door of a Yankee theatre +to a dramatic inventor. The managers are 'fences,' or receivers of +stolen goods. They would rather steal and lose money than buy and make +it. However, we will give the blackguards a trial."</p> + +<p>On March 22, 1862, he wrote, "Only yesterday I wrote to you in +considerable alarm and anxiety. This anxiety has been happily removed by +the arrival of your letter enclosing a draft for the amount and Rudd & +Carleton's account up to date. I think you showed great judgment in the +middle course you have taken by accepting their figures <i>on account</i>. +All that remains now is to suspect them and to watch them and get what +evidence is attainable. The printers are better than the binders for +that, if accessible. But I know by experience the heads of the +printing-house will league with the publisher to hoodwink the author. I +have little doubt they have sold more than appear on the account."</p> + +<p>On March 7, 1862, he wrote, "Many thanks, my dear fellow, for your zeal; +rely on it, I will not be backward in pushing your interests here, and +we will have a success or two together on both sides of the Atlantic. I +mean soon to have a publishing organ completely devoted to my views, and +then, if you will look out sharp for the best American books and serial +stories, I think we could put a good deal of money into your hands in +return for judgment, expedition, and zeal."</p> + +<p>On March 28, 1862, he wrote, "You are advertised with me this week in +the 'Saturday' and 'London' Reviews. Next week you will be in the +'Athenæum,' 'Times,' 'Post,' and other dailies. The cross-column +advertisements in 'Athenæum' cost thirty shillings, 'Literary Gazette' +fifteen shillings, and so on. You will see at once this could not have +been done except by junction. I propose to bind in maroon cloth, like +'The Cloister:' it looks very handsome. I congratulate you on being a +publicist. Political disturbances are bad for books, but journals thrive +on them. Do not give up the search for scrap-books, especially +classified ones."</p> + +<p>He wrote me on April 2, 1862, "This will probably reach you before my +great original drama 'It is Never Too Late to Mend,' which has gone by a +slower conveyance. When you receive, please take it to Miss Kean" (Laura +Keene), "and with it the enclosed page. You will tell her that, as this +is by far the most important drama I have ever written, and entirely +original, I wish her to have the refusal, and, if she will not do it +herself, I hope she will advise you how to place it. Here in England we +are at the dead-lock. The provincial theatres and the second-class +theatres are pestering me daily for it. But I will not allow it to be +produced except at a first-class theatre. I have wrested it by four +actions in law and equity from the hands of pirates, and now they shall +smart for pirating me. At the present time, therefore, any American +manager who may have the sense and honesty to treat with me will be +quite secure from the competition of English copies. I have licked old +Conquest, and the lawyers are now fighting tooth and nail over the +costs. The judges gave me one hundred and sixty pounds damages, but, as +I lost the demurrer with costs, the balance will doubtless be small. +But, if the pecuniary result is small, the victory over the pirates and +the venal part of the press is great."</p> + +<p>He wrote on May 30, 1862, "As for writing a short story on the spur, it +is a thing I never could do in my life. My +<span class="pagenum">[pg 589]</span> +<a name="Page_589" id="Page_589"></a> +success in literature is +owing to my throwing my whole soul into the one thing I am doing. And at +present I am over head and ears in the story for Dickens" ("Very Hard +Cash"). "Write to me often. The grand mistake of friends at a distance +is not corresponding frequently enough. Thus the threads of business are +broken, as well as the silken threads of sentiment. Thanks about the +drama" ("It is Never Too Late to Mend"). "I have but faint hopes. It is +the best thing I ever wrote of any kind, and therefore I fear no manager +will ever have brains to take it."</p> + +<p>On June 20, 1862, he wrote of his forthcoming story, "Between ourselves, +the story" ("Very Hard Cash") "will be worth as many thousands as I have +asked hundreds. I suppose they think I am an idiot, or else that I have +no idea of the value of my works in the United States. I put 6 Bolton +Row" (the usual address on his letters) "because that is the safest +address for you to write to; but in reality I have been for the last +month, and still am, buried in Oxford, working hard upon the story. My +advice to you is to enter into no literary speculations during this +frightful war. Upon its conclusion, by working in concert, we might do +something considerable together."</p> + +<p>On August 5, 1862, he wrote from Magdalen College, where he was to +remain until the 1st of October, "I shall be truly thankful if you +postpone your venture till peace is re-established. I am quite sure that +a new weekly started now would inevitably fail. You could not print the +war as Leslie and Harper do, and who cares for the still small voice of +literature and fiction amongst the braying of trumpets and the roll of +drums? Do the right thing at the right time, my boy: that is how hits +are made. If you will postpone till a convenient season, I will work +with you and will hold myself free of all engagements in order to do so. +I am myself accumulating subjects with a similar view, and we might do +something more than a serial story, though a serial story must always be +the mainspring of success."</p> + +<p>He wrote on September 6, 1862, "I am glad you have varied your project +by purchasing an established monthly" ("The Knickerbocker Magazine") +"instead of starting a new weekly. I will form no new engagements nor +promise early sheets without first consulting you. I will look out for +you, and as soon as my large story is completed will try if I cannot do +something for you myself."</p> + +<p>On the 29th of June, 1863, he wrote, "I am much pleased with your +'Knickerbocker Magazine,' and cannot too much admire your energy and +versatility. Take notice, I recommended you Miss Braddon's works while +they were to be had for a song. 'Lost and Saved,' by Mrs. Norton, will +make you a good deal of money if you venture boldly on it and publish +it. It is out-and-out the best new thing, and rather American. If you +hear of any scrap-books containing copious extracts from American +papers, I am open to purchase at a fair price, especially if the +extracts are miscellaneous and dated, and, above all, if classified. I +shall, also be grateful if you will tell me whether there is not a +journal that reports trials, and send me a specimen. Command me whenever +you think I can be of an atom of use to you."</p> + +<p>Charles Reade's letters were always highly characteristic of him. In +these he mentally photographed himself, for he always wrote with candid +unreserve, whether to friend or foe, and he liked to talk with the pen. +Both by nature and education he was fitted for a quiet, studious, +scholarly life, and with pen and paper and books he was always at home. +He liked, too, at intervals the cloister-like life he led at Magdalen +College. With nothing to disturb him in his studies and his work, with +glimpses of bright green turf and umbrageous recesses and gray old +buildings with oriel windows that were there before England saw the Wars +of the Roses, his environment was picturesque, and his bursar's cap and +gown became him well, yet seemed to remove him still further from the +busy world and suggest some ecclesiastical figure of the +<span class="pagenum">[pg 590]</span> +<a name="Page_590" id="Page_590"></a> +fifteenth +century. He was a D.C.L., and known as Dr. Reade in the college, just as +if he had never written a novel or a play and had been untrumpeted by +fame.</p> + +<p>There, in his rooms on "Staircase No. 2," with "Dr. Reade" over the +door, he labored <i>con amore</i>. Indeed, he was amid more congenial +surroundings and more truly in his element in the atmosphere of the +ancient university than in London or anywhere else. By both nature and +habit he was more fitted to enjoy the cloister than the hearth, although +he by no means undervalued the pleasures of society and domestic life. +The children of his brain—his own works—seemed to be the only ones he +cared for; and, loving and feeling proud of his literary family, he was +mentally satisfied. Yet no man was a keener observer of home-life, and +his portraiture of women and analysis of female character, although +unvarying as to types, were singularly true and penetrating. His +Fellowship was the principal cause of his never marrying, the next most +important one being that he was always wedded to his pen; and +literature, like law, is a jealous mistress. He had some idea of this +kind when he said, "An author married is an author marred,"—an +adaptation from Shakespeare, who was ungallant enough to say, "A young +man married is a man that's marred." But a good and suitable wife would +have given <i>éclat</i> to his social life.</p> + +<p>His splendid courage and the manliness of his character always commanded +admiration, and his hatred of injustice and wrong, cant and hypocrisy, +was in harmony with the nobility and passionate earnestness of his +nature. He was the friend of the workingman, the poor, and the +oppressed; and he exposed the abuses of jails and lunatic-asylums and +trades-unions, and much besides, in the interest of humanity and as a +disinterested philanthropist. He fought, too, the battles of his +fellow-authors on the copyright questions with the same tremendous +energy that he displayed in his struggles for practical reform in other +directions; and as a practical reformer through his novels he, like +Dickens, accomplished a great deal of good. When moved by strong +impulses in this direction, he seemed indeed to write with a quivering +pen, dipped not in ink, but in fire and gall and blood, and to imbue +what he wrote with his own vital force and magnetic spirit.</p> + +<p>Measuring his literary stature at a glance, it must, however, be +admitted that, notwithstanding his high average of excellence, he was a +very uneven writer, and hence between his worst and his best work there +is a wide distance in point of merit. But the best of his writings as +well deserves immortality as anything ever penned in fiction. Although +inferior to them in some respects, he was superior in epigrammatic +descriptive power to the most famous of his English and French +contemporaries, and particularly in his descriptions of what he had +never seen or experienced, but only read about. Take, for instance, his +Australian scenes in "It is Never Too Late to Mend," where the effect of +the song of the English skylark in the gold-diggings is told with +touching brevity and pathos. Yet all his information concerning +Australia had been gained by reading newspaper correspondence and books +on that country. He made no secret of this, and said in substance, as +frankly as he spoke of his scrap-books, "I read these to save me from +the usual trick of describing a bit of England and calling it the +antipodes." He could infuse life into the dry figures of a blue-book; +but in the mere portraiture of ordinary conventional society manners, +free from the sway of strong passions and emotions, he did not greatly +excel writers of far inferior ability. He had the graphic simplicity and +realism of De Foe in describing places he had never seen; and as the +historian of a country or a period in which he felt interested he would +have been unusually brilliant, for he was an adept in picturesque +condensation, and knew how to improve upon his originals and use them +without copying a word. He was a master of vigorous English.</p> + +<p class="author">Kinahan Cornwallis.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum">[pg 591]</span> +<a name="Page_591" id="Page_591"></a></p> +<h2><a name="IN_A_SUPPRESSED_TUSCAN_MONASTERY" id="IN_A_SUPPRESSED_TUSCAN_MONASTERY"></a>IN A SUPPRESSED TUSCAN MONASTERY.</h2> + + +<p>We have left the golden hills and laughing valleys of Tuscany behind us +as we approach that desert part of it where the gray chalk cliffs +stretch out into the Maremma in long narrow tongues of rock, not far +from Siena. A frightful convulsion of nature in prehistoric times rent +the solid rock, seaming it with chasms so wide and deep that the region +is almost depopulated, not only because man can with difficulty find +room for the sole of his foot, but because the gases which lie over the +Maremma in vapors thick enough to destroy life in a single night rise up +to the top of these cliffs and reduce the dwellers there to fever-worn +shadows. Even the scattered olive-trees that have taken root in the thin +layer of soil are of the same hue, and the few clumps of cypresses add +to the pallor of the scene with their dark funereal shafts. The only bit +of color is where a cluster of low red-washed houses have found room for +their scanty foundations on a knot of rock where several chasms +converge. Where the sides of the chasms slope gently enough to admit of +being terraced, vineyards are planted, which yield famous wines, the red +Aleatico and the white Vino Santo, rivalling in quality the Monte +Pulciano, which grows only a short distance away. Farther down in the +depths thickets of scrub oak and wild vines form oases that are +invisible unless one is standing on the brink.</p> + +<p>The epithet "God-forsaken," so often applied to regions like this, +would, however, be inappropriate here, for in God's name the locality is +famous. On a promontory whose sides fall down in sheer precipices all +about, except where a narrow neck of rock connects it with the net-work +of cliffs, is a vast monastery, the Mother Abbey of the Olivetani. In +1313 a noble of Siena, Bernardo Tolomei, in the midst of a life of +literary distinctions and pleasures, received, it is said, the grace of +God. He was struck blind, and in his prayers vowed if he recovered his +sight to embrace a life of penitence. It was the divine will that his +vows should be fulfilled, and his sight was immediately restored. Two +friends of the noblest Italian families, the Patrizzi and Piccolomini, +joined him in leaving the world to become hermits in the desert. The +chalky cliffs overhanging the Maremma on Bernardo's estates were +selected as a fitting retreat: here they dug grottoes in the sides of a +precipice and lived on roots and water. They were soon followed by so +many penitents as to form a community requiring a government, and, the +necessity of this being made plain to them through a vision, in which +Bernardo saw a silver ladder suspended between heaven and earth, on +which white-robed monks were ascending accompanied by angels, he was +urged to go to Avignon and obtain an audience of the Pope, who gave to +the community the rule of St. Benedict.</p> + +<p>For a century the friars labored in building their convent to +accommodate the needs of their ever-increasing numbers: the one vast +cloister was not enough, and another was added; the primitive chapel was +enlarged into a stately church, and the abbey walls were extended until, +enclosing the garden, they covered the entire promontory. Then they +ceased from their labors, and began to establish other monasteries and +send out swarms from the mother-hive to fill them, until the executive +and administrative ability to govern a small kingdom had to be supplied +from their numbers, and manual work had to give way to mental.</p> + +<p>Another century found the abbey governed by men of culture and lovers of +the fine arts; and the celebrated painted cloister, the intarsia-work, +and the wooden sculptures, which now attract so many visitors, date from +that time. Nearly all the movable works of art, the pictures, +illuminated missals, and precious +<span class="pagenum">[pg 592]</span> +<a name="Page_592" id="Page_592"></a> +manuscripts, were confiscated at the +time of the first suppression under Napoleon, in 1810; and whatever else +could be carried off went in 1866, when the religious orders were +suppressed by the Italian government, to embellish the museums. Still, +the empty cloister, with Signorelli's and Sodoma's frescos on the walls, +Fra Giovanni of Verona's intarsia-work in the church, and the solitary +monastery itself, so silent after centuries of activity, have an +inexpressible charm, and travellers who undertake a pilgrimage hither +can never forget their impressions.</p> + +<p>On a sunny autumn afternoon three ladies left Siena in a light wagon, +and drove over the gray upland, which was shrouded in a pale blue mist, +through the picturesque hamlet of Buonconvento. Here they changed their +horse and left the Roman highway for the road cut in the rocks five +centuries ago by the monks of Monte Oliveto. These pious men understood +little of engineering, of the art of throwing bridges across ravines. +Their road simply followed the course pointed out by nature, winding in +serpentine folds through the labyrinth of chasms which begin at +Buonconvento.</p> + +<p>It was toward evening when the party drove over a narrow bridge across a +half-filled moat, and under the arch of a massive crenellated tower +whose unguarded gates stood wide open. A hundred years ago they would +have found the portcullis drawn, and, being women, if they had attempted +to force an entrance would have been excommunicated, for until the +suppression no woman's foot was allowed across this threshold. The tower +was built as a protection against bandits, and the grated windows which +give it a sinister look to-day lighted the cells of refractory brothers, +placed here to catch the eye of novices as they entered the outer portal +and serve as a silent warning.</p> + +<p>The convent was still invisible, and our three visitors were speculating +on what they would find at the end of the grass-grown <i>allée</i> bordered +with cypresses, when they saw, in a ravine below, a white-robed figure +hastening toward them.</p> + +<p>"That must be the Padre Abbate," one of them exclaimed. "I hope he has +received our padre's letter telling of our coming, for it would be worse +than an attack of the bandits of old, our falling upon him at this hour +on a Saturday evening without any warning."</p> + +<p>They had alighted in front of the church when the padre arrived quite +out of breath,—a tall, stately old man, with white hair flowing over +the turned-back cowl of his spotless white robe. If they had known +nothing of him before, his courtly manner and easy reception would have +revealed his noble lineage.</p> + +<p>"Be welcome, be welcome, my daughters, to the lonely Thebaid. I have +received the padre's letter, and am happy to receive his friends as my +honored guests for a month, if you can support the solitude so long," he +added, smiling. "And, now, which is the signora, and which the Signorina +Giulia and the Signorina Margherita?"</p> + +<p>"I am the signora," said one of the three, laughing, the last one would +have suspected of being a matron. She had lost her husband at twenty, +and her four years of European travel had been a seeking after +forgetfulness, until she had grown to be satisfied with the +companionship of two gentle women artists, who, absorbed in their +vocation, walked in God's ways and were blessed with peace and +happiness.</p> + +<p>After each had found her place and name in the padre's pure, soft Tuscan +accent, he led the way to the convent door, apologizing for the meagre +hospitality he could offer them. "Would the signore like some bread and +wine before supper?" What could they know of the hours in an abbey, +where it was an almost unheard-of distinction to be received as personal +guests, tourists in general having their own refectory set apart for +them during their stay? and so they declined. They had by this time +reached a low, arched side-door, which grated on its hinges after the +padre had turned the huge key in the rusty lock and opened it. They +entered a wide stone vestibule, and found +<span class="pagenum">[pg 593]</span> +<a name="Page_593" id="Page_593"></a> +themselves opposite another +arched door set in arabesque stone carvings: the flags echoed under +their feet as they turned to the right and traversed a low, vaulted +passage that ended in an open cloister. An arched gallery ran round the +four sides, held up by slender, dark stone pillars, above which was a +row of small arched cell windows. The court was paved with flags, and in +the centre was a well, divested of pulley and rope. An impression of +melancholy began to weigh upon the guests, when a great shaggy dog came +springing toward them, barking. The padre quieted him with, "Down, Piro! +down!" adding, "He is very good, though his manner is a little rough: he +is not used to ladies. But he will not be so impolite again, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I hope he will," said Julia: "it is delightful to see him bound +about here, where it is so strange and quiet."</p> + +<p>They traversed one side of the gallery, another low, vaulted corridor, +and came to another cloister, with painted walls, more arches, more +columns, lighter and more graceful, above which, around the three sides, +were two rows this time of cell windows; a beautiful open vaulted +gallery filled the third side, and was carried up through the second +story. Here was another well, out of which ivy-branches had grown and +twined until the curb was one mass of dark-green, shining vines lying on +a bed of moss. Presently they came to a broad stone staircase, at the +head of which "<i>Silenzio</i>" was written over an archway that led into a +corridor so long and wide as to seem a world of empty space; on either +side was an unending row of doors, all of them closed.</p> + +<p>On many of the doors were inscriptions in Latin: eight, one after the +other, were marked, "<i>Visitator primus, secundus</i>," etc.</p> + +<p>"These are our quarters, then," said Julia. "But are only eight visitors +allowed at a time?"</p> + +<p>The padre laughed at the question. "These rooms were intended for the +visitors appointed to attend our general convocations, at which eight +hundred of our order met here every three years to elect a new general +and discuss our welfare; but the necessity for such visitors has passed +away with our existence. I can remember when all these cells were +filled; and there are three hundred on this floor, and as many more +above. You are surprised, I see, at the number of doors: there are so +many because each cell has its anteroom, where we studied and meditated +and prayed."</p> + +<p>They stopped at length before a door marked "<i>Rev. Pater Vicar. +Generalis</i>," which was at the end of the corridor. Unlocking the door, +the padre invited them in.</p> + +<p>"One of you will be lodged here, and, if you are not too tired, we will +look at your other quarters before you sit down to rest."</p> + +<p>So saying, he led the way through five rooms, unlocked a door at the +farther end, conducted them across another corridor of the same +dimensions as the firsthand unlocked another door; when, suddenly +recollecting himself, he said, "You will not be afraid to be separated? +There is nothing here to disturb you,—nothing but these cats; and I +will see that they do not annoy you."</p> + +<p>Then the ladies noticed for the first time in the growing darkness four +cats, which turned out to be the padre's bodyguard, attending him +wherever he went. Of course they were not afraid: they were only sorry +to put their kind host to so much trouble. And so they proceeded to +inspect a small cell with a bed and praying-stool and tripod with a +basin for all the furniture. The anteroom had a table and chair, and an +engraving or two on the walls. Next to this cell was another just like +it, for which they agreed to draw lots, and then went to the padre's +anteroom for a book which he said would tell all about the history of +the abbey.</p> + +<p>Such masses of keys as were everywhere in this room made it a perfect +curiosity,—keys for every one of the cells on this floor and above, for +the refectories, church, offices, etc., below, for rooms enough to +accommodate the emperor Charles V. and his suite of two +<span class="pagenum">[pg 594]</span> +<a name="Page_594" id="Page_594"></a> +thousand men +for a night, festooned in bunches around the walls,—so that in the dusk +the room seemed lined with curious bas-reliefs in steel. Piles of books +were heaped on the table with surgical instruments, medicine-bottles, +and bags of dried seeds.</p> + +<p>After this inspection in the twilight, they went back to the padre +vicar's <i>salon</i> to rest, when their host took leave of them to give +orders to Beppo about the rooms and to send a light. Then they sank into +what seats they could find, and tried to collect themselves.</p> + +<p>Presently a low knock was heard, the door was pushed open, and a tall, +dark youth in sandals and white apron came in, with "<i>Buona sera, +signore</i>," and left a lucerna—the graceful brass Tuscan lamp, with +three branches for oil and wick—on the table. A large room with two +windows now became visible, with a sofa, chairs, a table, and +white-tiled stove, and many engravings on the white walls.</p> + +<p>At nine o'clock the prospect of supper was almost too faint to be +entertained, and the signora was just opening her mouth to say, "Of +course the padre has forgotten all about us," when they heard in the +distance a faint footstep approaching, and the padre appeared with a +taper in one hand and a magnificent red silk coverlet in the other. "For +the signora's bed," he explained, and went to leave it in the bedroom. +Then he came and sat down, apologizing for having left them so long, and +commenced what would have been for his listeners a most interesting +conversation if it had been after supper. He told how he had been there +thirty years,—first as student, then as frate, and finally as abbot. +Since 1866 he had been alone with two monks. To-morrow he would show +them the cell just above their heads, which he had occupied seventeen +years in silence, except when he had permission to speak. Suddenly, +looking at his watch, he said, "It is half-past nine o'clock, and no +doubt you are now hungry." And, no one gainsaying the supposition, he +relighted his taper and led the way to the refectory. The shadows all +about were black and mysterious enough, but they were too tired to be +troubled about them, and were already half-way down a staircase, when +the signora looked back, and, if she had not seized the balustrade, +would have fallen; for standing at the head of the staircase was a white +figure, holding a taper above a cowled head, out of which a pair of dark +eyes was looking at her steadfastly. The padre's voice, calling out, +"Signora, you are left in the dark," reassured her and gave her courage +to turn and run down to join the others, who were disappearing through a +low door. This led into what seemed an immense hall, judging from the +echoes. They passed by heavy stone columns supporting a ceiling in round +Romanesque arches on their way toward the one spot of light which came +from a lucerna that stood on one end of a very long table spread for +supper. They were looking around bewildered for their places, when they +were not a little startled to hear the padre say, "Signore, this is Fra +Lorenzo, my son in the Lord." The signora was of course the least +surprised, for she recognized her apparition. They received a silent +salutation from a young spiritual-looking monk, with the handsomest +face, they afterward agreed, they had ever seen. The four cats, Piro, +and another shaggy monster of a dog completed the company and shared the +visitors' supper, preferring their soup and chicken to the +Saturday-evening fare of the monks of boiled beans and olive oil. The +strangely-mixed party found much to interest each other, and, as the +signora laughed once or twice merrily over the division of the +chicken-bones between the dogs and the cats, she found Fra Lorenzo's +eyes fixed upon her with a look of wonder; at other times he kept his +eyes on his plate and uttered not a word. The chicken was followed by +figs and peaches, cheese and Vino Santo, which the signora drank out of +a tall glass with the arms of the order engraved on it.</p> + +<p>When they returned to their <i>salon</i>, the padre followed them to say, +"You were surprised at Fra Lorenzo's appearance,—I think a little +startled, too. He +<span class="pagenum">[pg 595]</span> +<a name="Page_595" id="Page_595"></a> +is gentle and good as an angel, and this is the first +time he ever inspired fear in any one,—poor boy! He is my nephew, and I +have had him with me ever since his infancy, when his parents died. I am +his guardian, and have made him a priest and Benedictine as the best +thing I could do for him, although his rank and talents would enable him +to play a distinguished <i>rôle</i> in the world. But, thanks be to God, he +is a devout follower of Christ, and a most useful one. He is now +twenty-five years of age; and I do not think we have a better decipherer +of manuscripts in the Church than he, since he is conversant with most +of the Oriental tongues, although so young. I sometimes fear God will +visit me for bestowing too much affection upon the boy. I strive against +it, but he remains the light of my eyes. If it be a sin, God forgive +me."</p> + +<p>As the signora was putting out the light at her bedside, her eyes fell +upon the basin of holy water hanging above it. She wondered who had +dipped his fingers last in it, and if any one had ever before slept in +that bed without first kneeling before the ivory crucifix above the +praying-stool. And with these conjectures she fell asleep. It seemed to +her that she had been lying there only a short time when she heard a +distant door open and shut softly, then another and another, all the way +down the corridor, until the sound seemed very near; then a breath of +wind struck her cheek, which came through the outer door of her boudoir, +which she had forgotten to lock, and which some one had just opened. She +was on the point of springing out of bed to try to reach the door of the +bedroom before any one could enter, when a monk came through and stopped +at the foot of her bed. His cowl was drawn so far down over his eyes +that the point of it stood straight up above his head. His hands were +crossed over his breast, under his white robe; when, drawing his right +one out and pointing his bony finger, he said, "You heretic, what are +you doing here?" Without waiting for an answer, he passed on, and +another took his place, repeating the question. This was the beginning +of a procession of all the monks who had ever been in the monastery. +From time to time one particularly old and gaunt left the line and came +and sat down by the bedside, until there were eight, four on each side +of it. After a while Fra Lorenzo came walking with the others. He looked +at her with his melancholy eyes and made a motion to stop, but the friar +behind gave him a push and forced him forward. His low voice came to her +as he was passing through the door: "I would sprinkle you with the holy +water if I could, signora: but you see I must obey my superiors." Then +the procession ended, and she was left alone with the eight, one of whom +said to her, "Now you must go down to the crypt under the church, to be +judged for your presumption." And as they rose to seize her, she found +they were skeletons. In her effort to escape from them she awoke, +trembling in every fibre. Her waking sensations were scarcely less +terrible than her dream, for she shook so that she imagined some one was +pulling at the bedclothes. The strain could be borne no longer, and with +a spring she sat up, and her hand touched the silk coverlet. It was like +the hand of a friend. She thought of the padre, of his angelic goodness. +How could she be afraid here, where he was sovereign priest? Still, she +must satisfy herself about the door: so, lighting the lamp, she went +through all the rooms, and found both the outer doors locked. She was +again putting out the light, when a prolonged cry sounded outside the +window. It flashed through her mind that she had read somewhere that +brigands repeat the cry of wild birds as a signal when making an attack. +Perhaps a whole band was preparing to come in upon her through the +windows she had forgotten to examine. There is no knowing to what +desperate fancies her fevered imagination might have tortured her, if a +whole chorus of hoots had not commenced. So, concluding that if they +were not real owls, but men with evil intentions so stupid as to make so +much noise, they were not worth lying awake for, she +<span class="pagenum">[pg 596]</span> +<a name="Page_596" id="Page_596"></a> +resolutely turned +over and went to sleep, and only awoke as the convent-bell was ringing +for mass.</p> + +<p>As she opened the windows and looked across the ravine to the gray rocks +beyond, the scene was so peaceful, such a reproachful commentary upon +the troubled night, that she concluded to keep silent about it. And +then, since neither her friends nor the coffee presented themselves, she +set to work to examine the engravings. The first one her eye fell upon +made her start, look again, and finally climb up on the bed and lift it +off the rusty nail, covering herself with dust in the operation, and +carry it to the window. "Yes," she said finally, after having examined +it and the text, a mixture of Latin and old Italian, very thoroughly, +"it is the same, the very same: this discovery would compensate for a +whole series of nights such as I have just been through." And, putting +it down, she ran to her travelling-bag and drew from its depths a very +small painting on copper, and compared them. Hearing just then her +friends at the door, she ran to open it with both pictures in her hands. +"What do you think? I have made a discovery. Look! My picture on copper, +which Pippo in Siena found in the little dark antiquary-shop after his +brother's death and sold to me for sixty cents, is the same as this old +engraving of the famous Annunciation picture in the Church of the +Santissima Annunziata in Florence, which is only unveiled in times of +national calamity. You know, the people believe it was painted by +angels. Here, you see, the text says it was revered in 1252, the artist +being unknown. I knew the original of my picture must be very old, for +Mary is saying in this Latin scroll coming out of her mouth, 'Behold, +the servant of the Lord,' and only the earliest painters, unable to +express their idea by the vivacity of their figures, made their mission +apparent by the scrolls coming from their mouths." They were still +examining the engraving, when the padre came to take coffee with them +and to ask if they would go down to mass, which would commence in a few +minutes. There was only time for him to say that he hoped the owls had +not disturbed them, adding, as they were on their way to the church, +"They are our bane, devouring the chickens and keeping us awake. It is a +never-ending, but perhaps needful, discipline."</p> + +<p>Fra Lorenzo was officiating at the altar as they entered the large +church, before a small number of peasants, the women making a +picturesque group in their light flowered bodices and their red +petticoats visible from beneath their tucked-up gowns, and their gay +cotton handkerchiefs knotted about their heads, since no woman's head +may be uncovered in the Catholic Church.</p> + +<p>The padre came soon to escort them about the church, and "to show them +what little had been left," he said, pointing to the empty chapels. They +found enough, however, to fill them with admiration in dear, good Fra +Giovanni of Verona's marqueterie-work in the backs of the stalls, which +extended the whole length of the long church, as is customary in +monasteries where the monks are the sole participants at the holy +offices. "While Fra Giovanni was here as one of our order," the padre +explained, "he finished the stalls which are now in the cathedral of +Siena. They were taken from us in 1813. After we were allowed to come +back, we asked to have our stalls replaced by those in a monastery in +Siena which was being torn down, and so these stalls were sent us: they +are by Fra Giovanni's own hand. He has never been equalled in this kind +of work, for which he invented the staining of the woods to produce +light and shade, and perfected the perspective which Brunelleschi +invented while resting from his labors on the Florentine dome. The +different Italian cities on the hill-sides, the vistas down the long +streets, with palaces and churches on either side, half-open missals, +Biblical musical instruments, rolls of manuscript music, birds in gay +plumage, all perfectly represented in minute pieces of wood, excite the +wonder of every one whose privilege it is to examine them at leisure."</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 597]</span> +<a name="Page_597" id="Page_597"></a> +As on their way to the cloister they passed through the sacristy, once +heaped with vessels of gold and silver, embroidered vestures, ivory and +ebony sculptures, and splendid illuminated missals, now bare and empty, +the padre said sorrowfully, "Only the walls are left to the guardianship +of these feeble hands, which must soon give up their trust." When, +however, they emerged into the cloister he brightened up, saying, "Here +you will have enough to occupy you the whole month;" and the two artists +of the party drew a breath of satisfaction at finding themselves at last +before the object of their pilgrimage,—the frescos of Signorelli and +Sodoma, representing scenes in the life of St. Benedict, which they were +going to copy. They walked slowly found the four sides, lingering where +Signorelli's deeper sentiment gave them cause for study. He was called +to Monte Oliveto first, and painted only one wall. It was only after +three years that the young unknown Bazzi was summoned, and in an +incredibly short time he completed the other three with his fanciful +creations, as graceful and airy as his character was light and +frivolous. His beautiful faces and figures came from his heart; his +brain had little to do with his work, as, without the evidence of sight +of it, the name given to him by the public—Sodoma, meaning +arch-fool—would indicate. Signorelli, on the contrary, had his ideal in +his brain, and labored to reproduce it; and his efforts are graver and +more elevated. It is to be lamented that his mineral paints have changed +their colors in many places from white to black, and that his green +trees have become blue.</p> + +<p>The padre had studied these frescos so thoroughly as to discover that +Sodoma had sometimes spent only three days on a fresco, by tracing the +joinings where the fresh plaster had been applied, which had to be +finished before it dried. This gifted, careless painter had the habit of +scratching out his heads, if they did not please him, with the handle of +his brush; and thus some of them appear to us in the nineteenth century, +four hundred years after.</p> + +<p>They spent the rest of the day here. Fra Lorenzo joined them at dinner, +and in the evening they walked with the padre beyond the tower to see +the spires of the Siena cathedral through the lovely poisonous blue +mist. On the way back they stopped in the tangled, overgrown garden at +the foot of the tower, which had once been filled with rare medicinal +plants, and peeped into the deserted pharmacy in the lower story, where +the shelves were still filled with rare old pottery jars with the three +mounts and cross and olive-branches upon them. "I am the only physician +now," said the padre, "and must have my medicines nearer home." In +walking over the rocks the visitors noticed, to their surprise, that, +instead of being barren, they were covered with the thick growth of a +short plant, which, like the chameleon, had made itself invisible by +turning gray like the rock. In answer to their inquiries they learned +that it was the absinthe plant, belonging to the same family as the +Swiss plant from which the liquor is made that is eating up the brains +of the French nation; but here it forms the harmless food of the sheep, +and from their milk the famous creta cheese is made,—"called creta from +the rock, which means in English chalk, I think," continued the padre. +"You have noticed its pungent taste at table, have you not?" The ladies +hastened to repair their omission, for it is so celebrated that they +ought to have said something about it. After age has hardened and +mellowed it, no cheese in Italy is so highly esteemed.</p> + +<p>They went, too, to see how the young eucalyptus-trees were +flourishing,—the object of the padre's great solicitude. "We cannot +sleep with our windows open, on account of the bad air, and I have been +corresponding with the Father Trappists in the Roman Campagna about the +cultivation of these trees as a purifier, and am most anxious as to the +result. If I could reduce the fever among the poor people about here, I +should be more content to leave them when my summons comes."</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 598]</span> +<a name="Page_598" id="Page_598"></a> +The owls were flying above them in the cypresses as they neared the +convent, and came swooping down above their heads as the padre imitated +their melancholy hoot. Seeing Beppo in the distance, he called to him to +go for the guns. Whether owls merit to be the symbol of wisdom or no, +they flew away in ever wider circles as soon as the guns and dogs +appeared, and could not be decoyed back. The last rays of light lit up +the gun-barrels as the party went in at the heavy door: the clashing +sound of the bolt and chains, the yelping of the dogs, the guns +glistening in the glimmer of light which came in through the cloister, +made a scene which must often have had its counterparts in the feudal +keeps of the Middle Ages, when the robber knights returned with their +booty.</p> + +<p>After supper they went to see a marvel of concealed treasure stored away +in one of the upper cells,—priestly robes and altar-cloths shimmering +in gold and silver: some of these robes were more beautiful than any +they had seen in the treasuries of Rome. Pure gold they were, wrought in +emblems of divinity. "These are presents to the monastery from our +family," said Fra Lorenzo. "These simpler ones, embroidered with the +silk flowers, are Fra Giorgio's work. He is now away from the convent, +and I am sorry he cannot hear you admire his robes." It was midnight +before the glittering heap was folded away, and the night which followed +was one of sound repose.</p> + +<p>Next morning the signora was leaning over the brink of the ivy-crowned +well, trying to reach a spray twined thick with moss that grew in a +crevice of the stones just beyond her reach. "Signora," a low voice +said, "you ought not to lean so far: you might fall in, and the water is +very deep. What is it you want? Let me get it for you." And Fra Lorenzo, +following her direction, drew up the spray sparkling with moisture.</p> + +<p>"It is beautiful enough for a crown for a god," said she, twining it +together at the ends. "Will you let me turn you into Apollo for a +moment?" And, without thinking, she let it fall lightly on his head. +"No Apollo was ever so beautiful," she involuntarily exclaimed. "If only +you had a lyre!"</p> + +<p>The action, not the admiration, was reprehensible. She was a woman of +the world, and should have thought; and this she realized as her eyes +fell upon his face, where a revelation was unfolding itself. There was +something in this life which he had never thought about, never dreamed +of; and the light which shone out of his dark eyes was deeper than that +of wonder. She would have given the world to take back her +thoughtlessness, for she felt she had given an angel to eat of the +forbidden fruit.</p> + +<p>The signora was a good woman, with all her worldly knowledge, but a +subtile charm of expression and manner made her a very beautiful woman +at times, and this moment, unfortunately for two good persons, was one +of these. She was just reaching for the crown, when the padre came into +the cloister and stopped with amazement as his eye fell on the group. +"Fra Lorenzo," said he, after a moment, "you are sent for to go to +Casale Montalcino: Giuseppe is dying; and you will stay there until the +last offices are finished."</p> + +<p>The young monk seemed under a spell which he shook off with difficulty. +"I go, padre," he said, and started.</p> + +<p>As he passed before the padre, the latter reached for the crown and +threw it into the well, saying, "This beseemeth little a tonsured head." +Then he turned to the signora and asked her if she had examined the +fresco just behind them. "It is worth much study," he went on, "for many +reasons. The subject enabled Sodoma to throw more expression into it +than usual. You see, St. Benedict is resisting the temptation his +enemies prepared for him in introducing these beautiful women secretly +into the monastery. Being so completely a man of God, he overcame the +evil one without an effort; but it is not given to us all to overcome as +he did, and a zephyr from the outer world may waft us an evil which must +be atoned for by long penitence in our lonely cells. Not that I liken +you to a tempter," he +<span class="pagenum">[pg 599]</span> +<a name="Page_599" id="Page_599"></a> +added, seeing her confusion and distress: "you +have only forgotten that we are servants of God and must think of +nothing but our duty in serving him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, padre, I would give everything if I had not forgotten it! You must +think of me as a good woman, for indeed I deserve it."</p> + +<p>"I do think of you as such, and am sure the lesson will not be +forgotten," was the crumb of comfort upon which she fed all the rest of +the day and for several days following, during which Fra Lorenzo had not +reappeared. The fountain-scene had not been mentioned to her friends, so +one day at dinner Margaret said, "Do the offices for the dead generally +require so much time, that Lorenzo does not return?"</p> + +<p>"Fra Lorenzo is here," was the answer. "He was only absent one night. He +is very much occupied: that is why you do not see him."</p> + +<p>The next day they were to be shown the library, and at the hour set the +signora went to the padre's reception-room to see if he were ready. He +was just reaching for the key, when a peasant appeared, his hand +bleeding from a cut which had nearly dissevered the thumb. This +necessitated a delay, and the padre went down with him to the +dispensary. "While you are waiting," he said, "perhaps you would like to +go up into the pavilion, where you can look over the Maremma to the sea. +Go up that stair," and he pointed to the end of a corridor, "to the +first landing, then turn to the left."</p> + +<p>As she went up the stair her eye was caught by a carved ceiling at the +top of it. "I suppose I ought to go that far," she thought, and up she +went, until she found herself in a room frescoed with portraits of the +distinguished men of the order. In the middle of one wall was a +magnificently-carved folding-door, with fruits and flowers and twining +foliage with rare birds sitting among the tendrils. She was examining +these details, when she discovered that the door was ajar. A slight +push, and she was in a large, beautiful hall, where three lofty vaulted +aisles were supported by slender marble columns with richly-carved +capitals. At the end of the centre aisle a staircase in the form of a +horseshoe led to a gallery. The walls up-stairs and down, sparsely +filled with books, told her she was in the library.</p> + +<p>"It will be all the same to the padre," she thought, "if I wait here +instead of in the pavilion," and she was half-way down the hall, her +eyes glued to the shelves, when she came suddenly upon Fra Lorenzo +sitting before a table covered with manuscripts in the niche of a deep +window. He must have been aware of her presence from the first, for his +eyes were fixed upon her with a look of intense expectancy.</p> + +<p>"I was thinking of you, signora, and you come to me," was his strange +salutation.</p> + +<p>She felt she must be composed at any cost: so she said, in as easy a +tone as she could command, "I should like to know what resemblance there +is between me and these dusty old manuscripts, that you think of me as +you copy them. You are copying them, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"No, signora, I do nothing: you are always between me and my work. Why +did you look at me so at the fountain? But no; forgive me: I was +thinking of you before that. From the first evening in the refectory +your laugh has been ringing in my heart. You seemed to me like a +beautiful light in the shadows of our old hall."</p> + +<p>She was moving quickly away, when he reached after her and touched her +sleeve. "You are not angry?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered. "I would only remind you that you belong to God in +body and soul, and when you think of me you commit a deadly sin, for +which never-ending penance can scarcely atone."</p> + +<p>"Signora, you are right. The penance does so little for me now. All +night long I was before the crucifix in the church, and while I prayed I +felt better; but when morning came and I thought of the long, lonely +years I must spend here sinning against God and finding no rest, with +you always in my heart—What can I do? You are good; tell me what I can +do."</p> + +<p>The pain of this innocent, beautiful +<span class="pagenum">[pg 600]</span> +<a name="Page_600" id="Page_600"></a> +life was a weight too heavy for +her to bear, and she felt herself giving way under it. "Pray," she +stammered,—"pray for us both, for we must never meet again." She +reached the door, went down the stair, and, turning mechanically to the +right, found herself at last in the pavilion, where she leaned against +the parapet and looked into space. She had lost the capacity of +thinking.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate the padre was so long delayed, for when he came up at +last with the signorine she had so far recovered herself as to be +standing upright, apparently absorbed in the view.</p> + +<p>"I don't wonder this view has made you speechless," her friends called +out. "It is simply glorious."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the padre: "on these cliffs we seem on the brink of +eternity; down there among the morasses of the Maremma man cannot stay +his feet; and beyond is the sea."</p> + +<p>"How beautiful the thought," said Julia, "that good men dying here have +no longer need to stay their feet! One step from these cliffs, and they +must be in heaven."</p> + +<p>"Who knows, who knows," sighed the padre, "if any of us have found it +so? But now let us go to the library."</p> + +<p>The signora followed them, since she could not do otherwise. They +stopped before the carved door, which the padre said was undoubtedly Fra +Giovanni's own work, and he pointed out the details of the beautiful +workmanship. At length he opened the door, which the signora felt sure +she had not closed. One glance around the hall showed her it was empty.</p> + +<p>The padre was too much occupied with his emotions over the +scantily-supplied shelves, and the ladies with their surprise and +admiration, to notice her excited condition, which she at length +succeeded in quieting enough to hear the padre say, "They have taken our +precious manuscripts from us, dating as far back as the eleventh +century. Many of our order had spent their lives translating and copying +manuscripts, and our greatest loss is here. Fra Lorenzo is just now +translating some Latin chronicles of our first history into Italian. You +can see by his beautiful handwriting that he is a worthy disciple of his +learned predecessors. But how is this?"—as he searched among the rolls +of yellow parchment. "I see he has not yet commenced it." The old man +looked troubled, and, turning from the table, went on: "These carved +depositories for the choral-books, and the frescos at the head of the +stairs, are about all you can admire here now, except the architecture +of the hall."</p> + +<p>The padre was very silent at dinner. He only said, noticing that the +signora ate nothing, "This will not do, my daughter. You look ill. You +must eat something, or I shall have two patients on my hands."</p> + +<p>"Who is the other?" asked Margaret and Julia in a breath.</p> + +<p>"Fra Lorenzo."</p> + +<p>The signora longed to speak with him in private. She must go away at +once, but she must speak with him before she said anything to her +friends. All the afternoon she watched for an opportunity, but found +none. At length, when it was growing dark, she went to walk in the +corridor, hoping to meet him. She had come to the open gallery looking +into the cloister. Here she would wait for him; and, leaning against the +open-work railing, she looked down. A white figure was walking to and +fro. Finally it came to the well and looked into it. Now another white +figure emerged from the shadows, and, laying an arm around the first, +led it gently away out of sight. Then her overstrained nerves gave way, +and she fainted.</p> + +<p>When she recovered her senses she found herself in bed. The padre and +her friends were talking in whispers in the next room, but the former's +voice came to her distinctly. He was saying, "Now you know all. You must +take her away as soon as possible."</p> + +<p>A year after, in Naples, the ladies received these few lines from the +padre: "God in his infinite mercy has taken my son to himself."</p> + +<p class="author">Kate Johnston Matson.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum">[pg 601]</span> +<a name="Page_601" id="Page_601"></a></p> +<h2><a name="THE_SUBSTITUTE" id="THE_SUBSTITUTE"></a>THE SUBSTITUTE.</h2> + + +<h3>CHARACTERS.</h3> + +<p><span class="smcharname">Mr. Nathaniel Nokes</span>, <i>a Retired Wine-Merchant</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcharname">Mr. Charles Nokes</span>, <i>his Nephew</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcharname">Mr. Robinson</span>, <span class="smcharname">Mr. Sponge</span>, <span class="smcharname">Mr. Rasper</span>, <i>Friends of Mr. Nokes the Elder</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="charname">Waiter.</span></p> + +<p><span class="smcharname">Susan</span>, <i>Housemaid at the Hotel of the Four Seasons</i>.</p> + +<p><span class="smcharname">Mrs. Charles Nokes</span>.</p> + +<p><span class="charname">Landlady.</span></p> + +<hr class="short" /> +<p class="hangindent">SCENE I.—<i>A handsome first-floor apartment in the Hotel of the Four +Seasons, Paris. Outside the window, the court-yard, with fountain, and +little trees in large pots.</i></p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Mr. Nathaniel Nokes</span>, with a small book in his hand, very +smartly dressed, but in great haste, and with his shirt-collar much +dishevelled. [Rings the bell violently.]</p> + +<p>What's the good of these confounded French phrase-books? Who wants to +know how to ask for artichoke soup, or how far it is to Dijon? I want a +button sewn on my shirt-collar, and there's not one word about that.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="charname">Waiter</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Hi! what's-your-name! <i>Voulez-vous—avoir—la—bonté—de—</i>[I'm +always civil and very distinct, but, somehow, I can never make myself +understood.] I am going to be married, my good man; to be married—<i>tout +de suite</i>—immediately, and there is no time to change my—my <i>chemise +d'homme</i>. [Come, he'll understand <i>that</i>.] I want this button—button, +button, button sewn on. Here, here—<i>here</i>. [<i>Points to his throat.</i>] +Don't you see, you fool? [He thinks I want him to cut my throat. I shall +never be in time at the Legation!] Idiot! Dolt! Send <i>Susan</i>, Susan, <i>à +moi</i>, to me—or I'll kick you into the court-yard. [<i>Exit <span class="charname">Waiter</span>, with +precipitation.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [alone].</i> And this is what they call a highly-civilized country! +Talk of "a strong government" at home: what's the use of its being +strong, if it can't make foreigners speak our language? What's the good +of missionary enterprise, when here's a Christian man, within twelve +hours of London, who can't get a shirt-button sewn on for want of the +Parisian accent? I said "button, button, button," plain enough, I'm +sure; and a button's a button all the world over. If it had not been for +that excellent Susan, the English chambermaid, I should have perished in +this place, of what the coroner's inquests call "want of the necessaries +of life." All depends, as every one knows, on a man's shirt-button: if +<i>that</i> goes wrong, everything goes, and one's attire is a wreck. But I +suppose after to-day my wife will see to that,—though she is a +Montmorenci. Constance de Montmorenci, that's her name: she's descended +(she says) from a Constable of France. It's a more English-seeming name +than <i>gendarme</i>, and I like her for that; but I am afraid we shan't have +much in common—except my property. She don't speak English very +fluently: she called me "my dove" the other day, instead of "my duck," +which is ridiculous. She is not twenty, and I am over sixty,—which is +perhaps also ridiculous.</p> + +<p>Well, it's all Charles's fault, not mine. If he chooses to go and marry +a beggar-girl without my consent, he must take the consequences,—if +there are a dozen of them,—and support them how he can. "If you persist +in this wicked and perverse resolve," said I, "<i>I'll</i> marry also, before +the year's out." And now I'm going to do it,—if I can only get this +shirt-button sewn on. He shall not have a penny of what I have to leave +behind me. The little Nokes-Montmorencis shall have it all. She's a most +accomplished creature is Constance. Sings, they tell me,—for it's not +in English, so I don't understand it,—divinely; plays ditto; draws +ditto. +<span class="pagenum">[pg 602]</span> +<a name="Page_602" id="Page_602"></a> +Speaks every language (except English) with equal facility +and—Thank goodness, here's Susan.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Susan</span>, with housemaid's broom.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> What do you please to want, sir?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> <i>You</i>, Susan; you, first of all, and then a shirt-button. I +have not five minutes to spare. My bride is probably already at the +Embassy, expressing her impatience in various continental tongues. +<i>Vite</i>,—look sharp, Susan. [<i>Aside.</i>] Admirable woman!—she carries +buttons about with her. I wonder whether the Montmorenci will do +that.—Take care!—don't run the needle into me!</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> You must not talk, sir, or else I can't help it. Please to hold +your head up a little higher.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> I shall do that when I've married the Montmorenci. [<i>She pricks +him.</i>] Oh! oh!</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> I'm sure I hope as you'll be happy with her, sir; but you seem +so fond of old England that I doubt whether you ought not to have chosen +your wife from your native land. It seems a pity to be marrying in such +haste, just because your poor nephew—<i>pray</i> don't speak, sir, or I +shall certainly run the needle into you—just because Mr. Charles has +gone and wedded the girl of his choice.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [passionately].</i> Hold your tongue, Susan! [<i>She pricks him +again.</i>] Oh! oh!</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> There, sir, I told you what would happen. All I say is, I hope +you may not marry in haste to repent at leisure. A fortnight is such a +very short time to have known a lady before making her your bride. +There, sir; I think the button will keep on now.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Then I'm off, Susan. But, before I go, I must express my thanks +to you for looking after me so attentively in this place. Here's a +five-pound note for you. [<i>Aside</i>] I could almost find it in my heart to +give her a kiss; but perhaps the Montmorenci wouldn't like it.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [gratefully].</i> Oh, thank you, sir. May all happiness attend you, +sir! and when you're married yourself, sir, don't be too hard upon that +poor nephew of yours—</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [angrily].</i> Be quiet. [<i>Exit hastily.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Susan [alone].</i> Now, there's as kind-hearted an old gentleman as ever +lived,—and as good a one, too, if it was not for pigheadedness and +tantrums. The idea of a five-pound note merely for helping him to get +his victuals! He's been just like a baby in this 'ere 'otel, and I've +been a mother to him. He couldn't 'a' got a drop o' milk if it hadn't +been for me. Poor dear old soul! What a pity it is he should have such a +temper! He is taking a wife to-day solely to keep a hasty word uttered +agen his nephew and heir. Mademoiselle Constance de Montmorenci! ah, +I've heard of her before to-day. Nanette, the head-chambermaid here, was +once her lady's-maid. <i>She's</i> known her for more than a fortnight. +Constance is a fine name, but it ain't quite the same as Constancy. Poor +Mr. Nokes! What a mistake it was in him to drive all thoughts of +matrimony off to the last, and then to come to Paris—of all places—to +do it! What a curious thing is sympathy! He met her in the tidal train, +and they were taken ill together on board the steamboat; that's how it +came about. Poor old soul! He deserves a better fate. [<i>Takes her broom +and leans on it reflectively.</i>] Heigh-ho! His honest English face was +pleasant to look upon in this here outlandish spot; and none has been so +kind to me since my poor missis died and left me under this roof, +without money enough to pay my passage back to England. I was glad +enough to take service here; for why should I go back to a country where +there is not a soul to welcome me? And yet I should like to see dear old +England again, too. [<i>Tumult without. Mr. Nokes is seen rushing madly up +the court-yard. Tumult in the passage; French and English voices at high +pitch. Nokes without:</i> Idiots! Frog-eaters! What is it I want? Nothing! +nothing but to see France sunk in the sea!]</p> +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 603]</span> +<a name="Page_603" id="Page_603"></a> +</p> +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Nokes</span> (dishevelled and purple with passion, with an open +letter in his hand; bangs the door behind him).</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> What is the matter, sir?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Everything is the matter. You see this lily-white waistcoat; +you see these matrimonial does [<i>points to his trousers</i>], these +polished-leather boots, which are at this moment pinching me most +confoundedly, though I don't feel it, because I'm in such a passion: +well, they have been put on for nothing. I've been made a fool of by the +Montmorenci. But if there's justice in heaven,—that is, in Paris,—if +there's law in France, and blighted hopes are compensated in this +country as they are at home, the hussy shall smart for it. Directly I'm +married myself, I'll bring an action against her for breach of promise.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Married yourself, sir?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Of course I'm going to be married,—at once, +immediately,—within the week. There's only a week left to the end of +the year. Do you suppose—does my nephew Charles suppose—no, for he +knows me better—that I am not going to keep my word? that because the +Montmorenci has played me false at the eleventh hour I am going to +remain a bachelor for seven days longer? Never, Susan, never! [<i>Walks +hastily up and down the room.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Lor, sir, do pray be a little quiet, I am sure if any young +woman was to see you in this state she must be uncommonly courageous to +take charge of such a husband. Do, pray, tell me what has happened.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Nothing has happened. That's what I complain of. Just as I +drove up to the Legation this letter was handed to me. It is from the +brother of the Montmorenci, and is supposed to be written in the English +tongue. He regrets that matters between Mademoiselle his sister and +myself have been advanced with such precipitation.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Well, sir, you <i>were</i> rather in a hurry about it, I must say.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Hurry! I was in nothing of the sort. We were in the same boat +together for hours. We suffered agonies in company. And, besides, I had +only three weeks at farthest to waste in making love to anybody. And now +I've only one week,—all because this woman did not know her own mind.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> How so, sir?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Why, it seems she loves somebody else better. Her brother tells +me—confound his impudence!—that this is only natural. At the same +time, he allows I have some cause to complain, and therefore offers me +the opportunity of a personal combat with what he is pleased to call the +peculiar weapon of my countrymen, the pistol. Now, I should have said +the peculiar weapon of my country was the umbrella. That is certainly +the instrument I should choose if I were compelled to engage in mortal +strife. But the idea of being shot in the liver in reparation for one's +matrimonial injuries! To be laid up in that way when there is only a +week left in which to woo and win another Mrs. Nokes! But what am I to +do now? How am I to find a respectable young woman to take me at so +short a notice?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> There isn't many of that sort in Paris, sir, even if you gave +'em longer.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Just so. Come, you're a sensible, good girl, and have helped me +out of several difficulties; now, do you think you can help me out of +this one?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [demurely].</i> Have you got an almanac about you, sir?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> An almanac? Of course I have. I have given up the wine-trade, +but I have not given up the habit so essential to business-men of +carrying an almanac in my breast-pocket. Here it is.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [takes almanac and looks through it attentively].</i> No, sir +[<i>sighs</i>], it won't do.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> What won't do? What did you expect to find that <i>would</i> do—in +an almanac—in such a crisis as this?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Well, sir [<i>casting down her eyes</i>], I was looking to see if it +was leap-year; but it isn't.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> What! You were going to offer to fill the place of the +Montmorenci. You impudent little hussy! +<span class="pagenum">[pg 604]</span> +<a name="Page_604" id="Page_604"></a> +[<i>Aside</i>] Gad, she's uncommonly +pretty, though. Prettier than the other. I noticed that when she was +sewing on my shirt-button; only I didn't think it right, under the +circumstances, to dwell upon the idea. But there can't be any harm in it +<i>now</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [sobbing].</i> I am afraid I have made you angry with me, Mr. Nokes. +I was only in fun, but I see now that it was taking a liberty.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [very tenderly and chucking her under the chin].</i> We should never +take liberties, Susan. [<i>Kisses her.</i>] Never. But don't cry, or you'll +make your eyes red; and I rather like your eyes. [<i>Aside</i>] I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea before, but she has got remarkably pretty eyes. +It's a dreadful come-down from the Montmorenci, to be sure: still, one +must marry <i>somebody</i>—within seven days. But then, again, I've written +such flaming accounts of the other one to all my friends. I've asked +Sponge and Rasper and Robinson to come down, and see us after the +honeymoon at "the Tamarisks," my little place near Dover. And they are +all eager to hear her sing and play, and to see her beautiful sketches +in oil—Can <i>you</i> sing, and play, and sketch in oil, Susan?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [gravely].</i> I don't know, sir; I never tried.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> Then there's her hands. The Montmorenci's, as I wrote +to Rasper, were like the driven snow; and Susan's—though I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea—are more like snow on the second day, in London. +To be sure she will have nothing to do as Mrs. Nokes except to wash 'em. +Then she can speak French like a native, or at least what will seem to +Robinson and the others like a native. Upon my life, I think I might do +worse. But then, again, she'll have relatives,—awful relatives, whom I +shall have to buy off, or, worse, who will <i>not</i> be bought off. It's +certainly a dreadful come-down. Susan [<i>hesitatingly</i>], Susan dear, what +is your name?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Montem, sir; Susan Montem.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> By Jove! why, that's half-way to Montmorenci. It's not +at all a bad name. But then what's the good of that if she's going to +change it for Nokes? Oh, Montem, is it, Susan? And is your papa—your +father—alive?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [sorrowfully].</i> No, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> That's capital!—I mean I'm <i>so</i> sorry. Poor girl! Your +father's dead, is he? You're sure he's dead?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [with her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes].</i> Quite sure, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> And your mamma,—your excellent mamma,—she's alive, at all +events?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> No, sir; I am an orphan.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> How delightful! I love orphans. I'm an orphan myself. +Ah, but then she's sure to have brothers and sisters,—pipe-smoking, +gin-drinking brothers, and sisters who will have married idle mechanics, +with executions in their houses every quarter-day. Susan, my dear, how +many brothers and sisters have you?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [sorrowfully].</i> I have none, sir. When my dear missis died I was +left quite alone in the world.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> I'm charmed to hear it [<i>embracing her</i>], adorable young woman! +[<i>Bell rings without.</i>] What are they pulling that bell about for? +Confound them, it makes me nervous.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [meekly].</i> I think they're wanting me, sir: you see, sir, I'm +neglecting my work.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [kissing her].</i> No, you're not, Susan [<i>kisses her again</i>]: quite +the contrary. So your name's Montem,—at present,—is it? How came that +about?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Well, sir, I was left a foundling in the parish workhouse, at +Salthill, near Eton. Nobody knew anything about me, and as I made my +appearance there one Montem day, the board of guardians named me Montem.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> And how came you to be chambermaid at this hotel?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [seriously].</i> It was through good Mr. Woodward, the curate at +Salthill, that it happened, sir: he was my benefactor through life. +Always kind to me at the workhouse, where he was chaplain, he got me a +situation, as soon as I was old enough, with a lady. I lived with her +first as housemaid, and then +<span class="pagenum">[pg 605]</span> +<a name="Page_605" id="Page_605"></a> +as her personal attendant, till she died +under this roof.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> I don't wonder at that.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> The people of the hotel here wanted an English chambermaid, and +offered me the place, which, since my benefactor the clergyman was dead, +I accepted thankfully.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Poor girl! poor girl! [<i>Pats Susan's head.</i>] There, there! your +feelings do you the greatest credit; but don't cry, because it makes +your eyes red. Now, look here, Susan; there's only one thing more. You +are very soft-hearted, I perceive, and it must be distinctly understood +between us that you need never intercede with me in favor of that +scoundrel Charles. I won't have it. You wouldn't succeed, of course, but +if I ever happen to get fond of you—I mean foolishly fond of you, of +course—your importunity might be annoying. When you are once my wife, +however, and keeping your own carriage, I confidently expect that you +will behave as other people do in that station of life, and show no +weakness in favor of your poor relations.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> I will endeavor, sir, in case you are so good as to marry a +humble girl like me, to do my dooty and please you in every way.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> That's well said, Susan. [<i>Kisses her.</i>] You <i>have</i> pleased me +in a good many ways already. [<i>Aside</i>] I must say, though I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea before—[<i>Tremendous ringing of bells, and sudden +appearance of the mistress of the hotel. Tableau.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Mistress of the hotel [to Nokes].</i> <i>O vieux polisson!</i> [<i>To Susan</i>] +<i>Coquine abominable!</i></p> + +<p><i>Nokes [to Susan].</i> What is this lunatic raving about?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> She remarks that I haven't finished my work on the second +floor.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [impatiently].</i> Tell her to go to—the ground floor. Tell her you +are going to be married to me within the week, and order a +wedding-breakfast—for two—immediately.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [aside].</i> I can never tell her that, for she is a Frenchwoman, +and wouldn't believe it. I'll tell her something more melodramatic. +I'll say that Mr. Nokes is my father, who has suddenly recognized and +discovered his long-lost child.—<i>Madame, c'est mon père longtemps +absent, qui vous en prie d'accepter ses remerciments pour votre bonté à +son enfant.</i></p> + +<p><i>Mistress of the hotel [all smiles, and with both hands outstretched].</i> +Milor, I do congratulate you. Fortunate Susan! You will nevare forget to +recommend de hotel?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Thank you, thank you; you're a sensible old woman. [<i>Aside</i>] +She evidently sees no absurd disproportion in our years.—Breakfast, +breakfast!—<i>déjeûner à la</i> what-do-you-call-it! <i>champagne!</i> +[<i>Exit landlady, smiling and bowing</i>.]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> In the mean time, Susan, put on your bonnet and let's go out +to—whatever they call Doctors' Commons here—and order a special +license. [<i>Susan goes.</i>] Stop a bit, Susan; you forget something. +[<i>Kisses her.</i>] [<i>Aside</i>] I did not like to dwell upon the idea before, +but she's got a most uncommon pretty mouth.</p> + +<hr class="short" /> + +<p class="hangindent">SCENE II.—<i>Drawing-room at the Tamarisks. Garden and Sea in the +distance. Grand piano, harp, sketch-book; and huge portfolio.</i></p> + +<p><i>Nokes [less gayly attired: solus].</i> Gad, I feel rather nervous. There's +Sponge, and Rasper, and Robinson, all coming down by the mid-day train +to lunch with me and my new wife,—the Montmorenci, as they imagine. +It's impossible that Susan can keep up such a delusion, and especially +as she insists on talking English. She says her <i>French</i> is so vulgar. +But there! I don't care how she talks or what she talks, bless her. +Everything sounds well from those charming lips. She's a kind-hearted, +good girl, and worth eight hundred dozen (as I should say if I hadn't +left the wine-trade) of the other one. There was something wrong about +that Montmorenci vintage, for all her sparkle; corked or something. Now, +my Susan's <i>all</i> good,—good the second day, good +<span class="pagenum">[pg 606]</span> +<a name="Page_606" id="Page_606"></a> +the third day, good +every day. She's like port—all the better for keeping; and she's not +like port—because there's no crustiness about her. She's a deuced +clever woman. To hear her talk broken English when the squire's wife +called here the other day was as good as a play. Everybody hereabouts +believes she's a Frenchwoman; but then they're all country-people, and +they'll believe anything. Sponge and Rasper and Robinson are all London +born,—especially Rasper,—and London people believe nothing. They +only give credit.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Susan</span>, in an in-door morning dress, but gloved.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Well, my darling, have you screwed your courage up to meet +these three gentlemen? Upon my life, I think it would be better if I +told them at once that I had been jilted, and instead of the Montmorenci +had found The Substitute infinitely preferable to the original; for I'm +sure I <i>have</i>, Susan [<i>fondly</i>].</p> + +<p><i>Susan [holding up her finger].</i> Constance, if you please, my dear. I'm +continually correcting that little mistake of yours. How can I possibly +keep up my dignity as a Montmorenci while you are always calling me +Susan?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Then why keep it up at all, my dear? Why not stand at once upon +your merits, which I am sure are quite sufficient? Of course it would be +a little come-down for <i>me</i> just at first; but that's no matter.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> My good, kind husband! [<i>Kisses his forehead.</i>] No, dear; let +me first show your friends that you have no cause to be ashamed of me. +It will be much easier to do that if they think I am a born lady. +Appearances do such a deal in the world.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Yes, my dear, I've noticed that in the wine-trade. If you were +to sell cider at eighty shillings a dozen, it would be considered +uncommon good tipple by the customer who bought it. Tell them Madeira +has been twice to China—twice to China [<i>chuckles to himself</i>]—and how +they smack their lips! That reminds me, by the bye [<i>seriously</i>], of +another set of appearances, Susan, which we have to guard against,—the +pretence and show of poverty. You must learn to steel your heart against +<i>that</i>, my dear. There's that nephew of mine been writing one of his +persistent and appealing letters again. He adjures me to have pity, if +not upon him, at all events upon his innocent Clara. But she ought not +to have been his innocent Clara, and so I've told him. She ought not to +have been his Clara at all. Now, do you remember your solemn promise to +me about that young man?</p> + +<p><i>Susan [sighing].</i> Yes, sir, I remember.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [angrily].</i> Why do you call me "sir," Susan?</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Because when you look so stern and talk so severely you don't +seem to be the same good, kind-hearted husband that I know you are. I'll +keep my promise, sir, not to hold out my hand to your unfortunate +nephew, but please don't let us talk about it. It makes me feel less +reverence, less respect, and even less gratitude, sir,—it does, +indeed,—since your very generosity toward me has made me the instrument +of punishment, and—as I feel—of wrong. I have been poor myself, and +what must that young couple think of my never answering their touching +letter, put in my hands as I first crossed this threshold?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [testily].</i> Touching letter, indeed! Any begging-letter impostor +would have written as good a one. It's all humbug, Susan. Mrs. Charles +would like to see you whipped, if I know women. And as for my +nephew—[<i>Noises of wheels heard, and bell rings.</i>] But there's the +front-door bell. Here are our visitors from town. Had you not better +leave the room for a minute or two, to wash those tears away? It would +never do, you know, to exhibit a Montmorenci with red eyes. [<i>Exit +<span class="smcharname">Susan</span>.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [solus].</i> That's the only matter about which my dear Susan and I +are ever likely to fall out,—the extending what she calls the hand of +forgiveness to Charles and his wife, just because +<span class="pagenum">[pg 607]</span> +<a name="Page_607" id="Page_607"></a> +they've got a baby. +I'll never do it if they have twelve. I said to myself I wouldn't when +he wrote to me about this marriage, and I always keep my word.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Sponge</span>, <span class="smcharname">Rasper</span>, and <span class="smcharname">Robinson</span>.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [shaking hands with all].</i> Welcome, my friends, welcome to the +Tamarisks.</p> + +<p><i>Robinson.</i> Thank ye, Nokes, thank ye. But how changed we are at the +Tamarisks! [<i>Pointing to the piano and portfolio.</i>] I mean how changed +we are for the better! ain't we, Sponge? ain't we, Rasper?</p> + +<p><i>Sponge [fawningly].</i> It was always a charming retreat, but we now see +everywhere, in addition to its former beauties, the magical influence of +a female hand.</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [vulgarly].</i> Yes; no doubt of that. Directly I saw the new +coach-house, I said, "By Jove, that's Mrs. N——'s doing! <i>She'll</i> spend +his money for him, will Mrs. N——."</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [annoyed].</i> You were very good, I'm sure.</p> + +<p><i>Sponge.</i> But it is here, within-doors, my dear Nokes, that the great +transformation-scene has been effected. Pianos, harpsichords, +sketch-books,—these all bespeak the presence of lovely and accomplished +woman.</p> + +<p><i>Robinson.</i> May we venture to peep into this portfolio, my good +fellow?—that is, if the contents have the interest for us that we +believe them to have. It holds Mrs. Nokes's sketches, I presume.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Yes, yes; they are her sketches and nobody else's. [<i>Aside</i>] +Certainly they are, for I bought them for her in Piccadilly.—But here +she comes to answer for herself. [<i>Enter <span class="smcharname">Susan</span>.</i>] Sus—I mean Constance, +my dear, let me introduce to you three friends of my bachelor days, Mr. +Sponge, Mr. Rasper, Mr. Robinson.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [speaking broken English].</i> Gentlemens, I am mos glad to see you. +My husband—hees friends are mai friends.</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [aside].</i> She's devilish civil. If she had been English I +should almost think she was afraid of us.</p> + +<p><i>Sponge [bowing].</i> You are most kind, madam. The noble are always kind. +[<i>Aside to Nokes.</i>] She's all blood, my dear fellow.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [looking toward her in alarm].</i> What? Where?</p> + +<p><i>Sponge.</i> No, no; don't misunderstand me. I mean she's all high birth. +If I had met your wife anywhere—in an omnibus, for instance—and only +heard her speak, I should have exclaimed, "There's a Montmorenci!"</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [pleased].</i> Should you really, now, my dear Sponge? Well, that +shows you are a man of discernment.</p> + +<p><i>Robinson [to Susan].</i> It is such a real pleasure to us, Mrs. Nokes, +that you speak English. We were afraid we should find it difficult to +converse with you. Sponge is the only one of us who understands—</p> + +<p><i>Sponge.</i> Yes, madam, we did fear that since no other tongue is spoken +in courts and camps—or, at all events, in courts—we should have some +difficulty in following your ideas. But you speak English like a native.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [emphatically].</i> I believe you. [<i>Recollecting and correcting +herself</i>] Dat is, I do trai mai best. It please my <i>mari</i>—my what ees +it?—my husband. He don't talk French heemself—not mooch.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Well, I don't think you should quite say that, my dear. I could +always make myself understood abroad, you know, though my accent is +perhaps a little anglicized.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [laughing].</i> Rayther so.</p> + +<p>[<i>Guests exchange looks of astonishment.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [with precipation].</i> My dear, what an expression! The fact is, my +friends, that madame has a young brother—Count Maximilian de +Montmorenci—at school in England, and what she knows of our language +she has mainly acquired from him. The consequence is, she occasionally +talks—in point of fact—slang.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [in broken English].</i> Cherk the tinklare, coot your luckies, whos +<span class="pagenum">[pg 608]</span> +<a name="Page_608" id="Page_608"></a> +your hattar? [<i>To Rasper</i>] Have your moder sold her mangle?</p> + +<p>[<i><span class="smcharname">Nokes</span>, <span class="smcharname">Sponge</span>, and <span class="smcharname">Robinson</span> roar with laughter.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [aside].</i> Confound that Nokes! He must have told her about my +family. [<i>With indignation</i>] Madam, I—[<i>Points by accident to the +portfolio.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> What? you weesh to see mai sketch? Oh, yas! [<i>Opens the +portfolio; the three guests crowd round it. Nokes comes down to the +front.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> I wish they'd take their lunch and go away. They put me +in a profuse perspiration. I know they'll find her out.</p> + +<p><i>Robinson [with a sketch-book in his hand].</i> Beautiful!</p> + +<p><i>Sponge [looking over his shoulder on tiptoe].</i> Exquisite! most lovely! +it's what I call perfection.</p> + +<p><i>Rasper.</i> First-rate—only I've seen something like it before. [<i>Aside</i>] +If I haven't seen that in some print-shop. I'll be hanged. [<i>Blows.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Ha! ha! you halve seen eet beefore, Mr.—<i>Gasper</i>? Think of +that, my husband,—Mr. Gasper has seen it beefore!</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [laughing uncomfortably].</i> Ha! ha! What a funny idea!</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [obstinately].</i> But I <i>have</i>, though; and in a shop-window, too.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [delightedly].</i> That is superbe, magnifique! I am so happy, <i>so</i> +proud! My husband, they have copied this leetle work of mine in London!</p> + +<p>[<i><span class="smcharname">Robinson</span> and <span class="smcharname">Sponge</span> clap their hands applaudingly.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [shakes his head; aside].</i> Dashed if I don't believe it's a +chromolithograph! [<i>To Nokes</i>] I say, Nokes, you wrote to us in such +raptures about your wife's hands. Why does she keep her gloves on?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [confused].</i> Keep her gloves on? You mean why does she wear them +in-doors? Well, the fact is, the Montmorencis always do it. It's been a +family peculiarity for centuries,—like the Banshee. And, besides, she +does it to keep her hands delicate: they're just like roses—I mean +<i>white</i> roses,—if you could only see 'em. But then she always wears +gloves.</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [grunts disapproval].</i> Then I suppose it's no use asking her to +give us a tune on the piano?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [hastily].</i> Not a bit, not a bit; of course not; and, besides, we +shall have lunch directly.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [approaching them].</i> What is dat, Mr. Gasper? Did you not ask for +a leetle music? What you like for me to play?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside to Susan].</i> How can you be such a fool? Why, this is +suicide! [<i>To Rasper</i>] My dear fellow, my wife would be delighted, but +the fact is the piano is out of order. The tuner is coming to-morrow.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [seats herself at the piano].</i> My dear husband, it weel do very +well. He only said we must note "thomp, thomp" until he had seen it; dat +is all. Now, gentlemens, what would you like?</p> + +<p><i>Sponge [with an armful of music-books].</i> Nay, madam, what will you do +us the favor to choose? [<i>Aside</i>] There is nothing I love so much in +this world as turning over the leaves of a music-book for a lady of +birth!</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Ah, I am so sorry, because I do only play by de ear, here +[<i>points to her ear</i>]. But what would you like, gentlemens? Handel, +Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, <i>it is all exactly de same to me</i>.</p> + +<p><i>Robinson.</i> Oh, then, pray let us have Mendelssohn,—one of those +exquisite Songs without Words of his.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> Yas? with plaisir. I like dose songs best myself,—de songs +without words.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside, despairingly].</i> It's impossible she can get out of this. +Now we shall have an <i>éclaircissement</i>, an exposure, an explosion.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [strikes piano violently with both hands, and a string breaks +with a loud report].</i> Ah, <i>quel dommage!</i> How stupide, too, when he told +me not to "thomp, thomp"! I am so sorry, gentlemens! I did hope to give +you a song, but I cannot sing without an accompaniment.</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [maliciously].</i> There's the +<span class="pagenum">[pg 609]</span> +<a name="Page_609" id="Page_609"></a> +harp, ma'am,—unless its strings +are in the same unsatisfactory state as those of the piano.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [with affected delight].</i> What, you play de harp, Mr. Gasper? I +<i>am</i> so glad, because I do not play it yet myself: I am only learning. +Come, I shall sing, and you shall play upon de harp.</p> + +<p><i>Rasper [angrily].</i> I play the harp, madam! what rubbish! of course I +can't.</p> + +<p><i>Sponge [eagerly].</i> But <i>I</i> can, just a little,—just enough to +accompany one of Mrs. Nokes's charming songs. [<i>Brings the harp down to +the front, and sits down to it, trying the strings.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> The nasty little accomplished beast! He'll ruin +everything. Susan is at her wits' end. [<i>Aside to Susan</i>] What on earth +are we to do now?</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Servant</span>.</p> + +<p>[<i>In stentorian tones</i>] Luncheon is on the table! [<i>Then, approaching +Susan, he adds, in lower but distinct tones</i>] A lady wishes to see you, +madam, upon very particular business.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [surprised].</i> A lady! what lady?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [to Susan, aside and impatiently].</i> Never mind <i>what</i> lady; see +her at once, whoever she is: it will be an excuse for getting away from +these people.—My wife is engaged for the present, my good friends, so +we'll sit down to lunch without her.</p> + +<p>[<i>All bow and leave the room, receiving in return from Susan a stately +courtesy. Nokes, the last to leave, kisses his hand to her</i>.] Adorable +Susan, you have conquered, you remain in possession of the field; but +you must not risk another engagement. I will see to that. Champagne +shall do its work on Rasper—<i>Gasper</i>.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Mrs. Charles Nokes</span>, neatly but cheaply attired. <span class="smcharname">Susan</span> rises, +bows, and looks toward her interrogatively.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. Charles Nokes.</i> I did not send in my name, madam, because I feared +it would but prejudice you against your visitor. I am Charles's—that +is, your husband's niece by marriage; not a near relation to yourself, +you might say, if you wished to be unkind,—which [<i>with earnestness</i>] I +do not think you do.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [distressed, but endeavoring to remain firm].</i> Oh, but I do, +ma'am. I wish to be as hard as a stone. [Aside] Only I can't. What a +pretty, modest young creature she is!</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> The poor give you no such severe character, madam; and, +taking courage by their report, and being poor myself, and, alas! having +been the innocent cause of making others poor, I have ventured hither.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [aside].</i> Oh, I wish she wouldn't! I can't stand this. There's +something in her face, too, that reminds me—but there! have I not +promised my husband to be brutal and unfeeling? [<i>Aloud</i>] Madame, I am +sorry, but I have noting for you. Mr. Noke, mai husband, he tell me dat +hees nephew is very foolish, weeked <i>jeune homme</i>—</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N. [interrupting].</i> Foolish, madam, he may have been, nay, he +was, to fall in love with a poor orphan like myself, who had nothing to +give him <i>but</i> my love,—but not wicked. He has a noble heart. His +sorrow is not upon his own account, but for his wife and child. He has +bent his proud spirit twice to entreat his uncle's forgiveness, but in +vain. And now <i>I</i> have come to appeal to <i>you</i>,—though you are not of +my own country,—a woman to a woman.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [aside].</i> Dear heart alive! I'm melting like a tallow candle.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> I was a poor Berkshire curate's daughter—</p> + +<p><i>Susan [interrupting hastily].</i> A <i>what</i>? [<i>Recollecting herself.</i>] A +poor <i>curé</i>'s daughter—yas, yas—in Berkishire, <i>qu'est-ce que c'est</i> +Berkishire?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> It is in the south of England, madam. We were poor, I say, +and I had been used to straits, even before my poor father died. But my +husband has been always accustomed to luxury and comfort, and now that +poverty has come suddenly upon us—</p> + +<p><i>Susan [interrupting with emotion, but still speaking broken English.]</i> +Were you considaired like your fader?</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 610]</span> +<a name="Page_610" id="Page_610"></a> +<i>Mrs. C.N.</i> Yes, madam, very like.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [anxiously and tremblingly].</i> What was his name?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> Woodward, madam. He was curate of Salthill, near Eton.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [throwing herself at her feet and kissing her hands].</i> Why, +you're Miss Clara! and I'm Susan,—Susan Montem, to whom he was so kind +and noble [<i>sobbing</i>]. I'm no more a Montmorenci than you are,—nor half +as much. I'm a workhouse orphan, and—and—your aunt by marriage. +[<i>Aside, and clasping her hands</i>]. Oh, what <i>can</i> I do to help them? +what <i>can</i> I do?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N. [fervently].</i> I thank heaven. There is genuine gratitude in +your kind face. I remember you now, though I am sure I should never have +recognized you, Susan.</p> + +<p><i>Susan.</i> I dare say not, Miss Clara [<i>rising and wiping her eyes</i>]. Fine +feathers make fine birds. Lor, how I should like to have a talk with you +about old times! But there, we've got something else to do first. +Where's your good husband?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> In the garden, hiding in the laurel-bed, with Chickabiddy. +That's our baby, you know.</p> + +<p>[<i>Carriage heard departing; they listen. Enter Mr. Nokes, slightly +elevated with champagne, and not perceiving Mrs. C.N.</i>]</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Hurrah, my dear! they're off, all three of them,—all five of +them, for each of them sees two of the others; they have no notion that +your name is Susan—[<i>sees Mrs. C.N.</i>] I mean Constance. [<i>Aside</i>] Oh, +Lor! just as I thought we'd weathered the storm, too, and got into still +water!</p> + +<p><i>Susan [gravely].</i> She knows all about it, husband. That lady is the +daughter of my benefactor, Mr. Woodward, to whom I owed everything on +earth till I met you.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [with enthusiasm, and holding out both hands].</i> The deuce she is! +I am most uncommonly glad to see you, ma'am, under this roof. [<i>Aside to +Susan</i>] She don't look very prosperous, Susan: if there's anything that +money can get for her, I'll see she has it; mind that.</p> + +<p><i>Susan [aloud].</i> She is poor, sir, and much in need of home and friends.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [to Mrs. C.N.].</i> Then you have found them here, ma'am. You're a +fixture at "the Tamarisks" for life, if it so pleases you.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> You are most kind, sir, but I have a husband and one +<i>little</i> child.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Never mind that: he'll grow. There's room here for you and your +husband and the little child, even if he does grow. Where are they? Show +them up.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N. runs to window and calls, "Charles, Charles."</i></p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> I think I've had quite as much champagne as is good for +me; just enough; the golden mean.</p> + +<p class="stagedir">Enter <span class="smcharname">Charles</span> with baby, which he holds at full stretch of his +arms.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [indignantly].</i> You young scoundrel! How dare you show your face +in this house?</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N. [interfering].</i> You sent for him, sir.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> I sent for nothing of the sort. I sent for your husband.</p> + +<p><i>Mrs. C.N.</i> That is my husband, sir, and our little child. You promised +us an asylum for life under your roof; and I am certain you will keep +your word.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [to Susan, endeavoring to be severe].</i> Now, this is all <i>your</i> +fault; and yet you promised me never to interfere on behalf of these +people.</p> + +<p><i>Susan</i>. Nor <i>did</i> I, my dear husband. You have done it all yourself.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [aside].</i> It was all that last glass of champagne.</p> + +<p><i>Charles [giving up the baby to his wife, and coming up with +outstretched hand to his uncle].</i> Come, sir, pray forgive me. I could +not enjoy your favors without your forgiveness, believe me.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [holding out his hand unwillingly].</i> There. [<i>Aside</i>] How <i>could</i> +I be such a fool, knowing so well what champagne is made of?—Well, sir, +if +<span class="pagenum">[pg 611]</span> +<a name="Page_611" id="Page_611"></a> +you have regained your place here, remember it has all happened +through your aunt's goodness. Let nobody ever show any of their airs to +my Susan.</p> + +<p><i>Charles and his wife [together].</i> We shall never forget her kindness, +sir.</p> + +<p><i>Nokes.</i> Mind you don't, then. For, you see, it's to her own +disadvantage, since when I die—and supposing I have forgiven you—the +child that has to grow will inherit everything, and Susan only have a +life-interest in it.</p> + +<p><i>Charles [hopefully].</i> I don't see that, sir. Why shouldn't you have +children of your own?</p> + +<p><i>Nokes [complacently].</i> True, true. Why shouldn't we? I didn't like to +dwell upon the idea before, but why shouldn't we? At all events, Susan +[<i>comes forward with Susan</i>], I am sure I shall never repent having shot +at the pigeon—I mean, having wooed the Montmorenci, but won THE +SUBSTITUTE.</p> + +<p class="author">James Payn.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="NEW_YORK_LIBRARIES" id="NEW_YORK_LIBRARIES"></a>NEW YORK LIBRARIES</h2> + + +<p>New York has been accused of being purely commercial in tone, and there +was a period in her history when she must have pleaded guilty to the +indictment. That day, however, is past: she has now many +interests—scientific, artistic, literary, musical—as influential as +that mentioned, though not perhaps numerically so important. Of the fine +arts the city is the acknowledged New World centre, and it is fast +forming a literary circle as noteworthy as that of any other capital. +The latter owes its existence in part, no doubt, to the great +publishing-houses, but has been attracted chiefly by the facilities for +research afforded by those great storehouses of learning, the city +libraries. Few old residents are aware of the literary wealth stored in +these depositories, or of the extent to which they are consulted by +scholars and by writers generally.</p> + +<p>There are four large libraries in the city whose interest is almost +purely literary,—the Society, the Astor, the Lenox, and the Historical +Society's,—one both literary and popular,—the Mercantile,—one +interesting as being the outcome of a great trades' guild,—the +Apprentices',—and one purely popular,—the Free Circulating Library. +There are others, of course, but the above are such as from their +character and history seem best calculated for treatment in a magazine +paper. The oldest of these is the Society Library, which is located in +its own commodious fire-proof building at No. 67 University Place. This +library is perhaps the oldest in the United States: its origin dates +back to the year 1700, when, Lord Bellamont being governor and New York +a police-precinct of five thousand inhabitants, the worthy burghers +founded the Public Library. For many years it seems to have flourished +in the slow, dignified way peculiar to Knickerbocker institutions. In +1729 it received an accession in the library of the Rev. Dr. Millington, +rector of Newington, England, which was bequeathed to the Society for +the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and by it transferred to +the New York Public Library. The institution remained under the care of +the city until 1754, when a company of gentlemen formed an association +to enhance its usefulness by bringing it under private control. They +collected a number of books, and on application the Public Library was +incorporated with these, and the whole placed under the care of trustees +chosen by the shareholders. +<span class="pagenum">[pg 612]</span> +<a name="Page_612" id="Page_612"></a> +Believing that "a public library would be +very useful as well as ornamental to the city," and also advantageous to +"our intended college," the shareholders agreed to pay "five pounds each +on the first day of May, and ten shillings each on every first of May +forever thereafter." Subscribers had the right to take out one book at a +time by depositing one-third more than the value of it with the +library-keeper. Rights could be alienated or bequeathed "like any other +chattel." No person, even if he owned several shares, could have more +than one vote, nor could a part of a subscription-right entitle the +holder to any privileges. By 1772 the Society had increased to such an +extent that it was thought best to incorporate it, and a charter was +secured from the crown. In its preamble seven "esquires," two +"merchants," two "gentlemen," and one "physician" appear as petitioners, +and fifty-six gentlemen, with one lady, Mrs. Anne Waddel, are named +members of the corporation. The style of the latter was changed to the +"New York Society Library," and the usual corporate privileges were +granted, including the right to purchase and hold real estate of the +yearly value of one thousand pounds sterling. The Society is practically +working under this charter to-day, the legislature of New York having +confirmed it in 1789. The earliest printed catalogue known to be in +existence was issued about 1758: it gives the titles of nine hundred and +twenty-two volumes, with a list of members, one hundred and eighteen in +all. A second catalogue followed in 1761. During the Revolution many of +the volumes were scattered or destroyed. The first catalogue printed +after the war enumerates five thousand volumes; these had increased in +1813 to thirteen thousand, in 1838 to twenty-five thousand, and the +present number is estimated at seventy-five thousand. Down to 1795 the +library was housed in the City Hall, and during the sessions of Congress +was used by that body as a Congressional Library. Its first building was +erected in 1795, in Nassau Street, opposite the Middle Dutch Church, +and here the library remained until 1836, when, its premises becoming in +demand for business purposes, it was sold, and the Society purchased a +lot on the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street. A building was +completed on this lot in 1840, and the library removed thither from the +rooms of the Mechanics' Society in Chambers Street, where it had been +placed on the sale of its property in 1836. In 1853 a third removal was +made, to the Bible House, its property on Broadway being again swallowed +up by the advancing tide of business. In the same year its present +property on University Place was purchased, on which, two years later, +in 1855, the commodious building which it now occupies was erected, the +Society taking possession in May, 1856. Many features of the Society +Library are unique, to be met with, perhaps, in no other organization of +the kind in the world. Many of its members hold shares that have +descended to them from father to son from the time of the first +founders. The annual dues are placed at such a figure (ten dollars) as +practically to debar people with slender purses. The scholar, however, +may have the range of its treasures on paying a fee of twenty-five +cents, and the stranger may enjoy the use of the library for one month +on being introduced by a member. The market value of a share is now one +hundred and fifty dollars, with the annual dues of ten dollars commuted, +but shares may be purchased for twenty-five dollars, subject to the +annual dues. The library proper occupies the whole of the second floor. +On the first floor, besides the large hall, is a well-lighted +drawing-room, filled with periodicals in all languages, a ladies' +parlor, and a conversation-room. The library-room is a large, airy, +well-lighted apartment, with a series of artistic alcoves ranged about +two of its sides. Here are to be found the Winthrop Collection, +comprising some three hundred curious and ancient tomes, chiefly in +Latin, which formed a part of the library of John Winthrop, "the founder +of Connecticut," +<span class="pagenum">[pg 613]</span> +<a name="Page_613" id="Page_613"></a> +the De Peyster Alcove, containing one thousand +volumes, very full in special subjects, the Hammond Library, collected +by a Newport scholar, comprising some eighteen hundred quaint and +curious volumes, and a collection of over six hundred rare and costly +works on art contained in the John C. Green Alcove. This last alcove, +which was fitted up and presented to the library by Mr. Robert Lenox +Kennedy as a memorial of Mr. and Mrs. John C. Green, benefactors of the +Society, is an artistic gem. The sides and ceilings are finished in hard +woods by Marcotte, after designs by the architect, Sidney Stratton. +Opposite the entrance is a memorial window, its centre-pin representing +two female figures,—Knowledge and Prudence,—with the four great poets, +Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Chaucer, in the corners. On the east wall is a +portrait of Mr. Green by Madrazo, and on the west a tablet with an +inscription informing the visitor that, the library having received a +donation of fifty thousand dollars from the estate of John Cleve Green, +the trustees had placed the tablet as a memento of this munificence. +There are books in this alcove not to be duplicated in European +libraries. A work on Russian antiquities, for instance, containing +beautifully-colored lithographs of the Russian crown-jewels, royal +robes, ecclesiastical vestments, and the like, cannot be found, it is +said, either in Paris or London. The scope of the collection may be seen +by a glance at the catalogue, whose departments embrace architecture, +art-study, anatomy, biography, book-illustration, cathedrals and +churches, costumes, decorative, domestic, and industrial art, heraldry, +painting, and picturesque art.</p> + +<p>It is a coincidence merely, but nearly all the great libraries of the +city are grouped within a block or two of Astor Place, making that short +thoroughfare the scholarly centre of the town. In its immediate +vicinity, on the corner of Second Avenue and Eleventh Street, stands the +fire-proof building of the New York Historical Society, whose library +and collection of paintings and relics form one of the features of the +city. This Society dates back to the year 1804, when Egbert Benson, De +Witt Clinton, Rev. William Linn, Rev. Samuel Miller, Rev. John N. Abeel, +Rev. John M. Mason, Dr. David Hosack, Anthony Bleecker, Samuel Bayard, +Peter G. Stuyvesant, and John Pintard, met by appointment at the City +Hall and agreed to form a society "the principal design of which should +be to collect and preserve whatever might relate to the natural, civil, +or ecclesiastical history of the United States in general and of the +State of New York in particular." Active measures were at once taken for +the formation of a library and museum, special committees being +appointed for the purpose. The range of the collection embraced books, +manuscripts, statistics, newspapers, pictures, antiquities, medals, +coins, and specimens in natural history. The Society made the usual +number of removals before being finally established as a householder. +From 1804 to 1809 it met in the old City Hall, from 1809 to 1816 in the +Government House, from 1816 to 1832 in the New York Institution, from +1832 to 1837 in Remsen's Building, Broadway, from 1837 to 1841 in the +Stuyvesant Institute, from 1841 to 1857 in the New York University, and +at length, after surmounting many pecuniary obstacles, celebrated its +fifty-third anniversary by taking possession of its present structure. +Meantime, the efforts of the library committees had resulted in a +collection of Americana of exceeding interest and value, the nucleus of +the present library. In its one specialty this library is believed to be +unrivalled. The Society has issued some twenty-four volumes of its own +publications, in addition to numerous essays and addresses. Besides +these, its library contains some seventy-three thousand volumes of +printed works, chiefly Americana, many of them relating to the Indians +and obscure early colonial history. Eight hundred and eleven genealogies +of American families—the fountain-head of the national history—are a +feature of the collection. The +<span class="pagenum">[pg 614]</span> +<a name="Page_614" id="Page_614"></a> +library also possesses one of the best +sets of Congressional documents extant, also complete sets of State and +city documents. There are four thousand volumes of newspapers, beginning +with the first journal published in America,—the "Boston News-Letter" +of 1704,—and comprising a complete record to the present day. There are +also tons of pamphlets and "broadsides," and several hundred copies of +the inflammatory hand-bills posted on the trees and fences of New York +during the Revolution. The library is also rich in old family letters +and documents containing much curious and interesting history. The +Society is very conservative in its ways,—more so than most +institutions of the kind. Theoretically, its stores of information can +be drawn on by members only, but, as a general thing, properly +accredited scholars, non-residents, have little difficulty in gaining +access to them, provided the material sought is not elsewhere +accessible.</p> + +<p>Lafayette Place is a wide, quiet thoroughfare, a few blocks in extent, +opening into Astor Place on the north. On the left, a few doors from the +latter street, stands the Astor Library, in some respects one of the +noteworthy libraries of the world. John Jacob Astor died March 29, 1848, +leaving a will which contained a codicil in these words: "Desiring to +render a public benefit to the city of New York, and to contribute to +the advancement of useful knowledge and the general good of society, I +do by this codicil appoint four hundred thousand dollars out of my +residuary estate to the establishment of a public library in the city of +New York." The instrument then proceeded to give specific directions as +to how the money was to be applied: first, in the erection of a suitable +building; second, in supplying the same with books, maps, charts, +models, drawings, paintings, engravings, casts, statues, furniture, and +other things appropriate to a library upon the most ample scale and +liberal character; and, third, in maintaining and upholding the +buildings and other property, and in paying the necessary expenses of +the care of the same, and the salaries of the persons connected with +the library, said library to be accessible at all reasonable hours and +times for general use, free of expense, and subject only to such +conditions as the trustees may exact. It was further provided that its +affairs should be managed by eleven trustees, "selected from the +different liberal professions and employments of life and the classes of +educated men." The mayor was also to be a trustee by virtue of his +office. The entire fund was vested in this board, with power to expend +and invest moneys, and to appoint, direct, control, and remove the +superintendent, librarian, and others employed about the library. The +first trustees were named in the will, and Washington Irving was chosen +president.</p> + +<p>Dr. Joseph G. Cogswell, who it is said first suggested the idea of a +library to Mr. Astor, was appointed first superintendent and despatched +to Europe to purchase books, which he succeeded in doing to the best +advantage, the political disturbances of 1848 having thrown many +valuable libraries on the market. Meantime, a building had been +commenced on the east side of Lafayette Place, on a lot sixty-five feet +front by one hundred and twenty deep; but as the books arrived before +this was completed they were placed temporarily in a hired house in Bond +Street. The new building, which was opened January 9, 1854, was in the +Byzantine style, after the design by Alexander Saeltzer, the lower story +being of brownstone and the two upper stories of red brick. The main +hall or library-room, beginning on the second floor, was carried up +through two stories and lighted by a large skylight in the roof. Around +the sides of this room were built two tiers of alcoves capable of +holding about one hundred thousand books. The library opened on the date +mentioned with about eighty thousand volumes, devoted chiefly to +science, history, art, and kindred topics, the trustees agreeing with +the superintendent that the design of the founder could only be carried +out and the "advancement of knowledge" and "general good of society" +<span class="pagenum">[pg 615]</span> +<a name="Page_615" id="Page_615"></a> +be +best secured by making the new library one of reference only.</p> + +<p>In October, 1855, Mr. William B. Astor, son of the founder, conveyed to +the trustees the lot, eighty feet front by one hundred and twenty deep, +adjoining the library on the north, and proceeded to erect upon it an +addition similar in all respects to the existing structure, the library +thus enlarged being opened September 1, 1859, with one hundred and ten +thousand volumes on its shelves. The addition led to a rearrangement of +the material, the old hall being devoted to science and the industrial +arts, and the new to history and general literature. In 1866 Mr. Astor +further signified his interest in the library by a gift of fifty +thousand dollars, twenty thousand dollars of it to be expended in the +purchase of books, and on his death in 1875 left it a bequest of two +hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars. In 1879 Mr. John Jacob Astor, +grandson of the founder, added to this enduring monument of his family +by building a second addition, seventy-five feet front and one hundred +and twenty feet deep, on the lot adjoining on the north, making the +entire building two hundred feet front by one hundred deep. At the same +time an additional story was placed on the Middle Hall, and a new +entrance and stairway constructed. The enlarged building, the present +Astor Library, was opened in October, 1881, with two hundred thousand +volumes and a shelf-capacity of three hundred thousand. Its present +contents are estimated at two hundred and twenty thousand volumes, +exclusive of pamphlets. The shelves are ranged in alcoves extending +around the sides of the three main halls and subdivided into sections of +six shelves each, each section being designated by a numeral. Each shelf +is designated by a letter of the alphabet, beginning at the bottom with +A. The alcoves have no distinguishing mark, the books being arranged +therein by subjects which the distributing librarian is expected to +carry in his mind. The first catalogue, in four volumes, was compiled by +Dr. Cogswell and printed in 1861. This was followed in 1866 by an index +of subjects from the same hand. Recently a catalogue in continuation of +Dr. Cogswell's, bringing the work down to the end of 1880, has been +prepared, and is being printed at the Riverside Press, Boston. The +current card catalogue is arranged on the dictionary plan, giving author +and subject under one alphabet. Opposite each title is written the +number of the alcove and the letter designating the shelf. By the +regulations the reader is required to find the title of the book desired +in the catalogue, write it with the number and letter on a slip of paper +provided for the purpose, and give it to the distributing librarian, who +despatches one of his boy Mercuries to the shelf designated for the +work. More often than not, however, the reader asks directly for the +book desired, without consulting the catalogue, and it is rarely that +the librarian cannot from memory direct his messenger to the section and +shelf containing it. In the matter of theft and mutilation of books the +library depends largely on the honor of readers, although some +safeguards are provided. All readers are required to enter their names +and addresses in a book, and the volume on being given out is charged to +them, to be checked off on its return: it would be difficult, too, for a +thief to purloin books without being detected by the employees or the +porter in the vestibule. Yet books are stolen occasionally. In June, +1881, a four-volume work by Bentley on "Medicinal Plants," valued at +sixty dollars, was taken from the library. It was soon missed, and +search made for it without avail. A few weeks later, however, it was +discovered by the principal librarian in a Broadway book-stall and +recovered.</p> + +<p>Few strangers in the city depart without paying a visit to the Astor +Library, and it is one of the few lions of the city that do not +disappoint. The main entrance is approached by two flights of stone +steps, from the north and south, leading to a brownstone platform +enclosed by the same material. From this, broad door-ways give entrance +to the vestibule, sixty feet by forty, +<span class="pagenum">[pg 616]</span> +<a name="Page_616" id="Page_616"></a> +paved in black and white marble, +and wainscoted four feet above the floor with beautifully variegated +marble from Vermont. The panelled ceiling is elaborately frescoed, as +well as the upper part of the walls. Busts of the sages and heroes of +antiquity adorn the hall. From the vestibule a stairway of white marble, +with massive newels of variegated marble, leads up to the library +proper. The visitor enters this in the centre of Middle Hall. Before +him, separated by a balustrade, are the desks and tables of the +distributing librarian and his assistants. The ladies' reading-room is +in the rear. On the left and right arched passages give access to the +North and South Halls, in which the main reading-rooms are situated. The +ceiling above is the skylight of the roof, and the alcoves, filled with +the wealth of learning of all ages and peoples, rise on either hand +quite to the ceiling. At long, green-covered tables, ranged in two +parallel lines through the halls, are seated the readers, in themselves +an interesting study. Scientists, artists, literary men, special +students, inventors, and <i>dilettante</i> loungers make up the company. They +come with the opening of the doors at nine in the morning, and remain, +some of them, until they close at five in the evening. There are daily +desertions from their ranks, but always new-comers enough to fill the +gaps. Their wants are as various as their conditions. This well-dressed, +self-respectful mechanic wishes to consult the patent-office reports of +various countries, in which the library is rich. His long-haired Saxon +neighbor is poring over a Chinese manuscript, German scholars being the +only ones so far who have attacked the fine collection of Chinese and +Japanese works in the library. Next him is a <i>dilettante</i> reader +languidly poring over "Lothair:" were the trustees to fill their shelves +with trashy fiction, readers of his class would soon crowd out the more +earnest workers. Here is a student with the thirty or more volumes of +the "New England Historic Genealogical Register" piled before him, +flanked on one side by the huge volumes of Burke's "Peerage" and on the +other by Walford's "County Families." There are many readers of this +class, the library's department of Genealogy and Heraldry being well +filled. There is a lady here and there at the tables working with a male +companion, but, as a rule, they are to be found at the ladies' tables in +the Middle Hall. There seem to be but two classes of readers here,—the +lady in silken attire, engaged in looking out some item of family +history or question of decorative art, and the brisk business-like +literary lady, seeking material for story or sketch. Any student or +literary worker who can show to the satisfaction of one of the trustees +that he is engaged in work requiring free access to the library receives +a card from the superintendent which admits him to the alcoves and +places all the treasures of the library at his command. A register is +placed near the distributing librarian's desk, in which on entering each +visitor to the alcove is required to sign his name, and in this register +each year is accumulated a roll of autographs of which any institution +might be proud. Famous scholars, scientists, authors, journalists, +poets, artists, and divines, both of this country and of Europe, are +included in the lists.</p> + +<p>Of its treasures of literary and artistic interest it is impossible to +give categorical details. Perhaps the library prizes most the +magnificent elephant folio edition, in four volumes, of Audubon's "Birds +and Quadrupeds of North America," with its colored plates, heavy paper, +and general air of sumptuousness. The work is rare as well as +magnificent, and, though the library does not set a price upon its +books, it is known that three thousand dollars would not replace a +missing copy. In an adjoining alcove is an equally sumptuous but more +ancient volume, the Antiphonale, or mammoth manuscript of the chants for +the Christian year. This volume was used at the coronation of Charles +X., King of France. The covers of this huge folio are bound with brass, +beautiful illuminations by Le Brun adorn its title-pages, and then +follows, in huge black characters, +<span class="pagenum">[pg 617]</span> +<a name="Page_617" id="Page_617"></a> +the music of the chants. In its +immediate vicinity are many of the treasures of the library,—Zahn's +great work on Pompeii, three volumes of very large folios, containing +splendidly-colored frescos from the walls of the dead city; Sylvester's +elaborate work of "Fac-Similes of the Illuminated Manuscripts of the +Middle Ages," in four large folios; and also Count Bastard's great work +on the same, seeming more sumptuous in gold, silver, and colors. Another +notable work is Count Littar's "Genealogies of Celebrated Italian +Families," in ten folio volumes, emblazoned in gold, and illustrated +with richly-colored portraits finished like ivory miniatures. There are +whole galleries of European art,—Versailles, Florence, Spain, the +Vatican, Nash's Portfolio of Colored Pictures of Windsor Castle and +Palace, the Royal Pitti Gallery, Munich, Dresden, and others. A work on +the "Archæology of the Bosphorus," presented by the Emperor of Russia to +the library, is in three folio volumes, printed on thick vellum paper, +with two folding maps and ninety-four illuminated plates: but two +hundred copies of the book were printed, for presentation solely. Other +notable gifts are the publications of the Royal Danish Academy of +Sciences, in seventeen volumes, catalogue of antiquities, chiefly +British, at Alnwick Castle, and one of Egyptian antiquities at the same, +from the Duke of Northumberland, a complete file of the "Liberator," +from Mr. Wendell Phillips, numerous works on Oriental art, from the +imperial governments of Japan and China, and many thousand folio volumes +of Parliamentary papers and British patents, from the British +government. Of its Orientalia and its department of Egyptology the +library is especially proud. The latter so good an authority as +Professor Seyffarth pronounces second only to that of the British +Museum.</p> + +<p>In addition to the large collection of costly books of art with which +this library is enriched, there are some of the rarest manuscripts and +earliest printed books to be seen kept in glass cases in the Middle +Hall. Among these may be mentioned the superbly illuminated manuscript of +the ninth century entitled "Evangelistarium,"—one of the finest +existing productions of the revival of learning under Charlemagne; the +"Sarum Missal," a richly-emblazoned manuscript of the tenth century; +some choice Greek and Latin codices once belonging to the library of +Pope Pius VI.; and the Persian manuscripts recently acquired, which +formerly were in the library of the Mogul emperors at Delhi, bearing the +stamp of Shah Akbar and Shah Jehan. The writing is by the famous +calligrapher Sultan Alee Meshedee (896 <span class="smcap">a.h.</span>, or 1518 <span class="smcap">a.d.</span>).</p> + +<p>There is as great a popular misconception of the character and purpose +of the Lenox Library as of the Astor. The two are like and yet +unlike,—alike in the rich treasures which they contain, but quite +unlike in their scope and purposes. In reality the Lenox is a museum of +art rather than a library: its books are, with few exceptions, rarities, +"first editions," illuminated manuscripts, specimens showing the advance +of the typographic art from the beginning, books of artistic interest, +and works not to be found in this country, and sometimes not in Europe. +Its collection of paintings and sculpture is important as well as its +literary treasures. It is not a library of general reference, though +many of its works will be sought by scholars for the value of their +contents: it is, in short, a private art-gallery and library thrown open +at stated times and under certain restrictions to the public. The +library owes its existence to the munificence of Mr. James Lenox, a +wealthy and educated gentleman of New York, who determined to establish +permanently in his native city his fine collection of manuscripts, +printed books, engravings and maps, statuary, paintings, drawings, and +other works of art, by giving the land and money necessary to provide a +building and a permanent fund for the maintenance of the same. In +January, 1870, the legislature of New York passed an act "creating a +body corporate by the name and style of +<span class="pagenum">[pg 618]</span> +<a name="Page_618" id="Page_618"></a> +'The Trustees of the Lenox +Library.'" Nine trustees were named, and these gentlemen organized by +electing Mr. Lenox president and Mr. A.B. Belknap secretary. In the +succeeding March Mr. Lenox conveyed to the trustees three hundred +thousand dollars in stocks of the county of New York and bonds and +mortgage securities, and also the ten lots of land fronting on Fifth +Avenue on which the library-building now stands. One hundred thousand +dollars were set apart for the formation of a permanent fund, and two +hundred thousand dollars for a building-fund. Contracts for a +library-building were made early In 1872, and work on it was begun in +May of the same year,—the structure being finished in 1875. It has a +frontage of one hundred and ninety-two feet on Fifth Avenue, overlooking +the Park, and a depth of one hundred and fourteen feet on both +Seventieth and Seventy-first Streets. The general plan is that of a +central structure connecting two turreted wings which enclose a spacious +entrance-court. From the court the visitor enters a grand hall or +vestibule, from which every part of the building is reached. At either +end is a spacious library-room. Stone stairways lead from each end of +the vestibule to the mezzanine, or half-story, and the second-story +landings. From the latter one enters the principal gallery, ninety-six +by twenty-four, devoted to sculpture, and opening on the east into the +picture-gallery. At either end of the hall of sculpture are library- and +reading-rooms similar to those on the first floor. The stairway on the +north continues the ascent to an attic or third-floor gallery. The +building throughout is fitted up in a style befitting a shrine of the +arts. The first-floor library-rooms are one hundred and eight feet long +by thirty feet wide and twenty-four feet high, with level ceilings, +beautifully panelled and corniced. The sides of the hall of sculpture +are divided by five arcades, resting on piers decorated with niches, +pilasters, and other architectural ornaments; the ceiling has deep +panels resting on and supported by the pilasters; the walls are +wainscoted in oak to the height of the niches. The picture-gallery is +forty by fifty-six, well lighted from above by three large skylights. +Iron book-cases, with a capacity for eighty thousand volumes, are +arranged in two tiers on the sides of the galleries. The whole structure +is as nearly fire-proof as it could possibly be made, and its massive +walls and stone towers make it one of the prominent architectural +features of the avenue. While the building was in progress, several +benefactions of interest had accrued to the library. Mr. Lenox had given +an additional one hundred thousand dollars, and in 1872 one hundred +thousand dollars more, and Mr. Felix Astoin had promised to bestow his +fine collection of some five thousand rare French works. On the 15th of +January, 1877, the first exhibition of paintings and sculptures was +opened to the public, and continued on two days of the week to the end +of the year, and on the 1st of the following December an apartment for +the exhibition of rare works and manuscripts was also opened to the +public. Fifteen thousand people visited the library during this first +year, thus indicating the popular appreciation of a collection of this +kind. In 1881 nineteen thousand eight hundred and thirty-three +admission-tickets were issued,—the largest number of visitors on any +one day being eleven hundred, on the anniversary of Washington's +birthday.</p> + +<p>The scope and objects of this unique institution are so admirably set +forth by the trustees in their report to the legislature for 1881 that +we append an extract. "The library," they observe, "differs from most +public libraries. It is not a great general library intended in its +endowment and present equipment for the use of readers in all or most of +the departments of human knowledge.... Beyond its special collections it +should be regarded as supplementary to others more general and numerous +and directly adapted to popular use. It is not like the British Museum, +but rather like the Grenville collection in the British Museum, or +perhaps still more +<span class="pagenum">[pg 619]</span> +<a name="Page_619" id="Page_619"></a> +like the house and museum of Sir John Soane in +Lincoln's Inn's Fields, in London, both lasting monuments of the +learning and liberality of their honored founders. Thus, while the +library does not profess to be a general or universal collection of all +the knowledge stored up in the world of books, it is absolutely without +a peer or a rival here in the special collections to which the generous +taste and liberal scholarship of its founder devoted his best gifts of +intellectual ability and ample resources of fortune. It represents the +favorite studies of a lifetime consecrated after due offices of religion +and charity to the choicest pursuits of literature and art. It would be +difficult to estimate the value or importance of these marvellous +treasures, whose exhibition hitherto only in part has challenged the +admiration of all scholars and given a new impulse to those studies for +which they furnish an apparatus before unseen in America.... The +countless myriads of volumes produced in the past four centuries of +printing with movable types have left in all the libraries of all the +nations comparatively few monuments, or even memorials, of so many +eager, patient, or weary generations of men whose works have followed +them when they have rested from their labors. The Lenox Library was +established for the public exhibition and scholarly use of some of the +most rare and precious of such monuments and memorials of the +typographic art and the historic past as have escaped the wreck and been +preserved to this day. That exhibition and use must be governed by +regulations which will insure to the fullest extent the security and +preservation of the treasures intrusted to our care, in the enforcement +of which the trustees anticipate the sympathy and co-operation of all +scholars and men of letters, through whose use and labors alone the +public at large must chiefly derive real and permanent benefit from this +and all similar institutions." The "regulations" adopted by the trustees +for the preservation of their treasures do not seem unreasonable. +Admission is by ticket, which may be procured of the librarian by +addressing him by mail. We have space for but the briefest possible +glimpses at these treasures. The chief rarities in typography are found +in the north and south libraries on the first floor. In "first editions" +it would be difficult to say whether the library prides itself most on +its Bibles, its Miltoniana, or its Shakesperiana. In Bibles the whole +art of printing with movable types is fully portrayed, the series +beginning with the "Mazarin," or Gutenberg, Bible, the first book ever +printed with movable types. There are Bibles in all languages. There is +the first complete edition of the New Testament in Greek ever published, +its title-page dated Basle, 1516. In a glass case in the north library +are the four huge "Polyglot" Bibles, marvels of typography, known as the +Complutensian, Antwerp, Paris, and English Polyglots. In the same case +repose the Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Alexandrinus, and Codex +Vaticanus,—three great folios, in the original Greek and Hebrew, sacred +to scholars as the works on which all authority for the Scriptures +rests. Tyndale's New Testament, the first ever printed on English +ground, dated London, 1536, is here, and that rare copy of the King +James version known as the "Wicked Bible." In this copy the printer, as +a satire on the age, omitted the word "not" from the seventh +commandment, and for this piece of waggery was heavily fined, the money +going, it is said, to establish the first Greek press ever erected at +Oxford. Among its "first editions" the library has that of Homer, 1488, +and that of Dante, 1472. The Milton collection deserves special notice: +in addition to the first editions of the poet's various works, it +contains a folio volume of letters and documents pertaining to Milton +and his family, with autograph manuscripts giving exceedingly +interesting details of the poet's private life and fortunes. One of +these is a long original letter from Milton himself to his friend Carlo +Dati, the Florentine, with the latter's reply; there are also three +receipts or releases signed by Milton's three +<span class="pagenum">[pg 620]</span> +<a name="Page_620" id="Page_620"></a> +daughters, Anne Milton, +Mary Milton, and Deborah Clarke, a bond from Elizabeth Milton, his +widow, to one Randle Timmis, and several other agreements and +assignments, with the autographs of attesting witnesses. In folio +editions of Shakespeare, and in commentaries, glossaries, and +dissertations, the library is also exceedingly rich. Its collection of +Americana is the wonder and delight of scholars. We must mention the +first publication of the printed letter of Columbus, one in each of its +four editions, giving the first account of his discoveries in the West, +with three autograph letters of Diego Columbus, his son; the +"Cosmographia Introductio," printed at St. Dié, 1507,—the first book in +which a suggestion of the name "America" occurs; and also the first map, +printed in 1520, in which the name appears. Here is the first American +book printed,—a Mexican work, dated 1543-44; the Bay Psalm-Book, 1640, +the first work printed in New England; and the first book printed in New +York,—the Laws of the Province, by Bradford, issued in 1691: the +Puritan evidently placing the gospel first, and the Knickerbocker the +law.</p> + +<p>Leaving the typographical treasures of the library, we ascend the broad +marble stairway to the floor above, for a brief glance at the paintings +and statuary. In the hall devoted to sculpture are many noble and +beautiful works of art in marble, the most noticeable perhaps being +Powers's "Il Penseroso," the bust of Washington and the "Babes in the +Wood" by Crawford, and the statue of Lincoln by Ball. In the +picture-gallery on the east are a hundred and fifty subjects. On the +south wall hangs a canvas which is at once recognized as the +masterpiece. It is Munkácsy's "Blind Milton dictating 'Paradise Lost' to +his Daughters." This painting is fitly supported on one side by a +portrait of Milton owned for many years by Charles Lamb, and on the +other by a copy of Lely's fine portrait of Cromwell.</p> + +<p>The Mercantile is the popular library of the city; in no sense a public +library, however, for the student or stranger must advance a pretty +liberal entrance-fee before he can avail himself of its benefits. This +institution is a pleasing example of what can be done by many hands, +even though there be little in them: it has reached its present +proportions without endowment or State aid, chiefly through the steady, +continuous efforts of the merchants' clerks of the city. They have +always managed it, one generation succeeding another, and they have in +it to-day the largest circulating library in America. Mr. William Wood, +a benevolent gentleman who devoted many of his later years to improving +the condition of clerks, apprentices, and sailors, is regarded as the +founder. Mr. Wood was a native of Boston, and in business there during +early life, but later removed to London. After distributing much dole to +the poor of that city, he founded a library for clerks in Liverpool, and +subsequently one in Boston, the latter being the first of its kind in +this country. The various mercantile libraries at Albany, Philadelphia, +New Orleans, and other places are said to have been founded on the plan +of this. In 1820 Mr. Wood began interesting the merchants' clerks of New +York in the project of a library for themselves. The first meeting to +consider it was held at the Tontine Coffee-House, in Wall Street, on +November 9 of that year; and at an adjourned meeting on the 27th of the +same month a constitution was formed and officers elected. The young men +contributed a little money for the purchase of books, the merchants +more, many books were begged or purchased by Mr. Wood, and on the 12th +of February, 1821, the library was formally opened, with seven hundred +volumes, in an upper room at No. 49 Fulton Street. The first librarian +was Mr. John Thompson, who received, it is remembered, one hundred and +fifty dollars a year as salary. It was not long before the library, like +its fellows, began its migrations up town, Harpers' Building, on Cliff +Street, being its second abode. This removal occurred in 1826, and the +association had then become so strong that it was able to +<span class="pagenum">[pg 621]</span> +<a name="Page_621" id="Page_621"></a> +open a +reading-room in connection with its library. Old readers remember that +there were four weekly newspapers and seven magazines in this first +reading-room. Its membership at that time numbered twelve hundred, there +were four thousand four hundred volumes on its shelves, and its annual +income amounted to seventeen hundred and fifty dollars.</p> + +<p>In 1828 the library was desirous of building: many of the merchants and +substantial men of the city were willing to aid it, but doubted the +wisdom of trusting such large property interests to the management of +young men. They formed, therefore, the Clinton Hall Association, to hold +and control real estate for the benefit of the library, with fund shares +of one hundred dollars each. The first year thirty-three thousand five +hundred dollars had been subscribed, and the corporation began erecting +the first Clinton Hall, at the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets. +Here the library remained for nearly a score of years, or until 1853, +when a brisk agitation was begun for its removal up-town. A small but +determined party favored its removal. The more conservative objected. At +length, in January, 1853, the question was put to the vote, and lost by +a large majority. But while the excitement was still at its height it +was learned that the association had sold Clinton Hall and had purchased +the old Italian Opera-House in Astor Place. Here, in May, 1855, the +library opened, and here it has since remained, although for several +years past the question of a farther removal up-town has been agitated. +The constitution of this excellent institution provides that it shall be +composed of three classes of members,—active, subscribing, and +honorary. Any person engaged on a salary as clerk may become an active +member, if approved by the board of directors, on subscribing to the +constitution and paying an initiation-fee of one dollar, and two dollars +for the first six months, his regular dues thereafter being two dollars +semi-annually, in advance. Active members only may vote or hold office. +Subscribing members may become such by a payment of five dollars +annually or three dollars semi-annually. Persons of distinction may be +elected honorary members by a vote of three-fourths of the members of +the board of direction. The board of direction is composed of a +president, vice-president, treasurer, secretary, and eight directors, +the former elected annually, the directors four for one year and four +for two years. There is also a book committee, which reports one month +previous to each annual meeting. From the last annual report of the +board it appears that in April, 1883, there were 198,858 books in the +library. The total number of members at the same time was 3136, and the +honorary members (71), the editors using the library (54), and the +Clinton Hall stockholders (1701) swelled the total number of those +availing themselves of its privileges to 4962. The total circulation for +the year was 112,375 volumes, of which 27,549 were distributed from the +branch office, No. 2 Liberty Place, and 1695 books were delivered by +messengers at members' residences. In 1870 the circulation was 234,120, +the large falling off—over one-half—being due to the era of cheap +books. The department of fiction, of course, suffers most. This in 1870 +formed about seventy per cent. of the circulation. In 1883 the number of +works of fiction circulated was 53,937,—not quite fifty per cent.</p> + +<p>To gain a fair idea of the popularity of the library one should spend a +mid-winter Saturday afternoon and evening with the librarian and his +busy assistants. Early in the afternoon numbers of young ladies leave +the shopping and fashionable thoroughfares up-town and throng the +library-room. The attendants, all young men, work with increased +animation under the stimulus. Books fly from counter to alcoves and +return, messenger-boys dart hither and thither, the fair patrons thumb +the catalogues and chatter in sad defiance of the rules. They are long +in making their selections, and appeal for aid to the librarians. But +the last of this class of visitors departs before the six-o'clock +<span class="pagenum">[pg 622]</span> +<a name="Page_622" id="Page_622"></a> +dinner or tea, and the attendants have a respite for an hour. At seven +the real rush begins, with the advent of the clerks and other patrons +employed in store or office during the day, each intent on supplying +himself with reading-matter for the next day. From this hour until the +closing at nine the librarians are as busy as bees: there is a continual +running from counter to alcove and from gallery to gallery. In some of +the reports of the librarian interesting data are given of the tastes of +readers and the popularity of books. Fiction, as we have seen, leads; +but there is a growing taste for scientific and historical works. +Buckle, Mill, and Macaulay are favorites, and Tyndall, Huxley, and +Lubbock have many readers. The theft of its books is a serious drain on +the library each year, but the destruction of its rare and valuable +works of reference is still more provoking. Common gratitude, it might +seem, would deter persons admitted to the privileges of its alcoves from +injuring its property. What shall we think, then, of the vandals who +during the past year twice cut out the article on political economy in +"Appletons' Cyclopædia," so mutilated Thomson's "Cyclopædia of the +Useful Arts" as to render it valueless, and bore off bodily Storer's +"Dictionary of the Solubilities," the second volume of the new edition +of the "Encyclopædia Britannica," Andrews's "Latin Dictionary," and +several other valuable works?</p> + +<p>There is a library in the city, the Apprentices', on Sixteenth Street, +whose existence is hardly known even to New-Yorkers, which is +exceedingly interesting to the student as an instance of the good a +trades' union may accomplish when its energies are rightly directed. +Here is a library of about sixty thousand volumes, with a supplementary +reference library of forty thousand seven hundred and fifty works, and a +well-equipped reading-room, free of debt, and free to its patrons, and +all the result of the well-directed efforts of the "Society of Mechanics +and Tradesmen." This society first organized for charitable purposes in +1792, receiving its first charter on the 14th of March of that year. In +January, 1821, its charter was amended, the society being empowered to +support a school for the education of the children of its deceased and +indigent members and for the establishment of an "Apprentices' Library +for the use of the apprentices of mechanics in the City of New York." A +small library had been opened the year before at 12 Chambers Street, and +there the library remained, constantly growing in number of volumes and +patrons, till 1835, when it was removed to the old High-School Building, +at 472 Broadway, which the society about that time purchased. It +remained there until 1878, when it followed the march of population +up-town, removing to its present spacious and convenient rooms in +Mechanics' Hall, in Sixteenth Street. Strange as it may seem, the +Apprentices' is the nearest approach to a public library on a large +scale that the city can boast. It is absolutely free to males up to the +age of eighteen; after that age it is required of the beneficiaries that +they be engaged in some mechanical employment. Ladies who are engaged in +any legitimate occupation may partake of its benefits. Books are loaned, +the applicants, besides meeting the above conditions, being only +required to furnish a guarantor. The total circulation of this excellent +institution for 1881-82 was 164,100 volumes, and its beneficial +influence on the class reached may be imagined. It is nevertheless a +class library; and the fact still remains that New York, with her vast +wealth and her splendid public and private charities, has yet to endow +the great public library which will place within reach of her citizens +the literary wealth of the ages. There is scarcely a disease, it is +said, but has its richly-endowed hospital in the city, the number of +eleemosynary institutions is legion, but the establishment of a public +library, which is usually the first care of a free, rich, intelligent +community, has been unaccountably neglected. The subject is now +receiving the earnest thought of the best people of the city. +Considerable difference of opinion exists +<span class="pagenum">[pg 623]</span> +<a name="Page_623" id="Page_623"></a> +as to the best method of +founding and supporting such an institution. Some argue that this should +be done by the city alone, holding that the self-respecting workingman +and workingwoman will never patronize a free library instituted solely +by private charity. Others urge that such an institution to be +successful should be free from city control and entirely the result of +private munificence. The latter gentlemen have added to the cogency of +their arguments by a practical demonstration. Early in 1880 they +organized on a small scale a free circulating library which should exist +solely by the benefactions of the public, with the object of furnishing +free reading at their homes to the people. The general plan adopted was +a central library, with branches in the various wards, by this means +bringing the centres of distribution within easy reach of the city's +homes. The success of the institution has been such that its development +should be carefully followed. It began operations by leasing two rooms +of the old mansion, No. 36 Bond Street, and in March, 1880, "moved in," +opening with a few hundred volumes donated chiefly from the libraries of +its projectors. The first month—March—1044 volumes were circulated. By +October this had grown to 4212. The next year—1881-82—the circulation +reached 69,280, and it continued to increase until in 1883 it reached +81,233,—an increase of nearly 10,000 over the preceding year. In May, +1883, the library was removed to the comfortable and roomy building, No. +49 Bond Street, which had been purchased and fitted up for it by the +trustees. Early in December, 1884, the Ottendorfer Library, at 135 +Second Avenue, the first of the projected branch libraries, was opened +with 8819 volumes, 4784 of which were in English and 4035 in German, the +whole, with the library building, being the gift of Mr. Oswald +Ottendorfer, of New York. The branch proved equally popular, having +circulated during the past year—1885—97,000 volumes, while the +circulation of the main library has increased to 104,000 volumes, the +combined circulation of both libraries exceeding that of any other in +the city. The percentage of loss has been only one book for 31,768 +circulated. The report of the treasurer shows that the annual expenses +of the library—about twelve thousand dollars—have been met by +voluntary contributions, and that it has a permanent fund of about +thirty-two thousand dollars besides its books. These figures prove that +libraries of this character will be appreciated, and used by the people. +The library committee say, in their last report, that after four years' +experience they feel competent to begin the establishment of branch +libraries, and observe that at least six of these centres of light and +intelligence should be opened in various quarters of the city. It is +understood that lack of funds alone prevents the institution from +entering on this wider field. When one considers the liberal and too +often indiscriminate charities of the metropolis, and reflects that the +need and utility of this excellent enterprise have been demonstrated, it +seems impossible that pecuniary obstacles will long be allowed to stand +in the way of its legitimate development.</p> + +<p class="author">Charles Burr Todd.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_DRAMA_IN_THE_NURSERY" id="THE_DRAMA_IN_THE_NURSERY"></a>THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY.</h2> + + +<p>A Darwinian might find evidence of the pedigree of our species in the +inherent taste for mimicry which we share, at all events, with the +anthropoid apes. This instinct of mimicry I take to be the humble +beginning from which dramatic art has sprung, and it appears in the +individual at a very early stage. Perhaps it is even expressed in the +first squalls of infancy, though this possibility +<span class="pagenum">[pg 624]</span> +<a name="Page_624" id="Page_624"></a> +has been overlooked +or obscured by philosophic pedantry. Now anent these squalls. Hegel +gravely declares that they indicate a revelation of the baby's exalted +nature (oh!), and are meant to inform the public that it feels itself +"permeated with the certitude" that it has a right to exact from the +external world the satisfaction of its needs. Michelet opines that the +squalls reveal the horror felt by the soul at being enslaved to nature. +Another writer regards them as an outburst of wrath on the part of the +baby at finding itself powerless against environing circumstances. Some +early theologians, on the other hand, pronounced squalling to be a proof +of innate wickedness; and this view strikes one as being much nearer the +mark. But none of these accounts are completely satisfactory. Innate +wickedness may supply the conception; it is the dramatic instinct that +suggests the means. Here is the real explanation of those yells which +embitter the life of a young father and drive the veteran into temporary +exile. It happens in this wise. The first aim of a baby—not yours, +madam; yours is well known to be an exception, but of other and common +babies—is to make itself as widely offensive as possible. The end, +indeed, is execrable, but the method is masterly. The baby has an <i>a +priori</i> intuition that the note of the domestic cat is repulsive to the +ear of the human adult. Consequently, what does your baby do but betake +itself to a practical study of the caterwaul! After a few conscientious +rehearsals a creditable degree of perfection is usually reached, and a +series of excruciating performances are forthwith commenced, which last +with unbroken success until the stage arrives when correction becomes +possible. This process may check the child's taste for imitating the +lower animals in some of their less engaging peculiarities, but his +dramatic instincts will be diverted with a refreshing promptness to the +congenial subjects of parent or nurse.</p> + +<p>No sooner is your son and heir invested with the full dignity of +knickerbockers than he begins to celebrate this rise in the social +scale by "playing at being papa." The author of "Vice Versa" has drawn +an amusing picture of the discomforts to papa which an exchange of +environment with his school-boy son might involve. But there is another +side to the question; and at Christmas-time, for instance, most papas +would probably be glad enough to exchange the joys and responsibilities +of paternity for the simple taste which can tackle plum-pudding and the +youthful digestion for which this delicacy has no terrors. However, +while it is impossible, or at least inexpedient, for papa to play at +being his own urchin, the latter is restrained by no considerations, +moral or otherwise, from attempting to personate his papa.</p> + +<p>It is often said sententiously that the child is the father of the man. +In this case most of us should blush for our parentage. It will be +conceded at once (subject, of course, to special reservations in favor +of individual brats) that the baby is the most detestable of created +beings. But its physical impotence to some extent neutralizes its moral +baseness. In the child the deviltries of the baby are partially curbed, +but this loss is compensated for by superior bodily powers. Now, the +virtuous child—if such a conception can be framed—when representing +papa would delight to dwell on the better side of the paternal +character, the finer feelings, the flashes of genius, the sallies of +wit, the little touches of tenderness and romance, and so forth. Very +likely; but the actual child does just the reverse of this. Is there a +trivial weakness, a venial shortcoming, a microscopic spot of +imperfection anywhere? The ruthless little imp has marked it for his +own, and will infallibly reproduce it, certainly before your servants, +and possibly before your friends.</p> + +<p>"Now we'll play at being in church," quoth Master George in lordly wise +to his little sisters. "I'm papa." Whereupon he will twist himself into +an unseemly tangle of legs and arms which is simply a barbarous travesty +of the attitude of studied grace with which you drink in +<span class="pagenum">[pg 625]</span> +<a name="Page_625" id="Page_625"></a> +the sermon in +the corner of your family pew.</p> + +<p>"Master George, you mustn't," interposes the housemaid, in a tone of +faint rebuke, adding, however, with a thrill of generous appreciation, +"Law, 'ow funny the child is, and as like as like!" Applause is +delicious to every actor, and under its stimulus your first-born essays +a fresh flight. Above the laughter of the nurses and the admiring +shrieks of his sisters there rises a weird sound, as of a sucking pig +<i>in extremis</i>. Your son, my unfortunate friend, is attempting, with his +childish treble pipes, to formulate a masculine snore. This is a gross +calumny. You never—stop!—well, on one occasion perhaps—but then there +were extenuating circumstances. Very likely; but the child has grasped +the fact without the circumstances, and has framed his conclusion as a +universal proposition. It is a most improper induction, I admit; but +logic, like some other things, is not to be looked for in children.</p> + +<p>Next comes mamma's turn. Perhaps she has weakly yielded on some occasion +to young hopeful's entreaties that he might come down to the kitchen +with her to order dinner. By the perverse luck that waits on poor +mortals, there happened on that very day to be a passage of arms between +mistress and cook. Rapidly forgotten by the principals, it has been +carefully stored up in the memory of the witness, who will subsequently +bestow an immense amount of misguided energy in teaching a young sister +to reproduce, with appropriate gesture and intonation, "Cook, I desire +that you will not speak to me in that way. I am extremely displeased +with you, and I shall acquaint your master with your conduct."</p> + +<p>Small sisters, by the way, may be made to serve a variety of useful +purposes of a dramatic or semi-dramatic nature. They may safely be cast +for the unpleasant or uninteresting characters of the nursery drama. +They form convenient targets for the development of their brothers' +marksmanship; and they make excellent horses for their brothers to +drive, and, it may be added, for their brothers to flog.</p> + +<p>When the subjects afforded by its immediate surroundings are exhausted, +Theatre Royal Nursery turns to fiction or history for materials. And +here, too, the perversity of childhood is displayed. It is not the +virtuous, the benevolent, the amiable, that your child delights to +imitate, but rather the tyrant and the destroyer, the ogre who subsists +in rude plenty on the peasantry of the neighborhood, or the dragon who +is restricted by taste or convention to one young lady <i>per diem</i>, till +the national stock is exhausted, or the inevitable knight turns up to +supply the proper dramatic finale.</p> + +<p>The varied incident of the "Pilgrim's Progress," its romance, and the +weird fascination of its goblins and monsters, make it a favorite source +of dramatic adaptations. And here, if any man doubt the doctrine of +original sin, let him note the fierce competition among the youngsters +for the part of Apollyon, and put his doubts from him. With a little +care a great many scenes may be selected from this inimitable work. +Christian's entry into the haven of refuge in the early part of his +pilgrimage can be effectively reproduced in the nursery. It will be +remembered that the approach was commanded by a castle of Beelzebub's, +from which pilgrims were assailed by a shower of arrows. It is this that +gives the episode its charm. One child is of course obliged to sacrifice +his inclinations and personate Christian. The rest eagerly take service +under Beelzebub and become the persecuting garrison. The "properties" +required are of the simplest kind. The nursery sofa or settee—a +position of great natural strength—is further fortified with chairs and +other furniture to represent the stronghold of the enemy. Christian +should be equipped with a wide-awake hat, a stick, and a great-coat +(papa's will do, or, better still, a visitor's), with a stool wrapped up +in a towel and slung over his shoulders to do duty as the bundle of +sins. He is then made to totter along to a "practical" +<span class="pagenum">[pg 626]</span> +<a name="Page_626" id="Page_626"></a> +gate (two chairs +are the right thing) at the far end of the room, while the hosts of +darkness hurl boots, balls, and other suitable missiles at him from the +sofa. Sometimes the original is faithfully copied, and bows and arrows +are employed; but this is, on the whole, a mistake: there is some chance +of Christian being really injured, and this, though of course no +objection in itself, is apt to provoke a summary interference by the +authorities. Christian's passage through the Valley of the Shadow of +Death is another favorite piece. Here, too, there are great +opportunities for an enterprising demon. It will be necessary, however, +for the success of the performance that Christian should abandon his +strictly defensive attitude in the narrative and lay about him with +sufficient energy to produce a general scrimmage.</p> + +<p>"Robinson Crusoe" is a treasure-house of situations, some of which gain +a piquancy from the dash of the diabolical with which Crusoe's terrors +invested them. Even where this is wanting there is plenty of bloodshed +to take its place, and a happy combination of horrors is supplied by the +cannibal feast which Crusoe interrupts. The youngest member of the +troupe is, on the whole, the best victim; but, failing this, any pet +animal sufficiently lazy or good-tempered to endure the process makes a +tolerable substitute. "Masterman Ready," "The Swiss Family Robinson," +and other cognate works, together with appropriate selections from +sacred and profane history, are adapted with a shamelessness which would +make a dramatic author's blood run cold.</p> + +<p>Lions, tigers, and wild beasts generally are common objects of nursery +imitation, either from a genuine admiration of their qualities or from +the mysterious craving for locomotion on all-fours with which children +seem possessed. This branch of the art, however, struggles under some +difficulties. It has, of course, to contend with the undisguised +opposition of authority. This is hardly a matter for marvel, and perhaps +not even a matter for regret. A prudential regard for the knees of +puerile knickerbockers and the corresponding region of feminine frocks +may explain a good deal of parental discouragement in the matter; and +there is little public sympathy to counteract this, for it is felt that +the total decay of these mimes would not be a serious loss either to +dramatic art or to peace and quietness.</p> + +<p>In one sense, no doubt, these amusements of childhood are matters of +little moment; but, in spite of their seeming triviality, they have a +genuine importance which should not be overlooked. The spontaneous +exhibitions of children at play often reveal latent tastes, tendencies, +or traits of character to one who is able to interpret them aright. If +this be so,—and it is no longer open to doubt,—it is clear that even +infant acting may furnish hints and assistance of the highest value to +an intelligent system of education. It is true, no doubt, that till +quite lately any such possibility was steadily ignored; but it is only +quite lately that anything like an intelligent system of early education +has been attempted. The idiosyncrasies of a child, instead of being +carefully observed, were either disregarded as meaningless or repressed +as being naughty. No greater mistake could be possible; and this at last +is beginning to be understood. The first struggles of a young +consciousness to express itself externally are nearly always eccentric, +and often seem perverse. But this is nothing more than we ought to +expect. The oddities of a child's conduct are in reality nothing else +than direct expressions of character, uncurbed by the conventions which +regulate the demeanor of adults, or direct revelations of some taste or +aptitude, which education may foster, but which neglect will hardly +crush. The world contains a woful number of human pegs thrust forcibly +into holes which do not fit them, and the world's work suffers +proportionately from this misapplication of energy. The mischief is +abundantly clear, but the remedy, if we do not shut our eyes to it, is +tolerably clear also. Just as this condition of things is largely due to +our unscientific neglect +<span class="pagenum">[pg 627]</span> +<a name="Page_627" id="Page_627"></a> +of variations in character and the wooden +system of education which this neglect has produced, so we may expect to +see its evils disappear by an abolition of the one and a reform of the +other. If the world be indeed a stage, with all humanity for its <i>corps +dramatique</i> it must surely be well for the success of the performance +that the cast should take account of individual aptitudes, and that to +each player should be allotted the part which he can best support in the +great drama of Life.</p> + +<p class="author">Norman Pearson.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP" id="OUR_MONTHLY_GOSSIP"></a>OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP.</h2> + +<h3><a name="THE_MAN" id="THE_MAN"></a>"The Man who Laughs."</h3> + + +<p>The degree of culture and good breeding which a man possesses may be +very correctly determined by the way he laughs. The primeval savage, +from whom we trace descent, was distinguished above everything else by +his demonstrativeness; and there is much in our present type of social +manners and conduct which betrays our barbarous origin. The brute-like +sounds that escape from the human throat in the exercise of laughter, +the coarse guffaw, the hoarse chuckle, and the high, cackling tones in +which many of the feminine half of the world express their sense of +amusement, attest very painfully the animal nature within us. It was +Emerson, I believe, who expressed a dislike of all loud laughter; and it +is difficult to imagine the scene or occasion which could draw from that +serene and even-minded philosopher a broader expression of amusement +than that conveyed in the "inscrutable smile" which Whipple describes as +his most characteristic feature. Yet Emerson was by no means wanting in +appreciation of the comic. On the contrary, he had an abiding sense of +humor, and it was this—a keen and lively perception of the grotesque, +derived as part of his Yankee inheritance—that kept him from uniting in +many of the extravagant reform movements of the day. Few of us, however, +even under the sanction of an Emerson, would wish to dispense with all +sound of laughter.</p> + +<p>The memory of a friend's voice, in which certain laughing notes and +tones are inextricably mingled with the graver inflections of common +speech, is almost as dear as the vision of his countenance or the warm +pressure of his hand. Yet among such remembrances we hold others, of +those from whom the sound of open laughter is seldom heard, the absence +of which, however, denotes no diminished sense of the humorous and +amusing. A quick, responsive smile, a flash or glance of the eye, a +kindling countenance, serve as substitutes for true laughter, and we do +not miss the sound of that which is supplied in a finer and often truer +quality.</p> + +<p>The freest, purest laughter is that of childhood, which is as +spontaneous as the song of birds. It is impossible that the laughter of +older people should retain this sound of perfect music. Knowledge of +life and the world has entered in to mar the natural harmonics of the +human voice, which not all the skill and efforts of the vocal culturists +can ever again restore. It is only those who in attaining the years and +stature of manhood have retained the nature of the child, its first +unconscious truth and simplicity, whose laughter is wholly pleasant to +hear. I recall the laugh of a friend which corresponds to this +description, a laugh as pure and melodious, as guiltless of premeditated +art or intention, as the notes of the rising lark; yet its owner is a +man of wide worldly experience. It is natural that +<span class="pagenum">[pg 628]</span> +<a name="Page_628" id="Page_628"></a> +I, who know my +friend so well, should find in this peculiarly happy laugh of his the +sign and test of that type of high, sincere manhood which he represents; +but it is a dangerous business, this attempting to define the character +and disposition of people by the turn of an eyelid, the curve of a lip, +or a particular vocal shade and inflection. Not only has Art learned to +imitate Nature very closely, but Nature herself plays many a trick upon +our credulity in matters of this kind. Upon a woman who owns no higher +motive than low and selfish cunning she bestows the musical tones of a +seraph, as she sheathes the sharp claws of all her feline progeny in +cases of softest fur. Rosamond Vincy is not the only example which might +be furnished, either in or out of print, in proof that a low, soft +voice, that excellent thing in woman, may have a wrongly persuasive +accent, luring to disappointment and death, like the Lorelei's song, to +which the harsh tones of the most strong-minded Xantippe are to be +preferred.</p> + +<p>Still, it does seem that, however right Shakespeare was when he said a +man may smile and smile and be a villain still, no real villain could +indulge in hearty, spontaneous laughter. Much smiling is one of the thin +disguises in which a certain kind of knavery seeks to hide itself, but +it is easy to conjecture that the low ruffian type of villain, like that +seen in Bill Sykes and Jonas Chuzzlewit, neither laughs nor smiles, +being as destitute of the courage to listen to the sound of its own +voice as of the wit that summons artifice to its aid in protection of +its guilty devices.</p> + +<p>The ghastly effect of guilt laughing with constrained glee to hide +suspicion of itself from the eyes of innocence is vividly portrayed in +Irving's performance of "The Bells," in the scene where Mathias, by a +supreme effort of will, joins in Christian's laugh over the supposition +that it might have been his, the respected burgomaster's, limekiln in +which the body of the Polish Jew was burned. Genuine laughter must +spring from a pure and undefiled source. It may not always be of +tuneful quality, but it must at least contain the note of sincerity. I +have in mind the outbursts of deep-chested sound with which another +friend evinces his appreciation of a humorous remark or incident, a +laugh which many fastidious people would pronounce too hard and rough by +half, bending their heads and darting from under, as if suddenly +assailed by some rude nor'wester. But I like the pleasant shock bestowed +in those strong, breezy tones, and the feeling of rejuvenation and new +expectancy which it imparts.</p> + +<p>Another laugh echoes in memory as I write, a girl's laugh this time, not +"idle and foolish and sweet," as such have been described, but clear, +and strong, and odd almost to the point of the ludicrous, yet charmingly +natural withal. A young woman's laugh is apt to begin at the highest +note, and, running down the scale, to end in a sigh of mingled relief +and exhaustion an octave or so lower down. This particular girl, +however, takes the other way, and, running her chromatic neatly up from +about middle C, pauses for a breath, and then astonishes her audience by +striking off two perfectly attuned notes several degrees higher up, +hitting her mark with the ease and deftness of a prima donna. So odd and +surprising a laugh is sure to be quickly infectious, and its owner is +never at a loss for company in her merriment, while a cheerful temper, +unclouded by a shade of envy or suspicion, is not in the least disturbed +by the knowledge that others are laughing at as well as with her.</p> + +<p>The question of what we shall laugh at deserves more attention than our +manner of laughing. "There is nothing," says Goethe, "in which people +more betray their character than in what they find to laugh at," adding, +"The man of understanding finds almost everything ridiculous, the man of +thought scarcely anything." This last corresponds somewhat to a +sentiment found in Horace Walpole: "Life is a comedy to those who think, +a tragedy to those who feel."</p> + +<p> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 629]</span> +<a name="Page_629" id="Page_629"></a> +With many people laughter seems to be an appetite, which grows by what +it feeds on, until all power of discrimination between the finer and the +more vulgar forms of wit is lost. Certain it is that the habit of +laughter is as easy to fall into as it is dangerous to all social +dignity. The muscles of the mouth have a natural upward curve,—a fact +which speaks well for the disposition of Mother Nature who made us, and +may also be held to signify that there are more things in the world +deserving our approval than our condemnation. But the hideous spectacle +presented in the contorted visage of Hugo's great character contains a +wholesome warning even for us of a later age; for there is a social +tyranny, almost as potent as the kingly despotism which ruled the world +centuries ago, that would fain shape the features of its victims after +one artificial pattern. We laugh too much, from which it necessarily +follows that we often laugh at the wrong things, a fault which betrays +intellectual weakness as well as moral cupidity. The determining quality +in true laughter lies in the degree of innocent mirth it gives +expression to; and when jealous satire, envy, or malice add their +dissonant note to its sound, its finest effect is destroyed and its +opportunity lost.</p> + +<p class="author">C.P.W.</p> + + +<h3><a name="WHY_WE" id="WHY_WE"></a>Why we Forget Names.</h3> + +<p>In the last years of his life the venerated Emerson lost his memory of +names. In instance of this many will remember the story told about him +when returning from the funeral of his friend Longfellow. Walking away +from the cemetery with his companion, he said, "That gentleman whose +funeral we have just attended was a sweet and beautiful soul, but I +cannot recall his name." The little anecdote has something very touching +about it,—the old man asking for the name of the life-long friend, "the +gentleman whose funeral we have just attended."</p> + +<p>When I saw Mr. Emerson a year prior to his own death, this defect of +memory was very noticeable, and extended even to the names of common +objects, so that in talking he would use quaint, roundabout expressions +to supply the place of missing words. He would call a church, for +instance, "that building in the town where all the people go on Sunday."</p> + +<p>This loss of memory of names is very common with old people, but it is +not confined to them. Almost every one has at some time experienced the +peculiar, the almost desperate, feeling of trying to recall a name that +will not come. It is at our tongue's end; we know just what sort of a +name it is; it begins with a <i>B</i>; yet did we try for a year it would not +come. One curious fact about the phenomenon is that it seems to be +contagious. If one person suddenly finds himself unable to recall a +name, the person with whom he is talking will stick at it also. The name +almost always gets the best of them, and they have to say, "Yes, I know +what you mean," and go on with their talk.</p> + +<p>I have never seen an explanation of this name-forgetfulness; but it is +not difficult to find a reason for it. What needs explaining is that +names are so obstinate, and grow more obstinate the harder we try, while +other things we have forgotten and are trying to recall generally yield +themselves to our efforts. Moreover, in other cases of forgetfulness we +never experience that peculiar and most exasperating feature of +name-forgetfulness,—the feeling that we know the word perfectly well +all the time. This last fact, indeed, seems to show that we have not +forgotten the name at all, but have simply lost the clue to it.</p> + +<p>Now, let us inquire why this clue is so hard to find. Scientific men who +study the human mind and make a business of explaining thought, emotion, +memory, and the like, have an expression which they use frequently, and +which sounds difficult, but which really it is very easy as well as +interesting to understand. They speak of the <i>association of ideas</i>. The +association of ideas means simply the fact which every one has noticed, +that one thing tends to call up another in the mind. When you recall a +certain sleigh-ride last winter, +<span class="pagenum">[pg 630]</span> +<a name="Page_630" id="Page_630"></a> +you remember that you put hot bricks +in the sleigh; and this reminds you that you were intending to heat a +warming-pan for the bed to-night; and the thought of warming the bed +makes you think of poor President Garfield's sickness, during which they +tried to cool his room with ice. Each of these thoughts (ideas) has +evidently called up another connected—associated—with it in some way. +This is the association of ideas: it is a law that governs almost all +our thinking, as any one may discover by going back over his own +thoughts. Perhaps an easier way to discover it will be to observe the +rapid talk of an afternoon caller on the family, and see how the +conversation skips from one subject to another which the last suggested, +and from that to another suggested by this, and so on.</p> + +<p>Just this association of ideas it is which enables us to recall things +we have forgotten. Our ideas on any subject—say that sleigh-ride last +winter—resemble a lot of balls some distance apart in a room, but all +connected by strings. If there is any particular ball we cannot +find,—that is, some fact we cannot remember,—then if we pull the +neighboring balls it is likely that they by the connecting strings will +bring the missing ball into sight. To illustrate this, suppose that you +cannot remember the route of that sleigh-ride. You recall carefully all +the circumstances associated with the ride, in hopes that some one of +them will suggest the route that was taken. You think of your +companions, of the moon being full, of having borrowed extra robes, of +the hot bricks—Ah, there is a clue! The bricks were reheated somewhere. +Where was it? They were placed on a stove,—on a red-hot stove with a +loafers' foot-rail about it. That settles it. Such stoves are found only +in country grocery-stores; and now it all comes back to you. The ride +was by the hill road to Smith's Corners. It is as if there were a string +from the hot-bricks idea to the idea that the bricks were reheated, to +this necessarily being done on a stove, to the peculiar kind of stove it +was done on, to the only place in the neighborhood where such a stove +could be, to Smith's Corners; and this string has led you, like a clue, +to the fact you desired to remember.</p> + +<p>We can now return to the question asked above: In trying to recall +names, why is it so difficult to find a clue? After what has been said, +the question can be put in a better form: Why does not the association +of ideas enable us to recall names as it does other things? The answer +is, that names (proper names) have very few associations, very few +strings, or clues, leading to them. It is easy to see this; for suppose +you moved away from the neighborhood of that sleigh-ride many years +before, and in thinking over past times find yourself unable to recall +the name of the Corners where the store stood. The place can be +remembered perfectly, and a thousand circumstances connected with it, +but they furnish no clue to the name: the circumstances might all remain +the same and the name be any other as well. The only association the +name has is with an indistinct memory of how it sounded. It was of two +words: the second was something like Hollow, or Cross roads, or +Crossing; the first began with an <i>S</i>. But it is vain to seek for it: no +clue leads to it. Were it the ride you sought to remember, many of its +details could be recalled, some of which might lead to the desired fact; +but a name has no details, and it is only possible to say of it that it +sounded so and so, if it is possible to say that.</p> + +<p>It may be asked, how, then, is it that we do remember some names, as +those in use every day? Just as the multiplication-table is +remembered,—by force of familiarity. Constant repetition engraves them +in the mind. When in old age the vigor of the mind lessens, the +engraving wears out and names are hard to recall, since there is no +other clue to them than this engraved record.</p> + +<p>There may be mentioned one slight help in recalling names when the case +is important or desperate. It consists in going back to the period when +the name was known and deliberately writing +<span class="pagenum">[pg 631]</span> +<a name="Page_631" id="Page_631"></a> +out a circumstantial +account of all the connected incidents, mentioning names of persons and +places whenever they can be remembered. If this is done in a casual way, +without thinking of the purpose in view,—as if one were sending a +gossipy letter of personal history to a friend,—the mind falls into an +automatic condition that may result in producing the desired name +itself. Every one must have observed that it is this automatic activity +of the mind, and not conscious effort, which recovers lost names most +successfully. We "think of them afterwards."</p> + +<p class="author">Xenos Clark.</p> + + +<h3><a name="A_REMINISCENCE" id="A_REMINISCENCE"></a>A Reminiscence of Harriet Martineau.</h3> + +<p>It is more than fifty years since I, a mere child, spent a summer with +my parents in a sandy young city of Indiana. Eight or nine hundred +souls, perhaps more, were already anchored within its borders. Chicago, +a lusty infant just over the line, her feet blackened with prairie mud, +made faces, called names, and ridiculed its soil and architecture. +Nevertheless it was a valiant little city, even though its streets were +rivers of shifting sand, through which "prairie-schooners" were +toilsomely dragged by heavy oxen or a string of chubby ponies,—these +last a gift from the coppery Indian to the country he was fast +forsaking. Clouds of clear grit drifted into open casements on every +passing breeze, or, if a gale arose, were driven through every crevice. +Our little city was cradled amid the shifting sand-hills on Michigan's +wave-beaten shore. Indeed, it had received the name of the grand old +lake in loving baptism, and was pluckily determined to wear it worthily. +Its buildings were wholly of wood, and hastily constructed, some not +entirely unpretentious, while others tilted on legs, as if in readiness +at shortest notice to take to their heels and skip away. In those early +days there was only the round yellow-bodied coach swinging on leathern +straps, or the heavy lumber-wagon, to accommodate the tide of travel +already setting westward. It was a daily delight to listen to the +inspiring toot of the driver's horn and the crack of his long whip, as, +with six steaming horses, he swung his dusty passengers in a final grand +flourish up to the hospitable door of the inn.</p> + +<p>One memorable morning brought to the unique little town a literary +lion,—a woman of great heart, clear brain, and powerful pen,—in short, +Harriet Martineau. Her travelling companions were a professor, his +comely wife, and their eight-year-old son. The last-named was much +petted by Miss Martineau, and still flourishes in perennial youth on +many pages of her books of American travel. Michigan City felt honored +in its transient guest. The whisper that a real live author was among us +filled the inn hall with a changing throng eager to obtain a glimpse of +the celebrity. Not among the least of these were "the two little girls" +she mentions in her "Society in America," page 253. At breakfast the +party served their sharpened appetites quite like ordinary folk,—Miss +Martineau in thoughtful quiet, broken now and again by a brisk question +darted at the professor, who answered in a deliberate learned way that +was quite impressive. A shiver of disgust ruffled his plump features at +the absence of cream, which the host excused by the statement that, the +population having outgrown its flocks and herds, milk was held sacred to +the use of babes. Miss Martineau listened to the professor's complaints +with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, while that indignant gentleman +vigorously applied himself to the solid edibles at hand. Shortly after +breakfast the strangers sallied forth in search of floral treasures, +over the low sand-hills stretching toward the lake (a spur of which +penetrated the main street), where in the face of the sandy drift +nestled a shanty quite like the "dug-out" of the timberless lands in +Kansas and New Mexico. The tomb-like structure, half buried in sand, +only its front being visible, seemed to afford Miss Martineau no end of +surprised amusement as she climbed to its submerged roof on her way to +the summit +<span class="pagenum">[pg 632]</span> +<a name="Page_632" id="Page_632"></a> +of the hill. A window-garden of tittering young women +merrily watched the progress of the quick-stepping Englishwoman, and, +really, there was some provocation to mirth, from their stand-point. +Anything approaching a <i>blanket</i>, plain, plaided, or striped, had never +disported itself before their astonished gaze as a part of feminine +apparel, except on the back of a grimy squaw. Of blanket-shawls, soon to +become a staple article of trade, the Western women had not then even +heard; and here was a civilized and cultivated creature enveloped in +what seemed to be a gay trophy wrested from the bed-furniture! Then, +too, the "only sweet thing" in bonnets was the demure "cottage," +fashioned of fine straw, while the woman in view sported a coarse, pied +affair, whose turret-like crown and flaring brim pointed ambitiously +skyward. Stout boots completed the costume criticised and laughed over +by the merry maidens who yet stood in wholesome awe of the presence of +the wearer. With what a wealth of gorgeous wild flowers and plumy ferns +the pilgrims came laden on their return! Quoting from "Society in +America," page 253, Miss Martineau says, "The scene was like what I had +always fancied the Norway coast, but for the wild flowers, which grew +among the pines on the slope almost into the tide. I longed to spend an +entire day on this flowery and shadowy margin of the inland sea. I +plucked handfuls of pea-vine and other trailing flowers, which seemed to +run all over the ground."</p> + +<p>Miss Martineau piled her treasures on a table and culled the specimens +worthy of pressing, and it seemed to pain her to reject the least +promising of her perishable plunder. She must have had a passion for +flowers, judging from the tenderness with which she handled the lovely +fronds and delicate petals under inspection, while her mouth was +continually open in admiring exclamation.</p> + +<p>And now came what I still fondly remember as the <i>Musicale</i>. A little +comrade came in the twilight to sing songs with me. With arms +interlaced, we paced the upper hall, vociferously warbling as breath was +given us, when a door opened, and the gifted, dark-faced woman, with +kindly eyes, beamed out on us. "Come," she called, "come in here, +children, and sing your songs for me: I am very fond of music." Very +bashfully we signified our willingness to oblige,—indeed, we dared not +do otherwise,—and sidled into the room. Closing the door, our hostess +curled herself comfortably on a gayly-cushioned lounge, and proceeded to +adjust a serpent-like, squirming appendage to her ear. With an +encouraging nod, she bade us commence, closing her eyes meanwhile with +an air of expectant rapture. But the vibrating trumpet stirred our +foolish souls to explosive laughter, partially smothered in a +simultaneous strangled cough. Wondering at the double paroxysm and +subsequent hush of shame, she unclosed her eyes, softly murmuring, +"Don't be bashful nor afraid, my dears. I am very far from home, and you +can make me very happy, if you will. Pray begin at once, and then I will +also sing for you." Taking courage, we piped as bidden, rendering in a +childish way the strains of "Blue-Eyed Mary," "Comin' through the Rye," +"I'd be a Butterfly," and "Auld Lang Syne," Our audience, with bright, +attentive looks, regarded the performance in pleased approval, softly +tapping time on her knee with a slender finger.</p> + +<p>"Now it is my turn," said Miss Martineau. Straightening herself and +casting aside the trumpet, primly folding her hands and pursing her +mouth curiously, she began, in a high, quavering voice, a song whose +burden was the fixed objection on the part of a certain damsel to +forsaking the pleasures of the world for the seclusion and safety of a +convent:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, is it not a pity such a pretty girl as I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should be sent to a nunnery to pine away and die?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But I <i>won't</i> be a nun,—- no, I <i>won't</i> be a <i>nun</i>;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I'm <i>so</i> fond of <i>pleasure</i> that I <i>cannot</i> be a nun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is impossible to give an idea of the +<span class="pagenum">[pg 633]</span> +<a name="Page_633" id="Page_633"></a> +jerky style of the lady's +singing which so tickled our sensitive ears. At every repetition of the +refrain, Susy and I squeezed our locked fingers spasmodically in order +to suppress the unseemly laughter bubbling to our lips. At every +emphatic word she nodded at us merrily, thus adding to our inward +disquiet.</p> + +<p>I like now, when picturing Harriet Martineau entertaining with noble +themes the men and women of letters she drew around her in England and +America, to remember, in connection with her strong, plain face and +brilliant intellect, the simple kindliness with which she once unbent to +a brace of little Hoosier maids in the "Far West."</p> + +<p class="author">F.C.M.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY" id="LITERATURE_OF_THE_DAY"></a>LITERATURE OF THE DAY.</h2> + +<p class="smaller">"Louis Agassiz: His Life and Correspondence<a name="TNanchor_A" id="TNanchor_A"></a><a href="#TranscriberNote_A" class="fnanchor">[A]</a>." Edited by Elizabeth +Cary Agassiz. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.</p> + + +<p>The northeastern corner of the ancient Pays de Vaud, only part of which +is included in the modern canton, is little known to tourists. It lies +away from the chief lines of travel, and it has neither the magnificent +views that draw the visitor aside to Orbe nor the associations that +induce him to stop at Coppet or Clarens. Yet its breezy upland plains +and its quiet villages—some of them once populous and prosperous +towns—are not devoid of charm, or of the interest connected with +historical epochs and famous names. The "lone wall" and "lonelier +column" at Avenches date from the period when this was the Roman capital +of Helvetia. Morat still shows many a mark and relic of its siege by +Charles the Bold and of the overthrow of his forces by the Swiss. +Payerne was the birthplace, in 1779, of Jomini, the greatest of all +writers on military operations, whose precocious genius, while he was a +mere stripling and before he had witnessed any battles or manoeuvres, +penetrated the secret of Bonaparte's combinations and victorious +campaigns, which veteran commanders were watching with mere wonderment +and dismay. At Motiers, a few miles farther north, was born, in 1807, +Louis Agassiz, who at an equally early age displayed a like intuitive +comprehension of many of the workings of Nature, and who subsequently +became the chief exponent of the glacial theory and the highest +authority on the structure and classification of fishes. Each of these +two men gave his ripest powers and longest labors to a great country far +from their common home,—Jomini to Russia, Agassiz to the United States; +and, dissimilar as were their objects and pursuits, their intellectual +resemblance was fundamental. The pre-eminent quality of each was the +power of rapid generalization, of mastering and subordinating details, +of grasping and applying principles and laws. Agassiz differed as much +from an animal-loving collector like Frank Buckland, whose father was +one of his stanchest friends and co-workers, as Jomini differed from a +fighting general like Ney, to whom he suggested the movements that +resulted in the French victory at Bautzen. Switzerland is equally proud +of the great strategist and the great naturalist, but to Americans in +general the former is at the most a mere name, while the career of the +latter is an object of wide-spread and even national interest.</p> + +<p>In the volumes before us the story of that career is clearly and +completely, yet concisely, set forth. Readers of biography who delight +mainly in social gossip may complain of the absence of everything of the +kind; but such matter neither belonged to the subject nor was required +for its elucidation. We are prone to draw a distinction between what we +call a man's personal life and the larger and more active part of his +existence, and to fancy that the clue to his character lies in some +minor idiosyncrasies, or in habits and tastes that were perhaps +accidentally formed. But every earnest worker reveals in his methods and +<span class="pagenum">[pg 634]</span> +<a name="Page_634" id="Page_634"></a> +achievements not alone his intellectual capacities, but all the deep +and essential qualities of his nature. With Agassiz this was +conspicuously the case. The enthusiasm, the singleness of purpose, and +the indefatigable energy that constituted the <i>fond</i>, so to speak, of +his character were as open to view as the features of his countenance. +Hence the single and strong impression he produced on all with whom he +came in contact, the sympathy he so quickly kindled, and the +co-operation he so readily enlisted. It was easily perceived that he was +no self-seeker, that no thought of personal interest mingled with his +devotion to science, and that he was not more intent on absorbing +knowledge than desirous of diffusing it. No one has ever more fully and +happily blended the qualities of student and teacher, and it was in this +double capacity that he became so public and prominent a figure and +exerted so wide an influence in the country of his adoption.</p> + +<p>Some men overcome obstacles and attain their ends by sheer persistency +of will, others by tact and persuasiveness, while there is a third +class, before whom the barred doors open as they are successively +approached, through what are called either fortunate accidents or +Providential interventions, but are seen, on closer inspection, to have +been the direct and natural effects of the force unconsciously exerted +by an harmonious combination of qualities. Agassiz's career was full of +such instances. The insistent desire of his parents, while stinting +themselves to secure his education, that he should adopt a bread-winning +profession, yielded, not to any urgent appeals or dogged display of +resolution, but to the proof given by his labors that he was choosing +more wisely for himself. Cuvier, without any request or expectation, +resigned to the neophyte who, after following in his footsteps, was +outstripping him in certain lines, drawings and notes prepared for his +own use. Humboldt, at a critical moment, saved him from the necessity +for abandoning his projects by an unsolicited loan, supplemented by many +further acts of assistance of a different kind. In England every +possible facility and aid was afforded to him as well by private +individuals as by public institutions. In America, men like Mr. +Nathaniel Thayer and Mr. John Anderson needed only in some chance way to +become acquainted with his plans to be ready to provide the means for +carrying them out. It was the same on all occasions. The United States +government, the Coast Survey, the legislature of Massachusetts, private +individuals throughout the country, showed a rare willingness, and even +eagerness, to forward his views. The man and the object were identified +in people's minds, and, as in all such cases, a feeling was roused and +an impulse generated which could have sprung from no other source.</p> + +<p>The attractiveness and charm which everybody seems to have found in him +had perhaps the same origin. It does not appear that his nature was +peculiarly sympathetic, that it was through any unusual flow and warmth +of feeling toward others that he so quickly became the object of their +attachment or regard. Of course, we do not intend to intimate that he +was deficient in strength of affection or in the least degree cold or +unresponsive. But his "magnetism," to use the current word, lay in the +ardor and singleness of his devotion to science, not as an abstraction, +but as a potent agency in civilization, in the union of elevation with +enthusiasm, in an openness that seemed to reveal everything, yet nothing +that should have been hidden. Hence this biography, little as it deals +with purely personal matters, awakens an interest of precisely the same +kind as that which the living Agassiz was accustomed to excite. For the +student of comparative zoology or of glacial action all that is here +told about these subjects can have only an historical value. But no +reader can follow the successive steps of a career that was always in +the truest sense upward without being touched by that inspiring +influence which it constantly diffused, and which Americans, above all +others, have reason to hold in grateful remembrance.</p> + + +<h3><a name="ILLUSTRATED_BOOKS" id="ILLUSTRATED_BOOKS"></a>Illustrated Books.</h3> + +<p class="smaller">"The Sermon on the Mount." Boston: Roberts Brothers.</p> + +<p class="smaller">"Poems of Nature." By John Greenleaf Whittier. Illustrated from Nature +by Elbridge Kingsley. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.</p> + +<p class="smaller">"Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." A Romaunt. By Lord Byron. Boston: Ticknor +& Co.</p> + +<p class="smaller">"The Last Leaf." Poem. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. Illustrated by George +Wharton Edwards and F. Hopkinson Smith. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.</p> + +<p class="smaller">"Pepper and Salt; or, Seasoning for Young Folks." Prepared by Howard +Pyle. New York: Harper & Brothers.</p> + +<p class="smaller"> +<span class="pagenum">[pg 635]</span> +<a name="Page_635" id="Page_635"></a> +"Davy the Goblin; or, What Followed Reading 'Alice's Adventures in +Wonderland,'" By Charles E. Carryl. Boston; Ticknor & Co.</p> + +<p class="smaller">"Bric-à-Brac Stories." By Mrs. Burton Harrison. Illustrated by Walter +Crane. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons.</p> + +<p class="smaller">"Rudder Grange." By Frank R. Stockton. Illustrated by A.B. Frost. New +York: Charles Scribner's Sons.</p> + + +<p>In turning over the pictorial books of the season one experiences a +genuine pleasure in coming upon this illustrated edition of "The Sermon +on the Mount," which belongs to a high order of merit from its +satisfactory interpretation of the subject and the beauty of its general +design and careful detail. It is, of course, a modern performance, and +nothing is more characteristic of most modern art than that it does +consciously, from reminiscence and with a reaching after certain +effects, what was once done simply, intuitively, and from the urgency of +poetic feeling. A great difference must naturally exist not only in the +outward mode but in the spirit of a group of modern artists who set to +work to illuminate a sacred text, and that in which the task was +undertaken by cloistered monks in whose gray lives a longing for beauty, +for color, found expression only here. Thus one realizes that the +decorative borders—which one looks at over and over again in this +volume, and which actually satisfy the eye—do not represent the +artist's own actual dreams, but are founded instead upon the ecstatic +visions of Fra Angelico and others as they bent over their work in their +silent cells; but they are beautiful nevertheless, far transcend what is +merely decorative, and are full of imagination and feeling. In fact, +into this frame-work, which might have contained nothing beyond +conventional imitation, Mr. Smith has put vivid touches which show that +he has the faculty to conceive and the skill to handle which belong to +the true artist. It would be easy to instance several of these borders +as remarkably good in their way: that which surrounds the "Lord's +Prayer" suggests dazzling effects in jewelled glass. The book is made up +in a delightful way, with full-page pictures interspersed with vignettes +illustrating the text and set round with those richly-designed borders +to which we have alluded. Mr. Fenn's pictures of actual places in the +Holy Land, besides striking the key-note of veracity which puts us in a +mood to see the whole story under fresh lights, are full of beauty and +charm. We are inclined to like everything in the book, although in the +various ways in which the beatitudes are interpreted we are conscious of +some incongruities, and wish that certain illustrations had made way for +designs showing more unity of conception among the artists. For +instance, Mr. Church's introduction of a New England scene of +tomahawking Indians cannot be said to throw a flood of light upon the +meaning of "Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' +sake." Mr. St. John Harper's pictures are a trifle obscure; but their +obscurity veils their want of pertinence and suggests subtilties that +flatter the imagination into fitting the application to suit itself. Any +mention of the book which failed to include Mr. Copeland's work on the +engrossed text would be altogether inadequate, for it is very perfect, +very beautiful, full of surprises and delightful quaintnesses, and helps +to make the book what it actually is, a complete whole, which really +answers our wishes of what an illustrated book should be.</p> + +<p>Mr. Whittier's "Poems of Nature" make the felicitous occasion this year +for one of Messrs. Houghton & Mifflin's rich and attractive series of +their authors' selected works. An admirable etching of the poet faces +the title-page, and the poems, chiefly descriptive of New England +scenes, are illustrated by designs from nature, the work of a single +artist. That Mr. Kingsley is in sympathy with the poet, and that he is +an impassioned lover of nature and the various moods of nature, no one +can doubt, and the impression of truthfulness which his work produces on +the mind makes his pictures interesting and full of sentiment even when +they are not entirely successful. Perhaps he aims in general at rather +too large effects to bring them out vividly; for when the scene he +chooses is least composite he is at his best. "Deer Island Pines," for +example, and "The Merrimac" are excellent, and we find much charm in "A +Winter Scene" and in a Boughton-like "November Afternoon."</p> + +<p>There is a certain temerity in undertaking to illustrate a work like +"Childe Harold," which, if it has been read at all, has aroused its own +distinct conceptions of scenery in the mind of its reader which must +make any ordinary pictures setting off familiar lines tame and insipid. +It is the triumph of art when the artist +<span class="pagenum">[pg 636]</span> +<a name="Page_636" id="Page_636"></a> +can bring out meanings and +beauties in the text hitherto undreamed of; but we acquit the artists of +the present book of any failure in that respect, for their intention +seems never to have gone beyond amiable commonplace. The little cuts are +all pleasant, trim, and, if not suggestive, at least not sufficiently +the reverse to be displeasing. The head-pieces to the cantos are +extremely good, and the two scenes "There is a pleasure in the pathless +woods" and "There is a rapture on the lonely shore" we like sufficiently +well to exempt them from the accusation of insipidity.</p> + +<p>Happy the poet who lives to see one of the poems he carelessly flung off +in early youth come back to him in his old age in such a setting as is +here given to Dr. Holmes's "Last Leaf." "Just when it was written," the +author says in his delightful and characteristic "<i>Envoi</i>" to the +reader, "I cannot exactly say, nor in what paper or periodical it was +first published. It must have been written before April, 1833,"—that +is, when he was in the early twenties. The poem has always been a +favorite, its sentiment suggesting Lamb's "All, all are gone, the old +familiar faces." It must henceforth be ranked as a classic, for it is +the happy destiny of the two artists who have worked together to give it +this exquisite setting forth to make its actual worth clear to every +reader. They have put nothing into the lines which was not there +already, but they have shown fine insight in their choice of subjects +and in conveying delicate and far-reaching meanings. They have +subordinated—as designers do not invariably do—their instinctive +methods and capricious inclinations to a careful study of their subject. +The result is—instead of a pretty but chaotic decorativeness +interspersed with florid and meaningless exaggerations—a complete and +beautiful whole marred by no redundancy or incongruity. Their full play +of intelligence brought to bear upon the suggestions of the poet has +developed a series of pictures which give occasionally a delightful +sense of surprise at their grace and unexpectedness. For example, the +three which illustrate</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mossy marbles rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the lips that he has prest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their bloom<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>have absolutely a magical effect. Besides the full-page pictures, +etchings, and photo-gravures, the minor details of title-lines, +head- and tail-pieces, and the like, are executed in a way so pretty and +clever as to leave nothing to be desired. The rich quarto is sumptuously +bound, and, altogether, as a holiday gift-book the work has every +element of beauty and appropriateness.</p> + +<p>"Pepper and Salt" is one of those brilliantly clever books for little +people which rouse a wonder as to whether the juvenile mind keeps pace +with the highly stimulated imaginative powers of modern artists and +finds solid entertainment in the richly-seasoned feast prepared for it. +There is plenty of humor and whim in this volume, in which many old +apologues appear in new shapes; wit, too, is to be found, and a +sprinkling of wisdom. Effective designs, droll, fantastic, and +invariably ingenious, set off the least of the poems and stories, and +make it as striking and attractive a quarto as will be found among the +young people's books this season.</p> + +<p>"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" gave a new stimulus to children's +literature, with its effective magic for youthful minds and its +brilliant success among all classes of readers. "Davy the Goblin" is one +of the many volumes which have been founded, so to say, on its idea and +been carried along by its impulse. Thus little can be said for the +actual originality of the book, although it deals in new combinations +and abounds in droll situations. It is well printed and illustrated, and +most children will be glad to have a new excursion into Wonderland.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Burton Harrison's "Bric-à-Brac Stories," illustrated by Walter +Crane, make an attractive volume with a good deal of solid reading +within its covers. The stories are told with the <i>verve</i> and skill of a +genuine story-teller, old themes are reset, and new material dexterously +worked in, with characters drawn from fairy- and dream-land, and, set off +by Mr. Crane's delightful drawings, the whole book is particularly +attractive.</p> + +<p>"Rudder Grange" is one of the books which it is essential to have always +with us, and we are glad to see the stories so well illustrated, +although the subject passes the domain of the artist, Mr. Stockton's +humor being of that delicate and elusive order which strikes the inward +and not the outward sense. "Pomona reading" in the wrecked canal-boat is +a droll contribution, and many of the cuts show that the artist is in +full harmony with the spirit of the author.</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> On another occasion he remarked of Trollope, "What drivel +the man writes! He is the very essence of the commonplace."</p></div> + +<h3>TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="TranscriberNote_A" id="TranscriberNote_A"></a><a href="#TNanchor_A"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Original reads 'Corresponddence'</p></div> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE, *** + +***** This file should be named 15840-h.htm or 15840-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/4/15840/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kathryn Lybarger 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: Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885 + +Author: Various + +Release Date: May 16, 2005 [EBook #15840] +[Date last updated: July 30, 2005] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE, *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kathryn Lybarger and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +[Note: The Table of Contents was added by the transcriber. Footnotes +and Transcriber's notes will be found at the end of the text.] + + + + +LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE. + +_DECEMBER, 1885._ + + + + +TABLE OF CONTENTS + Page + A TOBACCO PLANTATION by PHILIP A. BRUCE. 533 + + SCENES OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S LIFE IN BRUSSELS by THEO. WOLFE. 542 + + COOKHAM DEAN by MARGARET BERTHA WRIGHT. 549 + + BIRDS OF A TEXAN WINTER by EDWARD C. BRUCE. 558 + + THE FERRYMAN'S FEE by MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. 566 + + "WHAT DO I WISH FOR YOU?" by CARLOTTA PERRY. 580 + + LETTERS AND REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES READE by KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. 581 + + IN A SUPPRESSED TUSCAN MONASTERY by KATE JOHNSON MATSON. 591 + + THE SUBSTITUTE by JAMES PAYN. 601 + + NEW YORK LIBRARIES by CHARLES BURR TODD. 611 + + THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY by NORMAN PEARSON. 623 + + OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + "The Man Who Laughs." by C.P.W. 627 + Why We Forget Names by XENOS CLARK. 629 + A Reminiscence of Harriet Martineau by F.C.M. 631 + + LITERATURE OF THE DAY. 633 + Illustrated Books. 634 + + + + +A TOBACCO PLANTATION. + + +In the following article I propose to give some account of a typical +tobacco-plantation in Virginia and the life of its negro laborers as I +have observed it from day to day and season to season. Although it is +restricted to narrow local bounds and runs in the line of exacting +routine, that life is yet varied and eventful in its way. The negro +stands so much apart to himself, in spite of all transforming +influences, that everything relating to him seems unique and almost +foreign. Even now, when emancipation has done so much to improve his +condition, his social and economic status still presents peculiar and +anomalous aspects; and in no part of the South is this more notably the +case than in the southern counties of Virginia, which, before the late +war, were the principal seat of slavery in the State, and where to-day +the blacks far outnumber the whites. This section has always been an +important tobacco-region; and this is the explanation of its teeming +negro population, for tobacco requires as much and as continuous work as +cotton. There were many hundreds of slaves on the large plantations, and +their descendants have bred with great rapidity and show little +inclination to emigrate from the neighborhoods where they were born. +Some few, by hoarding their wages, have been able to buy land; but for +the most part the soil is still held by its former owners, who +superintend the cultivation of it themselves or rent it out at low rates +to tenants. The negroes are still the chief laborers in the fields and +artisans in the workshops; and, excepting that they are no longer +chattels that can be sold at will, their lives move in the same grooves +as under the old order of things. Their occupations and amusements are +the same. As yet there has been no increase in the physical comforts of +their situation, and but little change in their general character; but +this is the first period of transformation, when it is difficult to +detect and to follow the modifications that are really taking place. + +Every large tobacco-plantation is an important community in itself, and +the social and economic condition of the negro can be observed there as +freely and studied with as much thoroughness as if a wide area of +country were considered for a similar purpose. In the diversity of its +soils and crops and in the variety of its population and modes of life +it bears almost the same relation to the county in which it lies that +the county bears to its section. Indeed, no community could be more +complete in itself, or less dependent upon the outside world. In an +emergency, the inhabitants of one of these large plantations could +supply themselves by their own skill and ingenuity with everything that +they now obtain from abroad; and if cut off from all other associations, +the society which they themselves form would satisfy their desire for +companionship; for not only would its members be numerous and +representative of every shade of character and disposition, but they +would also be bound together by ties of blood and marriage as well as of +interest and mutual affection. Similar tasks and relaxations create in +them a similarity of tastes. The social position of all is identical, +for there are no classes among them, the only line of social division +being drawn upon differences of age; and they are paid the same wages +and possess the same small amount of property. They are attached to the +soil by like local associations, which vary as much as the plantation +varies in surface here and there. Each plantation of any great extent is +like that part of the country, both in its general aspect and its +leading features, just as the employments and amusements of its +population, if numerous, are found reflected in the social life of the +whole of the same section. + +The particular plantation to which I shall so often allude in this +article as the scene of the observations here recorded, like most of the +tobacco-plantations in Virginia, covers a broad expanse of land, +including in one body many thousand acres, remarkable for many +differences of soil and for a varied configuration. It is partly made up +of steep hills that roll upon each other in close succession, partly it +is high and level upland that sweeps back to the wooded horizon from the +open low-grounds contiguous to the river that winds along its southern +border. At least one-half of it is in forest, in which oak, cedar, +poplar, and hickory grow in abundance and reach a great height and size. +The soil of the lowlands is very fertile, for it is enriched every few +years by an inundation that leaves behind a heavy deposit; that of the +uplands, on the other hand, is comparatively poor, but it is fertilized +annually with the droppings of the stables and pens. Patches of new +grounds are opened every year in the woods, the timber being cleared +away for the purpose of planting tobacco in the mould of the decayed +leaves, while many old fields are abandoned to pine and broom-straw or +turned into pastures for cattle. + +The principal crops are tobacco, wheat, corn, and hay, but the first is +by far the most important, both from its quantity and its value. +Everything else is really subordinate to it. The soils of the uplands +and lowlands are adapted to very different varieties of this staple. +That which grows in the rich loam of the bottoms is known as "shipping +tobacco," because it is chiefly consumed abroad, as it bears +transportation in the rough state without injury to its quality. +"Working tobacco" is the name which is given to the variety that +flourishes on the hills; and this is used in the manufacture of brands +of chewing- and smoking-tobacco to meet the domestic as well as the +foreign demand. There is a third variety which grows in small quantities +on the plantation,--namely, "yellow tobacco," so called from the golden +color of the plant as it approaches ripeness; and this tint is not only +retained, but also heightened, when it has been cured, at which time it +is as light in weight as so much snuff. This variety is principally used +as a wrapper for bundles of the inferior kinds, and is prepared for the +market by a very tedious and expensive process; but the trouble thus +entailed and the money spent have their compensation in the very high +prices which it always brings in the market. + +The fields where tobacco has been cultivated during the previous summer +are sown in wheat in the autumn, unless they are new grounds, when the +rotation of crops is tobacco for two years in succession, followed in +the third year by wheat, and in the fourth by tobacco again. The soil is +then laid under the same rule of tillage as land that has been worked +for many seasons. As a result of this necessity for rotation, much wheat +is raised on the plantation, although the threshing of it interferes +very seriously with the attention which the tobacco requires at a very +critical period of its growth. The greater part of the low-grounds is +planted in Indian corn, the return in a good year being very large; and +even when there has been a drought, the general average in quantity and +quality falls short very little. The soil here is so fertile that +tobacco planted in it grows too coarse in its fibre, while the cost of +cultivating it is so high that the planter is reluctant to run the risk +of an overflow of the river, which destroys a crop at any stage in a few +hours. Although corn is very much injured by the same cause, it is not +rendered wholly useless, for it can be thrown to stock even when it is +unfit to be ground into meal. At a certain season the fields of this +grain along the river present a beautiful aspect, the mass of deep green +flecked by the white tops of the stalks resembling, at a distance, +level, unruffled waters; but sometimes a freshet descends upon it and +obliterates it from sight, the whole broad plain being then like a +highly-discolored lake, with rafts of planks and uprooted trees floating +upon its surface. + +The general plantation is divided into three plantations of equal +extent, each tract being made up of several thousand acres of land; each +has its own overseer, and he has under him a band of laborers who are +never called away to work elsewhere, and who have all their possessions +around them. Each division has its stables, teams, and implements, and +its expenses and profits are entered in a separate account. In short, +the different divisions of the general plantation are conducted as if +they belonged to several persons instead of to one alone. + +It is the duty of the overseer of each division to remain with his +laborers, however employed, and to overlook what they are doing. He sees +that the teams are well fed, the stock in good condition and in their +own bounds, the fences intact, and the implements sheltered from the +weather. He must hire additional hands when they are needed, and +discharge those guilty of serious delinquencies. His position is one of +responsibility, but at the same time of many advantages; for he is given +a comfortable house for his private use, with a garden, a smoke-house, a +store-room, and a stable,--a horse being furnished him to enable him to +get from one locality to another on the plantation under his charge with +ease and rapidity; and he is also supplied with rations for himself and +family every month. The social class to which he belongs is below the +highest,--namely, that of the planter,--and above that of the whites of +meanest condition. Formerly one of the three overseers on the plantation +which I am now describing was a colored man who had been a slave before +the war, a foreman in the field afterward, and was then promoted, in +consequence of his efficiency, to the responsible position which I have +named. He was a man of unusual intelligence, and gave the highest +satisfaction. His mind was almost painfully directed to the performance +of his duties, and the only fault that could be found with him was an +occasional inclination to be too severe with his own race. Very +naturally, he was looked up to by the latter as successful and +prosperous, and his influence in consequence was very great. Unlike most +of his fellows, he was given to hoarding what he earned, and in a few +years was able to buy a plantation of his own; and there he is now +engaged in cultivating his own land. + +There is a population of about four hundred negroes on the three +divisions of the plantation, this number including both sexes and every +age and shade of color. All of the older set, with few exceptions, were +the slaves of their employer, and did not leave him even in the restless +and excited hour of their emancipation. Born on the place, they have +spent the whole of their long lives there, and consider it to be as much +their home as it is that of its owner. In fact, the negroes here are +remote from those influences that lead so many others to migrate. The +plantation is eighteen miles from a railroad and forty from a town, and +is set down in a very sparsely settled country that has been only +partially cleared of its forests. It has a teeming population of its +own, which satisfies the social instincts of its inhabitants as much as +if they were collected together in a small town. In consequence of all +these facts, and in spite of the new state of things which the war +produced, there survives in its confines something of that baronial +spirit which we observe on a landed estate in England at the present +day, where every man, woman, and child is accustomed to think of the +landlord as the fountain-head of power and benefits. A similar spirit of +loyal subordination prevails particularly among the oldest inhabitants +of the plantation, who were once the absolute chattels of its owner, and +who look upon that fact as creating an obligation in him to support them +in their decrepitude. Being too far in the sere and yellow leaf to work, +they are provided every month with enough rations to meet their wants, +and in total idleness they calmly await the inevitable hour when their +bones will be laid beside those of their fathers. There are few more +picturesque figures than are many of these old negroes, who passed the +heyday of their strength before they were freed, and who, born in +slavery, survived to a new era only to find themselves in the last +stages of old age. They are regarded by their race with as much +veneration as if they were invested with the authority of prophets and +seers. Some of them, in spite of their years, act occasionally as +preachers, and are listened to with awe and trepidation as they lift up +their trembling voices in exhortation or denunciation. As travellers +from a distant past, it is interesting to observe them sitting with bent +backs and hands resting on their sticks in the door-ways of their cabins +on bright days in summer, or by the warm firesides in winter, while +members of younger generations talk around them or play about their +knees. + +The negro laborers marry in early life, and the size of their families +is often remarkable, the ratio of increase being, perhaps, greater with +them than with the families of the white laborers on the same +plantation, and the mortality among their children as small, for the +latter have an abundance of wholesome food, are well sheltered from cold +and dampness, and have good medical attendance. As soon as they are able +to walk so far, they are sent to the public school, which is situated on +the borders of the plantation, where they have a teacher of their own +race to instruct them, and they continue to attend until they are old +enough to work in the fields and stables. They are then employed there +at fair wages, which, until they come of age or marry, are appropriated +by their parents; and in consequence of this many of the young men seek +positions on the railroads or in the towns before they reach their +majority, in order that they may secure and enjoy the compensation of +their own labor. In a few years, however, the greater number wander back +and offer themselves as hands, are engaged, and establish homes of their +own. + +Tobacco being a staple that requires work of some kind throughout the +whole of the year, a large force of laborers are hired for that length +of time. It is not like wheat, in the cultivation and manipulation of +which more energy is put forth at one season than at another, as, for +instance, when it is harvested or threshed. A certain number of laborers +are engaged on the plantation on the 1st of January, who contract to +remain at definite wages during the following twelve months. Whoever +leaves without consent violates a distinct agreement, under which he is +liable in the courts, if it were worth the time and expense to subject +him to the law. He is paid every month by an order on a firm of +merchants who rent a store that belongs to the owner of the plantation +and is situated on one of its divisions; and this order he can convert +into money, merchandise, or groceries, as he chooses, or he gives it up +in settlement of debts which he has previously made there in +anticipation of his wages. The credit of each man is accurately gauged, +and he is allowed to deal freely to a certain amount, but not beyond; +and this restriction puts a very wholesome check upon the natural +extravagance of his disposition. + +On each division of the plantation there is a settlement where the +negroes live with their families. The houses of the "quarters," as the +settlement is called, are large weather-boarded cabins. In each there is +a spacious room below and a cramped garret above, which is used both as +a bedroom and a lumber-room, while the apartment on the first floor is +chamber, kitchen, and parlor in one, and there most of the inmates, +children as well as adults, sleep at night. The furniture is of a very +durable but rude character, consisting of a bed, several cots, tables +and cupboards, and half a dozen or more rough chairs of domestic +manufacture, while a few pictures, cut from illuminated Sunday books or +from illustrated papers, adorn the whitewashed walls. The brick +fire-place is so wide and open that the fire not only warms the room, +but lights it up so well that no candle or lamp is needed. The negroes +are always kept supplied with wood, and they use it with extravagance on +cold nights, when they often stretch themselves at full length on the +hearth-stone and sleep as calmly in the fierce glare as in the summer +shade, or nap and nod in their chairs until day, only rising from time +to time to throw on another log to revive the declining flames. They +like to gossip and relate tales under its comfortable influence, and it +is associated in their minds with the most pleasing side of their lives. +Those who can read con over the texts of their well-worn Bibles in its +light, while those who have a mechanical turn, as, for instance, for +weaving willow or white-oak baskets or making fish-traps or chairs, take +advantage of its illumination to carry on their work. + +Each householder has his garden, either in front or behind his dwelling, +according to the greater fertility of the soil, and here he raises every +variety of vegetable in profusion: sweet and Irish potatoes, tomatoes, +beets, peas, onions, cabbages, and melons grow there in sufficient +abundance to supply many tables. Of these, cabbage is most valued, for +it can be stored away for consumption in winter, and is as fresh at that +season as when it is first cut. Around the houses peach-trees of a very +common variety have been planted, and these bear fruit even when the +buds of rarer varieties elsewhere have been nipped, both because they +are more hardy and because they are near enough to be protected by the +cloud of smoke that is always issuing from the chimneys. Every +householder is allowed to fatten two hogs of his own, the sty, for fear +of thieves, being erected in such close proximity to his dwelling that +the odor is most offensive with the wind in a certain quarter, and, one +would think, most unwholesome; but his family do not seem to suffer +either in health or in comfort. Every cabin has its hen-house, from +which an abundant supply of eggs is drawn, which find a ready sale at +the plantation store; and in spring the chickens are a source of +considerable income to the negroes. Their fare is occasionally varied by +an opossum caught in the woods, or a hare trapped in the fields; but +they much prefer corn bread and bacon as regular fare to anything else. +They dislike wheat bread, as too light and unsatisfying, and they always +grumble when flour is measured out to them instead of meal. Coffee is a +luxury used only on Sunday. The table is set off by a few china plates +and cups, but there are no dishes, the meat being served in the utensil +in which it is cooked. On working-days breakfast and dinner are carried +to the hands in the fields by a boy who has collected at the different +houses the tin buckets containing these meals. + +The hands are as busy in winter as during any other part of the year. +Much of their time is then taken up in manipulating the tobacco, which +has been stored away in one large barn, and preparing it for market, the +first step toward which is to strip the leaves from the stalk and then +carefully separate those of an inferior from those of a superior +quality. Although there are many grades, the negroes are able to +distinguish them at a glance and assort them accordingly. They are not +engaged in this work of selection continuously from day to day, but at +intervals, for they can handle the tobacco only when the weather is damp +enough to moisten the leaf, otherwise it is so brittle that it would +crack and fall to pieces under their touch. They like this work, for the +barn is kept very comfortable by large stoves, they do not have to move +from their seats, and they can all sit very sociably together, talking, +laughing, and singing. It contrasts very agreeably with other work which +they are called upon to do at this season,--namely, the grubbing of new +grounds, from which they shrink with unconcealed repugnance, for outside +of a mine there is no kind of labor more arduous or exacting. The land +cleared is that from which the original forest has been cut, leaving +stumps thickly scattered over the surface, from which a heavy +scrub-growth springs up. Active, quick, and industrious as the negroes +may be in the tobacco-, corn-, or wheat fields, they show here great +indolence, and move forward very slowly with their hoes, axes, and +picks, piling up, as they advance, masses of roots, saplings, stumps, +and brush, which, when dry, are set on fire and consumed. The soil +exposed is a rich but thin loam of decayed leaves, in which tobacco +grows with luxuriance. + +In February or March the laborers prepare the plant-patch, the initial +step in the production of a crop that remains on their hands at least +twelve months before it is ready for market. They select a spot in the +depths of the woods where the soil is very fertile from the accumulated +mould, and they then cut away the trees and underbrush until a clean +open surface, square in shape and about forty yards from angle to angle, +is left, surrounded on all sides by the forest. Having piled up great +masses of logs over the whole of this surface, they set them on fire at +one end of the patch, and these are allowed to burn until all have been +consumed, the object being to get the ash which is deposited, and which +is very rich in certain constituents of the tobacco-plant and is +especially conducive to its growth. The ploughmen then come and break up +the ground, hoers carefully pulverize every clod, and the seed is sown, +a mere handful being sufficient for a great extent of soil. The laborers +afterward cover the surface of the patch with bushes, and it is left +without further protection. In a short time the tobacco-plant springs up +in indescribable profusion, and in a few weeks it is in a condition to +be transferred to the fields. + +Before this is done, however, the seed-corn has begun to sprout in the +ground. The first cry of the whippoorwill is the signal for planting +this cereal. The grains are dropped from the hand at regular intervals, +both men and women joining in this work; and they all move slowly along +together, the men bearing the corn in small bags, the women holding it +in their aprons. The wide low-grounds at this season expand to the +horizon without anything to obstruct the vision, a clear, unbroken sweep +of purple ploughed land. The laborers are visible far off, those who +drop the grains walking in a line ahead, the hoers following close +behind to cover up the seed. Still farther in the rear come the harrows, +that level all inequalities in the surface and crush the clods. Flocks +of crows wheel in the air above the scene, or stalk at a safe distance +on the ploughed ground. Blackbirds, which have now returned from the +South, sing in chorus on the adjacent ditch-banks, mingling their harsh +notes with the lively songs of myriads of bobolinks, while high overhead +whistles the plover. The newly-sprung grass paints the road-side a lush +green, the leaves are budding on weed and spray, and over all there hang +the exhilarating influences of spring. + +As soon as the hands have planted the corn, they begin transplanting the +tobacco, which they find a more tedious task, for they can only +transfer the slips to the fields when the air is surcharged with +moisture and the ground is wet; otherwise the slips will wither on the +way or perish in the hill without taking root. But if the weather is +favorable they flourish from the hour they are thrust into the ground. +It takes the laborers but a short time to plant many acres; and when +their work is done the fields look as bare as before. The original +leaves soon die, but from the healthy stalk new ones shoot out and +expand very rapidly. The soil has been very highly fertilized with guano +and very carefully ploughed, so that every condition is favorable to the +growth of the plant if there is an abundance of rain. At a later period +it passes through a drought very well, being a hardy plant that recovers +even after it has wilted; but very frequently in its early stages the +laborers are compelled to haul water in casks from the streams to save +it from destruction. + +The most jovial operation of the year to the hands is the wheat-harvest +in June; but the introduction of the mechanical reaper has taken away +something of its peculiar character. Much of the grain, however, is +still cut down with the cradle. The strongest negro always leads the +dozen or more mowers, and thus incites his fellows to keep closely in +his wake. As they move along, they sing, and the sound, sonorous and not +unmelodious, is echoed far and wide among the hills. Behind them follows +a band of men and women, who gather the grain into shocks or tie it in +bundles. + +After the harvest is over, the time of the laborers is given up entirely +to the tobacco, which has now grown to a fair size. Their first task is +to "sucker" it,--that is, cut away the shoots that spring up at the +intersection of each leaf and the stalk, and which if left to grow would +absorb half the strength of the plant. They also examine the leaves very +carefully, to destroy the eggs and young of the tobacco-fly. Day after +day they go over the same fields, finding newly-laid eggs and +newly-hatched young where only twelve hours before they brushed their +counterparts off to be trampled under foot. As the tobacco ripens, it +becomes brittle to the touch and is covered with dark yellow spots, and +when this appearance is still further developed the time for cutting has +arrived, which generally is in the first month of autumn, and always +before frost, which is as fatal to this as to every other weed. The +plant is now about three feet in height, with eight or nine large +leaves, the stalk having been broken off at the top in the second stage +of its growth. On the appointed day a dozen or more men with coarse +knives split the stalk of each plant straight down its middle to within +half a foot of the ground. They then strike the plant from the hill and +lay it on one side. The leaves soon shrink under the rays of the sun and +fall. One of the laborers who follow the cutters then takes it up and +places it with nine or ten other plants on a stick, which is thrust +through the angle formed by the two halves of the plant separated from +each other except at one end. It is deposited with the rest in an open +ox-cart and transported to the barn. In the barn poles have been +arranged in tiers from bottom to top to support the sticks; and when the +building is full of tobacco the laborer in charge ignites the logs that +fill parallel trenches in the dirt floor, and a high rate of temperature +is soon produced, and is maintained for several days, during which a +watch is kept to replenish the flames and prevent a conflagration. As +soon as the tobacco has changed from a deep green to a light brown, it +is removed on a wet day to the general barn. The same process of curing +is going on in many barns on the same plantation, and occasionally one +is burned down; for the tobacco is very inflammable, a stray spark from +below being sufficient to set the whole on fire. + +The principal work of the autumn is the gathering of the ripe corn. A +band of men go ahead and pull the ears from the stalks and throw them at +intervals of thirty yards into loose piles and another band following +behind them at a distance pick the ears up and pitch them into the +ox-carts, which, when fully loaded, return to the granary, around which +the corn is soon massed in long and high rows. When the whole crop has +been got in, a moonlight night is selected for stripping off the shucks; +and this is a gay occasion with the negroes, for they are allowed as +much whiskey as they can carry under their belts. The leading clown +among them is deputed to mount the pile and sing, while the rest sit +below and work. As he ends each verse, they reply in a chorus that can +be heard miles away through the clear, still, frosty air. Their songs +are the ancient ditties of the plantation, and are humorous or pathetic +in sound rather than in sense. And yet even to an educated ear they have +a certain interest, like everything, however trivial, connected with +this strange race. + +Such, in general outline, are the tasks of the laborers on the +plantation during the four seasons of the year. It is beyond question +that they do their work thoroughly. It makes no difference how deep the +low-ground mud is, or how rough the surface, or how lowering the +weather, they go forward with cheerfulness and alacrity. Nothing can +repress or dampen their spirits. How often I have heard them as they +returned through the dusk, after hoeing or ploughing the whole day, +singing in a strain as gay and spontaneous as if they were just going +forth in the freshness of a vernal morning! Their sociable disposition +is displayed even in the fields, for they like to work in bands, in +order that they may converse and joke together. This companionableness +is one of the most conspicuous traits of their character. Even the +strict patrolling of slavery-times could not prevent them from running +together at night; and now that they are free to go where they choose, +they will put themselves to much trouble to gratify their love of +association with their fellows. One reason why a large plantation is so +popular with them is that the number of its inhabitants offers the most +varied opportunities of social enjoyment. + +Sunday is the principal day on which the negroes exchange visits. There +is a settlement, as I have mentioned, on each division of the plantation +which I am now describing, and, although these settlements are situated +at some distance apart, this is not considered to be a serious +inconvenience. At every hour on Sunday, if the day is fair, men and +women, in couples or small parties, neatly and becomingly dressed, are +seen moving along the chief thoroughfare on their way to call on their +friends. The women are decked in gay calicoes, often further adorned +with bunches of wild flowers plucked by the road-side; while the men are +clothed in suits which they have bought at the "store," and they +frequently wear cheap jewelry which they have purchased at the same +establishment. The dandies in the younger set flourish canes and assume +all the languishing airs that distinguish the callow fops of the white +race. Many visitors are received at the most popular houses, and they +are observed sitting with the families of their hosts and hostesses +under the shade of the trees until a late hour of the afternoon. Some +pass from cabin to cabin, not stopping long at any one, but finding a +cordial welcome everywhere. Some linger very late, and make their way +back by the light of the moon. As they move along the low-ground road +their voices can be heard very distinctly from the hills above as they +talk and laugh together; and sometimes they vary the monotony of their +walk by singing a hymn, the sound of which is borne very far on the +bosom of the silence, and is sweet and soft in its cadence, mellowed as +it is by the distance and idealized by the nocturnal hour. + +There are two church-edifices on the plantation, one of which is used +during the week as a public school, but the other was built expressly +for religious worship. Both are plain but comfortable structures, the +outer and inner walls of which have been whitewashed and the blinds +painted a dark green. Around them are wide yards, carefully swept; +otherwise their neighborhoods are rather forbidding, on account of the +silence and darkness of the forests in which they are situated, the only +proof of their connection with the world at large being the roads which +run by their doors. The pulpit of one is filled by a white preacher of +Northern birth and education, who removed to this section after the war; +and the only objection that can be urged against him is that he often +holds religious revivals at the time when the tobacco-worm is most +active in ravaging the ripening plant. The negroes who have to walk +several miles after their work is over to get to his church are kept up +till a late hour of night and in a state of high excitement, and are so +overcome with fatigue the following day that they dawdle over their +tasks. These revivals are also celebrated at the other church, but +always in proper season; for the minister there is not only sound and +orthodox in his doctrines, but he is also a planter on his own account, +and, therefore, able to understand that the interests of religion and +tobacco ought not to be brought into conflict. + +Many parties are given every year, and they are attended by several +hundred negroes of both sexes, who have come from the different +"quarters," and even from other plantations in the vicinity. The owner +of the plantation always supplies an abundance of provisions--a sheep or +beef, flour and meal--for the feast that celebrates the general housing +of the crops, which is to the laborers what the harvest-supper is to the +peasantry of England. The year, with its varied labors and large +results, lies behind them, the wheat, tobacco, and corn have all been +gathered in, their hard work is done, and though in a few weeks the old +routine will begin again, they are now oblivious of it all. Hour after +hour they continue to dance, a new array of fresh performers taking the +place of those who are exhausted, and then the regular beating of their +feet on the floor can be heard at a considerable distance, with a dull, +monotonous sound, varied only by the hum of voices or noise of laughter +or the shrill notes of the musical instruments. These are the banjo and +accordion, the former being the favorite, perhaps because it is more +intimately associated with the social traditions of the negroes. Their +best performers play very skilfully on both, and indulge in as much +ecstatic by-play as musicians of the most famous schools. They throw +themselves into many strange contortions as they touch the strings or +keys, swaying from side to side, or rocking their bodies backward and +forward till the head almost reaches the floor, or leaning over the +instrument and addressing it in caressing terms. They accompany their +playing with their voices, but their _repertoire_ is limited to a few +songs, which generally consist in mere repetition of a few notes. All +their airs have been handed down from remote generations. Their words +deal with the ordinary incidents of the negro's life, and embody his +narrow hopes and aspirations, but they are rarely connected narratives. +As a rule, they are broken lines without relevancy or coherence, while +the choruses are so many meaningless syllables. The negroes seem to +derive no pleasure from music outside of those songs and airs which they +have so often heard at their own hearthstones, and which have come down +to them from their ancestors. + +The Christmas holidays, extending from the 25th of December to the 2d of +January, are a period of entire suspension of labor on the plantation. +In anticipation of their arrival, a large quantity of fire-wood is +hauled from the forests and piled up around the cabins; but the negroes +spend very little of this interval of leisure in their own homes, unless +a bad spell of weather has set in and continues. They are either out in +the open air or at the "store." This latter serves the purpose of a +club, and is a very popular resort. Even at other times of the year it +is always packed at night; but during the Christmas holidays it is full +to overflowing in the day-time. At this gay season the fires are kept +burning very fiercely; the Sunday suits and dresses are worn every day; +the tables are covered with more abundant fare of the plainer as well +as rarer sort. All visitors are received with increased hospitality, and +work of every kind that usually goes on in the precincts of the dwelling +is, if possible, deferred until the opening of the new year. Many +strange faces are now seen on the plantation, and many faces that were +once familiar, but whose owners have removed elsewhere. The negro is as +closely bound in affection to the scenes of his childhood as the white +man, and he thinks that he has certain rights there of which absence +even cannot deprive him, although he may have left for permanent +settlement at a distance. When he dies elsewhere he is always anxious in +his last hours that his body shall be brought back and buried in the old +graveyard of the plantation where he was born and where he grew up to +manhood. And when he comes back to the well-known localities for a brief +stay, he feels as if he were at home again in the house of his fathers, +where he has an absolute and inalienable right to be. + +PHILIP A. BRUCE. + + + + +SCENES OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE'S LIFE IN BRUSSELS. + + +We had "done" Brussels after the approved fashion,--had faithfully +visited the churches, palaces, museums, theatres, galleries, monuments, +and boulevards, had duly admired the beautiful windows and the exquisite +wood-carvings of the grand old cathedral of St. Gudule, the tower and +tapestry and frescos and facade of the magnificent Hotel-de-Ville, the +stately halls and the gilded dome of the immense new Courts of Justice, +and the consummate beauty of the Bourse, had diligently sought out the +naive boy-fountain, and had made the usual excursion to Waterloo. + +This delightful task being conscientiously discharged, we proposed to +devote our last day in the beautiful Belgian capital to the +accomplishment of one of the cherished projects of our lives,--the +searching out of the localities associated with Charlotte Bronte's +unhappy school-life here, which she has so graphically portrayed. For +our purpose no guide was available, or needful, for the topography and +local coloring of "Villette" and "The Professor" are as vivid and +unmistakable as in the best work of Dickens himself. Proceeding from St. +Gudule, by the little street at the back of the cathedral, to the Rue +Royale, and a short distance along that grand thoroughfare, we reached +the park and a locality familiar to Miss Bronte's readers. Seated in +this lovely pleasure-ground, the gift of the empress Maria Theresa, with +its cool shade all about us, we noted the long avenues and the paths +winding amid stalwart trees and verdant shrubbery, the dark foliage +ineffectually veiling the gleaming statuary and the sheen of bright +fountains, "the stone basin with its clear depth, the thick-planted +trees which framed this tremulous and rippled mirror," the groups of +happy people filling the seats in secluded nooks or loitering in the +cool mazes and listening to the music,--we noted all this, and felt that +Miss Bronte had revealed it to us long ago. It was across this park that +Lucy Snowe was piloted from the bureau of the diligence by the +chivalrous stranger, Dr. John, on the night when she, despoiled, +helpless, and solitary, arrived in Brussels. She found the park deserted +and dark, the paths miry, the water "dripping from its trees." "In the +double gloom of tree and fog she could not see her guide, and could only +follow his tread" in the darkness. We recalled another scene under these +same tail trees, on a night when the iron gateway was "spanned by a +naming arch of massed stars." The park was a "forest with sparks of +purple and ruby and golden fire gemming the foliage," and Lucy, driven +from her couch by mental torture, wandered unrecognized amid the gay +throng at the midnight concert of the Festival of the Martyrs and looked +upon her lover, her friends the Brettons, and the secret junta of her +enemies, Madame Beck, Madame Walravens, and Pere Silas. + +The sense of familiarity with the vicinage grew as we observed our +surroundings. Facing us, at the extremity of the park, was the +unpretentious palace of the king, in the small square across the Rue +Royale at our right was the statue of General Beliard, and we knew that +just behind it we should find the Rue Fossette and Charlotte Bronte's +_pensionnat_, for Crimsworth, "The Professor," standing by the statue, +had "looked down a great staircase" to the door-way of the school, and +poor Lucy, on that forlorn first night in "Villette," to avoid the +insolence of a pair of ruffians, had hastened down a flight of steps from +the Rue Royale, and had come, not to the inn she sought, but to the +_pensionnat_ of Madame Beck. + +From the statue we descended, by a quadruple series of wide stone +stairs, into a narrow street, old-fashioned and clean, quiet and +secluded in the very heart of the great city,--the Rue d'Isabelle,--and +just opposite the foot of the steps we came to the wide door of a +spacious, quadrangular, stuccoed old mansion, with a bit of foliage +showing over a high wall at one side. A bright plate embellishes the +door and bears the inscription, + +PENSIONNAT DE DEMOISELLES +HEGER-PARENT. + +A Latin inscription in the wall of the house shows it to have been given +to the Guild of Royal Archers by the Infanta Isabelle early in the +seventeenth century. Long before that the garden had been the orchard +and herbary of a convent and the Hospital for the Poor. + +We were detained at the door long enough to remember Lucy standing +there, trembling and anxious, awaiting admission, and then we too were +"let in by a _bonne_ in a smart cap,"--apparently a fit successor to the +Rosine of forty years ago,--and entered the corridor. This is paved with +blocks of black and white marble and has painted walls. It extends +through the entire depth of the house, and at its farther extremity an +open door afforded us a glimpse of the garden. + +We were ushered into the little _salon_ at the left of the passage,--the +one often mentioned in "Villette,"--and here we made known our wish to +see the garden and class-rooms, and met with a prompt refusal from the +neat _portresse_. We tried diplomacy (also lucre) with her, without +avail: it was the _grandes vacances_, the ladies were out, M. Heger was +engaged, we could not be gratified,--unless, indeed, we were patrons of +the school. At this juncture a portly, ruddy-faced lady of middle age +and most courteous of speech and manner appeared, and, addressing us in +faultless English, introduced herself as Mademoiselle Heger, +co-directress of the _pensionnat_, and "wholly at our service." In +response to our apologies for the intrusion and explanations of the +desire which had prompted it, we received complaisant assurances of +welcome; yet the manner of our kind entertainer indicated that she did +not appreciate, much less share in, our admiration and enthusiasm for +Charlotte Bronte and her books. In the subsequent conversation it +appeared that Mademoiselle and her family hold decided opinions upon the +subject,--something more than mere lack of admiration. She was familiar +with the novels, and thought that, while they exhibit a talent certainly +not above mediocrity, they reflect the injustice, the untruthfulness, +and the ingratitude of their creator. We were obliged to confess to +ourselves that the family have apparent reason for this view, when we +reflected that in the books Miss Bronte has assailed their religion and +disparaged the school and the character of the teachers and pupils, has +depicted Madame Heger in the odious duad of Madame Beck and Mademoiselle +Reuter, has represented M. Heger as the scheming and deceitful M. Pelet +and the preposterous M. Paul, Lucy Snowe's lover, that this lover was +the husband of Madame Heger, and father of the family of children to +whom Lucy was at first _bonne d'enfants_, and that possibly the daughter +she has described as the thieving, vicious Desiree--"that tadpole, +Desiree Beck"--was this very lady now so politely entertaining us. To +all this add the significant fact that "Villette" is an autobiographical +novel, which "records the most vivid passages in Miss Bronte's own sad +heart's history," not a few of the incidents being "literal transcripts" +from the darkest chapter of her own life, and the light which the +consideration of this fact throws upon her relations with members of the +family will help us to apprehend the stand-point from which the Hegers +judge Miss Bronte and her work, and to excuse, if not to justify, a +natural resentment against one who has presented them in a decidedly bad +light. + +_How_ bad we began to realize when, during the ensuing chat, we called +to mind just what she had written of them. As Madame Beck, Madame Heger +had been represented as lying, deceitful, and shameless, as heartless +and unscrupulous, as "watching and spying everywhere, peeping through +every keyhole, listening behind every door," as duplicating Lucy's keys +and secretly searching her bureau, as meanly abstracting her letters and +reading them to others, as immodestly laying herself out to entrap the +man to whom she had given her love unsought. In letters to her friend +Ellen, Miss Bronte complains that "Madame Heger never came near her" in +her loneliness and illness. + +It was, obviously, some accession to the existing animosity between +herself and Madame Heger which precipitated Miss Bronte's final +departure from the _pensionnat_. Mrs. Gaskell ascribes their mutual +dislike to Charlotte's free expression of her aversion to the Catholic +Church, of which Madame Heger was a devotee, and hence "wounded in her +most cherished opinions;" but a later writer, in the "Westminster +Review," plainly intimates that Miss Bronte hated the woman who sat for +Madame Beck because marriage had given to _her_ the man whom Miss Bronte +loved, and that "Madame Beck had need to be a detective in her own +house." The recent death of Madame Heger has rendered the family, who +hold her now only as a sacred memory, more keenly sensitive than ever to +anything which would seem by implication to disparage her. + +For himself it would appear that M. Heger has less cause for resentment, +for, although in "Villette" he (or his double) is pictured as "a waspish +little despot," as fiery and unreasonable, as "detestably ugly" in his +anger, closely resembling "a black and sallow tiger," as having an +"overmastering love of authority and public display," as basely playing +the spy and reading purloined letters, and in the Bronte epistles +Charlotte declares he is choleric and irritable, compels her to make her +French translations without a dictionary or grammar, and then has "his +eyes almost plucked out of his head" by the occasional English word she +is obliged to introduce, etc., yet all this is partially atoned for by +the warm praise she subsequently accords him for his goodness to her and +his "disinterested friendship," by the poignant regret she expresses at +parting with him,--perhaps wholly expiated by the high compliment she +pays him of making her heroine, Lucy, fall in love with him, or the +higher compliment it is suspected she paid him of falling in love with +him herself. One who reads the strange history of passion in "Villette," +in conjunction with her letters, "will know more of the truth of her +stay in Brussels than if a dozen biographers had undertaken to tell the +whole tale." + +Still, M. Heger can scarcely be pleased by the ludicrous figure he is +so often made to cut in the novels by having members of his school set +forth as stupid, animal, and inferior, "their principles rotten to the +core, steeped in systematic sensuality," by having his religion styled +"besotted papistry, a piece of childish humbug," and the like. + +Something of the displeasure of the family was revealed in the course of +our conversation with Mademoiselle Heger, but the specific causes were +but cursorily touched upon. She could have no personal recollection of +the Brontes; her knowledge of them is derived from her parents and the +teachers,--presumably the "repulsive old maids" of Charlotte's letters. +One of the present teachers in the _pensionnat_ had been a classmate of +Charlotte's here. The Brontes had not been popular with the school. +Their "heretical" religion had something to do with this; but their +manifest avoidance of the other pupils during hours of recreation, +Mademoiselle thought, had been a more potent cause,--Emily, in +particular, not speaking with her school-mates or teachers except when +obliged to do so. The other pupils thought them of outlandish accent and +manners and ridiculously old to be at school at all,--being twenty-four +and twenty-six, and seeming even older. Their sombre and +grotesquely-ugly costumes were fruitful causes of mirth to the gay +young Belgian misses. The Brontes were not especially brilliant +students, and none of their companions had ever suspected that they were +geniuses. Of the two, Emily was considered to be, in most respects, the +more talented, but she was obstinate and opinionated. Some of the pupils +had been inclined to resist having Charlotte placed over them as +teacher, and may have been mutinous. After her return from Haworth she +taught English to M. Heger and his brother-in-law. M. Heger gave the +sisters private lessons in French without charge, and for some time +preserved their compositions, which Mrs. Gaskell copied. Mrs. Gaskell +visited the _pensionnat_ in quest of material for her biography of +Charlotte, and received all the aid M. Heger could afford: the +information thus obtained has, for the most part, we were told, been +fairly used. Miss Bronte's letters from Brussels, so freely quoted in +Mrs. Gaskell's "Life," were addressed to Miss Ellen Nussy, a familiar +friend of Charlotte's, whose signature we saw in the register at Haworth +Church as witness to Miss Bronte's marriage. The Hegers had no suspicion +that she had been so unhappy with them as these letters indicate, and +she had assigned a totally different reason for her sudden return to +England. She had been introduced to Madame Heger by Mrs. Jenkins, wife +of the then chaplain of the British Embassy at the Court of Belgium; she +had frequently visited that lady and other friends in Brussels,--among +them Mary and Martha Taylor and their relatives, and the family of a +Dr. ---- (_not_ Dr. John),--and therefore her life here need not +have been so lonely and desolate as it has been made to appear. + +The Hegers usually have a few English pupils in the school, but have +never had an American. + +Some American tourists had before called to look at the garden, but the +family are not pleased by the notoriety with which Miss Bronte has +invested it. However, Mademoiselle Heger kindly offered to conduct us +over any portion of the establishment we might care to see, and led the +way along the corridor, past the class-rooms and the _refectoire_ on the +right, to the narrow, high-walled garden. We found it smaller than in +the time when Miss Bronte loitered here in weariness and solitude. +Mademoiselle Heger explained that, while the width remains the same, the +erection of class-rooms for the day-pupils has diminished the length by +some yards. Tall houses surround and shut it in on either side, making +it close and sombre, and the noises of the great city all about it +penetrate here only as a far-away murmur. There is a plat of verdant +turf in the centre, bordered by scant flowers and damp gravelled walks, +along which shrubs of evergreen and laurel are irregularly disposed. A +few seats are placed here and there within the shade, where, as in Miss +Bronte's time, the _externals_ eat the luncheon brought with them to the +school; and overlooking it all stand the great old pear-trees, whose +gnarled and deformed trunks are relics of the time of the hospital and +convent. Beyond these and along the gray wall which bounds the farther +side of the enclosure is the sheltered walk which was Miss Bronte's +favorite retreat,--the "_allee defendue_" of her novels. It is screened +by shrubs and perfumed by flowers, and, being secure from the intrusion +of pupils, we could well believe that Charlotte and her heroine found +here restful seclusion. The coolness and quiet and--more than all--the +throng of vivid associations which fill the place tempted us to linger. +The garden is not a spacious nor even a pretty one, and yet it seemed to +us singularly pleasing and familiar,--as if we were revisiting it after +an absence. Seated upon a rustic bench close at hand, possibly the very +one which Lucy Snowe had cleansed and "reclaimed from fungi and mould," +how the memories came surging up into our minds! How often in the summer +twilight poor Charlotte had lingered here in restful solitude after the +day's burdens and trials with "stupid and impertinent" pupils! How +often, with weary feet and a dreary heart, she had paced this secluded +walk and thought, with longing almost insupportable, of the dear ones in +far-away Haworth parsonage! In this sheltered corner her other +self--Lucy Snowe--sat and listened to the distant chimes and thought +forbidden thoughts and cherished impossible hopes. Here she met and +talked with Dr. John. Deep beneath this "Methuselah of a pear-tree," the +one nearest the end of the alley, lies the imprisoned dust of the poor +young nun who was buried alive ages ago for some sin against her vow, +and whose perambulating ghost so disquieted poor Lucy. At the root of +this same tree one miserable night Lucy buried her precious letters, and +"meant also to bury a grief" and her great affection for Dr. John. Here +she had leant her brow against Methuselah's knotty trunk and uttered to +herself those brave words of renunciation which must have wrung her +heart: "Good-night, Dr. John; you are good, you are beautiful, _but you +are not mine_. Good-night, and God bless you!" Here she held pleasant +converse with M. Paul, and with him, spell-bound, saw the ghost of the +nun descend from the leafy shadows overhead and, sweeping close past +their wondering faces, disappear behind yonder screen of shrubbery into +the darkness of the summer night. By that tall tree next the class-rooms +the ghost was wont to ascend to meet its material sweetheart, Fanshawe, +in the great garret beneath yonder skylight,--the garret where Lucy +retired to read Dr. John's letter, and wherein M. Paul confined her to +learn her part in the vaudeville for Madame Beck's _fete_-day. In this +nook where we sat, Crimsworth, "The Professor," had walked and talked +with and almost made love to Mademoiselle Reuter, and from yonder window +overlooking the alley had seen that perfidious fair one in dalliance +with his employer, M. Pelet, beneath these pear-trees. From that window +M. Paul watched Lucy as she sat or walked in the _allee defendue_, +dogged by Madame Beck; from the same window were thrown the love-letters +which fell at Lucy's feet sitting here. + +Leaves from the overhanging boughs were plucked for us as souvenirs of +the place; then, reverently traversing once more the narrow alley so +often traced in weariness by Charlotte Bronte, we turned away. From the +garden we entered the long and spacious class-room of the first and +second divisions. A movable partition divides it across the middle when +the classes are in session; the floor is of bare boards cleanly scoured. +There are long ranges of desks and benches upon either side, and a lane +through the middle leads up to a raised platform at the end of the room, +where the instructor's chair and desk are placed. + +How quickly our fancy peopled the place! On these front seats sat the +gay and indocile Belgian girls. There, "in the last row, in the +quietest corner, sat Emily and Charlotte side by side, so absorbed in +their studies as to be insensible to anything about them;" and at the +same desk, "in the farthest seat of the farthest row," sat Mademoiselle +Henri during Crimsworth's English lessons. Here Lucy's desk was rummaged +by M. Paul and the tell-tale odor of cigars left behind. Here, after +school-hours, Miss Bronte taught M. Heger English, he taught her French, +and M. Paul taught Lucy arithmetic and (incidentally) love. This was the +scene of their _tete-a-tetes_, of his earnest efforts to persuade her +into his faith in the Church of Rome, of their ludicrous supper of +biscuit and baked apples, and of his final violent outbreak with Madame +Beck, when she literally thrust herself between him and his love. From +this platform Crimsworth and Lucy Snowe and Charlotte Bronte herself had +given instruction to pupils whose insubordination had first to be +confronted and overcome. Here M. Paul and M. Heger gave lectures upon +literature, and Paul delivered his spiteful tirade against the English +on the morning of his _fete_-day. Upon this desk were heaped his +bouquets that morning; from its smooth surface poor Lucy dislodged and +fractured his cherished spectacles; and here, _now_, seated in Paul's +chair, at Paul's desk, we saw and were presented to Paul Emanuel +himself,--M. Heger. + +It was something more than curiosity which made us alert to note the +appearance and manner of this man, who has been so nearly associated +with Miss Bronte in an intercourse which colored her whole subsequent +life and determined her life work, who has been made the hero of her +best novels and has even been deemed the hero of her own heart's +romance; and yet we _were_ curious to know "what manner of man it is" +who has been so much as suspected of being honored with the love and +preference of the dainty Charlotte Bronte. During a short conversation +with him we had opportunity to observe that in person this "wise, good, +and religious" man must, at the time Miss Bronte knew him, have more +closely resembled M. Pelet of "The Professor" than any other of her +pen-portraits: indeed, after the lapse of more than forty years that +delineation still, for the most part, aptly applies to him. He is of +middle age, of rather spare habit of body; his face is fair and the +features pleasing and regular, the cheeks are thin and the mouth +flexible, the eyes--somewhat sunken--are of mild blue and of singularly +pleasant expression. We found him elderly, but not infirm; his +finely-shaped head is now fringed with white hair, and partial baldness +contributes an impressive reverence to his presence and tends to enhance +the intellectual effect of his wide brow. In repose his countenance +shows a hint of melancholy: as Miss Bronte has said, "his physiognomy is +_fine et spirituelle_;" one would hardly imagine it could ever resemble +the "visage of a black and sallow tiger." His voice is low and soft, his +bow still "very polite, not theatrical, scarcely French," his manner +_suave_ and courteous, his dress scrupulously neat. He accosted us in +the language Miss Bronte taught him forty years ago, and his accent and +diction do honor to her instruction. He was, at this time, engaged with +some patrons of the school, and, as his daughter had hinted that he was +averse to speaking of Miss Bronte, we soon took leave of him and were +shown through other parts of the school. The other class-rooms, used for +less advanced pupils, are smaller. In one of them, the third, Miss +Bronte had ruled as monitress after her return from Haworth. The large +dormitory of the _pensionnat_ was above the long class-room, and in the +time of the Brontes most of the boarders--about twenty in number--slept +here. Their cots were arranged along either side, and the position of +those occupied by the Brontes was pointed out to us at the extreme end +of the long room. It was here that Lucy suffered the horrors of +hypochondria, so graphically portrayed in "Villette," and found the +discarded costume of the spectral nun lying upon her bed, and here Miss +Bronte passed those nights of "dreary, wakeful misery" which Mrs. +Gaskell describes. + +A long and rather narrow room in front of the class-rooms was shown us +as the _refectoire_, where the Brontes, with the other boarders, took +their meals, presided over by M. and Madame Heger, and where, during the +evenings, the lessons for the ensuing days were prepared. Here were held +the evening prayers, which Charlotte used to avoid by escaping into the +garden. This, too, was the scene of M. Paul's whilom readings to +teachers and pupils, and of some of his spasms of petulance, which +readers of "Villette" will remember. From the _refectoire_ we passed +again into the corridor, where we made our adieus to our affable +conductress. She gave us her card, and explained that, whereas this +establishment had formerly been both a _pensionnat_ and an _externat_, +having about seventy day-pupils and twenty boarders when Miss Bronte was +here, it is now, since the death of Madame Heger, used as a day-school +only,--the _pensionnat_ being at some little distance, in the Avenue +Louise, where Mademoiselle is a co-directress. + +The genuine local color Miss Bronte gives in "Villette" enabled us to be +sure that we had found the sombre old church where Lucy, arrested in +passing by the sound of the bells, knelt upon the stone pavement, +passing thence into the confessional of Pere Silas. Certain it is that +this old church lies upon the route she would naturally take in the walk +from the Rue d'Isabelle to the Protestant cemetery, which she had set +out to do that dark afternoon, and the narrow streets of picturesque old +houses which lie beyond the church correspond to those in which she was +lost. Certain, too, it is said to be that this incident is taken +directly from Miss Bronte's own experience. A writer in "Macmillan" +says, "During one of the long holidays, when her mind was restless and +disturbed, she found sympathy, if not peace, in the counsels of a priest +in the confessional, who pitied and soothed her troubled spirit without +attempting to enmesh it in the folds of Romanism." + +Our way to the Protestant cemetery, a spot sadly familiar to Miss +Bronte, and the usual termination of her walks, lay past the site of the +Porte de Louvain and out to the hills a mile or so beyond the old city +limits. From our path we saw more than one tree-surrounded farm-house +which might have been the place of M. Paul's breakfast with his school, +and at least one old-fashioned manor-house, with green-tufted and +terraced lawns, which might have served Miss Bronte as the model for "La +Terrasse," the suburban home of the Brettons, and probably the temporary +abode of the Taylor sisters whom she visited here. From the cemetery are +beautiful vistas of farther lines of hills, of intervening valleys, of +farms and villas, and of the great city lying below. Miss Bronte has +well described this place: "Here, on pages of stone, of marble, and of +brass, are written names, dates, last tributes of pomp or love, in +English, French, German, and Latin." There are stone crosses all about, +and great thickets of roses and yew-trees,--"cypresses that stand +straight and mute, and willows that hang low and still;" and there are +"dim garlands of everlasting flowers." + +Here "The Professor" found his long-sought sweetheart kneeling at a +new-made grave, under these overhanging trees. And here _we_ found the +shrine of poor Charlotte Bronte's many weary pilgrimages hither,--the +burial-place of her friend and schoolmate Martha Taylor, the Jessy Yorke +of "Shirley," the spot where, under "green sod and a gray marble +headstone, cold, coffined, solitary, Jessy sleeps below." + +THEO. WOLFE. + + + + +COOKHAM DEAN. + + +For a long time "the Dean" had had a certain familiarity for us. We +heard it continually spoken of among our artist friends, and had even +come to recognize many of its picturesque features as we came across +them in our usual studio-haunts and in the exhibitions. We seemed to +know those green, billowy swells at sight, as well as the thatched and +tiled roofs and old-fashioned gardens, the swinging barred gates and +stagnant, goose-tormented pools,--even the coarse-limbed rustics in +weather-beaten "store-clothes," picturesque only in mellow fadedness. + +We knew all this; yet, when we set eyes and feet upon Cookham Dean for +the first time, behold, the half had not been told us! We had directed +many a letter to Cookham Dean, and knew them to have been duly delivered +by a bucolic postman on a tricycle. But a hundred canvases, and almost +as many tongues, had failed to tell us of the sunny slopes and shadowy +glades, the sylvan lanes and ribbon-like roads, the old stone inn with +open porch and sign swinging from lofty post set across the way, as +Italian campanile stand away from their churches, all coming under the +name of "Cookham Dean," although that "Dean," properly speaking, is only +their geographical and artistic centre. + +Long before we reached _Ye Hutte_ from Cookham station--Ye Hutte set +amid bushy and climbing roses upon a prominent knoll of the many-knolled +Dean--we ceased to wonder that our picturesque imaginings of the region +we were passing through had been so various. Artists were before us, +artists behind us, artists on every side of us, two sketching-umbrellas +glinting like great tropical flowers in a corn-field, another like a +huge daisy in the dim vista of a long lane. + +"C---- lodges in that red cottage, B---- in the next one, H---- in this +tumble-down farm-house, the L----s in that row of laborers' cottages, +the D----s in the inn," said Mona, tripping lightly over well-known +names, whose most accustomed place is in the exhibition catalogues. + +Through the open windows of a hideous brick row, built to hold as many +laborers' families all the year round and as many Bohemian summer +artists as can crowd therein, we caught glimpses of tapestries worth +their weight in gold. One well-known artist has taken possession of the +end of this uncomely row, intended for a supply-shop to the +neighborhood. This shop is his studio, which he has filled with +treasures of Japanese art. As a Cookhamite assured us, "Mr. C---- goes +in for the _Japanesque_;" and he screens the large display-windows +intended for cheese, raisins, and potted meats with smiling mandarins +and narrow-eyed houris under octopus-like trees. + +At the rear of the same "Row" we recognized a broad-hatted figure once +familiar to us in the Quartier Latin and the artistic _auberges_ of the +Forest of Fontainebleau. The very personification of _insouciance_ and +_laissez-aller_, he whose tiny bedroom-studio up-stairs ran riot with +color caught among California mountains, in cool gray France and +ochreous England, was bending the whole force of his mind to sketching a +pouter pigeon preening itself upon a barrel. + +Still another of the ugly cottages, cursed by artists but inhabited by +them, was hired at ten pounds a year by two young landscapists. A +charwoman came every morning to quell the mad riots in which the +household gods (or demons) diurnally engaged, but at all other times the +landscapists manoeuvred for themselves. That the domestic manoeuvring of +young landscapists is not always _toute rose_ we saw reason later to +believe. For not once, twice, nor yet so seldom as a dozen times, have +we seen these young manoeuvrers begin to dine at four, when shadows +were growing too long upon field, thicket, and stream, only to finish we +knew not when, so late into darkness was that "finish" projected. We +could see one of the diners passing along the road from the public +house, an eighth of a mile away, at four, with the _piece de resistance_ +of the meal in an ample dish enveloped in a towel. Ten minutes later the +other rushes by, contrariwise of direction, in pursuit of beer and the +forgotten bread. A little later, and a scudding white dust-cloud in the +road informs us that one of the dining 'scapists flees breathlessly +vinegar- or salt-ward. Still another five minutes, and the other diner +hies him in chase of the white scud, calling vigorously to it that there +is no butter for the rice, no sugar for the fruit. + +We saw at once that this Berkshire corner abounds more in dulcet and +sylvan landscape bits than in picturesque motifs for those who paint +_genre_. The peasants have a certain inchoate picturesqueness, as of +beings roughly evolved from the life of this fair material nature, and +sometimes, in silhouette against dun-gray skies and amid rugged fields, +give one vague feeling of Millet's pathos of peasant life and labor. The +yokel himself, however,--and particularly _herself_,--seems determined +to deny all poetic and picturesque relations, by clothing himself--and +herself--in coarse, shop-made rubbish, in battered, _demode_ town-hats +and flounced gowns from Petticoat Lane. + +From certain points of the "Dean" the distances are dreamy and wide, +with high horizon-lines touching wooded hills and shutting the Thames +into a middle distance toward which a hundred little hills either +descend abruptly or decline gently upon broad green meadows. Nature here +smiles, not with pure pagan blitheness, but with a tenderer grace, as of +a soul grown human and fraught with countless memories of man's smiles +and tears, his hard, bitter labor, his sins, sorrows, and longings. But +it is very tender, and not even the wildest storm-effects raise the +landscape to any expression of tragic grandeur, but only suede its fair +hues and soft outlines to the wan pathos peculiar to English moorlands. + +_Ye Hutte_ is a misnomer for the extraordinary establishment, studio and +domicile combined, at which we dismounted. It is not a _hut_, and +neither in architectural motive nor the artistic proclivities of its +inmates has it aught to do with the centuries when our English tongue +was otherwise written or spoken than it is to-day. Ye Hutte is a vast, +barn-like building, plain and bare save for an inviting vine-grown porch +vaguely Gothic in reminiscence, although nondescript in fact. It was +erected by some dissenting society for public worship: hence its +interior is one immense vaulted room, with cathedral-like windows and +choir-gallery across one end. "The body of the house," to speak +ecclesiastically, is cumbered with easels and the usual chaotic +_impedimenta_ of painters. The choir, ascended by a ladder, holds three +tiny cot-beds, while beneath the choir and concealed by beautiful +draperies are stored the domestic and culinary paraphernalia,--pots, +pans, brushes, dishes, and, above all, the multiplicity of petroleum- and +spirit-stoves in which the Bohemian artistic soul delights. Ye Hutte is +an artist's studio, and its name may be found in all the exhibition +catalogues, for several generations of painters drift through it every +year. As one inmate rushes off to the Continent, the sea-shore, or the +mountains, another takes his place. Yet Ye Hutte holds scant place in +its real owner's esteem compared with that larger studio owned by all +the Dean artists in common, where all their summer's work is done, and +which is parquetted with grain-field gold and meadow emerald, walled +with rainbow horizons, and roofed with azure festooned with spun silk. +Ye Hutte is better appreciated as evening rendezvous for the +palette-bearing hosts, both male and female, who, sunbrowned and tired, +partake there of restful social converse as well as of the hospitable +cup that cheers. Evening after evening, by twos and threes, they sit in +the moonlight under the silver-touched vines and dewy blossoms of the +porch, listening to the far-away cry of night-birds, the murmur of +drowsy bells upon cattle stirring in sleep, or of human voices idealized +by remoteness into faint haunting music, while before them white light +touches the wooded heights of Cliefden,--distant heights full of +picturesque mystery and passionate history,--touches and idealizes into +a semblance of poetic realism the sham ruins of Hedsor, and spreads a +pearly sheen over the unseen Valley of the Shadow of Light through which +winds the quiet Thames. + +To the usual artistic circle of Ye Hutte is often added a not +uncongenial element from the outside world, sometimes even from within +the borders of Philistia. Story-tellers, moved by the subtile magnetism +of the artistic creative faculty, whether of brush, chisel, or pen, come +up sometimes from London, bringing with them an atmosphere of +publishers' offices, of romance in high and low life, of professional +gossip and criticism. Often a stalwart bicyclist rolls up from the +capital, bringing with him such a breeze from the world of newspapers, +theatres, and crack restaurants that Ye Hutte straightway determines to +order some weekly journal, waxes ardent for flesh-pots other than of +Cookham, and resolves upon having a Lyceum twice a week when the Dean +shall be swept by the blasts and St. John's Wood studios swallow us up +for the winter. + +The Dean is little favored of the ordinary fashionable visitor, for whom +artistic accommodations are quite too scantily luxurious. Now and then, +for the sake of the river, a rustic cot is taken for a few weeks by a +party of boating-people. Then the quaint, old-fashioned gardens blossom +with a sudden luxuriance of striped tents and flaming umbrellas, while +bright women in many-hued boating-costumes flit among cabbages and +onions like curious tropical birds and butterflies. As a rule, however, +the Dean is abandoned to its usual rustic population and to artists, +numbers of the latter remaining all winter in the haunts whence the +majority of their kind have flown. + +The social and artistic peculiarities of the Dean are, of course, too +many to be specified. In a collection of various nationalities, many of +whose number have drifted like thistledown hither and yon over the fair +earth, how could it well be otherwise? It may be observed, however, that +here, as everywhere else in this right little tight little isle, where +habit is the very antithesis of the airy license of "Abroad," it is +_not_, as it is in the artistic haunts of the Continent, _en regle_ to +vaunt one's self on the paucity of one's shekels or to acknowledge +acquaintance with the Medici's pills in their modern form of the Three +Golden Balls. + +Once upon a time, in a Barbizon _auberge_, a certain famous artist and +incorrigible Bohemian brought down the table by describing an incident +of his releasing a friend's valuables from durance. + +"The moment I turned in at the Mont de Piete," he said, "_my_ watch took +fright, and stopped ticking on the spot." + +That same Bohemian, after years of the Latin Quarter and Mont de Piete, +found himself one summer on the Dean. One evening at the porch of Ye +Hutte he met a lively group of painters and paintresses, just returned +from corn-field and meadow. + +During the short halt the Bohemian's watch was so largely and frequently +_en evidence_ as to attract attention. + +"Yes," he said, with colossal, adamantine impudence, "I've just got it +back from a two-years' visit to 'my uncle'." + +Only a few evenings later the same party met again in the same spot. + +"What time is it, Mr. S----?" asked Sophia Primrose, amiably disposed to +resuscitate a forlorn joke. + +A mammoth blush submerged the luckless Bohemian. For Dean propriety was +already becoming engrafted upon Continental habit, and he crimsoned at +having to confess what once he would have proclaimed upon the +house-top,--that his watch was again with his "uncle." + +Probably nine-tenths of the Continental artists who are not entirely +beyond the dread of yet eating "mad cow" travel third-class. But Dean +artists, however they may travel when out of England, generally slip +quietly away from the sight of their acquaintances when their tickets +are other than at least second. Our Bohemian was once presented with a +second-class ticket to London. As he scrambled in upon the unwonted +luxury of cushioned seats, he saw familiar faces blushing furiously. + +"The first time we ever travelled second-class in our lives," murmured +Materfamilias. + +"I too," responded the cheeky Bohemian. + +Another difference between Dean Bohemianism and Continental is +characteristic of the whole race whose land this is. Whereas artists in +France, Italy, and Germany are of gregarious habit and gather for their +summers in rural inns, where they form a community by themselves, the +Dean artist sets up his own vine and fig-tree and has a temporary home, +if ever so small and mean. The farm-houses and cottages of the Dean are +filled with lodgers, all dining at separate tables and living as aloof +from each other as the true Briton always lives. There are advantages in +this aloofness, but it certainly lacks the _camaraderie_, the jolly +good-fellowship, of those picturesque _auberges_ and _osterie_ where +twenty or thirty of one calling are gathered together under one roof, +meeting daily at table, where artistic criticism is pungent and free, +artistic assistance ungrudging, tales of artistic experience and +adventure racy, the atmosphere stimulative to the spreading out of every +artistic theory possible to the sane and insane mind. + +In one of these Continental _auberges_ rough boards a foot in width ran +in one unbroken line round the four sides of the _salle-a-manger_. These +boards were perhaps hazily intended for seats, but their real office +was to hold all the artistic rubbish--smashed color-tubes, broken +stretchers, ragged canvases, discarded palettes, disreputable paint-rags +and oil-tubes--the _auberge_ possessed. But every sunset, as the stream +of artists set in from forest and field, the boards came into other +service. All the work of the day was ranged upon them along the wall, +and while the painters sat at meat comment and criticism grew rampant, +every canvas coming in for its share. That many good lessons were given +and taken in this wise _va sans dire_. That also artistic progress was +punctuated not unseldom with "_betise_," "_imbecile_," "_nom du chien_," +"you're a goose," and "you're another," goes equally without saying to +all who know the unrestraint of artistic Bohemia and the usual attitude +of the human mind under criticism. + +The walls of this _salle-a-manger_ were--and are--arranged with panels, +in which _messieurs les artistes_ exercised their skill. It is a marked +peculiarity of these artistic communities that no branch of art is so +popular as caricature. Sometimes these caricatures are amiable, +sometimes the reverse. Thus, when a certain blithe widow was represented +colossally upon the wall with a little man in her eye, the likenesses +were so good and the truth of the caricature so palpable that the widow +herself was moved to as quick laughter as the others. But when American +Palmer worked all day upon a panel to create a sunny sea laughing +radiantly back at a sunny sky, while fantastic lateen-sailed craft +floated like bits of jewelled color between, it was mean, to say the +least, of Scotch Willie to take advantage of the American's departure +and paint out those fairy boats, filling their places with horrible +bloated corpses, floating upon the bright water like a nightmare upon +innocent sleep. + +It was in this same _auberge_ that our landlady made this piteous +supplication: "Caricature each other on the walls, _messieurs et +mesdames, si vous voulez_; make portrait busts of the bread and +figurines of the potatoes, and decorate the plates in whatever style of +art you please; but don't, _je vous en supplie_, don't blacken the +table-cloths before they are three days old." + +Alas! this was eloquence lost; for, at that very dinner, conversation +chancing to turn upon the subtile malignity of Fanny Matilda's smiles, +Fanny Matilda being there present, in less time than it takes to tell it +twenty crayon smiles writhed and wriggled upon the spick-span cloth. + +"_Mon Dieu! mon Dieu_!" moaned Madame. "And only yesterday every +handkerchief upon the line came in bearing the noses of _messieurs et +mesdames_!" + +Aloofly though the Deanite lives, he is not altogether an unsocial +being. Neither are his domestic habits always as invisible to the finite +eye as he perhaps intends them to be. Tent-life has scant privacy, and +the circumscribed accommodation of the Dean leads to frequent "slopping +over" into cloth annexes. + +Opposite our windows a certain painter spent no inconsiderable time in +the peak-roofed tent upon the grass-plot. There the young +foreign-looking wife, in scarlet _birette_ and jaunty petticoats just +touching high boot-tops, with long, flowing hair, as bright and +effective as any pictured _vivandiere_, made tea and coffee over a +petroleum-stove, laid the table, sat at her sewing, posed for her +husband, received her callers, as charming a gypsy picture as ever +brightened canvas. + +For the very best of reasons, we were not 'cyclists, although in a +country set with 'cycles as the fields with flowers or the sky with +stars. + +For reasons equally good, we were not boatists, although the watery way +from Oxford to the sea flowed so near our door, and our village was one +of the gayest head-quarters not only of the fresh-water navy, whose arms +are flashing oars and whose oaths are of the universities, but equally +that of regiments of painters, whose arms are sketching-umbrellas and +easels and who swear not at all,--or at least not to feminine hearing. + +Our lodgings were among the artists in the region farther back from the +river than that monopolized by the boating-people. We were back among +the sunny slopes and smiling meadows, the red-tiled farm-houses and +dusky lanes, of the still primitive natives of the region, while the +navy covered the shining river by day and overran the river-side +hostelries by night. + +Our lodgings were not picturesque, if truth must be told, although +surrounded by picturesqueness as by a garment,--a circular cloak of it, +so to say. We had the chief rooms of a staring new and square brick +cottage, glaring with white walls inside, shutterless outside, majestic +with a bow-window too high to look from except upon one's legs, owned by +my Lady H----'s gardener, and elegantly named "Ethel Cottage," as a +stucco plaque in its frieze bore witness. We should have preferred +accommodations in any of the ivy-grown, steep-roofed cots about us, or +in the old stone inn, with its peaked porch, where honest yokels quaffed +nutty ale and a sign-board creaked and groaned from its gibbet across +the road. But we had come too late in the painting-season for any other +than Hobson's choice: the tidbits of grime and squalor were all taken, +and we must e'en content ourselves to be mocked and reviled for the +philistinism of our domestic establishing, or else hie us hence where +artists were not and Ethel Cottages as yet unknown. + +But where, tell me where, are not artists in England? And where, tell me +where, do artists gather in squads that Ethel Cottages do not spring up +like the tents of an army with banners? For even painters must eat and +be lodged, the aboriginal habitations are not of elastic capacity, the +inns are of feeble digestion, and the third summer of an artistic +invasion is sure to find "Ethels" and "Mabels" in red brick and stunning +whitewash, and, like our row of laborers' cottages, cursed by artists, +but inhabited by them. + +It was a _soulagement_ of our aesthetic discomfort that so long as we +remained hidden within it we never realized our own hideousness. Now and +then we saw the ugly squareness of our afternoon shadow upon our +aristocratically-gravelled front yard, but ordinarily we saw only dreamy +distances melting into piny duskiness against the far-off sky, the +serpent-like windings of the tranquil river, upon which its navy looked +like dust-motes, fair fields of golden grain, and the farm-houses and +cottages which looked upon our blank brickness with admiration and +wondered why we were despised of our less beautifully housed kind, when +our forks were four-pronged and of silvery seeming and our floors +carpeted to our sybaritic feet. It was only when we returned to our +Ethel after long tramps over the country-side, from a four-miles-distant +Norman tower or a ten-miles-away pre-Reformation abbey, now stable or +granary, that we figuratively beat our breasts and tore our hair because +Fate had not made us _real_ tramps, privileged to sleep in +pre-Reformation stables or 'neath pre-Reformation stars, rather than the +imitation tramps we were, wedded to the habits but loathing the aspect +of red-faced, staring Ethels. + +What would we not have given for an invitation to pass a time, as Miss +Muloch was, in one of those Thames monsters concerning which she wrote +her fascinating pages, "A Week in a House-Boat"! We could scarce catch a +glimpse of the river upon our tramps--and it was our constant silvery +accompaniment, as the treble to a part-song--without coming across these +ungraceful, unwieldy creatures, seeming like bloated denizens of depths +below come to bask upon the surface. Hundreds of them dot the river +between Teddington and Oxford: once we counted ten between Ethel and the +wooded island whither we rowed every Sunday to dine from ponderous +hampers upon a huge tree-stump. Many of them are owned and occupied by +artists, who have them towed by horses up and down the river every week +or two, or moor them for months in one place while painting +river-scenery. Some are inhabited by maniacal fishermen, who sit day +after day all day long at the end of poles protruding from front or +back doors or bedroom windows. Some are inhabited by Londoners in whom +primeval instincts for air, space, sunshine, and liberty break out every +summer from under the thick crust of modern habits and conventions and +cause them to breathe, as we did, not angelical aspirations, but "I want +to be a gypsy." + +Some of these house-boats are miracles of microscopic luxury, doll-like +bedrooms and dining-rooms for pygmies. In some, also, marvels of +culinary skill are evolved in pocket-space by French _chefs_ who spend +their days creating the banquets to which the boaters invite their +_convives_ at evening, when the cold river-mists have driven the navy +into harbor for the night. Others are much simpler in construction and +furnishing, and the inhabitants live largely upon tinned and potted +viands and such light cooking as comes within the possibilities of +oil-stoves and fires of fagots on the banks. Still others--and we often +saw their lordly and corpulent owners reading the "Times" upon the +handkerchief space which serves for porch or piazza before their front +doors--move up and down the river from crack hotel to cracker, taking no +note of picturesque "bits" or of mooring-places where Paradise seems +come down to lodge between Berks and Bucks, caring naught that at this +point four exquisite churches and two interesting manor-houses are +within tramping-distance, at that a feudal castle and the fairest inland +picture that England and nature can offer their lovers, caring only that +at the "King" the trout are the best cooked on the whole river, at the +"Queen" the chops are divine, while at the "Prince" the _perdrix aux +truffes_ are worth mooring there a week for. These house-boaters are +generally accompanied by garish wives and daughters, who spend their +time in the streets of the town where they chance to be moored,--and +they seldom are moored elsewhere than at the larger towns,--exchanging +greetings and chatting with such acquaintances as they there meet, or +idling up and down the river in the luxurious small boats of their +river-made friends. This type of house-boater himself is generally +spoken of in brisk naval asides as a "duffer," the kitchen of his boat +is a wine-closet, and, to look at him poring for hours over his paper, +one may well believe that time is heavy on his hands and that he arrives +during every summer vacation at depths of mortal ennui where "nothing +new is, and nothing true is, and no matter!" + +Americans personally unacquainted with England can form little idea of +the extent to which physical culture is carried here, and the universal +summer madness for athletic sports and out-of-door amusements. The +equable climate, never too hot, never too cold, for river-pull or +cricket, is Albion's advantage in this respect over almost all the rest +of the world, and particularly over our fervid and freezing clime. Even +although this is pious England, where the gin-shops cannot open after +the noon of Sunday until the bells ring for the evening service and +"Pub" and church spring open and alight simultaneously, even in pious +England Sunday is the day of all the week on which the river takes on +its merriest aspect, and from the multitudes of familiar faces and +frequency of friendly greetings reminds one of Regent Street and the +Parks. All prosperous and proper London--the amusement is too costly for +'Arry--seems to float itself upon Thames water that day, coming up forty +land-miles from the metropolis to do so. Boats are furiously in demand, +every picnic nook is pre-empted from earliest morning, the river-side +tea-gardens are thronged, the inns are depleted of men and women in +yachting-costumes, and the locks are jammed as full as they can be of +highly-draped boats, gayly-dressed women, and circus-costumed men, the +whole scene gayer, brighter, more fantastic than any Venetian carnival +since the days of the most sumptuous of the Adriatic doges. + +One or two real Venetian gondolas are kept at that river-reach where we +spent our summer. The owner of the principal one is an English nobleman +who lived long in Italy and whose twelve daughters were born there. It +is a sight to see those twelve beautiful sisters, from six years of age +to twenty-four, poled down the river to church every Sunday morning by a +swarthy and veritable Venetian gondolier. Whether or not that +hearse-like craft has sacred associations in the minds of the twelve +maidens all in a row, or whether its grimness and want of swiftness seem +out of place amid the carnival brilliancy of Sunday afternoon, it is +certain that it is never used except for church-going, and the maidens +appear later in the day each in her own swift little canoe, or two or +three sisters together in a larger one, darting to and fro, hither and +yon, with almost incredible swiftness, almost more like winged thoughts +than like even swallows on the wing. The gabled and ivy-wreathed +Elizabethan manor-house which is the summer home of the maidens stands +but a few rods from the river's bank. Here, amidst decorous shrubbery, +upon smooth shaven and rolled turf, where marble vases overflow with +gorgeous flowers, sit Pater and Mater among their dozens of guests. Some +of the gentlemen are in correct morning dress, some in boating-costumes, +and some in that last stage of unclothedness or first of clothedness +which is the English bathing-dress. In their striped tights on land +these last look exactly like saw-dust and rope ring clowns, but when +they dive into the water from that well-bred lawn and dart in wild +pursuit of the maidens, who beat them off with oars from climbing into +the canoes, amid shouts of aquatic and terrestrial laughter, one would +almost swear they were neither the clowns they looked a moment ago, nor +yet the English gentlemen they really are, but fantastic mermen bent +upon carrying earth-brides back with them into their cool native depths +beneath the bright water. + +That is what it looks like. But a single glimpse into those cool dappled +depths, where the sunny water is shoal enough to show bottom, reveals, +alas! how little mermaiden and romantic those depths are. For London +does not disport itself every Sunday on the Thames without leaving ample +traces of that disporting. We see those traces gleaming and glooming +there,--empty beer- and wine-bottles, devitalized sardine-boxes, osseous +remains of fish, flesh, and fowl, scooped cheese-rinds, egg-shells, the +buttons of defrauded raiment, and the parted rims of much-snatched-at +and vigorously-squabbled-for straw hats. + +A favorite boating-trip is from Teddington up to Oxford, or _vice +versa_, spending a week or two on the way, and stopping at river-side +inns at night. In the season these inns are full to overflowing, and the +roughest and smallest of water-side hamlets holds its accommodations at +lofty premiums. A number of public pleasure-steamers and many private +steam-launches ply up and down, making the whole trip in two or three +days, drawing up at night at towns, and by day provoking curses both +loud and deep by the swash of their tidal waves against the liliputian +navy. Many of the merry boating-parties of men and women seek only +sleeping-accommodations at the inns, and do their own cooking upon bosky +islands, on the wooded or sunny banks of the river, by means of +kerosene- or charcoal-stoves and tiny tents. How appetizingly we have +thus smelt the broiling steak and grilled chop done to a turn even in a +camp frying-pan, as we tramped along the river heights and looked down +upon chatting groups below! How like airs of Araby the Blest the odors +of steaming coffee! how more stimulating than breath of fair Spice Isles +the pungent incense of hissing onions! + +As a consequence of this return of Nature's children to Nature's breast, +the _genii loci_, the sylvan sprites, are all frightened inland from the +borders of the beautiful river. Except here and there where huge boards +threaten trespassers and announce that landing is forbidden upon this +Private Property, wild flowers will not grow, the grass looks trampled +and dim, the soft summer zephyrs play among empty paper bags and +relics of grocers' parcels, with sound and sentiment vastly unlike their +natural music among green, waving leaves. The river is spoiled for the +poet and the dreamer, and even the artist must choose his bits with +care. Hyde Park and Piccadilly have come up to the Thames; and what does +Hyde Park care for the poetry of dreaming nature, or what the +river-madmen for aught else than glorious expansion of muscle and +strengthening of sinew and the godlike sense of largeness and lightness +which comes with that strengthening and expanding? + +Gliding up and down the river, one would suppose all London had taken to +boats. But we as trampists came to other conclusions as we pegged along +the white Berkshire highways, smooth and even as parquetted floors, day +after day. There the bicycle holds its own, and more too, being largely +adopted not only by genuine 'cyclists, but by others as well whose only +interest is to cover the ground as quickly as possible,--amateur +photographers lashed all over with apparatus, artists shapelessly ditto, +and pastoral postmen square-backed with letter-pouches. Women +tricyclists are only less numerous, and the dignity and modesty must be +crude indeed that find objections to this manner of feminine +peregrination. The costume is simple and plain,--close-fitting upper +garments, without fuss of furbelow, and plain close skirts, met at the +ankles by high buttoned boots. A lady's seat upon a tricycle is far less +conspicuous than upon a horse, her bodily motion is less, and the +movement of her feet scarcely more than is necessary to run a +sewing-machine. She sits at her ease in a perfectly lady-like manner, +and flies over the ground like a courser of the desert, if she pleases, +or rolls quietly and smoothly along, chatting easily with the +pedestrians who amble at her side. + +Lady tricyclists attract no attention whatever in Oxford Street. Imagine +one flying down Broadway! + +As trampists our femininely-encumbered party in those delicious English +days considered fourteen quotidian miles not discreditable to us, +particularly when taking into consideration the bleats and baas and +whimpering laggardness with which we returned from three-mile excursions +during the first few days we were in the tramping-line. By degrees we +thus explored the whole country within a radius of seven miles of Ethel. +With this we were content, yea, even proud; for did not many of our +boating women-neighbors grumble even at their walk to the river and +declare they would rather row five miles than walk one? We were proud, +for we knew every church, every picturesque cottage and ruin, within our +radius, while our aquatic friends knew only those bordering the river. +We were proud--until, ah me! until that desolate day when a merrily, +merrily flying squad swooped down upon us and declared they had 'cycled +every inch of the _twenty-mile_ periphery of which Ethel's neighboring +church tower was the centre! + +That cutting down of our pedal pride resulted in our subscribing to a +daily paper. Every morning before stretching out to our regular day's +tramp we had been wont to trot through dewy lanes, over stiles, and +across subtly-colored turnip- and cabbage-fields, to purchase in the town +of M---- a luxury not to be had in our own hamlet,--the "Daily News." +Rain or shine, that trot must be trotted, for there were those among us +who would have tramped sulkily all day and sniffed the sniff of wrath at +ivied church and thatched cottage were the acid of their natures not +made frothy and light by the alkali of their morning paper. It had never +occurred to us, not even when we camped beneath wayside shade around our +sandwiches and ale or in some stiff and dim inn-parlor and listened to +the reading of the "News," that in reality the town of M----, and not +the brickhood of Ethel, was thus the centre of all our ambulatory +circumferences. It had never before dawned upon us that we thus added +three uncounted miles to our fourteen diurnally counted ones. What +astonishment at our own pedometric weakness of calculation! What disgust +to find our periphery thus three whole miles smaller than it need have +been! + +The next day we subscribed to the "News," and walked nine miles as the +bee flies from the front door of Ethel even unto the ruins of Medmenham. +And we vowed by all our plaster gods and painted goddesses that another +summer we would tramp no more. We would 'cycle. + +A mile away from Ethel is the village proper of Cookham. It is a sleepy +town, save in the boating-season; and whoever enters the post-office in +any season finds it empty and inhospitable. Raps upon a tightly-closed +inner door call a woman attendant from rattling sewing or noisy gossip +of the invisible penetralia; and as soon as the business is done the +inhospitable door swings shut again in the stranger's face. + +Cookham houses are quaint, often timbered, frequently ivy-grown from +basement to roof. One imagines them assuming a half-sullen air at this +yearly breaking of their dreamy repose by incursions of parti-colored +hordes for whom life seems to hold but two supreme objects,--boats and +pictures. + +The most picturesque feature of the place is the old church, set amid +tombs whose mossy and time-gnawed cherubs have exchanged grins for two +hundred years and more. The old flint tower is grave and grim, but +softened by a wonderful centuries old ivy in a veil of living green. A +pathetic interest to artists hallows the venerable church-yard. Here +sleeps Frederick Walker, a genius cut off before his meridian, and +resting now amid his kindred in a lowly grave, over which the Thames +waters surge every spring, leaving the grave all the rest of the year +the sadder for its cold soddenness and for the humid mildew and decay +eating already into the headstone, as yet but twelve years old. In the +church itself is Thorneycroft's mural tablet to the dead artist, a +portrait head of him who was born almost within the old church's shadow, +and whose pencil dealt always so lovingly with the poetic aspects of his +native region. + +MARGARET BERTHA WRIGHT. + + + + +BIRDS OF A TEXAN WINTER. + + +White of Selborne was, on the whole, tolerably content to plunge his +swallows, or a good proportion of them, into the mud and deposit them +for the winter at the bottom of a pond. Professionally conservative, as +a fine old Church-of-England clergyman, though constitutionally +sceptical, as became one of the earliest of really observant +naturalists, he was loath to break flatly with the consensus of +contemporary opinion, rustic and philosophic, and found a _modus +vivendi_ in the theory that a great many, perhaps a majority, of the +swifts and barn-swallows did go to Africa. He had seen them organizing +their emigration-parties and holding noisy debate over the best time to +start and the best route to take. The sea-part of the travel was of +trifling length, and baiting-places were plenty in France, Spain, and +Italy. Sometimes, such was their power of wing, they were known to take +the outside route and strike boldly across the Bay of Biscay, for they +had alighted on vessels. Probably the worthy old man was reluctant to +wrench from the rural mind a harmless remnant of superstition,--if +superstition it might be called, in view of the fact that sundry +saurians and chelonians, held by classifiers to be superior in rank to +birds, do hibernate under water, and that, more marvellous than all, the +quarrymen of his day, like those of ours, insisted that living frogs +occasionally sprang from under their chisel, leaving an unchallengeable +impress in the immemorial rock. It must indeed have been up-hill work to +extinguish the old belief in the minds of men who had seen the +water-ouzel pattering in perfect ease and comfort along the floor of the +pellucid pool, and who had heard from their fisher friends from the +north coast of the gannets that were drawn up in the herring-nets. + +Most of us, even _color chi sanno_, like to retain a spice of mystery in +our mental food. It may constitute no part of the nutriment, and may +often be deleterious, but it meets a want, somehow or other, and wants, +however undefinable, must be recognized. It is a spur that titillates +the absorbent surfaces and helps to keep them in action. It is a craving +that the race is never going to outlive, and that will afford occupation +and subsistence to a considerable class of its most intelligent and +respectable members until the year one million, as it has done since the +year one. The great mass of us like to see the absolute reign of reason +tempered by the incomprehensible, and are ever ready to lend a kindly +ear to men and things that humor that liking. + +Where do all the birds, myriads in number and scores in species, go when +they leave the North in the winter? A small minority lags, not +superfluous, for we are delighted to have them, but in a subdued, +pinched, and hand-to-mouth mode of existence in marked contrast to their +summer life and perceptibly marring the pleasure of their society. They +flock around our homes and assume a mendicant air that is a little +depressing. Unlike the featherless tramps, they pay very well for their +dole; but we should prefer them, as we do our other friends, to be +independent, and that although we know they are but winter friends and +will coolly turn their backs upon us as soon as the weather permits. The +spryest and least dependent of them all, the snow-bird, who sports +perpetual full dress, jerks at us his expressive tail and is off at the +first thaw, black coat, white vest, and all. No tropics or sub-tropics +for him. He can stand our climate and our company with a certain +condescending tolerance so long as we keep the temperature not too much +above zero, but grows contemptuous when Fahrenheit grows effeminate and +forty. Nothing for it then but to cool off his thin and unprotected legs +and toes in the snows of Canada. "The white North hath his" heart. Our +winter is his summer. There is nothing in his anatomy to explain this +idiosyncrasy. His physical construction closely resembles that of his +insessorial brethren, most of whom go when he comes. He has no +discoverable provision against cold. Adaptation to environment does not +seem to cover his case. It does not cover his legs. They remain +unfeathered. We shudder to see his translucent little tarsi on top of +the snow, which he obviously prefers as a stand-point to bare spots +where the snow has been blown away. Compared with the ptarmigan and the +snowy owl, or even the ruffed grouse, all so well blanketed, he suggests +a survival of the unfittest. + +The movements of this tough little anti-Darwinian are overlapped by the +bluebird and the robin,--our robin, best entitled to the name, inasmuch +as it is accorded him by fifty-odd millions against thirty millions who +give it to the redbreast,--who are usually with him long before he gets +away. They never move very far southward, but watch the cantonments of +Frost, ready to advance the moment his outposts are drawn in and signs +appear of evacuation. Their climate, indeed, is determined in winter +rather by altitude than by latitude. The low swamps and pineries that +skirt tide-water in the Middle States furnish them a retreat. Thence +they scatter themselves over the tertiary plain as it widens southward +beneath the granite bench that divides all the great rivers south of the +Hudson into an upper and a lower reach. Detachments of them extend their +tour to the Gulf. Readers of "A Subaltern on the Campaign of New Orleans +in 1814-15" will recall his mention of the assemblage of robins hopping +over the Chalmette sward that were the first living inhabitants to +welcome the weary invaders on emerging from the palmetto marshes. They +can hardly be said to reach the particular region of which we propose to +speak, both species, the bluebird especially, being almost strangers to +it. + +Other species, the cardinal grosbeak among them, may be said to stop, +as it were, just out of hearing, the echo of their song slumbering in +the thin, keen air, ready to swell again into unmistakable reality. +Between these stubborn fugitives and those who follow the butterflies to +the tropics there is a wide variety in the extent of travel in which our +winged compatriots indulge. + +Quadrupeds, whose movements are less speedy and more limited, have to +adapt themselves to the Northern winter as best they may. Hard and long +training has made them less the creatures of climate than their +feathered associates, who might themselves in many cases have learned +perforce to stay where they were reared but for possessing the light and +agile wings which woo them to wander. We may fancy Bruin, with his +passion for sweet mast and luscious fruits, eying with envy the martin +and the wild fowl as they sweep over his head to the teeming Southland, +and wondering, as he huddles shivering into his snowy lair, why Nature +should be so partial in her gifts. The call of the trumpeting swan, the +bugler crane, and the Canada goose falls idly upon his ear. To their +breezy challenge, "A new home,--who'll follow?" he cannot respond. + +Let us join this tide of travel and move sunward with some of those who +take through-tickets. We can easily keep up with them now. Steam is not +slower than wings,--often faster. Sitting at ease, yet moved by iron +muscles, we can time the coursers of the air. A few decades ago, when +this familiar motor was a new thing comparatively, we could not do so. +At the jog of twenty miles an hour, even the sparrow could pass us on a +short stretch, and the dawdling crow soon left us in the rear. Our gain +upon their time is so recent that the birds have not yet fully realized +it. Unaccustomed to being beaten by anything _on earth_, they will skim +along abreast of a train till, to their unspeakable, or at least +unspoken, wonderment, they find that what they are fleeing from is +fleeing from them. One morning last winter I was speeding eastward to +the Crescent City, the freshest of my memories a struggle at Houston +with one of those breakfasts which so atrociously distinguish the reign +of the magnate who is said to supply under contract all the meals of the +Southern railway-restaurants, and who, "if ever fondest prayer for +others' woe avail on high," will certainly be booked, with the vote of +some of his victims, for a post-mundane berth a good deal warmer than +his coffee and more sulphurous than his eggs. Afar off to the right the +sun was rounding up from the Gulf and clearing the haze from his broad, +red face, the better to look abroad over the glistening prairie and see +if the silhouetted pines and cattle were where he had left them the day +before. Glancing to the left, which was my side of the car, I became +aware of a large bird suspended in the air, not motionless, for his +wings were doing their best, but to all appearance as stationary as the +scattered trees and cattle, and about fifteen yards distant. Every +feature and marking of the "chicken," or pinnated grouse, was as +distinct to the eye as though, instead of making thirty-two miles an +hour, he were posing for his photograph. For full two hundred yards he +sustained the race, until, finding that his competitor had the better +wind, he gave it up and shot suddenly into the sedge. How much longer +the match had lasted I could not say. He must have got up near the +engine--of course losing some time in the act of rising--and fallen back +gradually to my place, which was in a rear car. But when a schedule for +birds comes to be framed, it is safe to set down _Tetrao cupido_ at +about the speed above named. Timed from a rail-car, that is; for, looked +at over a gun, he seems to move five times as fast. The double-barrel is +a powerful binocular. + +Steam, then, soon carries us to the resort of the lost truants, who have +travelled with the lines of longitude by guides and tracks over that +invisible road as unerring as those of the railway. We shall find them +in close companionship with friends unknown in our latitude, whose +abiding-places are at the South, as those left behind are fixed dwellers +at the North. + +From the window at which I sit on this morning late in January and this +parallel of thirty degrees,--window open, as well as the door, for no +norther is on duty to-day,--I see flocks of our familiar redwings, +cowbirds, and blackbirds, all mingled together as though the hard and +fast lines of species had been obliterated and made as meaningless as +the concededly evanescent shades of variety, trooping busily over the +lawn and blackening the leafless China-trees. But they have a crony +never seen by us. This is the crow-blackbird of the South, or jackdaw as +it is wrongly called, otherwise known as the boat-tailed grackle, from +his over-allowance of rudder that pulls him side-wise and ruins his +dead-reckoning when a wind is on. His wife is a sober-looking lady in a +suit of steel-gray, and the pair are quite conspicuous among their +winter guests. The latter are far less shy than we are accustomed to +find them, a majority being young in their first season and with little +or no experience of human guile. No one cares to shoot them, in the +abundance of larger game, and the absence of stones from the fat +prairie-soil places them out of danger from the small boy. Their only +foe is the hawk, who levies blackmail on them as coolly and regularly as +any other plumed cateran. Partly, perhaps, by reason of this outside +pressure, they are cheek by jowl with the poultry,--the cow-bunting, +which is the pet prey of the hawk, following them into the back porch +and insisting sometimes on breakfasting with Tray,--or rather with +Legion, for that is the name of the Texas dog. In this familiarity they +are approached, though not equalled, by that more home-staying bird the +meadow-lark, who is here a dweller of the lawn and garden and adds his +mellow whistle to the orchestra of the mocking-bird. This so-called lark +is classed by most naturalists among the starlings, as are two of the +blackbirds, which two he resembles in some of his habits, but not in +migrating, being about as much of a continental as any other biped +American. Nor is he like his cousins in changes of dress. Out of a dozen +of the latter that may be brought down at a shot, you will scarcely find +three exactly alike. They moult at the South, and the young pass +gradually into adult plumage. The male redwing, up to his first autumn, +is hardly distinguishable in dress from his mother. Here he dons his +epaulettes, beginning with the threadbare worsted yellow of the private, +and rising in grade to the rich scarlet and gold of the officer fully +commissioned to flame upon the marsh and carry havoc among its humblest +inhabitants. + +A month or two hence, the plover, as shy in his Northern haunts as the +lark, will, in three species, be as much at home upon the lawn. Youth +and inexperience must, as in the case of the other birds, be one +explanation of this unwonted familiarity. Among other reasons is the +abundance of food, under a mild sky, with but rare frosts to bind the +earth and no snows to cover it. The temperature of an average winter day +is 60 deg. or 65 deg.. A norther is apt to blow three or four times in the +season, and it brings the mercury down to freezing-point or some degrees +lower. After the two or three days of its duration, the first warm +morning covers the walks and most other bare parts of the soil with +worm-casts,--revealing the larders of the smaller birds. At an average, +too, of four or five places in an acre one notices a hillock two or +three feet in diameter tipped with a yellowish spot that deepens into +orange and broadens as the air grows warm. These erections are the work +of ants, the emergence of which intelligent insects in greater or less +numbers, according to the temperature, causes the coloring which we +observe. Intelligent we cannot help terming a creature so remarkable in +its various species for the evidences of calculation furnished by its +habits of life,--evidences nowhere better worth studying than among the +leaf-cutting, slave-holding, and shade-planting ants of Texas; but we +are sometimes tempted to deny the character to this particular species +when we perceive the utter indifference to safety with which it selects +a site for its communistic abode. One of these is located in the middle +of the principal (sandy and unpaved) street of a village, within twenty +steps of the railroad-track, and subject to the impact of wheels and +mule-, ox-, or horse-hoof many times an hour; yet the semblance of a +dwelling is maintained, and the little tawny cloud comes up smiling +whenever the sun allows, asking no other permission. These ant-hills, I +am persuaded, supply a foundation to certain tufts of low trees which +spring up in dampish places where the spring fires have less sweep. The +hillocks are well drained, as appears from their composition of clear +gravel, a material of which you will find more in one of them than on a +surface of many feet around; and you may see the sweeter grasses +gradually mantling them, these being followed by herbage of larger +growth, which, accumulating humors at their roots, bourgeon into +arborescence, until, one vegetable entity shouldered into substance and +thrift by another, the nucleus built by our tiny red friends has +broadened into a tree-clad knoll. The mezquit, not many years ago +confined for the most part to the arid region beyond the Nueces, is +spreading eastward, and the clumps of it which begin to skirt the +original copses here may be supposed to owe their first foothold to the +ant. This humble promoter of forestry is duly appreciated, if only as a +viand, by his neighbors. Full-grown, and still more in the larval stage, +he is esteemed by them as both a toothsome and a beaksome bit. He--or, +more numerously, she, if we insist on sex and decline the more +practically correct _it_--forms thus the lowest term in an ascending +series of animal life that grows out of the ant-hill like the tree. So +much may one such settlement in a rood of ground do for the maintenance +of organic existence. + +A still more diffused, perhaps, if less productive, source of life +exists in another burrower and mound-builder, the crawfish. Unlike the +ant, which likes to drain, he is an advocate of irrigation. In this art +he can give our well-diggers odds in the game. His genius for striking +water is wonderful. On the dryest parts of the prairie, miles from any +permanent stream, his ejections of mud may be found. Shallow or deep, +his borings always reach water. He is always at home, but less +accessible to callers than the ant. To the smaller birds he is forbidden +fruit. In wet weather, when his vestibule is shallow, the sand-hill +crane may burglarize him, or even get a snap judgment on him at the +front door. The bill of the great curlew cannot be sent in so +effectively, not being so rightly drawn; but that bird, more common in +the season than anywhere else away from the coast, finds plenty of other +food. He is not here in the winter. His place just now is filled by the +jacksnipe, which flutters up from every boggy place and comes to bag in +a condition anything but suggestive of short commons. The snipe's +terrestrial surface lies two and a half inches beneath ours. At that +distance he strikes hard pan; but it is margin enough for his +operations, and he is not often caught among the shorts. Gourmands +assure us that he lives "by suction," and that there is consequently no +harm in eating his trail. There is comfort in this creed, whatever may +be our private belief in the substantiality of what the bird absorbs; +and we cheerfully eat, after the suggestion of Paul, "asking no +questions," the while tacitly assuring ourselves, like old Fuller with +the strawberry, that a better bird might doubtless have been made, but +as certainly never was. For game flavor not even the partridge (Bob +White), also exceptionally abundant here, is his superior. + +But think, ye snow-bound, of the state of things implied in this +embarrassment of riches,--of a mid-winter table balanced between such a +choice, or, better, balanced by the adoption of both, one at each end! +Nor would this be near telling the whole story. Excluding fur and +sticking to feather, we have a wide range beyond. The larger birds we +may begin on, very moderately, with crane-steak, a transverse section +of our stately but distant friend the sand-hill. That is the form in +which he is thought to appear to best advantage. By the time you have +circumvented him by circumscribing him in the gradually narrowing +circuit of a buggy,--for stalking him, unless in higher grass than is +common at this season, is but vexation of spirit,--you will feel vicious +enough to eat him in any shape. His brother, the beautiful white bugler, +you will hardly meet at dinner, he being the shyest of his kind. A +Canada goose--not the tough and fishy bird of the Northern coast, but +grain- and grass-fed from fledging-time--is tender, delicate, and +everyway presentable. From the back upper gallery that looks upon the +prairie you are likely to see a company or battalion of his brethren, +their long black necks and white ties "dressing" capitally in line, and +their invisible legs doing the goose-step as the inventors of that +classic manoeuvre ought to do it. This bird seems to affect the +_militaire_ in all his movements. What can be more regular than the +wedge, like that so common in tactical history, in which he begins his +march, moving in "a column of attack upon the pole"? Even when startled +and put to flight, he goes off smoothly and quietly, company-front. In +foraging he is strictly systematic, and never forgets to set sentinels. +We cannot fail to respect him while doing him the last honors. Of not +inferior claim is his prairie chum and remote cousin the mallard. They +are not often in close companionship, though I have seen a dozen and a +half of each rise from the border and the bosom of a pond forty yards +across,--one loving the open, and the other taking repose, if not food, +upon the water. That there should be ponds upon these prairies is as +striking to one accustomed to hill and dale as that so unpromising a +surface should so teem with life. The prairie is as flat as if cast like +plate-glass and rolled out,--only the table is slightly tilted toward +the Gulf at the rate of two or three hundred feet in a hundred miles. At +night you may see the head-light of an engine fifteen miles away, like +a low star that you wonder does not rise. It grows slowly in size, a +Sirius, a Venus, a moon, as though the earth had stopped rotating and +adopted a direct motion toward the heavenly bodies. Early on fine +mornings the horizon gets tired, as it were, of being suppressed, and +looms up in a mirage, with an outfit of imaged trees and hills reflected +in an imaginary lake,--a pictured protest of Nature against monotony. +There are local depressions, nevertheless, which you would not believe +in but for the shallow little ponds which fill them and which are +indicated from a distance at this season by the lead-colored grass that +veils them and conceals their glitter. And there are longer swells, +begotten of drainage, sometimes of eight or ten feet in a mile, which +deceive you, as you advance, into the expectation of a grand prospect +when once you shall have got to the top of them. That, practically, you +never do. Arrived at what seems to be the crest of a ridge, you see +nothing but more flat. The eye, in despair, gives, when you come in +sight of it, an inclination to the water. The pond-surface ceases to be +horizontal. The principle of gravitation stands contradicted +point-blank. + +The most frequent vedette of these miniature lakes is the +heron,--usually the blue, sometimes the larger white, the latter a most +beautiful bird. Yet neither is common. Still rarer in such situations is +the bittern, the Timon of birds, the rushes being seldom high enough to +afford him the strict concealment he likes. The mallard has to be his +own sentinel, as a rule. He does not depend on these ponds for food, +and, like other wild creatures, he reserves his chief vigilance for +feeding-time. They are places of repose, at mid-day and at night, for +the ducks of this and two or three other species, notably the blue- and +green-winged teal, which at other times haunt the clumps of oak and +pecan that skirt the sparse streams and their summer-dry affluents, +where nuts and acorns in great variety, those of the live-oak being very +sweet, supply unfailing winter provision. The thickets of ilex that +shade off these wooded reaches into the treeless prairie are the resort +of many partridges. You are led back into the open ground by another +game-bird, the pinnated grouse, the widest ranger of its genus, but at +the North disappearing only less rapidly than the buffalo. As yet his +most destructive foe in this region is perhaps the hawk, although he is +raided from the timber by the opossum, raccoon, and three species of +cat, while on the open his nest has marked attractions for the skunk and +probably the coyote. He has survived these dumb discouragers so long, +and the heat at his proper season is so trying to his human foe, that he +may long find a refuge here and proudly lead forth his young Texans for +scores of Augusts. He and his family will often quietly walk off while +the panting pointer seeks the shade of the wagon and the gunner cools +off under the heavy felt sombrero that is here found to be the best +headgear for summer. A very moderate game-law, well executed, would +sustain this fine bird indefinitely in the struggle for existence. But +law of any kind seems a foreign idea on these sea-like primeval plains. +It is like thinking of a parliament in the Pleiocene, or of a +court-house on the Grand Banks. + +Any transcendentalist who wishes to furbish up his philosophic furniture +will find this a good workshop for the purpose. There is ample room for +any school, positive or negative,--plenty of cloud-land for all +conceits. Kant could have picked up pure reason among the crowds of +simply reasoning creatures who have possessed the scene since long +before the brain of man was created. Covies of immemorial Thoreaus +bivouac under those hazy woods, and pre-glacial Emersons are circling +overhead. The problem of successfully living they have all solved. What +more have any of us done? The greatest good of the greatest number they +unpresumingly display as a practically triumphant principle; and the +greatest number is not by any means with them, any more than with us, +number one. Had it been, they would all have been extinct long ago. +Nature may be "red with tooth and claw," but not suicidally so. It is to +quite a peaceable, if not wholly loving, world that she invites us. And +just here we can see so much of it; we can study it so broadly and so +freely. Concord and Walden dwindle into the microscopic. It was under +precisely such a sun as this, in a warm, dry atmosphere, on a nearly +treeless soil, that the Stagyrite did all the thinking of sixty +generations. Could he have done it in an overcoat and muffler, with a +chronic catarrh? + +If, impatient of a host of inarticulate instructors, we prefer communing +with our kind and falling back on human story, some of that, too, is at +hand. Half a century ago, to a year, a short string of forlorn and +forlorn-looking people crossed the prairie close by, from west to east, +from the Colorado to the Brazos. The head of it was Sam Houston's +"army," three or four hundred strong, with all its _materiel_ in one +wagon. The rest consisted of the debris of all the Anglo-American +settlements, women, children, cows, and what poor household stuff could +be moved. Slowly ferrying the Brazos, and as slowly making its way down +the left bank, picking up as it went the rest of the homesteads and some +more fighting-men, it turned to the right at the head of the estuary. +Then the little column, strengthened with some sea-borne supplies and +relieved of its wards, turned to face its pursuers. These were twice its +numbers, with four or five thousand reserves some days behind. +Generalship was given the go-by on both sides, the _cul-de-sac_ of San +Jacinto being closed at both ends. Thirty minutes of noise and smoke, +and the empire of Cortez and Montezuma was split in two. Clio nibbed +another quill, steel pens not having then been invented. The gray geese +who might have supplied it recomposed themselves on the prairie, and all +the rest of their feathered friends followed their example, as the +military interlude melted away and left them their ancient solitary +reign. + +Of the feathered spectators of the scene we have episodically glanced +at, the most interested were those constant supervisors, the vultures. +Of these there are three species, one of which--the Mexican vulture--is +but an occasional visitor. The other two--the black vulture and the +turkey-buzzard--are monopolists in their peculiar line. They constitute +here, as generally throughout the warmer parts of the continent and its +islands, the recognized sanitary police. No law protects them, but they +do not need it. They are too useful not to command that popular sympathy +which is the higher law. The flocks and herds upon a thousand plains are +theirs. Every norther that freezes and every drought that starves some +of the wandering cattle and sheep brings to them provision. The +railroads also, not less than the winds of heaven, are their friends, +the fatal cow-catcher being an ever-busy caterer. The buzzards are, of +course, under such circumstances, warm advocates of internal improvement +and welcome the opening of every new railway. Their ardor in this +respect, however, has of late years been damped by the building of wire +fences along the track, an interference with vested rights and an +assault upon the hoary claims of infant industries against which in +their solemn assemblies they doubtless often condole with each other. +Unfortunately for their cause, they cannot lobby. + +Somehow, there seems to be always a wag or clown among each group of +animals,--some one species in which the amusing or the grotesque is +prominent. Among these clownish fellows I should class the black +vulture, or john-crow. He is not a crow at all, but gets that name +probably because so historic a tribe as Corvus must have some +representative, and the real crow, so common at the North, is one of the +few birds that are not much seen in this quarter. John unites in his +ways at once fuss and business. He alternates oddly between bustle and +gravity. Seated stately and motionless for hours on a leafless tree, he +will suddenly, as if struck by a new idea, start off on a tour that +might have been dictated by telegram. He does not sail and circle like +his friend and comrade, never being distracted by soaring pretensions, +but goes straight to his object. His flight is a regular succession of +short flaps, with quiescent intervals between the series. The flaps are +usually four, sometimes five or six. I am sure he counts them. You have +seen a pursy gentleman in black hurrying along the street and tapping +his boot with a cane, as though keeping time. Fancy this gentleman in +the air, dressed in feathers, his coat-skirt sheared off alarmingly +short and square, and looking like a cherub in jet, all head and +wings,--although John is not exactly a cherub in his habits. A white +spot on each wing adds a bit of the harlequin to his style. + +Were I to seek a "funny man" among the quadrupeds, I should name another +dweller of the Southwestern prairies, the jack-rabbit,--John II. let us +call him. Nobody ever gets quite accustomed to the preternatural ears of +this hare. In proportion they are to those of others of the Leporidae +nearly what the ears of the mule are to those of the horse. When this +bit of bad drawing, as big as a fawn and weighing ten pounds or so, +jumps up before you and bounds away at railroad speed, he makes you rub +your eyes. You expect the apparition to disappear like other +apparitions, especially as it moves off with vast rapidity. But it does +not. As suddenly as it started it is transformed into a prong like an +immense letter V, projecting in perfect stillness from the grass a +hundred yards off. You advance, and the same proceeding is repeated. +Jack is obviously deep in guns, and knows the difference in power +between a muzzle- and a breech-loader, if he has not ascertained, indeed, +what number shot you have in your cartridge. He varies his distance +according to these contingencies. Only, he has not as yet learned to +gauge the greyhound: that dog is frequently kept for his benefit. + +A special endowment of this immediate locality is a large and permanent +sheet of water, three or four miles by one, which bears, and deserves, +the name of Eagle Lake. For, though overhung by no cliffs or lofty +pines, it is far more the haunt of eagles, of both the bald and the gray +species, than most tarns possessing those appendages of the romantic. +Its dense fringe of fine trees, among them live-oaks a single one of +which would make the fortune of an average city park, can well spare the +Conifers. They are all hung with Spanish moss, a feature which conflicts +with the impression of lack of moisture conveyed by the light ashen +color of the bark and short annual growth of many of the smaller trees. +Here and there tiny inlets are overhung with undergrowth which supplies +a safe nesting-place to a multitude of birds of many kinds. The surface +of the lake I have never seen free from ducks of one species or another, +and generally of half a dozen. Almost the whole family, if we except the +canvas-back and the red-head, visit it at one or another period. One +item in their bill of fare is the nut of the water-lily, the receptacles +of which, resembling the rose of a watering-pot, dot the shallows in +great quantity. The green, cable-like roots of this plant are afloat, +forming at some points heavy windrows. Some say they are torn up from +the bottom by the alligators; but it is more probable that they are +loosened and broken by the continual tugging of the divers. The +alligators are not vegetarians, and they are not using their snouts much +at this season. The young shoots of the Nymphaea are doubtless tempting +food, as those of the Vallisneria are on the Chesapeake and the North +Carolina sounds. Sustenance may be drawn also from the roots of the +rushes and reeds which cover with their yellow stems and leaves many +acres of the lake, and are thronged now by several species of small +birds. + +Hawks, of course, are always in sight, and that in astonishing variety, +from the osprey down to two or three varieties of the sparrow-hawk. A +monograph on the Raptores of Eagle Lake would be a most comprehensive +work. The osprey, notwithstanding the abundance of his scaly prey, is +not common: probably the field is too limited for him. Ducks are the +attraction of the other large species. In summer, ducks are rather +secondary among the water-birds, the ibis, water-turkey, and flamingo +imparting a tropical character to the scene that somewhat obscures the +more familiar forms. There is even a survival here of birds that have +nearly disappeared from the American fauna,--the paroquet, once so +common in the Mississippi Valley as far north as the Ohio, being +sometimes seen, and, if I mistake not, a second species of humming-bird +straying north by way of Mexico. + +From where we stand, under a canopy of rich green leaves, looking out +upon the sunny water through a banian-like colonnade of mighty trunks +and hanging vines, the pearly moss tempering the light like jalousies, +summer seems but a relative idea. Fly-catchers flit back and forth, +barn-swallows and sand-martins skim the lake, and an occasional splash +or ripple at our feet shows that humbler life is getting astir. The +highest life, or what modest man calls such, we have all to ourselves. +Yet not quite; for there is visible yonder, beneath the outer tip of a +live-oak which we have found to stretch and droop twenty-four paces from +the seven-foot trunk, a little fleet of canoes. They belong to the +professional fisherman whose too tarry nets are quite an encumbrance +for some yards of the sandy beach, and whose well may be noticed about a +rifle-shot out from the shore. More than that, though Piscator is +absent, some one is inspecting his boats. In fact,--and it _is simple +fact_, and I am not smuggling in a bit of padding in the shape of +sentiment,--two persons become perceptible, both with their backs +towards us, now and studiedly all the time. One, a man, chooses a boat +after trying several, and, with similar show of unavoidable delay, is +cushioning the seats with carefully-arranged moss in four times the +necessary quantity. During this absorbing process he rips one of his +cuffs, or tears off a button from it, or smears it with the tar that +besets the boat and its oars. This calamity supplies the lady, a neat +young person, with a pretext for occupation, and she uses it to the +fullest and most affectionate extent. It is growing late, and unless we +relieve the couple of our obviously detected presence we shall deprive +them of their Sunday-afternoon row. That it is a row with the stream we +find ten days later, when their wedding becomes the sensation of the +little village. + +The old, old story! how pat it comes in! How could it have failed to +come in, when the talk is of birds? + +EDWARD C. BRUCE. + + + + +THE FERRYMAN'S FEE. + +I. + + +"I am going," said the professor to his friend Miss Eldridge, "to marry +a young woman whose mind I can mould." + +Somebody was uncharitable enough to say that he couldn't possibly make +it any mouldier than his own. This was a slander. In the high dry Greek +atmosphere which surrounded and enclosed his mind, mould, which requires +dampness before it can exist, was an impossibility. + +When an engagement is announced, it is almost invariably followed by one +question, with a variable termination. The dear five hundred friends +exclaim, with uplifted hands,-- + +"What could have possessed him," or "her"? + +In the present case the latter termination was adopted, with but one +dissenting voice: Miss Christina Eldridge said, in low, shocked tones, +"Alas that a man of his simply colossal mind should have been ensnared +by a pretty face, whose soulless beauty will depart in a few short +years!" + +The professor would have been very indignant had any one ventured to +suggest to him that the pretty face had anything to do with it. He +imagined himself entirely above and beyond such flimsy considerations. +Yet it is sadly doubtful whether an example in long division, on a +smeared slate, brought to him with tears and faltering accents by Miss +Christina, would have produced the effect which followed when Miss +Rosamond May betrayed her shameful ignorance by handing him the slate +and saying forlornly, "I've done it seven times, and it comes out +differently wrong every time. Can _you_ see what's the matter?" and two +wet blue eyes looked into his through his spectacles, with an expression +which said plainly, "You are my last and only hope." + +She was standing by the massive marble-topped table which was the +central feature of the parlor of their boarding-house. One plump +hand--with dimples where the knuckles should have been--rested upon the +unresponsive marble, in the other she held the slate. She was a teacher +of some of the lowest classes in Miss Christina Eldridge's academy for +young ladies, and only Miss Christina knew the almost fathomless depths +of her ignorance. + +But her father had been a professor, and a widower; and shortly before +he died he had manifested an appreciation of the stately principal +which, but for his untimely death,--he was only seventy,--might have +expanded into "that perfect union of souls" for which her disciplined +heart secretly pined. + +So when it was first whispered, and then exclaimed, that Professor May +had left nothing, absolutely nothing, for his daughter but a very small +life-insurance premium and the furniture of their rented house, with a +little old-fashioned jewelry and silverware of the smallest possible +intrinsic value, Miss Christina called upon Miss May and told her that, +if she would accept it, there was a vacancy in the academy, with a +salary of two hundred dollars a year and board, but not lodging. + +"And if you remain with me, my dear, as I hope you will, I can give you +a room next year, after the new wing is added; and, meanwhile, I know of +a vacant room, at two dollars a week, in a highly-respectable +lodging-house." + +"You are very kind," replied Rosamond, in a quivering voice. "But indeed +I am afraid I don't know enough to teach even the very little girls. So +I'm afraid you'd better get somebody else. Don't you think you had?" + +"No," said Miss Christina, patting the useless little hand which lay on +her lap. "You will only be obliged to hear spelling- and reading-lessons, +and teach the class of little girls who have not gone beyond the first +four rules of arithmetic, and perhaps you will help them to play on +their holidays: you could impart an element of refinement to their +recreations more readily than an older teacher could." + +"Is _that_ all?" exclaimed Rosamond, almost cheerfully. "Oh, I can +easily do that much. I love little girls. I will be so good to all the +homesick ones. When shall I come?" + +"As soon as you can, my dear," replied Miss Christina. + +In a few weeks Rosamond had settled into the routine of her new +life,--going every morning to the academy, where she spent the day in +hearing lessons, binding up broken hearts, playing heartily with her +scholars in the intermissions, and being idolized by them in each of her +various capacities. She did not forget her father, but it was impossible +for her sweet and childlike nature to remain in mourning long. + +Professor Silex had felt a profound pity for his old friend's daughter, +and had come down out of the clouds long enough to express it in +scholarly terms and to offer any assistance in his power. They met +sometimes on the stairs and in the dreary parlor, and his eyes beamed +with such a friendly light upon her over the top of his spectacles that +she began to tell him her small troubles and to ask his advice in a +manner which sometimes completely took his breath away. He had never had +a sister, his mother died before his remembrance, and he had been +brought up by two elderly aunts. Fancy, then, his consternation when he +was suddenly and beseechingly asked, "Oh, Professor Silex, _would_ you +get a little felt bonnet, if you were me, or one of those lovely +wide-brimmed beaver hats? The hats are a dollar more; but they _are_ so +lovely and so becoming!" + +"My dear child," stammered the professor, "have you no female friend +with whom you can consult? I am profoundly ignorant. Miss Eldridge--" + +"She says to get the felt," pouted the dear child; "just because it's +cheaper. And papa used always to advise me, when I asked him, to get +what I liked best." The blue eyes filled, as they still did at the +mention of her father. + +"My dear," said the professor hurriedly,--they were standing on the +first landing, and he heard the feet of students coming down the +stairs,--"I should advise you, by all means, to get the--the one you +like best. Excuse my haste, but I--I have a class." + +She was wearing the beaver when she next met him, and she beamed with +smiles as she called his attention to it. He looked at her more seeingly +than he had yet done, and a feeling like a very slight electric shock +penetrated his brain. + +"See!" she cried gayly. "It _is_ becoming, isn't it?" + +"It is, indeed," he answered cordially. "And I should think it would be +quite--quite warm,--there is so much of it, and it looks so soft." + +"I told Miss Eldridge you advised me to get it," continued she +triumphantly, "and she didn't say another word." + +The professor was aghast. He felt a warm wave stealing over his face. +This must be stopped, and at once. Fancy his class, his brother +professors, getting hold of such a rare bit of gossip! But he would not +hurt her feelings. She was so young, so innocent, and her frank blue +eyes were so like those of his dead friend. + +"My child," he said softly, "you honor me by your confidence; but may +I--might I ask you, when you seek my advice upon subjects--ah--not +congruous to my age and profession, not to repeat the result of our +conferences? With thoughtless people it might in some slight measure be +considered derogatory to my professional dignity. Not that I think it +so," he hastily added. "All that concerns you is of great, of heartfelt +interest to me." + +"I didn't tell anybody but Miss Eldridge," said the culprit penitently; +"and I know she won't repeat it; and I'll never do so any more, if +you'll let me come to you with my foolish little troubles. It seems +something like having papa again." + +Now, why this touching tribute should have irritated the professor who +can say? He was startled, shocked, at the irritation, and he strove to +banish all trace of it from his voice and manner as he said, gravely and +kindly, "Continue to come to me with your troubles, my dear, if I can +afford you either help or comfort." + +A few days passed, and she waylaid him again. Her pretty face was pale, +and her soft yellow hair was pushed back from her forehead, showing the +blue veins in her temples. + +"I don't know what I shall do," she said, in a troubled voice. "Those +children have caught up with me in arithmetic, and by next week they'll +be ahead of me; and I feel as if I oughtn't to take Miss Eldridge's +money if I can't do all she engaged me for. What would _you_ do if you +were me?" + +"Could you not prepare yourself by study, and so keep in advance of your +little pupils?" he inquired kindly. + +"I don't believe I could," she replied despondently. "I tried to do the +sums that came next, last night, and they wouldn't come right, all I +could do; and I got a headache besides." + +"I have an hour to spare," said the professor, pulling out his watch: +"perhaps, if you will bring me your book and slate, I can elucidate the +rule which is perplexing you." + +"Oh, will you _really_?" she exclaimed, a radiant smile lighting up her +troubled face. "I'll bring them right away. How kind, how _very_ kind +you are, to bother with my sums, when you have so much Greek in your +head!" And, obeying an impulse, as she so often did, she caught his hand +in both her own and kissed it heartily. Then she skimmed across the +parlor, and he heard her child's voice "lilting lightly up the" stairs +as he stood--in a position suggestive of Mrs. Jarley's wax-works--gazing +fixedly at the hand which she had kissed. + +"She regards me as a father," he said to himself severely. "Am I going +mad? Or becoming childish? No; I am only sixty. But, even if it were +possible, it would be base, unmanly, to take advantage of her +loneliness, her gratitude. No, I will be firm." + +So, when the offending "example" was handed to him, with the +above-quoted touching statement as to its total depravity, he looked +only at the slate. Gently and patiently, as if to a little child, he +pointed out the errors and expounded the rule, amply rewarded by her +joyful exclamation, "Oh, I see _exactly_ how it's done, now! You do +explain things beautifully. I really think I could have learned a good +deal if I'd had a teacher like you when I went to school." + +"Come to me whenever your lessons perplex you, my dear," he answered, +still looking at the slate; "come freely, as if--as if I were your +father." + +"Ah, how kind, how good you are to me!" she cried, seizing his slender, +wrinkled hand and holding it between her soft palms. "How glad papa must +be to know it! It almost seems like having him again. Must you go? +Good-night." + +And, innocently, as if to her father, she held up her face for a kiss. + +The professor turned red, turned pale, hesitated, faltered, and then +kissed her reverently on her forehead,--or, if the truth must be told, +on her soft, frizzled hair, which, according to the fashion of the day, +hung almost over her eyes. + +Two evenings in the week after this were devoted to arithmetic. The +professor was firm--as a rule; but when her joyous "Oh, I see _exactly_ +how it's done, now!" followed his patient reiteration of rules and +explanations, how could he help rewarding himself by a glance at the +glowing face? how could he keep his eyes permanently fixed upon that +stony-hearted slate? + +So it went on through the winter and spring, till it was nearing the +time for the summer vacation. The professor knew only too well that +Rosamond had been invited to spend it with some distant +cousins,--distant in both senses of the word,--and that on her return +she would be swallowed up by the academy and would brighten the dingy +boarding-house no more. How could he bear it? His arid, silent life had +never had a song in it before. Must the song die out in silence? + +When the last evening came, and when, realizing the long separation +before them, she once more held up her face for a kiss, with trembling +lips and blue eyes swimming in tears, as she told him how she should +miss him, how she did not see what she should do without him, his +hardly-won firmness was as chaff before the wind. He implored her to +marry him; he told her of the beautiful home he would make for her. + +"For I am rich, Rosamond," he said hurriedly, before, in her surprise, +she could speak. "I have not cared for money, and I believe I have a +great deal. You shall do what you will with it, and with me. We will +travel: you shall see the Old World, with all its wonders. And I will +shield you: you shall never know a trouble or a care that I can take on +myself; for--I love you." + +Then, as she remained silent, too much astonished to speak, he said +beseechingly,-- + +"You _do_ love me a little? You could not come to me as you do, with all +your little cares and perplexities, if you did not: could you?" + +"But I came just so to papa," she said, finding voice at last; and her +childish face grew perplexed and troubled. + +The professor had no answer for that. He hid his face in his hands. In a +moment her arms were about his neck, her kisses were falling on his +hands. + +"You have been so good to me," she cried, "and I am making you unhappy, +ungrateful wretch that I am! Of course I love you; of course I will +marry you. Take away your hands and look at me--Paul!" + +Ah, well! they tell in fairy-stories of the fountain of youth, and even +amid the briers of this work-a-day world it is found sometimes, I think, +by the divining-rod of Love. But many students gnashed their teeth, and, +as we have said, Miss Christina Eldridge alone, of all the dear five +hundred, said, "What possessed _him_?" + + +II. + +The summer vacation was over, and students, more or less reluctantly, +had returned to college and academy. The professor came back in a +brand-new and very becoming suit of clothes; his hair and beard had been +trimmed by a fashionable barber, and his old-fashioned high "stock" +exchanged for a modern scarf, in the centre of which gleamed a modern +scarf-pin. He ran lightly up the steps of the academy and inquired for +Miss May. Courtesy, as his uneasy conscience told him, dictated an +inquiry for Miss Eldridge also, but he compounded with conscience: he +would ask to see her after he had seen Rosamond. + +"Why, how very nice you look! You are really handsome!" And the +dignified professor was turned about, as if he had been a graven image, +by two soft little hands, which he caught in his own, and--so forth. + +She was very sure now that she loved him, as in a certain sense she did. +But she would not consent to an immediate marriage, nor to the building +of a miniature palace for her reception. She owed it to Miss Eldridge, +she said, to fulfil her engagement and not to go away just as she was +beginning to be really useful. And as for a house, would it not be +pleasanter to live in lodgings and be free to come and go as they would? +So his wishes, as usual, were deferred to hers. The long fall evenings +began, and he brought, at her request, carefully-selected "improving" +books, to be interrupted, as he read, by earnest questions, such as,-- + +"_Would_ you embroider this linen dress with its own color or a +contrasting one, if you were me?" + +Spring came again, and the professor, looking ten years younger than he +had looked a year ago, brought to his "rose of all the world" a bunch of +the first May roses. + +"Oh, the lovely, lovely things!" she exclaimed delightedly. "You shall +have two kisses for them, Paul. Where _did_ they come from, so early in +May?" + +"From the south side of the wall of an old garden which I used to weed +when I was a boy." + +"Will you take me there? Is it near here?" she asked eagerly. + +"I will take you there," he answered, "some day; but it is not near +here: it is more than a hundred miles away." + +"And you sent all that way for them just for me? How good, how kind you +are! There, I will take two of the half-blown ones for my hat, and two +for my neck, and one for your button-hole--oh, yes, you shall! Hold +still till I pin it. Now just see how nice you look! And the rest I will +put in this glass, and then Miss Christina can enjoy them too; she's so +kind, and I can't do anything for her. Oh, that makes me think! I have +to go across the river this afternoon to hunt up a dress-maker she told +me about, a delightfully cheap and good one, and she said you would know +if there were any way of crossing anywhere near ---- Street, the bridge +is so far from where I want to go. Is there?" + +"Yes," he replied, "there's a rather uncertain way: an old fellow who +owns a boat lives close by there, and if he's at home he will be only +too glad to row you over for a few cents. It would not make your walk +much longer to go round that way first and see. I have often crossed in +his boat, and I like to talk with him: he's an original character." + +"Oh, that is charming!" she said delightedly. "Can't you come too? You +can sit and talk with him while I'm talking to the dress-maker." + +"I wish I could," he answered, "but I promised to meet the president in +the college library at four, and--bless me! it only wants ten minutes of +it now. Try to get back by sunset, dear: the evenings are chilly yet." + +"Yes, I will; I'm going right away," she said, with the deference to his +least wish which so often gave him a heartache. "You'll be in this +evening? Of course you will. Thank you so very, very much for the +roses." + +She watched him go down the steps, waving her hand to him as she closed +the door, and then, with the roses still in her hat and at her throat, +walked toward the river-bank, whispering a gay little song to herself. +It was such a bright day! she was so glad "the winter was over and +gone!" how good and kind everybody was! how grateful she ought to be! + + +III. + +"I wish," said Mr. Symington bitterly, "that I could find a commodious +desert island containing a first-class college and not a single girl. I +would have the island fortified, and death by slow torture inflicted +upon any woman who managed--as some of them would, in spite of all +precautions--to effect a landing." + +"But the married girls are so stupid, my dear boy," ejaculated his +room-mate, Mr. Fielding. "You must admit that, if one must have either, +the single ones are decidedly preferable, or at least the young single +ones." + +"Don't try to be funny," said Symington savagely: "you only succeed in +being weak. I have"--and he pulled out a note-book and glared at its +contents--"an engagement to take two to a concert this evening, other +two to a tennis-match on Saturday, and another one out rowing this +afternoon. And it's time for me to go now." + +"It strikes me _you've_ been pretty middling weak," commented Fielding. +"Either that, or you're yarning tremendously about its being a bore: you +can take your choice." + +"I leave it with you," said Symington wearily. "That Glover girl is +probably cooling her heels on the bank, and I must go." + +"Alas, my brother! it is long since one of those Glover girls captured +me!" + +The victim was a little late for his engagement, but no indignant Glover +girl lay in wait for him. The bank, green with the first soft grass of +spring, was deserted. Had she come and gone? He arranged himself +comfortably in the boat and began to sing, the balmy air and the +surroundings suggesting his song,-- + + Oh, hoi-ye-ho, ho-ye-ho, who's for the ferry? + +and went through the first verse, beginning softly, but unconsciously +raising his voice as he went on, until, as he came to the second, he was +singing very audibly indeed, and Rosamond, standing on the bank, looking +uncertainly about her for the old boatman, was in time to hear, + + She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet + As the little pink flower that grows in the wheat, + With her cheeks like a rose and her lips like a cherry,-- + "And sure and you're welcome to Twickenham town." + +The curious feeling which makes one aware of being looked at caused him +to turn and look up as he finished the verse, and he longed for the +self-possession of his room-mate as he vainly struggled to think of +something to say which should not be utterly inane. He felt himself +blushing, but he was well aware that a blush on his sunburned face was +not so charmingly becoming as it was to the vision on the bank. It was +she who spoke at last, with the ghost of a smile accompanying her +speech. + +"I beg your pardon," she said, "but I was told that I should probably +find an old man here who would row me across. Do you know where he's +gone?" + +"He is--that is--I think--I believe he's gone to dinner," stammered this +usually inflexible advocate of truth. + +And it did not occur to Rosamond to suggest that between four and five +in the afternoon was an unusual dinner-hour for a ferryman. + +She looked very much disappointed, and turned as if to go. + +"Won't you--may I--" eagerly stammered the youth, and added desperately, +"I'm here in his place," mentally explaining to an outraged conscience +that this was literally true, for was not his boat tied to a stake, and +must not that stake have been driven by the old man for _his_ boat? Dr. +Watts has told us that + + Sinners who grow old in sin + Are hardened in their crimes, + +and the hardening process must sometimes take place with fearful +rapidity, for when Rosamond, having guilelessly accepted the statement +and allowed the ferryman to help her to the broad cushioned seat in the +stern of the boat, asked innocently, "How much is it--for both ways, I +mean? for I want to come back, if you don't mind waiting a little," he +answered, with a look of becoming humility, "It is five cents, please." + +"You mean for one way?" she inquired, as she fished a very small purse +up from the depths of her pocket. + +And he, reflecting that two and a half cents for one way would have an +air of improbability about it, answered promptly, "Yes, if you please." + +She opened her purse and introduced a thumb and finger, but she withdrew +them with a promptness and a look of horror upon her face which +suggested the presence of some noxious insect. + +"You'll have to take me back, please," she said faintly. "I forgot to +put any money in my purse, and I've only just found it out." + +"It is not of the least consequence," he began hurriedly, adding, in +business-like tones, "You can make it all right the next time, you know. +I suppose it will not be long before you cross again?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "That depends upon whether or not I find--" +and then, remembering that the professor had gently cautioned her about +talking over her small affairs with any one but himself, she changed the +end of her sentence into "I have to. But I will bring you the money +to-morrow afternoon, if you will be here," she went on. "I am so ashamed +that I forgot it; and you're _very_ kind to trust me, when I'm such a +perfect stranger to you. Don't people ever cheat you?" + +"Sometimes," replied the ferryman; "and I don't trust everybody. I go a +good deal by people's faces." + +It did not seem to Rosamond that this remark required an answer, so she +sat silent, while his vigorous strokes sent the little boat swiftly +across the river, when he beached it, and, giving her his hand, helped +her to spring to dry ground. Then she said,-- + +"That's where I'm going,--that white house across the first street; and +I shall only be a few minutes." + +"Don't hurry," he said, as she turned away. "I've nothing more to do +this evening after I take you back." + +He really did forget for the moment the "other two" and the concert. + +The blissful meditation which enwrapped him made the fifteen minutes of +her absence seem as five. She came down the bank, blushing and smiling. + +"'And, oh, she looked sweet!'" mentally ejaculated the ferryman. + +"Did I keep you long?" she said, as he helped her in. "I hurried as much +as I could. And if you, or the old man, will be here to-morrow at +half-past four, I should like to cross again: it saves me such a long +walk. And I'll be _sure_ to bring the money." + +"You didn't keep me--that is, waiting--at all," he answered dreamily; +"and I'll be here at half-past four, sharp, to-morrow. You may depend on +me." + +"Very well," she said contentedly, as she settled herself among the +cushions, which in her absence he had arranged for her greater comfort, +adding, "What a very nice boat you have! I don't see how you keep it so +neat and fresh, taking so many people across, and being out, as I +suppose you must be, in all sorts of weather." + +"It's a new boat," he said hurriedly, "and you're my first passenger. +Would you mind telling me your name?--your first name I mean, of +course?"--for the horrible idea occurred to him that she might think he +was anxious about his fare. "I haven't named her yet, and I thought, +perhaps, _as_ you're my first fare, you'd let me name her after +you,--for luck, you know." + +"Is that considered lucky?" she asked innocently, "If it is, of course +you may. My name is Rosamond; but it seems to me that's rather long for +a boat. Suppose you call her the Rose. Papa--my father, I mean--used to +call me that oftener than Rosamond, and--one or two other people do +yet." + +"I don't think Rosamond would be too long," he said thoughtfully, "but +it shall be as you wish, of course. I will have 'Rose' painted on the +stern, and I can call her Rosamond to myself. May I have one of your +roses, just to--to remember it by, till I can see the painter?" + +"Why, yes, I suppose so." And she unfastened one of the two at her +throat, and handed it to him. + +He placed it carefully in his pocket-book, which, as she observed with +some surprise, was of the finest Russia leather. Ferrying must be +profitable work, to provide the ferryman with such boats and +pocket-books. + +There was a brief silence, and then she said, "You were singing as I +came down the bank. Would you mind singing again? It sounds so pretty on +the water." + +He made no answer in words, but presently his voice arose, softly at +first, and then with passionate fervor, and this time his song was, +"Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!" + +"Thank you; that was beautiful," said Rosamond calmly, as he finished +and the boat grazed the bank at one and the same moment. "What a good +voice you have! And you must have taken lessons, to sing so correctly: +haven't you?" + +"Yes,--a few," he answered, springing from the boat and drawing it up on +the bank. She rose to follow him, but stopped short, with a little +exclamation of dismay. + +"Why, this isn't where we ought to have landed!" she exclaimed. "It's a +place a mile farther down the river." + +He looked very much confused. + +"I have made some stupid blunder," he stammered. "I owe you a thousand +apologies, but I was singing, and I suppose I passed the landing without +noticing it. I will not keep you long, though. I can row back in ten +minutes." + +"I oughtn't to have asked you to sing when you were rowing," she said +remorsefully. "I'm so sorry you should have all that extra work." + +"Oh, I don't mind that," he said, trying to speak coolly, "if the delay +won't incommode you." + +"No," she said. "We shall be back before dark, and that will be time +enough. I _shouldn't_ like to have to walk home after dark." + +Eager words rose to the ferryman's lips, but he wisely suppressed them, +bending to his oars till the little boat sprang through the water. + +The sun dropped into the river, allowing the faintly-traced sickle of +the new moon to show, as the boat once more touched land,--at the right +place this time. + +Rosamond tripped up the bank, with a friendly "Good-evening," and at the +top she met the professor. "Oh, how nice of you to come and meet me!" +she cried, slipping her hand through his arm. "It grows dark so quickly +after the sun goes down that I was beginning to be just a little +scared." + +"I would have been here an hour ago," he said, "but the president kept +me. I called at Miss Eldridge's, thinking to find you returned, and +then, when she said you were still absent, I hurried down here, feeling +unaccountably disquieted. It was absurd, of course. But were you not +detained longer than you anticipated?" + +"No, it wasn't absurd," she said, clasping her other hand over his arm +and giving it a little squeeze. The spring dusk had fallen around them +like a veil by this time, and they were still a little way from any +much-travelled street. + +"It wasn't absurd _at all_," she repeated "there's nobody but you to +care whether I come in or go out, and I like you to be worried,--just a +little, I mean,--not enough to make you, really wretched. I've had the +funniest time! The old man wasn't there, and I was turning back, quite +disappointed, when a young man,--quite young, and very nice +looking,--who was singing in a foolish sort of way in a pretty little +boat tied to a stake, said he was there in the old boatman's place, and +asked me to go with him; and I went. At first I was puzzled, for he +looked like a gentleman in most respects, and I didn't think he could be +the son of the old man you told me about; but the longer I was with him +the more I saw that there was something queer about him. He was very +kind and polite, but had a sort of abrupt, startled manner, as if he +were afraid of something, and I came to the conclusion that he must be a +harmless insane person, and that they let him have the ferry because +there isn't anything else much that he could do. He had a most lovely +little boat, all cushioned at one end, and he rowed beautifully." + +"But it was not safe," said the professor, in alarm. "If a man be ever +so slightly insane, there is no telling what form his insanity will +take: he might have imagined you to be inimical to him, and have thrown +you overboard." And Rosamond felt a nervous tremor through the arm upon +which she leaned. She laughed heartily. + +"You'd not feel that way if you could see him, dear," she said. "He's +as gentle as a lamb, and a little sheepish into the bargain. And I +promised to let him row me over to-morrow afternoon at half-past four. +Indeed, there's no danger. The only really queer thing he did was to +carry me a mile down the river; and that was my fault, for I asked him +to sing again. He has a delightful voice, and he sang that song you like +so much,--'Oh, wert thou in the cauld blast!'--and while he was singing +he missed the landing. But he apologized, and rowed me back like +lightning: so it really didn't matter,--especially as you met me, like +the dear that you are." + +If a member of the professor's class had used the figures of speech too +frequently employed by Rosamond, he would have received a dignified +rebuke for "hyperbolical and inelegant language;" but it never occurred +to the deluded man that anything but pearls of thought and diamonds of +speech could fall from those rosy lips. + +"I prefer, however, that you should run no risk, however slight, my +Rose," said the professor, so gently that the words were more an +entreaty than a command. + +"But I don't see how I can help it," she said, in dismayed tones, "for I +did such a dreadful thing that I shouldn't tell you of it if I hadn't +firmly made up my mind to tell you everything. I think +engaged--and--and--married people always ought to do that. I forgot to +take any money, and it was ten cents there and back, you know; and he +was so kind and polite about trusting me. I wanted him to take me back +as soon as I found it out, but he said he would trust me, that I could +bring it to him next time; and I promised to go to-morrow and pay him +for both trips at once: so, you see, I _must_." + +"Very well," said the professor, after a moment's thought. "I do not +wish you to break your word, of course: so I will go with you. I can +have a little talk with this unfortunate young man while you are engaged +with your dress-maker, and perhaps his condition may be ameliorated. He +could surely engage in some more remunerative occupation than that which +he is at present pursuing; and there are institutions, you know, where +much light has been thrown upon darkened minds." + +"How good, how kind you are!" she cried, her sweet eyes filling with +happy tears, unseen in the gathering darkness. "You're sure you've made +up your mind not to be disappointed when you find out just how foolish +and trifling I really am?" she asked timidly. + +The professor's answer need not be recorded. It was satisfactory. + +It is a curious thing that the "sixth sense," which draws our thoughts +to long-forgotten friends just before we hear from them, which leads our +eyes to meet other eyes fixed earnestly upon them, which enables people +to wake other people by staring at them, and does a variety of similar +things, admitted, but not accounted for, fails to warn the victims of +approaching fate. Serenely, blissfully, did Mr. Symington wend his way +to the bank on that golden afternoon. It had occurred to him to exchange +his faultless and too expensive boating-costume for a cheap jersey and +trousers; but he feared that this might excite suspicion: he had still +sense enough left to be aware that there had been no shadow of this in +the sweet blue eyes yesterday. + +He had not sung + + She'd a rose in her bonnet, and, oh, she looked sweet! + +more than five hundred times since the previous evening: so, by way of +variety, he was humming it softly to himself as he approached the bank. +He was a little early, of course. She had not come yet. So he dusted the +cushions, and sponged up a few drops of water from the bottom of the +boat, and then sat down to wait. He was not kept waiting long. He heard +voices approaching, then a clear, soft laugh, and she was there; +but--oh, retribution!--with her, supporting her on his arm, was +Professor Silex! Wild thoughts of leaping into the river and +swimming--under water--to the opposite bank passed through the brain of +this victim of his own duplicity; but he checked himself sternly,--he +was proposing to himself to act the part of a coward, and before her, of +all the world. No, he would face the music, were it the "Rogue's March" +itself. And then a faint, a very faint hope sprang up in his heart: the +professor was noted for his absent-mindedness: perhaps there would be no +recognition. Vain delusion. + +"Your boatman has not kept his appointment," said the professor, +advancing inexorably down the bank; "but I see a member of my class--an +unusually promising young man--with whom I wish to speak. Will you +excuse me for a moment?" + +Rosamond turned her puzzled face from one to the other, finally +ejaculating, "Why, _that's_ the ferryman!" + +"There is some mistake here," said the professor, unaware of the +sternness of his tones. + +They had continued to advance as they spoke, and the ferryman could not +avoid hearing the last words. He sprang from the boat and up the bank +with the expression of a whole forlorn hope storming an impregnable +fortress, and spoke before the professor could ask a question. + +"I beg your pardon, Professor Silex," he said; "there is no mistake. +Miss--this lady, who is, I imagine, Miss May" (the professor bowed +gravely), "was looking yesterday for the old man who acts as ferryman +here sometimes. He was absent, and, seeing that Miss May seemed +disturbed, I volunteered to take his place. It gave me great pleasure to +be of even that small amount of use." + +The professor's grave face relaxed into a smile. Memories of his youth +had of late been very present with him, and to them were added those of +Rosamond's estimate of the amateur boatman. He waved his hand +graciously; but, before he could speak, Rosamond indignantly exclaimed, +"But you told me it was ten cents, and that people sometimes cheated +you, and that you were here in that poor old man's place, and--oh, I +can't _think_ of all the--things you told me." + +A burning blush scorched the face of the ferryman. This was speedy +judgment indeed. But his courage rose to the emergency. He met the blue +eyes steadily with his dark-brown ones as he said, "I told you no +untruths, Miss May. My boat was, literally speaking, in the place of +that which the old man actually keeps here: I knew it must be, because +there was only one stake. I have been cheated, frequently and +egregiously: few men of my age, I imagine, have not. And I have great +faith in physiognomy. You _were_ my first fare; and I meant to accept +the ten cents,--I assure you I did. If you can think of any of the other +'things,' I shall be happy to explain them." + +"It's all sophistry," she began, with something very like a pout. + +But the professor gently interrupted her: "Let us not judge a kind +action harshly. Mr. Symington meant only to relieve you from an annoying +dilemma, and he naturally concluded that this would be impossible should +he disclose his real name and position. It seems that he merely allowed +your inferences to go uncontradicted, and was, practically, most kind. +An introduction between you is now scarcely necessary; but I am glad +that you have met. But for the fact that a selection would have looked +invidious, I should have asked you ere this to permit me to bring Mr. +Symington to see you." + +"And will you--may I?" asked the culprit eagerly, glancing from one to +the other. + +"That must be as Miss May says," replied the professor, with a kind +smile. + +And Rosamond, ashamed of her unwonted outburst, gave Mr. Louis Symington +her hand, saying penitently, "I was very rude just now, and unjust +besides: will you forgive me and come with the professor to see me?" + +"With pleasure,--with the greatest pleasure," he answered eagerly. "And +you will let me row you across? You will not make me miserable by +refusing?" + +Rosamond glanced at the professor. + +"To be sure we will," he said cheerfully. "I shall be glad of the +opportunity for a little conversation with you while Miss May is +executing her errand." + +So he rowed them across; and then, while Rosamond discussed plaits and +gores with the new dress-maker, he discoursed his best eloquence and +learning to the professor, with such good effect that the latter said to +Rosamond, as they walked home through the twilight, having been +persuaded to extend the row a little, "I am glad, dear, that this +opportunity of presenting young Symington to you without apparent +favoritism has arisen. He is a most promising young man, but a little +inclined, I fear, from what I hear of him in his social capacity, to be +frivolous. We may together exercise a restraining influence over him." + +"I thought he talked most dreadfully sensibly," said Rosamond, laughing; +"but I like him, and I hope we shall see him often." + +They did. He called at first with the professor, afterward, at odd +times,--never in the evening,--without him. He persuaded Rosamond to +continue her patronage of his boat. Sometimes the professor went, +sometimes he did not. Mr. Symington was frequently induced to sing when +they were upon the water, and once or twice Rosamond joined her voice to +his. + +The 30th of June had at last been appointed for the wedding-day. They +were to go to Europe at once, and spend the vacation travelling wherever +Rosamond's fancy should dictate. All through the winter she had +discussed their journey with the liveliest interest, sometimes making +and rejecting a dozen plans in one evening. But of late she had ceased +to speak of it unless the professor spoke first; and this, with the +gentle tact which he had always possessed, but which had wonderfully +developed of late, he soon ceased to do. + +She was sometimes unwarrantably irritable with him now, but each little +fit of petulance was always followed by a disproportionate penitence +and remorse. At such times she hovered about him, eagerly anxious to +render him some of the small services which he found so sweet. But she +was paler and thinner than she had ever been, and Miss Christina +noticed, with a kindly anxiety which did her credit, that Rosamond ate +less and less. + +May was gone. It was the first day of June,--and such a day! Trees and +shrubs were in that loveliest of all states,--that of a half-fulfilled +promise of loveliness. Rosamond felt the spell, and, in spite of all +that was in her heart, an unreasoning gladness took possession of her. +She danced down the path of the long garden behind the seminary and +danced back again, stopping to pick a handful of the first June roses. +It was early morning, and the professor stopped--as he often did--for a +moment's sight of her on his way from the dreary boarding-house to the +equally dreary college. She caught both his hands and held up her face +for a kiss. Then she fastened a rosebud in his button-hole. + +"You are not to take that out until it withers, Paul," she said, +laughing and shaking a threatening finger at him. "Do you know what it +means,--a rosebud? I don't believe you do, for all your Greek. It means +'confession of love;' and I _do_ love you,--I do, I do." + +"I know you do, my darling," he said gently; "and it shall stay +there--till it withers. But that will not be long. I stopped to tell you +that I cannot go with you this afternoon; but you must not disappoint +Mr. Symington. I met him just now, and told him I should be detained, +but that you would go." + +"You had no right to say so without asking me first," she said sharply. +"I don't wish to go. I _won't_ go without you. There!" + +He was silent, but his deep, kind eyes were fixed pityingly upon her +flushed, excited face. + +She dropped it on his arm and burst into tears, and he stroked her hair +gently, as if she had been a little child and he a patient, loving +father. She raised her face presently, smiling, though her lips still +quivered. + +"Do you really and truly wish me to go with--this afternoon?" + +It seemed to him that for a full minute he could not speak, but in +reality the pause was so brief that she did not notice it. + +"Yes," he said quietly, "I really and truly do. It would not be fair to +disappoint Mr. Symington, after making the engagement." + +"And can't you possibly go, dear?" she asked entreatingly. + +I think only one man was ever known to pull the cord which set in motion +a guillotine that took off his own head. But there is much unknown, as +well as unwritten, history. + +"Not without neglecting some work which I ought to do to-day," he said. + +"I think you care more for your work sometimes than you do for me." +There was a little quaver in her voice as she spoke. "And I wish you'd +stop behaving as if I were your daughter. I don't know what ails you +this morning; but if you go on this way I shall call you Professor Silex +all the time. How would you like that?" + +A passionate exclamation rose to his lips, and died there. A spasm of +bitter pain made his face for a moment hard and stern. Then he smiled, +and said gently, "I should not like it at all, as you know very well. +But I must go now, or I shall be late for my class. Good-by, dear +child." And, parting her soft, curling hair, he pressed a fatherly kiss +upon her forehead. + +She threw her arms about his neck, crying, "No!--on my lips." And, +pressing an eager kiss upon his mouth, she added, "There! that is a +sealing, a fresh sealing, of our engagement; and I wish--oh, how I +wish!--that we were to be married to-morrow--to-day!" + +The professor gently disengaged himself from her clinging arms, saying, +still with a smile, "But I thought the wedding-gown was still to make? +Good-by. I will come early this evening and hear all about the enchanted +island." + +For the expedition which had been planned by the three for that +afternoon was to explore a little island far down the river, farther +than any of them had yet gone. + +Rosamond wore no roses when she went slowly down the bank that day,--not +even in her cheeks. + +And when Louis Symington saw her coming alone, only the sunbrown on his +face concealed the sudden rush of blood from it to his heart. + +"The professor could not come," she said hurriedly, "so he made me come +without him; that is--I mean--" And she stopped, confused. + +"If you prefer to wait until he can go with us, pray do not hesitate to +say so," he replied stiffly, and pausing--with her hand in his--in the +act of helping her into the boat. + +"Oh, I did not mean to say anything rude," she exclaimed penitently; and +she stepped across the seats to the cushioned end of the boat. "Of +course we will go; but perhaps--would you mind--couldn't we just take a +little row to-day, and save the island until the professor can go?" + +"Certainly," he said, still in the same constrained tone; and, without +another word, he helped her to her place and arranged the cushions about +her. + +The silence lasted so long that she felt she could bear it no longer. + +"Will you please sing something?" she said at last, desperately, "You +know you sang that first day; and it sounded so lovely on the water. Do +you remember?" + +He looked at her fixedly for a moment. Then he said simply, "Yes, I +remember," and began at once to sing. But he did not sing "Twickenham +Ferry" to day. He would have given all he was worth, when he had sung +one line, if he could have changed it into a college song, a negro +melody,--anything. For this was what he found himself singing: + + "How can I bear to leave thee? + One parting kiss I give thee, + And then, whate'er befalls me, + I go where Honor calls me." + +She would not hide her face in her hands, but she might turn it away: +how was he to know that she was not watching with breathless interest +the young couple straying along the bank, arm closely linked in arm, in +the sweet June sunshine? + +"Thank you," she said faintly, when the last trembling note had died +away: "that was--very pretty." + +"I am glad you liked it," he said, with quiet irony in his tones. + +And then there was another alarming pause. Anything was better than +that, and she began to talk almost at random, telling of various +laughable things which had occurred among her scholars, laughing +herself, somewhat shrilly, at the places where laughter was due. + +He sat silent, unsmiling, through it all until they stepped from the +boat. Then he said, "It is really refreshing to see you in such good +spirits. I had always understood that even the happiest _fiancee_ was +somewhat pensive and melancholy as the day of fate drew near." + +"You have no right to speak to me in that way,--in that tone," she +cried, with sudden heat. + +He bowed low, saying, "Pardon me; I am only too well aware that I have +no rights of any kind so far as you are concerned. But it is impossible +to efface one's self entirely." + +"Now you are angry with me," she said forlornly; "and I don't know what +I have done." + +"I angry with _you_!" he cried. "Oh, Rosamond! Rosamond!" + +"I am glad if you are not," she said,--"very glad; but I must go--the +professor--" And she sped up the bank before he could speak again. + + +IV. + +The professor came early to the seminary that evening, but Rosamond was +ready for him, dressed in a gown of some soft white fabric which he had +noticed and praised. She had roses in her hair, at her throat, in her +belt, but the bright, soft color in her cheeks out-shone them all. + +She began, almost as soon as they had exchanged greetings, to talk +about her father, asking the professor how long he had known him, and +what Dr. May had been like as a young man. + +"Very shy and retiring," he replied. "I think that was the first link in +our friendship: we both disliked society, and finally made an agreement +with each other to decline all invitations and give up visiting. We +found that everything of the kind interfered materially with advancement +in our studies. But your father had already met your mother several +times when we made this agreement. Their tastes were very similar, and +her quiet, tranquil manner was extremely pleasant to him,--for, as you +know, he was somewhat nervous and excitable,--so he claimed an exception +in her favor; and, after two years of most pleasing intellectual +companionship, they were married. It was a rarely complete and happy +union." + +"And I suppose," said Rosamond, with a curious touch of resentment in +her voice, "that because he had never been like other young people, had +never cared for young friends and pleasant times, it did not occur to +him that I ought to have them? Oh, I don't see how he dared to rob me of +my rights,--of my youth, which could only come once, of all life and +pleasure and sunshine!" + +"My dear," said the professor, looking very much startled and shocked, +"he had no thought of robbing you: he loved you far too tenderly for +that. You always seemed happy and bright, and you were very young when +he died. No doubt, had he lived until you were of an age to enter +society--" + +But here she interrupted him with bitter self-reproaches. + +"Oh, what have I said?" she cried. "He was all goodness, all love to me, +and I have dared to find fault with him! Oh, what a base, wicked girl I +am!" + +A choking sob stopped her, but only one. She conquered the rest, and +made a forlorn attempt to change the subject. + +"I had something to tell you to-night, dear child," said the professor, +when she was quiet again: "you seem tired, so I will make it as brief +as possible." + +A startled look came into her eyes, and she was about to speak, when he +continued: + +"Let me first say what is upon my mind, and then you shall have your +turn. I wished to tell you that I think we--I--have made a mistake. I am +too confirmed an old bachelor to fall into home ways and make a good +husband. I shall always love you as a dear young daughter, I shall ask +you to let me take in every way your father's place, but I think, if you +will let me off, that we will not have that wedding on the 30th of June, +my little girl." + +She raised her eyes in wondering incredulity to his face. He was +smiling! He was speaking playfully! He was giving her back her freedom +with a light heart and a good will. Plainly, the relief would be as +great for him as for her. Laughing and crying in a breath, she clasped +her arms about his neck. + +"Ah, how good you are! How I love you _now_!" she said, as soon as she +could speak. "All the time we have been engaged,--yes, even +before,--from the first I have longed to tell you that I would so much +rather be your daughter than your wife; but I thought it would be so +ungracious, after all your kindness to me. _Now_ we shall be happy; you +will see how happy I shall make you. And, oh, how good, how noble you +are to tell me, when, if you had not spoken,--yes, I should have married +you, dear father. I shall always call you father now: papa will not mind +it, I know." + +The professor had nothing more to do or say after that until he rose to +go. But when she held up her glowing, sparkling face for his good-night +kiss, he once more parted the curls and kissed her on her forehead, +whereat she pouted a little, saying, with half-pretended displeasure, +"Papa didn't kiss my forehead: he kissed me _right_." + +The professor passed his hand, which trembled a little, over her shining +hair, saying, with a paternal smile, "I shall kiss my daughter in the +way that best pleases me. I am going to be a very strict and exacting +father." + +She laughed gleefully, as if it were the best joke in the world, and her +merry "Good-night, dear father," followed him as he went out into the +darkness. + +He held Mr. Symington to his engagement to row Rosamond and himself to +the island, but he took with him a large canvas bag and a geological +hammer. And how, pray, could any one talk to, or even stand very near, +him, when he was pounding off bits of rock for specimens with such +energy that fragments flew in all directions? The sound of the hammer +ceased as soon as his companions had disappeared among the trees; they +were going to look for a spring, but, strangely enough, they did not +notice this. No need now for him to school his face, his voice, his +trembling hands. They found the spring. + +And did my professor die of a broken heart, and leave a lock of +Rosamond's hair and a thrilling heart-history, in the shape of a +neatly-written journal, to proclaim to the world his sacrifice? No; that +was not his idea of a sacrifice. He burnt that very night each +token--and there were many--which he had so jealously cherished,--each +little, crookedly-written, careless note, and, last, the long bright +curl which, before her heart awoke, she had so freely given him. + +It is true that there was a gradual but very perceptible change in him. +He had been indifferent formerly to the members of his class, excepting +from an intellectual stand point. Now he began to take an interest in +that part of their lives which lay outside his jurisdiction, to ask them +to his rooms of an evening, to walk with them and win their confidence. +Not one of them ever regretted that it had been bestowed. + +MARGARET VANDEGRIFT. + + + + +"WHAT DO I WISH FOR YOU?" + + What do I wish for you? Such swift, keen pain + As though all griefs that human hearts have known + Were joined in one to wound and tear your own. + Such joy as though all heaven had come again + Into your earth, and tears that fall like rain, + And all the roses that have ever blown, + The sharpest thorn, the sceptre and the throne, + The truest liberty, the captive's chain. + + Cruel, you say? Alas! I've only prayed + Such fate for you as everywhere, above + All others, women wish,--that unafraid + They clasp in eager arms. So, little dove, + I give you to the hawk. Nay, nay, upbraid + Me not. Have you not longed for love? + +CARLOTTA PERRY. + + + + +LETTERS AND REMINISCENCES OF CHARLES READE. + + +I knew Charles Reade in England far back in "the days that are no more," +and dined with him at the Garrick Club on the evening before I left +London for New York in 1860, when he gave me parting words of good +advice and asked me to write to him often. Then he added, "I am very +sorry you are going away, my dear boy; but perhaps you are doing a good +thing for yourself in getting out of this God-forsaken country. If I +were twenty years younger, and enjoyed the sea as you do, I might go +with you; but, if travel puts vitality into some men and kills others, I +should be one of the killed. What is one man's food is another's +poison." + +He was my senior by more than twenty years, and no man that I have known +well was more calculated to inspire love and respect among his friends. +To know him personally, after only knowing him through his writings and +his tilts with those with whom he had "a crow to pick," was a +revelation. He had the reputation of being always "spoiling for a +fight," and the most touchy, crusty, and aggressive author of his time, +surpassing in this respect even Walter Savage Landor. But, though his +trenchant pen was sometimes made to do almost savage work, it was +generally in the chivalric exposure of some abuse or in the effort to +redress some grievous wrong. Then indeed he was fired with righteous +indignation. The cause had to be a just one, however, before he did +battle in its behalf, for no bold champion of the right ever had more +sterling honesty and sincerity in his character, or more common sense +and less quixotism. + +His placid and genial manner and amiable characteristics in his +every-day home-life presented a striking contrast to his irritability +and indignation under a sense of injury; for whenever he considered +himself wronged or insulted his wrath boiled up with the suddenness of a +squall at sea. He resented a slight, real or imaginary, with unusual +outspokenness and vigor, and said, "I never forgive an injury or an +insult." But in this he may have done himself injustice. Generally, he +was one of the most sympathetic and even lovable of men, and his pure +and resolute manhood appeared in its truest light to those who knew him +best. + +While genial in disposition, he could not be called either mirthful or +jovial, and so could neither easily turn any unpleasant incident off +with a joke or be turned off by one. He needed a little more of the +easy-going good humor and freedom from anxiety that fat men are +popularly supposed to possess to break the force of collisions with the +world. Had he been more of an actor and less of a student in the drama +of life, he would have been less sensitive. + +His conscientiousness and honesty of purpose were really admirable; and +rather than break a contract or disappoint any one to whom he had made a +promise he would subject himself to any amount of inconvenience. For +example, he would, whenever necessary, retire to Oxford and write +against time in order to have his manuscript ready for the printer when +wanted. Much, too, as he disliked burning the midnight oil or any kind +of night-work, and the strain that artificial light imposed upon his +eyes, he would write late in his rooms, or read up on subjects he was +writing about in the reading-room in the Radcliffe Library building till +it closed at ten P.M. He had, it will be seen, a high sense of duty, and +"business before pleasure" was a precept he never neglected. + +In personal appearance Charles Reade, without being handsome, was +strongly built and fine-looking. He was about six feet in height, +broad-chested and well proportioned, and without any noticeable +physical peculiarity. His head was well set on his shoulders, and, +though not unusually small, might have been a trifle larger without +marring the symmetry of his figure. + +His features were not massive, but prominent, strong, and regular, and +his large, keen, grayish-brown eyes were the windows of his mind, +through which he looked out upon the world with an expressive, eager, +and inquiring gaze, and through which those who conversed with him could +almost read his thoughts before he uttered them. He had a good broad +forehead, well-arched eyebrows, and straight, dark-brown hair, parted at +the side, which, like his entirely unshaven beard, he wore short until +late in life. In his dress and manner he was rather _neglige_ than +precise, and he bestowed little thought on his personal appearance or +what Mrs. Grundy might say. Taking him all in all, the champion of James +Lambert looked the lion-hearted hero that he was. + +In his personal habits and tastes he was always simple, quiet, regular, +and he was strictly temperate. He had no liking for dissipation of any +kind. He found his pleasure in his work, as all true workers in the +pursuit for which they are best fitted always do. The proper care he +took of himself accounted in part for his well-developed muscular system +and his good health until within a few years of his death, +notwithstanding his studious and sedentary life. + +Among literary men he had few intimates, and he was not connected with +any clique of authors or journalists. He thought this was one reason why +the London reviewers--whom he once styled "those asses the +critics"--were so unfriendly toward him. He was not of their set, and +some of them regarded him as a sort of literary Ishmael, who had his +hand raised against all his contemporaries, a quarrelsome and +cantankerous although very able man, and therefore to be ignored or sat +down upon whenever possible. He once said, "I don't know a man on the +press who would do me a favor. The press is a great engine, of course, +but its influence is vastly overrated. It has the credit of leading +public opinion, when it only follows it; and look at the +rag-tag-and-bobtail that contribute to it. Even the London 'Times' only +lives for a day. My books have made their way in spite of the press." + +Speaking of publishers, he said, "They want all the fat, and they all +lie about their sales. Unless you have somebody in the press-room to +watch, it is almost impossible to find out how many copies of a book +they print. Then there is a detestable fashion about publishers. I had +to fight a very hard battle to get the public to take a novel published +by Truebner, simply because he was not known as a novel-publisher; but I +was determined not to let Bentley or any of his kidney have all the fat +any longer." + +Truebner, I may mention, published for him on commission, and under this +arrangement he manufactured his own books and assumed all risks. + +In the sense of humor and quick perception of the ludicrous he was +somewhat deficient, and he was too passionately in earnest and too +matter-of-fact about everything ever to attempt a joke, practical or +otherwise. Life to him was always a serious drama, calling for tireless +vigilance; and he watched all the details of its gradual unfolding with +constant anxiety and care, in so far as it concerned himself. + +His love for the glamour of the stage led him often to the theatre; but +whenever he saw anything "murdered" there, especially one of his own +plays, it incensed him, and sometimes almost to fury. He loved +music,--not, as he said, the bray of trumpets and the squeak of fiddles, +but melody; and occasionally, seated at a piano, he sang, in a voice +sweet and low and full of pathos, some tender English ditty. + +Charles Reade had a real talent for hard work, not that occasional +exclusive devotion to it during the throes of composition to which +Balzac gave himself up night and day to an extent that utterly isolated +him from the world for the time being, but steady, systematic, willing +labor,--a labor, I might say, of love, for he never begrudged it,--which +began every morning, when nothing special interfered with it, after a +nine-o'clock breakfast and continued until late in the afternoon. He was +too practical and methodical to work by fits and starts. Generally he +laid down his pen soon after four P.M.; but often he continued writing +till it was time to dress for dinner, which he took either at home or at +the Garrick Club, as the spirit moved him, except when he dined out, +which was not very often,--for, although he was most genial and social +in a quiet way among his intimates, he had no fondness for general +society or large dinner-parties. Yet his town residence, at No. 6 Bolton +Row, was not only at the West End, but in Mayfair, the best part of it; +and, although a bachelor to the end of his days, he kept house. He +afterwards resided at No. 6 Curzon Street, also in Mayfair, and then +took a house at No. 2 Albert Terrace, Knightsbridge, but gave it up not +long before his death, which occurred in Blomfield Terrace, Shepherd's +Bush, a London suburb. + +"This capacity, this zest of yours for steady work," I once remarked to +him, "almost equals Sir Walter Scott's. With your encyclopaedic, +classified, and indexed note-books and scrap-books, you are one of the +wonders of literature." + +"Well," he replied, "these are the tools of my trade, and the time and +labor I spend on them are well invested." Then he went on to say of +literary composition, "Genius without labor, we all know, will not keep +the pot boiling. But I doubt whether one may not put too much labor into +his work as well as too little, and spend too much time in polishing. +Rough vigor often hits the nail better than the most studied and +polished sentences. It doesn't do to write above the heads or the tastes +of the people. I make it a rule to put a little good and a little bad +into every page I write, and in that way I am likely to suit the taste +of the average reader. The average reader is no fool, neither is he an +embodiment of all the knowledge, wit, and wisdom in the world." + +He valued success as a dramatic author more highly than as a novelist, +and was always yearning for some great triumph on the stage. In this +respect he was like Bulwer Lytton, who once said to me, "I think more of +my poems and 'The Lady of Lyons' and 'Richelieu' than of all my novels, +from 'Pelham' to 'What will he do with it?'" (which was the last he had +then written). "A poet's fame is lasting, a novelist's is comparatively +ephemeral." Moved by a similar sentiment, Reade once said, "The most +famous name in English literature and all literature is a dramatist's; +and what pygmies Fielding and Smollett, and all the modern novelists, +from Dickens, the head and front of them, down to that milk-and-water +specimen of mediocrity, Anthony Trollope, seem beside him!"[1] + +He had little taste for poetry, because of his strong preference for +prose as a vehicle of thought and expression. He, however, greatly +admired Byron, Shelley, and Scott, and paid a passing compliment to +Swinburne, except as to the too fiery amatory ardor of his first poems; +but he considered Tennyson, with all his polish, little better than a +versifier, and said his plays of "Dora" and "The Cup" would have been +"nice enough as spectacles without words." For those great masters of +prose fiction and dramatic art, Victor Hugo and Dumas _pere_, he had +unbounded admiration, and of the former in particular he always spoke +with enthusiasm as the literary giant of his age, and to him, +notwithstanding his extravagances, assigned the first place among +literary Frenchmen. Dumas he ranked second, except as a dramatist; and +here he believed him to be without a superior among his contemporaries. + +For several years after I came to New York Charles Reade and I kept up a +close friendly correspondence, and he sent me proof-sheets of "The +Cloister and the Hearth" in advance of its publication in England, so +that the American reprint of the work might appear simultaneously +therewith, which it did through my arrangements with Rudd & Carleton. He +also sent me two of his own plays,--"Nobs and Snobs" and "It is Never +Too Late to Mend," drawn from his novel of that name,--in the hope that +the managers of some of the American theatres would produce them; but, +notwithstanding their author's fame, their own superior merit, and my +personal efforts, the expectation was disappointed, owing, as Mr. Reade +said, to their preferring to steal rather than to buy plays,--a charge +only too well sustained by the facts. Another play, written by a friend +of his, that he sent me, met with a like reception. + +The first letter I received from Charles Reade after my arrival in New +York ran thus: + + +"6 BOLTON ROW, MAYFAIR, July 14 [1860]. + +"Dear Cornwallis,--I was much pleased to hear from you, and to find you +were one of the editors of the 'New York Herald.' A young man of talent +like you ought to succeed, when so many muffs roll in one clover-field +all their days. + +"Not to be behindhand in co-operating with your fortunes, I called on +Truebner at once about your Japanese letters.... + +"If you will be my prime minister and battle the sharps for me over +there, I shall be very glad. I am much obliged by your advice and +friendly information. Pray continue to keep me _au fait_. + +"My forthcoming work, 'The Eighth Commandment,' is a treatise. It is +partly autobiographical. You shall have a copy.... + +"I should take it very kindly of you if you would buy for me any copies +(I don't care if the collection should grow to a bushel of them, or a +sack) of any American papers containing characteristic +matter,--melodramas, trials, anything spicy and more fully reported than +in the 'Weekly Tribune,' which I take in. Don't be afraid to lay out +money for me in this way, which I will duly repay; only please write on +the margin what the paper contains that is curious. You see I am not +very modest in making use of you. You do the same with me. You will find +I shall not forget you. + +"Yours, very sincerely, +"CHARLES READE." + + +In a letter dated February 8, 1861, he wrote me, "Your London publishers +sent me a copy of your narrative of your tour with the Prince of Wales" +("Royalty in the New World, or The Prince of Wales in America"), "which +I have read with much pleasure.... + +"I have on hand just now one or two transactions which require so much +intelligence, firmness, and friendly feeling to bring them to a +successful issue that, as far as I am concerned, I would naturally much +rather profit by your kind offer than risk matters so delicate in busy, +careless, and uninventive hands. I will, therefore, take you at your +word, and make you my plenipotentiary. + +"I produced some time ago a short story, called 'A Good Fight,' in 'Once +a Week.' I am now building on the basis of that short tale a large and +very important mediaeval novel in three volumes" ("The Cloister and the +Hearth"), "full of incident, character, and research. Naturally, I do +not like to take nothing for manuscript for, say, seven hundred pages at +least of fresh and good matter. But here pinches the shoe.... Please not +to show this to any publisher, but only the enclosed, with which you can +take the field as my plenipotentiary. I think this affair will tax your +generalship. I shall be grateful in proportion as you can steer my bark +safe through the shoals. Shall be glad to have a line from you by +return, and will send a part of the sheets out in a fortnight. I think +you may speak with confidence of this work as likely to produce some +sensation in England." + +In July he wrote, "You had better agree with them" (Rudd & Carleton) +"for twenty per cent., and let me take care of you, or I foresee you +will get nothing for your trouble. I only want fifteen for myself, and a +_true return_ of the copies sold. That is where we poor authors are +done. Will you look to that? I have placed five pounds to your +credit,--this with the double object of enabling you to buy me an +American scrap-book or two (no poetry, for God's sake!) of +newspaper-cuttings, and also to reimburse a number of little expenses +you have been at for me and too liberal to mention." + +On September 12, 1861, he wrote, "I send you herewith the first +instalment of early sheets of my new novel. The title is 'The Cloister +and the Hearth.' I am ashamed to say the work will contain fifteen +hundred of these pages. If you are out of it, I will take fifteen per +cent.; if you are in it, twelve. But I look to you to secure a genuine +return, for that is the difficulty with these publishers. There is +considerable competition among publishers here to have the book, and I +am only hanging back to get you out the sheets. Now you know the number +of pages (for the work is written), it would be advisable to set up +type." + +On September 26, 1861, he wrote, "As we shall certainly come out next +week, I shall be in considerable anxiety until I hear from you that all +the instalments sent by me have safely arrived and are in type. To +secure despatch, I have sent them all by post, and, owing to the +greediness of the United States government, it has cost me five pounds. +I do not for a moment suppose the work will sell well during the civil +war; but it is none the less important to occupy the shops with it, and +then perhaps on the return of peace and the fine arts it will not be +pirated away from us. I hope I have been sufficiently explicit to make +you master of this book's destiny." + +On October 18, 1861, he wrote, "We have now been out a fortnight, and, +as it is my greatest success, we are gone coons if you are not out by +this time." + +A week later his uneasiness had been allayed by a letter from me +announcing the publication of the work in New York, and he wrote, "I +think you have done very well, considering the complicated difficulties +you have had to contend against in this particular transaction. The +work is quite the rage here, I assure you. We sold the first edition (a +thousand) at one pound eleven shillings and sixpence in one fortnight +from date of publication, and have already orders for over two hundred +of the second at same price, which we are now printing. + +"I will this day place in S. Low's hands for you the manuscript of 'Nobs +and Snobs,' a successful play of mine, luckily unpublished. Treat with a +New York manager or a Boston manager for this on these terms. Sell them +the sole use of it in one city only for ten dollars per night of +representation, the play not to be locked up or shelved, but to return +to you at the conclusion of the run." + +Then follows a "sketch of agreement" to be made with managers; for in +all business-matters he was extremely particular, and sometimes +needlessly anxious about trifles. + +In the same letter he went on to remark, "I say ten dollars as being +enough and not a halfpenny too much. It is all I ask. If you can get +fifteen dollars on these terms, pocket the balance. But never sell the +provincial right to a New York manager. It is worth a great deal more +than the New York right, properly worked. It is no use showing it to +Laura Keene. I spoke to her in England about it. + +"With many thanks for your zeal and intelligence, and hoping that we may +contrive, somehow or other, one day or other to make a hit together, I +am yours, etc." + +On November 19, 1861, he wrote, "Now for your book. Truebner is +fair-dealing, but powerless as a publisher. All the pushing is done by +me. I have had a long and hard fight to get the public here to buy a +novel published by him, and could hardly recommend another to go through +it. If done on commission and by Truebner, I could take it under my wing +in the advertisements. + +"Next week I expect to plead the great case of Reade _v._ Conquest" +(manager of the Grecian Theatre, London) "in the Court of Common Pleas. +If I win, I shall bring out my drama 'Never Too Late to Mend' and send +it out to you to deal with. Please collect Yankee critiques (on 'The +Cloister and the Hearth') for me; the more the better." + +On November 1, 1861, he wrote, "I send you 'Saunders & Otley's Monthly,' +containing an elaborate review of 'The Cloister,' etc. I don't know the +writer, but he seems to be no fool. I do hope, my dear fellow, you will +watch the printers closely, and so get me some money, for I am weighed +down by _law-expenses_,--Reade _v._ Bentley, Reade _v._ Lacy, Reade _v._ +Conquest,--all in defence of my own. And don't trust the play above +twenty-four hours out of your own hand. Theatricals are awful liars and +thieves. I co-operate by writing to Ticknors and H---- not to pirate you +if they wish to remain on business terms with me. Second edition all but +gone; third goes to press Monday. Everybody says it is my best book." + +On the next day he wrote, "I am a careful man, and counted every page I +sent you, and sealed and posted them with my own hand. I am quite +satisfied with the agreement with Rudd & Carleton, if there is to be no +false printer's return. The only thing that makes me a little uneasy is +your apparent confidence that they could not cheat us out of twenty +thousand dollars by this means if extraordinary vigilance were not used. +They can, and will, with as little remorse as a Newgate thief would, +unless singular precautions are used. If I was there I would have a +secret agent in the printing-house to note each order, its date and +amount, in writing. The plates being yours, you have, in fact, a legal +right to inspect the printer's books. But this is valueless. The printer +would cook his books to please the publisher. You can have no conception +of the villany done under all these sharing agreements. But forewarned +forearmed. Think of some way of baffling this invariable fraud. Ask a +knowing printer some way. Do anything but underrate the danger. + +"The importance of the work not being the least foreseen, I believe +Rudd & Carleton have 'The Cloister' all to themselves.... Every American +who has seen Ticknors' returns assures me they are false, and +ridiculously so. It goes against my heart to believe it, but everybody +is seldom wrong. My opinion is they will all make a false return if they +can. _Verbum sap._ And now, my dear boy, let me thank you for all the +trouble you have taken in this complicated affair, and assure you that +if I am anxious for a just return it is partly in order that I may be in +a position to take care of _you_. For I am sure if _I_ don't nobody else +will. + +"'Nobs and Snobs,' a play, has gone out in Low's parcel. If the managers +will be quick, you can make this copyright by not calling it 'Honor +before Titles'" (the sub-title under which it had been copyrighted in +England). "Then, to bind the thing together, I write a different +conclusion to the second act, and send it you enclosed. It is hasty, but +it will do; and if you can get Jem Wallack to play Pierre, he will do +wonders with the change from drunkenness to sobriety and then to +incipient madness. The only stage directions required will occur at once +to you. Drop should fall on Pierre with a ghastly look, like a man +turned to stone, between the two females. I now close, wishing us both +success in this attempt to open new veins of ore. I have other plays in +manuscript, and one in progress." + +On November 9 he wrote under a misapprehension of the terms of an +agreement about which I had written to him, and evinced his usual +anxiety and impatience when anything seemed to go wrong. If, said he, +this and that happens, "Rudd & Carleton can swindle us out of every +dollar. I confess this stipulation terrifies me. If you have not done +so, for God's sake draw a written agreement in these terms. I shall pass +a period of great anxiety until I hear from you. But, for heaven's sake, +a written agreement, or you will never get one halfpenny. These fears +seem ungracious, after all the trouble you have taken. But it is a most +dangerous situation, and not to be remained in a day or an hour. Draw +on Rudd & Carleton as soon as ever you can." + +On the 9th of December following he had heard from me again, and found +he was mistaken. He wrote, "I am in receipt of your last, which is very +encouraging. You were quite right to do as you did. Give Rudd & Carleton +no loop-hole. They will soon owe us a good round sum, and will writhe +like Proteus to escape paying it." + +On January 17, 1862, he wrote, "It puts me in some little doubt whether +to take your book 'Pilgrims of Fashion' to Truebner or Low. Low will sell +more copies if he tries, but he will charge more percentage, and I shall +not be able to creep you in among my own advertisements. However, you +give me discretion, and I shall look to your advantage as well as I can. +To-day I had to argue the great case of Reade _v._ Conquest. I argued it +in person. Judgment is deferred. The court raised no grave objections to +my reasoning, but many to the conclusions of defendant's counsel: so it +looks pretty well. + +"As to 'Nobs and Snobs,' I know the theatrical managers: they will not +deal except with thieves, if they can help it. Keep it ten years, if +necessary, till some theatre will play it. You will find that all those +reasons they have given you will disappear the moment it is played in +England, and then the game will be to steal it. Copyright it in your +name and mine, if a manuscript can be so protected, and I will enter it +here in my name and yours. + +"Considering the terrible financial crisis impending over the United +States, I feel sad misgivings as to my poor 'Cloister.' It would indeed +be a relief if the next mail would bring me a remittance,--not out of +your pocket, but by way of discount from the publishers. I am much +burdened with lawsuits and the outlay, without immediate return, of +publishing four editions" (of "The Cloister and the Hearth"). "Will you +think of this, and try them, if not done already? Many thanks for the +scrap-book and for making one. Mind and classify yours. You will never +regret it. Dickens and Thackeray both offer liberally to me for a serial +story." (Dickens then edited "All the Year Bound," and Thackeray "The +Cornhill Magazine.") + +On January 27, 1862, he wrote, "The theatrical managers are all liars +and thieves. The reason they decline my play is, they hope to get it by +stealing it. They will play it fast enough the moment it has been +brought out here and they can get it without paying a shilling for it. +Your only plan is to let them know it shall never come into their hands +gratis." + +In a letter undated, but written in the same month, he wrote, "My next +story" ("Very Hard Cash"). "This is a matter of considerable importance. +It is to come out first in 'All the Year Round,' and, foreseeing a +difficulty in America, I have protected myself in that country by a +stringent clause. The English publishers bind themselves to furnish me +very early sheets and not to furnish them to any other person but my +agent. This and another clause enable me to offer the consecutive early +sheets to a paper or periodical, and the complete work in advance on +that to a book-publisher. I am quite content with three hundred pounds +for the periodical, but ask five per cent. on the book. It will be a +three-volume novel,--a story of the day, with love, money, fighting, +manoeuvring, medicine, religion, adventures by sea and land, and some +extraordinary revelations of fact clothed in the garb of fiction. In +short, unless I deceive myself, it will make a stir. Please to settle +this one way or other, and let me know. I wrote to this effect to +Messrs. Harper. Will you be kind enough to place this before them? If +they consent, you can conclude with them at once." + +Messrs. Harper Brothers had always dealt very generously and courteously +toward Mr. Reade, and they were offered "The Cloister and the Hearth" in +the first instance, but did not feel willing to pay as high a royalty as +Messrs. Rudd & Carleton did, in the then depressed condition of the +book-trade and in view of their having previously published and paid +for "A Good Fight," and hence the agreement made with the latter firm. +They evinced a spirit of kind forbearance in refraining from printing a +rival edition of the work, and Mr. Reade remained on very friendly terms +with them to the end of his days. + +On February 13, 1862, he wrote from Magdalen College, Oxford, "I have +defeated Conquest, and am just concluding the greatest drama I ever +wrote,--viz., my own version of 'Never Too Late to Mend.' I will send +you out a copy in manuscript, and hold back for publication. But I fear +you will find that no amount of general reputation or particular merit +of the composition offered will ever open the door of a Yankee theatre +to a dramatic inventor. The managers are 'fences,' or receivers of +stolen goods. They would rather steal and lose money than buy and make +it. However, we will give the blackguards a trial." + +On March 22, 1862, he wrote, "Only yesterday I wrote to you in +considerable alarm and anxiety. This anxiety has been happily removed by +the arrival of your letter enclosing a draft for the amount and Rudd & +Carleton's account up to date. I think you showed great judgment in the +middle course you have taken by accepting their figures _on account_. +All that remains now is to suspect them and to watch them and get what +evidence is attainable. The printers are better than the binders for +that, if accessible. But I know by experience the heads of the +printing-house will league with the publisher to hoodwink the author. I +have little doubt they have sold more than appear on the account." + +On March 7, 1862, he wrote, "Many thanks, my dear fellow, for your zeal; +rely on it, I will not be backward in pushing your interests here, and +we will have a success or two together on both sides of the Atlantic. I +mean soon to have a publishing organ completely devoted to my views, and +then, if you will look out sharp for the best American books and serial +stories, I think we could put a good deal of money into your hands in +return for judgment, expedition, and zeal." + +On March 28, 1862, he wrote, "You are advertised with me this week in +the 'Saturday' and 'London' Reviews. Next week you will be in the +'Athenaeum,' 'Times,' 'Post,' and other dailies. The cross-column +advertisements in 'Athenaeum' cost thirty shillings, 'Literary Gazette' +fifteen shillings, and so on. You will see at once this could not have +been done except by junction. I propose to bind in maroon cloth, like +'The Cloister:' it looks very handsome. I congratulate you on being a +publicist. Political disturbances are bad for books, but journals thrive +on them. Do not give up the search for scrap-books, especially +classified ones." + +He wrote me on April 2, 1862, "This will probably reach you before my +great original drama 'It is Never Too Late to Mend,' which has gone by a +slower conveyance. When you receive, please take it to Miss Kean" (Laura +Keene), "and with it the enclosed page. You will tell her that, as this +is by far the most important drama I have ever written, and entirely +original, I wish her to have the refusal, and, if she will not do it +herself, I hope she will advise you how to place it. Here in England we +are at the dead-lock. The provincial theatres and the second-class +theatres are pestering me daily for it. But I will not allow it to be +produced except at a first-class theatre. I have wrested it by four +actions in law and equity from the hands of pirates, and now they shall +smart for pirating me. At the present time, therefore, any American +manager who may have the sense and honesty to treat with me will be +quite secure from the competition of English copies. I have licked old +Conquest, and the lawyers are now fighting tooth and nail over the +costs. The judges gave me one hundred and sixty pounds damages, but, as +I lost the demurrer with costs, the balance will doubtless be small. +But, if the pecuniary result is small, the victory over the pirates and +the venal part of the press is great." + +He wrote on May 30, 1862, "As for writing a short story on the spur, it +is a thing I never could do in my life. My success in literature is +owing to my throwing my whole soul into the one thing I am doing. And at +present I am over head and ears in the story for Dickens" ("Very Hard +Cash"). "Write to me often. The grand mistake of friends at a distance +is not corresponding frequently enough. Thus the threads of business are +broken, as well as the silken threads of sentiment. Thanks about the +drama" ("It is Never Too Late to Mend"). "I have but faint hopes. It is +the best thing I ever wrote of any kind, and therefore I fear no manager +will ever have brains to take it." + +On June 20, 1862, he wrote of his forthcoming story, "Between ourselves, +the story" ("Very Hard Cash") "will be worth as many thousands as I have +asked hundreds. I suppose they think I am an idiot, or else that I have +no idea of the value of my works in the United States. I put 6 Bolton +Row" (the usual address on his letters) "because that is the safest +address for you to write to; but in reality I have been for the last +month, and still am, buried in Oxford, working hard upon the story. My +advice to you is to enter into no literary speculations during this +frightful war. Upon its conclusion, by working in concert, we might do +something considerable together." + +On August 5, 1862, he wrote from Magdalen College, where he was to +remain until the 1st of October, "I shall be truly thankful if you +postpone your venture till peace is re-established. I am quite sure that +a new weekly started now would inevitably fail. You could not print the +war as Leslie and Harper do, and who cares for the still small voice of +literature and fiction amongst the braying of trumpets and the roll of +drums? Do the right thing at the right time, my boy: that is how hits +are made. If you will postpone till a convenient season, I will work +with you and will hold myself free of all engagements in order to do so. +I am myself accumulating subjects with a similar view, and we might do +something more than a serial story, though a serial story must always be +the mainspring of success." + +He wrote on September 6, 1862, "I am glad you have varied your project +by purchasing an established monthly" ("The Knickerbocker Magazine") +"instead of starting a new weekly. I will form no new engagements nor +promise early sheets without first consulting you. I will look out for +you, and as soon as my large story is completed will try if I cannot do +something for you myself." + +On the 29th of June, 1863, he wrote, "I am much pleased with your +'Knickerbocker Magazine,' and cannot too much admire your energy and +versatility. Take notice, I recommended you Miss Braddon's works while +they were to be had for a song. 'Lost and Saved,' by Mrs. Norton, will +make you a good deal of money if you venture boldly on it and publish +it. It is out-and-out the best new thing, and rather American. If you +hear of any scrap-books containing copious extracts from American +papers, I am open to purchase at a fair price, especially if the +extracts are miscellaneous and dated, and, above all, if classified. I +shall, also be grateful if you will tell me whether there is not a +journal that reports trials, and send me a specimen. Command me whenever +you think I can be of an atom of use to you." + +Charles Reade's letters were always highly characteristic of him. In +these he mentally photographed himself, for he always wrote with candid +unreserve, whether to friend or foe, and he liked to talk with the pen. +Both by nature and education he was fitted for a quiet, studious, +scholarly life, and with pen and paper and books he was always at home. +He liked, too, at intervals the cloister-like life he led at Magdalen +College. With nothing to disturb him in his studies and his work, with +glimpses of bright green turf and umbrageous recesses and gray old +buildings with oriel windows that were there before England saw the Wars +of the Roses, his environment was picturesque, and his bursar's cap and +gown became him well, yet seemed to remove him still further from the +busy world and suggest some ecclesiastical figure of the fifteenth +century. He was a D.C.L., and known as Dr. Reade in the college, just as +if he had never written a novel or a play and had been untrumpeted by +fame. + +There, in his rooms on "Staircase No. 2," with "Dr. Reade" over the +door, he labored _con amore_. Indeed, he was amid more congenial +surroundings and more truly in his element in the atmosphere of the +ancient university than in London or anywhere else. By both nature and +habit he was more fitted to enjoy the cloister than the hearth, although +he by no means undervalued the pleasures of society and domestic life. +The children of his brain--his own works--seemed to be the only ones he +cared for; and, loving and feeling proud of his literary family, he was +mentally satisfied. Yet no man was a keener observer of home-life, and +his portraiture of women and analysis of female character, although +unvarying as to types, were singularly true and penetrating. His +Fellowship was the principal cause of his never marrying, the next most +important one being that he was always wedded to his pen; and +literature, like law, is a jealous mistress. He had some idea of this +kind when he said, "An author married is an author marred,"--an +adaptation from Shakespeare, who was ungallant enough to say, "A young +man married is a man that's marred." But a good and suitable wife would +have given _eclat_ to his social life. + +His splendid courage and the manliness of his character always commanded +admiration, and his hatred of injustice and wrong, cant and hypocrisy, +was in harmony with the nobility and passionate earnestness of his +nature. He was the friend of the workingman, the poor, and the +oppressed; and he exposed the abuses of jails and lunatic-asylums and +trades-unions, and much besides, in the interest of humanity and as a +disinterested philanthropist. He fought, too, the battles of his +fellow-authors on the copyright questions with the same tremendous +energy that he displayed in his struggles for practical reform in other +directions; and as a practical reformer through his novels he, like +Dickens, accomplished a great deal of good. When moved by strong +impulses in this direction, he seemed indeed to write with a quivering +pen, dipped not in ink, but in fire and gall and blood, and to imbue +what he wrote with his own vital force and magnetic spirit. + +Measuring his literary stature at a glance, it must, however, be +admitted that, notwithstanding his high average of excellence, he was a +very uneven writer, and hence between his worst and his best work there +is a wide distance in point of merit. But the best of his writings as +well deserves immortality as anything ever penned in fiction. Although +inferior to them in some respects, he was superior in epigrammatic +descriptive power to the most famous of his English and French +contemporaries, and particularly in his descriptions of what he had +never seen or experienced, but only read about. Take, for instance, his +Australian scenes in "It is Never Too Late to Mend," where the effect of +the song of the English skylark in the gold-diggings is told with +touching brevity and pathos. Yet all his information concerning +Australia had been gained by reading newspaper correspondence and books +on that country. He made no secret of this, and said in substance, as +frankly as he spoke of his scrap-books, "I read these to save me from +the usual trick of describing a bit of England and calling it the +antipodes." He could infuse life into the dry figures of a blue-book; +but in the mere portraiture of ordinary conventional society manners, +free from the sway of strong passions and emotions, he did not greatly +excel writers of far inferior ability. He had the graphic simplicity and +realism of De Foe in describing places he had never seen; and as the +historian of a country or a period in which he felt interested he would +have been unusually brilliant, for he was an adept in picturesque +condensation, and knew how to improve upon his originals and use them +without copying a word. He was a master of vigorous English. + +KINAHAN CORNWALLIS. + + + + +IN A SUPPRESSED TUSCAN MONASTERY. + + +We have left the golden hills and laughing valleys of Tuscany behind us +as we approach that desert part of it where the gray chalk cliffs +stretch out into the Maremma in long narrow tongues of rock, not far +from Siena. A frightful convulsion of nature in prehistoric times rent +the solid rock, seaming it with chasms so wide and deep that the region +is almost depopulated, not only because man can with difficulty find +room for the sole of his foot, but because the gases which lie over the +Maremma in vapors thick enough to destroy life in a single night rise up +to the top of these cliffs and reduce the dwellers there to fever-worn +shadows. Even the scattered olive-trees that have taken root in the thin +layer of soil are of the same hue, and the few clumps of cypresses add +to the pallor of the scene with their dark funereal shafts. The only bit +of color is where a cluster of low red-washed houses have found room for +their scanty foundations on a knot of rock where several chasms +converge. Where the sides of the chasms slope gently enough to admit of +being terraced, vineyards are planted, which yield famous wines, the red +Aleatico and the white Vino Santo, rivalling in quality the Monte +Pulciano, which grows only a short distance away. Farther down in the +depths thickets of scrub oak and wild vines form oases that are +invisible unless one is standing on the brink. + +The epithet "God-forsaken," so often applied to regions like this, +would, however, be inappropriate here, for in God's name the locality is +famous. On a promontory whose sides fall down in sheer precipices all +about, except where a narrow neck of rock connects it with the net-work +of cliffs, is a vast monastery, the Mother Abbey of the Olivetani. In +1313 a noble of Siena, Bernardo Tolomei, in the midst of a life of +literary distinctions and pleasures, received, it is said, the grace of +God. He was struck blind, and in his prayers vowed if he recovered his +sight to embrace a life of penitence. It was the divine will that his +vows should be fulfilled, and his sight was immediately restored. Two +friends of the noblest Italian families, the Patrizzi and Piccolomini, +joined him in leaving the world to become hermits in the desert. The +chalky cliffs overhanging the Maremma on Bernardo's estates were +selected as a fitting retreat: here they dug grottoes in the sides of a +precipice and lived on roots and water. They were soon followed by so +many penitents as to form a community requiring a government, and, the +necessity of this being made plain to them through a vision, in which +Bernardo saw a silver ladder suspended between heaven and earth, on +which white-robed monks were ascending accompanied by angels, he was +urged to go to Avignon and obtain an audience of the Pope, who gave to +the community the rule of St. Benedict. + +For a century the friars labored in building their convent to +accommodate the needs of their ever-increasing numbers: the one vast +cloister was not enough, and another was added; the primitive chapel was +enlarged into a stately church, and the abbey walls were extended until, +enclosing the garden, they covered the entire promontory. Then they +ceased from their labors, and began to establish other monasteries and +send out swarms from the mother-hive to fill them, until the executive +and administrative ability to govern a small kingdom had to be supplied +from their numbers, and manual work had to give way to mental. + +Another century found the abbey governed by men of culture and lovers of +the fine arts; and the celebrated painted cloister, the intarsia-work, +and the wooden sculptures, which now attract so many visitors, date from +that time. Nearly all the movable works of art, the pictures, +illuminated missals, and precious manuscripts, were confiscated at the +time of the first suppression under Napoleon, in 1810; and whatever else +could be carried off went in 1866, when the religious orders were +suppressed by the Italian government, to embellish the museums. Still, +the empty cloister, with Signorelli's and Sodoma's frescos on the walls, +Fra Giovanni of Verona's intarsia-work in the church, and the solitary +monastery itself, so silent after centuries of activity, have an +inexpressible charm, and travellers who undertake a pilgrimage hither +can never forget their impressions. + +On a sunny autumn afternoon three ladies left Siena in a light wagon, +and drove over the gray upland, which was shrouded in a pale blue mist, +through the picturesque hamlet of Buonconvento. Here they changed their +horse and left the Roman highway for the road cut in the rocks five +centuries ago by the monks of Monte Oliveto. These pious men understood +little of engineering, of the art of throwing bridges across ravines. +Their road simply followed the course pointed out by nature, winding in +serpentine folds through the labyrinth of chasms which begin at +Buonconvento. + +It was toward evening when the party drove over a narrow bridge across a +half-filled moat, and under the arch of a massive crenellated tower +whose unguarded gates stood wide open. A hundred years ago they would +have found the portcullis drawn, and, being women, if they had attempted +to force an entrance would have been excommunicated, for until the +suppression no woman's foot was allowed across this threshold. The tower +was built as a protection against bandits, and the grated windows which +give it a sinister look to-day lighted the cells of refractory brothers, +placed here to catch the eye of novices as they entered the outer portal +and serve as a silent warning. + +The convent was still invisible, and our three visitors were speculating +on what they would find at the end of the grass-grown _allee_ bordered +with cypresses, when they saw, in a ravine below, a white-robed figure +hastening toward them. + +"That must be the Padre Abbate," one of them exclaimed. "I hope he has +received our padre's letter telling of our coming, for it would be worse +than an attack of the bandits of old, our falling upon him at this hour +on a Saturday evening without any warning." + +They had alighted in front of the church when the padre arrived quite +out of breath,--a tall, stately old man, with white hair flowing over +the turned-back cowl of his spotless white robe. If they had known +nothing of him before, his courtly manner and easy reception would have +revealed his noble lineage. + +"Be welcome, be welcome, my daughters, to the lonely Thebaid. I have +received the padre's letter, and am happy to receive his friends as my +honored guests for a month, if you can support the solitude so long," he +added, smiling. "And, now, which is the signora, and which the Signorina +Giulia and the Signorina Margherita?" + +"I am the signora," said one of the three, laughing, the last one would +have suspected of being a matron. She had lost her husband at twenty, +and her four years of European travel had been a seeking after +forgetfulness, until she had grown to be satisfied with the +companionship of two gentle women artists, who, absorbed in their +vocation, walked in God's ways and were blessed with peace and +happiness. + +After each had found her place and name in the padre's pure, soft Tuscan +accent, he led the way to the convent door, apologizing for the meagre +hospitality he could offer them. "Would the signore like some bread and +wine before supper?" What could they know of the hours in an abbey, +where it was an almost unheard-of distinction to be received as personal +guests, tourists in general having their own refectory set apart for +them during their stay? and so they declined. They had by this time +reached a low, arched side-door, which grated on its hinges after the +padre had turned the huge key in the rusty lock and opened it. They +entered a wide stone vestibule, and found themselves opposite another +arched door set in arabesque stone carvings: the flags echoed under +their feet as they turned to the right and traversed a low, vaulted +passage that ended in an open cloister. An arched gallery ran round the +four sides, held up by slender, dark stone pillars, above which was a +row of small arched cell windows. The court was paved with flags, and in +the centre was a well, divested of pulley and rope. An impression of +melancholy began to weigh upon the guests, when a great shaggy dog came +springing toward them, barking. The padre quieted him with, "Down, Piro! +down!" adding, "He is very good, though his manner is a little rough: he +is not used to ladies. But he will not be so impolite again, I am sure." + +"Oh, I hope he will," said Julia: "it is delightful to see him bound +about here, where it is so strange and quiet." + +They traversed one side of the gallery, another low, vaulted corridor, +and came to another cloister, with painted walls, more arches, more +columns, lighter and more graceful, above which, around the three sides, +were two rows this time of cell windows; a beautiful open vaulted +gallery filled the third side, and was carried up through the second +story. Here was another well, out of which ivy-branches had grown and +twined until the curb was one mass of dark-green, shining vines lying on +a bed of moss. Presently they came to a broad stone staircase, at the +head of which "_Silenzio_" was written over an archway that led into a +corridor so long and wide as to seem a world of empty space; on either +side was an unending row of doors, all of them closed. + +On many of the doors were inscriptions in Latin: eight, one after the +other, were marked, "_Visitator primus, secundus_," etc. + +"These are our quarters, then," said Julia. "But are only eight visitors +allowed at a time?" + +The padre laughed at the question. "These rooms were intended for the +visitors appointed to attend our general convocations, at which eight +hundred of our order met here every three years to elect a new general +and discuss our welfare; but the necessity for such visitors has passed +away with our existence. I can remember when all these cells were +filled; and there are three hundred on this floor, and as many more +above. You are surprised, I see, at the number of doors: there are so +many because each cell has its anteroom, where we studied and meditated +and prayed." + +They stopped at length before a door marked "_Rev. Pater Vicar. +Generalis_," which was at the end of the corridor. Unlocking the door, +the padre invited them in. + +"One of you will be lodged here, and, if you are not too tired, we will +look at your other quarters before you sit down to rest." + +So saying, he led the way through five rooms, unlocked a door at the +farther end, conducted them across another corridor of the same +dimensions as the firsthand unlocked another door; when, suddenly +recollecting himself, he said, "You will not be afraid to be separated? +There is nothing here to disturb you,--nothing but these cats; and I +will see that they do not annoy you." + +Then the ladies noticed for the first time in the growing darkness four +cats, which turned out to be the padre's bodyguard, attending him +wherever he went. Of course they were not afraid: they were only sorry +to put their kind host to so much trouble. And so they proceeded to +inspect a small cell with a bed and praying-stool and tripod with a +basin for all the furniture. The anteroom had a table and chair, and an +engraving or two on the walls. Next to this cell was another just like +it, for which they agreed to draw lots, and then went to the padre's +anteroom for a book which he said would tell all about the history of +the abbey. + +Such masses of keys as were everywhere in this room made it a perfect +curiosity,--keys for every one of the cells on this floor and above, for +the refectories, church, offices, etc., below, for rooms enough to +accommodate the emperor Charles V. and his suite of two thousand men +for a night, festooned in bunches around the walls,--so that in the dusk +the room seemed lined with curious bas-reliefs in steel. Piles of books +were heaped on the table with surgical instruments, medicine-bottles, +and bags of dried seeds. + +After this inspection in the twilight, they went back to the padre +vicar's _salon_ to rest, when their host took leave of them to give +orders to Beppo about the rooms and to send a light. Then they sank into +what seats they could find, and tried to collect themselves. + +Presently a low knock was heard, the door was pushed open, and a tall, +dark youth in sandals and white apron came in, with "_Buona sera, +signore_," and left a lucerna--the graceful brass Tuscan lamp, with +three branches for oil and wick--on the table. A large room with two +windows now became visible, with a sofa, chairs, a table, and +white-tiled stove, and many engravings on the white walls. + +At nine o'clock the prospect of supper was almost too faint to be +entertained, and the signora was just opening her mouth to say, "Of +course the padre has forgotten all about us," when they heard in the +distance a faint footstep approaching, and the padre appeared with a +taper in one hand and a magnificent red silk coverlet in the other. "For +the signora's bed," he explained, and went to leave it in the bedroom. +Then he came and sat down, apologizing for having left them so long, and +commenced what would have been for his listeners a most interesting +conversation if it had been after supper. He told how he had been there +thirty years,--first as student, then as frate, and finally as abbot. +Since 1866 he had been alone with two monks. To-morrow he would show +them the cell just above their heads, which he had occupied seventeen +years in silence, except when he had permission to speak. Suddenly, +looking at his watch, he said, "It is half-past nine o'clock, and no +doubt you are now hungry." And, no one gainsaying the supposition, he +relighted his taper and led the way to the refectory. The shadows all +about were black and mysterious enough, but they were too tired to be +troubled about them, and were already half-way down a staircase, when +the signora looked back, and, if she had not seized the balustrade, +would have fallen; for standing at the head of the staircase was a white +figure, holding a taper above a cowled head, out of which a pair of dark +eyes was looking at her steadfastly. The padre's voice, calling out, +"Signora, you are left in the dark," reassured her and gave her courage +to turn and run down to join the others, who were disappearing through a +low door. This led into what seemed an immense hall, judging from the +echoes. They passed by heavy stone columns supporting a ceiling in round +Romanesque arches on their way toward the one spot of light which came +from a lucerna that stood on one end of a very long table spread for +supper. They were looking around bewildered for their places, when they +were not a little startled to hear the padre say, "Signore, this is Fra +Lorenzo, my son in the Lord." The signora was of course the least +surprised, for she recognized her apparition. They received a silent +salutation from a young spiritual-looking monk, with the handsomest +face, they afterward agreed, they had ever seen. The four cats, Piro, +and another shaggy monster of a dog completed the company and shared the +visitors' supper, preferring their soup and chicken to the +Saturday-evening fare of the monks of boiled beans and olive oil. The +strangely-mixed party found much to interest each other, and, as the +signora laughed once or twice merrily over the division of the +chicken-bones between the dogs and the cats, she found Fra Lorenzo's +eyes fixed upon her with a look of wonder; at other times he kept his +eyes on his plate and uttered not a word. The chicken was followed by +figs and peaches, cheese and Vino Santo, which the signora drank out of +a tall glass with the arms of the order engraved on it. + +When they returned to their _salon_, the padre followed them to say, +"You were surprised at Fra Lorenzo's appearance,--I think a little +startled, too. He is gentle and good as an angel, and this is the first +time he ever inspired fear in any one,--poor boy! He is my nephew, and I +have had him with me ever since his infancy, when his parents died. I am +his guardian, and have made him a priest and Benedictine as the best +thing I could do for him, although his rank and talents would enable him +to play a distinguished _role_ in the world. But, thanks be to God, he +is a devout follower of Christ, and a most useful one. He is now +twenty-five years of age; and I do not think we have a better decipherer +of manuscripts in the Church than he, since he is conversant with most +of the Oriental tongues, although so young. I sometimes fear God will +visit me for bestowing too much affection upon the boy. I strive against +it, but he remains the light of my eyes. If it be a sin, God forgive +me." + +As the signora was putting out the light at her bedside, her eyes fell +upon the basin of holy water hanging above it. She wondered who had +dipped his fingers last in it, and if any one had ever before slept in +that bed without first kneeling before the ivory crucifix above the +praying-stool. And with these conjectures she fell asleep. It seemed to +her that she had been lying there only a short time when she heard a +distant door open and shut softly, then another and another, all the way +down the corridor, until the sound seemed very near; then a breath of +wind struck her cheek, which came through the outer door of her boudoir, +which she had forgotten to lock, and which some one had just opened. She +was on the point of springing out of bed to try to reach the door of the +bedroom before any one could enter, when a monk came through and stopped +at the foot of her bed. His cowl was drawn so far down over his eyes +that the point of it stood straight up above his head. His hands were +crossed over his breast, under his white robe; when, drawing his right +one out and pointing his bony finger, he said, "You heretic, what are +you doing here?" Without waiting for an answer, he passed on, and +another took his place, repeating the question. This was the beginning +of a procession of all the monks who had ever been in the monastery. +From time to time one particularly old and gaunt left the line and came +and sat down by the bedside, until there were eight, four on each side +of it. After a while Fra Lorenzo came walking with the others. He looked +at her with his melancholy eyes and made a motion to stop, but the friar +behind gave him a push and forced him forward. His low voice came to her +as he was passing through the door: "I would sprinkle you with the holy +water if I could, signora: but you see I must obey my superiors." Then +the procession ended, and she was left alone with the eight, one of whom +said to her, "Now you must go down to the crypt under the church, to be +judged for your presumption." And as they rose to seize her, she found +they were skeletons. In her effort to escape from them she awoke, +trembling in every fibre. Her waking sensations were scarcely less +terrible than her dream, for she shook so that she imagined some one was +pulling at the bedclothes. The strain could be borne no longer, and with +a spring she sat up, and her hand touched the silk coverlet. It was like +the hand of a friend. She thought of the padre, of his angelic goodness. +How could she be afraid here, where he was sovereign priest? Still, she +must satisfy herself about the door: so, lighting the lamp, she went +through all the rooms, and found both the outer doors locked. She was +again putting out the light, when a prolonged cry sounded outside the +window. It flashed through her mind that she had read somewhere that +brigands repeat the cry of wild birds as a signal when making an attack. +Perhaps a whole band was preparing to come in upon her through the +windows she had forgotten to examine. There is no knowing to what +desperate fancies her fevered imagination might have tortured her, if a +whole chorus of hoots had not commenced. So, concluding that if they +were not real owls, but men with evil intentions so stupid as to make so +much noise, they were not worth lying awake for, she resolutely turned +over and went to sleep, and only awoke as the convent-bell was ringing +for mass. + +As she opened the windows and looked across the ravine to the gray rocks +beyond, the scene was so peaceful, such a reproachful commentary upon +the troubled night, that she concluded to keep silent about it. And +then, since neither her friends nor the coffee presented themselves, she +set to work to examine the engravings. The first one her eye fell upon +made her start, look again, and finally climb up on the bed and lift it +off the rusty nail, covering herself with dust in the operation, and +carry it to the window. "Yes," she said finally, after having examined +it and the text, a mixture of Latin and old Italian, very thoroughly, +"it is the same, the very same: this discovery would compensate for a +whole series of nights such as I have just been through." And, putting +it down, she ran to her travelling-bag and drew from its depths a very +small painting on copper, and compared them. Hearing just then her +friends at the door, she ran to open it with both pictures in her hands. +"What do you think? I have made a discovery. Look! My picture on copper, +which Pippo in Siena found in the little dark antiquary-shop after his +brother's death and sold to me for sixty cents, is the same as this old +engraving of the famous Annunciation picture in the Church of the +Santissima Annunziata in Florence, which is only unveiled in times of +national calamity. You know, the people believe it was painted by +angels. Here, you see, the text says it was revered in 1252, the artist +being unknown. I knew the original of my picture must be very old, for +Mary is saying in this Latin scroll coming out of her mouth, 'Behold, +the servant of the Lord,' and only the earliest painters, unable to +express their idea by the vivacity of their figures, made their mission +apparent by the scrolls coming from their mouths." They were still +examining the engraving, when the padre came to take coffee with them +and to ask if they would go down to mass, which would commence in a few +minutes. There was only time for him to say that he hoped the owls had +not disturbed them, adding, as they were on their way to the church, +"They are our bane, devouring the chickens and keeping us awake. It is a +never-ending, but perhaps needful, discipline." + +Fra Lorenzo was officiating at the altar as they entered the large +church, before a small number of peasants, the women making a +picturesque group in their light flowered bodices and their red +petticoats visible from beneath their tucked-up gowns, and their gay +cotton handkerchiefs knotted about their heads, since no woman's head +may be uncovered in the Catholic Church. + +The padre came soon to escort them about the church, and "to show them +what little had been left," he said, pointing to the empty chapels. They +found enough, however, to fill them with admiration in dear, good Fra +Giovanni of Verona's marqueterie-work in the backs of the stalls, which +extended the whole length of the long church, as is customary in +monasteries where the monks are the sole participants at the holy +offices. "While Fra Giovanni was here as one of our order," the padre +explained, "he finished the stalls which are now in the cathedral of +Siena. They were taken from us in 1813. After we were allowed to come +back, we asked to have our stalls replaced by those in a monastery in +Siena which was being torn down, and so these stalls were sent us: they +are by Fra Giovanni's own hand. He has never been equalled in this kind +of work, for which he invented the staining of the woods to produce +light and shade, and perfected the perspective which Brunelleschi +invented while resting from his labors on the Florentine dome. The +different Italian cities on the hill-sides, the vistas down the long +streets, with palaces and churches on either side, half-open missals, +Biblical musical instruments, rolls of manuscript music, birds in gay +plumage, all perfectly represented in minute pieces of wood, excite the +wonder of every one whose privilege it is to examine them at leisure." + +As on their way to the cloister they passed through the sacristy, once +heaped with vessels of gold and silver, embroidered vestures, ivory and +ebony sculptures, and splendid illuminated missals, now bare and empty, +the padre said sorrowfully, "Only the walls are left to the guardianship +of these feeble hands, which must soon give up their trust." When, +however, they emerged into the cloister he brightened up, saying, "Here +you will have enough to occupy you the whole month;" and the two artists +of the party drew a breath of satisfaction at finding themselves at last +before the object of their pilgrimage,--the frescos of Signorelli and +Sodoma, representing scenes in the life of St. Benedict, which they were +going to copy. They walked slowly found the four sides, lingering where +Signorelli's deeper sentiment gave them cause for study. He was called +to Monte Oliveto first, and painted only one wall. It was only after +three years that the young unknown Bazzi was summoned, and in an +incredibly short time he completed the other three with his fanciful +creations, as graceful and airy as his character was light and +frivolous. His beautiful faces and figures came from his heart; his +brain had little to do with his work, as, without the evidence of sight +of it, the name given to him by the public--Sodoma, meaning +arch-fool--would indicate. Signorelli, on the contrary, had his ideal in +his brain, and labored to reproduce it; and his efforts are graver and +more elevated. It is to be lamented that his mineral paints have changed +their colors in many places from white to black, and that his green +trees have become blue. + +The padre had studied these frescos so thoroughly as to discover that +Sodoma had sometimes spent only three days on a fresco, by tracing the +joinings where the fresh plaster had been applied, which had to be +finished before it dried. This gifted, careless painter had the habit of +scratching out his heads, if they did not please him, with the handle of +his brush; and thus some of them appear to us in the nineteenth century, +four hundred years after. + +They spent the rest of the day here. Fra Lorenzo joined them at dinner, +and in the evening they walked with the padre beyond the tower to see +the spires of the Siena cathedral through the lovely poisonous blue +mist. On the way back they stopped in the tangled, overgrown garden at +the foot of the tower, which had once been filled with rare medicinal +plants, and peeped into the deserted pharmacy in the lower story, where +the shelves were still filled with rare old pottery jars with the three +mounts and cross and olive-branches upon them. "I am the only physician +now," said the padre, "and must have my medicines nearer home." In +walking over the rocks the visitors noticed, to their surprise, that, +instead of being barren, they were covered with the thick growth of a +short plant, which, like the chameleon, had made itself invisible by +turning gray like the rock. In answer to their inquiries they learned +that it was the absinthe plant, belonging to the same family as the +Swiss plant from which the liquor is made that is eating up the brains +of the French nation; but here it forms the harmless food of the sheep, +and from their milk the famous creta cheese is made,--"called creta from +the rock, which means in English chalk, I think," continued the padre. +"You have noticed its pungent taste at table, have you not?" The ladies +hastened to repair their omission, for it is so celebrated that they +ought to have said something about it. After age has hardened and +mellowed it, no cheese in Italy is so highly esteemed. + +They went, too, to see how the young eucalyptus-trees were +flourishing,--the object of the padre's great solicitude. "We cannot +sleep with our windows open, on account of the bad air, and I have been +corresponding with the Father Trappists in the Roman Campagna about the +cultivation of these trees as a purifier, and am most anxious as to the +result. If I could reduce the fever among the poor people about here, I +should be more content to leave them when my summons comes." + +The owls were flying above them in the cypresses as they neared the +convent, and came swooping down above their heads as the padre imitated +their melancholy hoot. Seeing Beppo in the distance, he called to him to +go for the guns. Whether owls merit to be the symbol of wisdom or no, +they flew away in ever wider circles as soon as the guns and dogs +appeared, and could not be decoyed back. The last rays of light lit up +the gun-barrels as the party went in at the heavy door: the clashing +sound of the bolt and chains, the yelping of the dogs, the guns +glistening in the glimmer of light which came in through the cloister, +made a scene which must often have had its counterparts in the feudal +keeps of the Middle Ages, when the robber knights returned with their +booty. + +After supper they went to see a marvel of concealed treasure stored away +in one of the upper cells,--priestly robes and altar-cloths shimmering +in gold and silver: some of these robes were more beautiful than any +they had seen in the treasuries of Rome. Pure gold they were, wrought in +emblems of divinity. "These are presents to the monastery from our +family," said Fra Lorenzo. "These simpler ones, embroidered with the +silk flowers, are Fra Giorgio's work. He is now away from the convent, +and I am sorry he cannot hear you admire his robes." It was midnight +before the glittering heap was folded away, and the night which followed +was one of sound repose. + +Next morning the signora was leaning over the brink of the ivy-crowned +well, trying to reach a spray twined thick with moss that grew in a +crevice of the stones just beyond her reach. "Signora," a low voice +said, "you ought not to lean so far: you might fall in, and the water is +very deep. What is it you want? Let me get it for you." And Fra Lorenzo, +following her direction, drew up the spray sparkling with moisture. + +"It is beautiful enough for a crown for a god," said she, twining it +together at the ends. "Will you let me turn you into Apollo for a +moment?" And, without thinking, she let it fall lightly on his head. +"No Apollo was ever so beautiful," she involuntarily exclaimed. "If only +you had a lyre!" + +The action, not the admiration, was reprehensible. She was a woman of +the world, and should have thought; and this she realized as her eyes +fell upon his face, where a revelation was unfolding itself. There was +something in this life which he had never thought about, never dreamed +of; and the light which shone out of his dark eyes was deeper than that +of wonder. She would have given the world to take back her +thoughtlessness, for she felt she had given an angel to eat of the +forbidden fruit. + +The signora was a good woman, with all her worldly knowledge, but a +subtile charm of expression and manner made her a very beautiful woman +at times, and this moment, unfortunately for two good persons, was one +of these. She was just reaching for the crown, when the padre came into +the cloister and stopped with amazement as his eye fell on the group. +"Fra Lorenzo," said he, after a moment, "you are sent for to go to +Casale Montalcino: Giuseppe is dying; and you will stay there until the +last offices are finished." + +The young monk seemed under a spell which he shook off with difficulty. +"I go, padre," he said, and started. + +As he passed before the padre, the latter reached for the crown and +threw it into the well, saying, "This beseemeth little a tonsured head." +Then he turned to the signora and asked her if she had examined the +fresco just behind them. "It is worth much study," he went on, "for many +reasons. The subject enabled Sodoma to throw more expression into it +than usual. You see, St. Benedict is resisting the temptation his +enemies prepared for him in introducing these beautiful women secretly +into the monastery. Being so completely a man of God, he overcame the +evil one without an effort; but it is not given to us all to overcome as +he did, and a zephyr from the outer world may waft us an evil which must +be atoned for by long penitence in our lonely cells. Not that I liken +you to a tempter," he added, seeing her confusion and distress: "you +have only forgotten that we are servants of God and must think of +nothing but our duty in serving him." + +"Oh, padre, I would give everything if I had not forgotten it! You must +think of me as a good woman, for indeed I deserve it." + +"I do think of you as such, and am sure the lesson will not be +forgotten," was the crumb of comfort upon which she fed all the rest of +the day and for several days following, during which Fra Lorenzo had not +reappeared. The fountain-scene had not been mentioned to her friends, so +one day at dinner Margaret said, "Do the offices for the dead generally +require so much time, that Lorenzo does not return?" + +"Fra Lorenzo is here," was the answer. "He was only absent one night. He +is very much occupied: that is why you do not see him." + +The next day they were to be shown the library, and at the hour set the +signora went to the padre's reception-room to see if he were ready. He +was just reaching for the key, when a peasant appeared, his hand +bleeding from a cut which had nearly dissevered the thumb. This +necessitated a delay, and the padre went down with him to the +dispensary. "While you are waiting," he said, "perhaps you would like to +go up into the pavilion, where you can look over the Maremma to the sea. +Go up that stair," and he pointed to the end of a corridor, "to the +first landing, then turn to the left." + +As she went up the stair her eye was caught by a carved ceiling at the +top of it. "I suppose I ought to go that far," she thought, and up she +went, until she found herself in a room frescoed with portraits of the +distinguished men of the order. In the middle of one wall was a +magnificently-carved folding-door, with fruits and flowers and twining +foliage with rare birds sitting among the tendrils. She was examining +these details, when she discovered that the door was ajar. A slight +push, and she was in a large, beautiful hall, where three lofty vaulted +aisles were supported by slender marble columns with richly-carved +capitals. At the end of the centre aisle a staircase in the form of a +horseshoe led to a gallery. The walls up-stairs and down, sparsely +filled with books, told her she was in the library. + +"It will be all the same to the padre," she thought, "if I wait here +instead of in the pavilion," and she was half-way down the hall, her +eyes glued to the shelves, when she came suddenly upon Fra Lorenzo +sitting before a table covered with manuscripts in the niche of a deep +window. He must have been aware of her presence from the first, for his +eyes were fixed upon her with a look of intense expectancy. + +"I was thinking of you, signora, and you come to me," was his strange +salutation. + +She felt she must be composed at any cost: so she said, in as easy a +tone as she could command, "I should like to know what resemblance there +is between me and these dusty old manuscripts, that you think of me as +you copy them. You are copying them, are you not?" + +"No, signora, I do nothing: you are always between me and my work. Why +did you look at me so at the fountain? But no; forgive me: I was +thinking of you before that. From the first evening in the refectory +your laugh has been ringing in my heart. You seemed to me like a +beautiful light in the shadows of our old hall." + +She was moving quickly away, when he reached after her and touched her +sleeve. "You are not angry?" + +"No," she answered. "I would only remind you that you belong to God in +body and soul, and when you think of me you commit a deadly sin, for +which never-ending penance can scarcely atone." + +"Signora, you are right. The penance does so little for me now. All +night long I was before the crucifix in the church, and while I prayed I +felt better; but when morning came and I thought of the long, lonely +years I must spend here sinning against God and finding no rest, with +you always in my heart--What can I do? You are good; tell me what I can +do." + +The pain of this innocent, beautiful life was a weight too heavy for +her to bear, and she felt herself giving way under it. "Pray," she +stammered,--"pray for us both, for we must never meet again." She +reached the door, went down the stair, and, turning mechanically to the +right, found herself at last in the pavilion, where she leaned against +the parapet and looked into space. She had lost the capacity of +thinking. + +It was fortunate the padre was so long delayed, for when he came up at +last with the signorine she had so far recovered herself as to be +standing upright, apparently absorbed in the view. + +"I don't wonder this view has made you speechless," her friends called +out. "It is simply glorious." + +"Yes," said the padre: "on these cliffs we seem on the brink of +eternity; down there among the morasses of the Maremma man cannot stay +his feet; and beyond is the sea." + +"How beautiful the thought," said Julia, "that good men dying here have +no longer need to stay their feet! One step from these cliffs, and they +must be in heaven." + +"Who knows, who knows," sighed the padre, "if any of us have found it +so? But now let us go to the library." + +The signora followed them, since she could not do otherwise. They +stopped before the carved door, which the padre said was undoubtedly Fra +Giovanni's own work, and he pointed out the details of the beautiful +workmanship. At length he opened the door, which the signora felt sure +she had not closed. One glance around the hall showed her it was empty. + +The padre was too much occupied with his emotions over the +scantily-supplied shelves, and the ladies with their surprise and +admiration, to notice her excited condition, which she at length +succeeded in quieting enough to hear the padre say, "They have taken our +precious manuscripts from us, dating as far back as the eleventh +century. Many of our order had spent their lives translating and copying +manuscripts, and our greatest loss is here. Fra Lorenzo is just now +translating some Latin chronicles of our first history into Italian. You +can see by his beautiful handwriting that he is a worthy disciple of his +learned predecessors. But how is this?"--as he searched among the rolls +of yellow parchment. "I see he has not yet commenced it." The old man +looked troubled, and, turning from the table, went on: "These carved +depositories for the choral-books, and the frescos at the head of the +stairs, are about all you can admire here now, except the architecture +of the hall." + +The padre was very silent at dinner. He only said, noticing that the +signora ate nothing, "This will not do, my daughter. You look ill. You +must eat something, or I shall have two patients on my hands." + +"Who is the other?" asked Margaret and Julia in a breath. + +"Fra Lorenzo." + +The signora longed to speak with him in private. She must go away at +once, but she must speak with him before she said anything to her +friends. All the afternoon she watched for an opportunity, but found +none. At length, when it was growing dark, she went to walk in the +corridor, hoping to meet him. She had come to the open gallery looking +into the cloister. Here she would wait for him; and, leaning against the +open-work railing, she looked down. A white figure was walking to and +fro. Finally it came to the well and looked into it. Now another white +figure emerged from the shadows, and, laying an arm around the first, +led it gently away out of sight. Then her overstrained nerves gave way, +and she fainted. + +When she recovered her senses she found herself in bed. The padre and +her friends were talking in whispers in the next room, but the former's +voice came to her distinctly. He was saying, "Now you know all. You must +take her away as soon as possible." + +A year after, in Naples, the ladies received these few lines from the +padre: "God in his infinite mercy has taken my son to himself." + +KATE JOHNSTON MATSON. + + + + +THE SUBSTITUTE. + + +CHARACTERS. + +MR. NATHANIEL NOKES, _a Retired Wine-Merchant_. + +MR. CHARLES NOKES, _his Nephew_. + +MR. ROBINSON, MR. SPONGE, MR. RASPER, _Friends of Mr. Nokes the Elder_. + +Waiter. + +SUSAN, _Housemaid at the Hotel of the Four Seasons_. + +MRS. CHARLES NOKES. + +Landlady. + + +SCENE I.--_A handsome first-floor apartment in the Hotel of the Four +Seasons, Paris. Outside the window, the court-yard, with fountain, and +little trees in large pots._ + + _Enter MR. NATHANIEL NOKES, with a small book in his hand, very + smartly dressed, but in great haste, and with his shirt-collar much + dishevelled. [Rings the bell violently.]_ + +What's the good of these confounded French phrase-books? Who wants to +know how to ask for artichoke soup, or how far it is to Dijon? I want a +button sewn on my shirt-collar, and there's not one word about that. + + _Enter Waiter_. + +_Nokes._ Hi! what's-your-name! _Voulez-vous--avoir--la--bonte--de--_[I'm +always civil and very distinct, but, somehow, I can never make myself +understood.] I am going to be married, my good man; to be married--_tout +de suite_--immediately, and there is no time to change my--my _chemise +d'homme_. [Come, he'll understand _that_.] I want this button--button, +button, button sewn on. Here, here--_here_. [_Points to his throat._] +Don't you see, you fool? [He thinks I want him to cut my throat. I shall +never be in time at the Legation!] Idiot! Dolt! Send _Susan_, Susan, _a +moi_, to me--or I'll kick you into the court-yard. [_Exit Waiter, with +precipitation._] + +_Nokes [alone]._ And this is what they call a highly-civilized country! +Talk of "a strong government" at home: what's the use of its being +strong, if it can't make foreigners speak our language? What's the good +of missionary enterprise, when here's a Christian man, within twelve +hours of London, who can't get a shirt-button sewn on for want of the +Parisian accent? I said "button, button, button," plain enough, I'm +sure; and a button's a button all the world over. If it had not been for +that excellent Susan, the English chambermaid, I should have perished in +this place, of what the coroner's inquests call "want of the necessaries +of life." All depends, as every one knows, on a man's shirt-button: if +_that_ goes wrong, everything goes, and one's attire is a wreck. But I +suppose after to-day my wife will see to that,--though she is a +Montmorenci. Constance de Montmorenci, that's her name: she's descended +(she says) from a Constable of France. It's a more English-seeming name +than _gendarme_, and I like her for that; but I am afraid we shan't have +much in common--except my property. She don't speak English very +fluently: she called me "my dove" the other day, instead of "my duck," +which is ridiculous. She is not twenty, and I am over sixty,--which is +perhaps also ridiculous. + +Well, it's all Charles's fault, not mine. If he chooses to go and marry +a beggar-girl without my consent, he must take the consequences,--if +there are a dozen of them,--and support them how he can. "If you persist +in this wicked and perverse resolve," said I, "_I'll_ marry also, before +the year's out." And now I'm going to do it,--if I can only get this +shirt-button sewn on. He shall not have a penny of what I have to leave +behind me. The little Nokes-Montmorencis shall have it all. She's a most +accomplished creature is Constance. Sings, they tell me,--for it's not +in English, so I don't understand it,--divinely; plays ditto; draws +ditto. Speaks every language (except English) with equal facility +and--Thank goodness, here's Susan. + + _Enter SUSAN, with housemaid's broom._ + +_Susan._ What do you please to want, sir? + +_Nokes._ _You_, Susan; you, first of all, and then a shirt-button. I +have not five minutes to spare. My bride is probably already at the +Embassy, expressing her impatience in various continental tongues. +_Vite_,--look sharp, Susan. [_Aside._] Admirable woman!--she carries +buttons about with her. I wonder whether the Montmorenci will do +that.--Take care!--don't run the needle into me! + +_Susan._ You must not talk, sir, or else I can't help it. Please to hold +your head up a little higher. + +_Nokes._ I shall do that when I've married the Montmorenci. [_She pricks +him._] Oh! oh! + +_Susan._ I'm sure I hope as you'll be happy with her, sir; but you seem +so fond of old England that I doubt whether you ought not to have chosen +your wife from your native land. It seems a pity to be marrying in such +haste, just because your poor nephew--_pray_ don't speak, sir, or I +shall certainly run the needle into you--just because Mr. Charles has +gone and wedded the girl of his choice. + +_Nokes [passionately]._ Hold your tongue, Susan! [_She pricks him +again._] Oh! oh! + +_Susan._ There, sir, I told you what would happen. All I say is, I hope +you may not marry in haste to repent at leisure. A fortnight is such a +very short time to have known a lady before making her your bride. +There, sir; I think the button will keep on now. + +_Nokes._ Then I'm off, Susan. But, before I go, I must express my thanks +to you for looking after me so attentively in this place. Here's a +five-pound note for you. [_Aside_] I could almost find it in my heart to +give her a kiss; but perhaps the Montmorenci wouldn't like it. + +_Susan [gratefully]._ Oh, thank you, sir. May all happiness attend you, +sir! and when you're married yourself, sir, don't be too hard upon that +poor nephew of yours-- + +_Nokes [angrily]._ Be quiet. [_Exit hastily._] + +_Susan [alone]._ Now, there's as kind-hearted an old gentleman as ever +lived,--and as good a one, too, if it was not for pigheadedness and +tantrums. The idea of a five-pound note merely for helping him to get +his victuals! He's been just like a baby in this 'ere 'otel, and I've +been a mother to him. He couldn't 'a' got a drop o' milk if it hadn't +been for me. Poor dear old soul! What a pity it is he should have such a +temper! He is taking a wife to-day solely to keep a hasty word uttered +agen his nephew and heir. Mademoiselle Constance de Montmorenci! ah, +I've heard of her before to-day. Nanette, the head-chambermaid here, was +once her lady's-maid. _She's_ known her for more than a fortnight. +Constance is a fine name, but it ain't quite the same as Constancy. Poor +Mr. Nokes! What a mistake it was in him to drive all thoughts of +matrimony off to the last, and then to come to Paris--of all places--to +do it! What a curious thing is sympathy! He met her in the tidal train, +and they were taken ill together on board the steamboat; that's how it +came about. Poor old soul! He deserves a better fate. [_Takes her broom +and leans on it reflectively._] Heigh-ho! His honest English face was +pleasant to look upon in this here outlandish spot; and none has been so +kind to me since my poor missis died and left me under this roof, +without money enough to pay my passage back to England. I was glad +enough to take service here; for why should I go back to a country where +there is not a soul to welcome me? And yet I should like to see dear old +England again, too. [_Tumult without. Mr. Nokes is seen rushing madly up +the court-yard. Tumult in the passage; French and English voices at high +pitch. Nokes without:_ Idiots! Frog-eaters! What is it I want? Nothing! +nothing but to see France sunk in the sea!] + + _Enter NOKES (dishevelled and purple with passion, with an open + letter in his hand; bangs the door behind him)._ + +_Susan._ What is the matter, sir? + +_Nokes._ Everything is the matter. You see this lily-white waistcoat; +you see these matrimonial does [_points to his trousers_], these +polished-leather boots, which are at this moment pinching me most +confoundedly, though I don't feel it, because I'm in such a passion: +well, they have been put on for nothing. I've been made a fool of by the +Montmorenci. But if there's justice in heaven,--that is, in Paris,--if +there's law in France, and blighted hopes are compensated in this +country as they are at home, the hussy shall smart for it. Directly I'm +married myself, I'll bring an action against her for breach of promise. + +_Susan._ Married yourself, sir? + +_Nokes._ Of course I'm going to be married,--at once, +immediately,--within the week. There's only a week left to the end of +the year. Do you suppose--does my nephew Charles suppose--no, for he +knows me better--that I am not going to keep my word? that because the +Montmorenci has played me false at the eleventh hour I am going to +remain a bachelor for seven days longer? Never, Susan, never! [_Walks +hastily up and down the room._] + +_Susan._ Lor, sir, do pray be a little quiet, I am sure if any young +woman was to see you in this state she must be uncommonly courageous to +take charge of such a husband. Do, pray, tell me what has happened. + +_Nokes._ Nothing has happened. That's what I complain of. Just as I +drove up to the Legation this letter was handed to me. It is from the +brother of the Montmorenci, and is supposed to be written in the English +tongue. He regrets that matters between Mademoiselle his sister and +myself have been advanced with such precipitation. + +_Susan._ Well, sir, you _were_ rather in a hurry about it, I must say. + +_Nokes._ Hurry! I was in nothing of the sort. We were in the same boat +together for hours. We suffered agonies in company. And, besides, I had +only three weeks at farthest to waste in making love to anybody. And now +I've only one week,--all because this woman did not know her own mind. + +_Susan._ How so, sir? + +_Nokes._ Why, it seems she loves somebody else better. Her brother tells +me--confound his impudence!--that this is only natural. At the same +time, he allows I have some cause to complain, and therefore offers me +the opportunity of a personal combat with what he is pleased to call the +peculiar weapon of my countrymen, the pistol. Now, I should have said +the peculiar weapon of my country was the umbrella. That is certainly +the instrument I should choose if I were compelled to engage in mortal +strife. But the idea of being shot in the liver in reparation for one's +matrimonial injuries! To be laid up in that way when there is only a +week left in which to woo and win another Mrs. Nokes! But what am I to +do now? How am I to find a respectable young woman to take me at so +short a notice? + +_Susan._ There isn't many of that sort in Paris, sir, even if you gave +'em longer. + +_Nokes._ Just so. Come, you're a sensible, good girl, and have helped me +out of several difficulties; now, do you think you can help me out of +this one? + +_Susan [demurely]._ Have you got an almanac about you, sir? + +_Nokes._ An almanac? Of course I have. I have given up the wine-trade, +but I have not given up the habit so essential to business-men of +carrying an almanac in my breast-pocket. Here it is. + +_Susan [takes almanac and looks through it attentively]._ No, sir +[_sighs_], it won't do. + +_Nokes._ What won't do? What did you expect to find that _would_ do--in +an almanac--in such a crisis as this? + +_Susan._ Well, sir [_casting down her eyes_], I was looking to see if it +was leap-year; but it isn't. + +_Nokes._ What! You were going to offer to fill the place of the +Montmorenci. You impudent little hussy! [_Aside_] Gad, she's uncommonly +pretty, though. Prettier than the other. I noticed that when she was +sewing on my shirt-button; only I didn't think it right, under the +circumstances, to dwell upon the idea. But there can't be any harm in it +_now_. + +_Susan [sobbing]._ I am afraid I have made you angry with me, Mr. Nokes. +I was only in fun, but I see now that it was taking a liberty. + +_Nokes [very tenderly and chucking her under the chin]._ We should never +take liberties, Susan. [_Kisses her._] Never. But don't cry, or you'll +make your eyes red; and I rather like your eyes. [_Aside_] I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea before, but she has got remarkably pretty eyes. +It's a dreadful come-down from the Montmorenci, to be sure: still, one +must marry _somebody_--within seven days. But then, again, I've written +such flaming accounts of the other one to all my friends. I've asked +Sponge and Rasper and Robinson to come down, and see us after the +honeymoon at "the Tamarisks," my little place near Dover. And they are +all eager to hear her sing and play, and to see her beautiful sketches +in oil--Can _you_ sing, and play, and sketch in oil, Susan? + +_Susan [gravely]._ I don't know, sir; I never tried. + +_Nokes [aside]._ Then there's her hands. The Montmorenci's, as I wrote +to Rasper, were like the driven snow; and Susan's--though I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea--are more like snow on the second day, in London. +To be sure she will have nothing to do as Mrs. Nokes except to wash 'em. +Then she can speak French like a native, or at least what will seem to +Robinson and the others like a native. Upon my life, I think I might do +worse. But then, again, she'll have relatives,--awful relatives, whom I +shall have to buy off, or, worse, who will _not_ be bought off. It's +certainly a dreadful come-down. Susan [_hesitatingly_], Susan dear, what +is your name? + +_Susan._ Montem, sir; Susan Montem. + +_Nokes [aside]._ By Jove! why, that's half-way to Montmorenci. It's not +at all a bad name. But then what's the good of that if she's going to +change it for Nokes? Oh, Montem, is it, Susan? And is your papa--your +father--alive? + +_Susan [sorrowfully]._ No, sir. + +_Nokes._ That's capital!--I mean I'm _so_ sorry. Poor girl! Your +father's dead, is he? You're sure he's dead? + +_Susan [with her pocket-handkerchief to her eyes]._ Quite sure, sir. + +_Nokes._ And your mamma,--your excellent mamma,--she's alive, at all +events? + +_Susan._ No, sir; I am an orphan. + +_Nokes [aside]._ How delightful! I love orphans. I'm an orphan myself. +Ah, but then she's sure to have brothers and sisters,--pipe-smoking, +gin-drinking brothers, and sisters who will have married idle mechanics, +with executions in their houses every quarter-day. Susan, my dear, how +many brothers and sisters have you? + +_Susan [sorrowfully]._ I have none, sir. When my dear missis died I was +left quite alone in the world. + +_Nokes._ I'm charmed to hear it [_embracing her_], adorable young woman! +[_Bell rings without._] What are they pulling that bell about for? +Confound them, it makes me nervous. + +_Susan [meekly]._ I think they're wanting me, sir: you see, sir, I'm +neglecting my work. + +_Nokes [kissing her]._ No, you're not, Susan [_kisses her again_]: quite +the contrary. So your name's Montem,--at present,--is it? How came that +about? + +_Susan._ Well, sir, I was left a foundling in the parish workhouse, at +Salthill, near Eton. Nobody knew anything about me, and as I made my +appearance there one Montem day, the board of guardians named me Montem. + +_Nokes._ And how came you to be chambermaid at this hotel? + +_Susan [seriously]._ It was through good Mr. Woodward, the curate at +Salthill, that it happened, sir: he was my benefactor through life. +Always kind to me at the workhouse, where he was chaplain, he got me a +situation, as soon as I was old enough, with a lady. I lived with her +first as housemaid, and then as her personal attendant, till she died +under this roof. + +_Nokes [aside]._ I don't wonder at that. + +_Susan._ The people of the hotel here wanted an English chambermaid, and +offered me the place, which, since my benefactor the clergyman was dead, +I accepted thankfully. + +_Nokes._ Poor girl! poor girl! [_Pats Susan's head._] There, there! your +feelings do you the greatest credit; but don't cry, because it makes +your eyes red. Now, look here, Susan; there's only one thing more. You +are very soft-hearted, I perceive, and it must be distinctly understood +between us that you need never intercede with me in favor of that +scoundrel Charles. I won't have it. You wouldn't succeed, of course, but +if I ever happen to get fond of you--I mean foolishly fond of you, of +course--your importunity might be annoying. When you are once my wife, +however, and keeping your own carriage, I confidently expect that you +will behave as other people do in that station of life, and show no +weakness in favor of your poor relations. + +_Susan._ I will endeavor, sir, in case you are so good as to marry a +humble girl like me, to do my dooty and please you in every way. + +_Nokes._ That's well said, Susan. [_Kisses her._] You _have_ pleased me +in a good many ways already. [_Aside_] I must say, though I didn't like +to dwell upon the idea before--[_Tremendous ringing of bells, and sudden +appearance of the mistress of the hotel. Tableau._] + +_Mistress of the hotel [to Nokes]._ _O vieux polisson!_ [_To Susan_] +_Coquine abominable!_ + +_Nokes [to Susan]._ What is this lunatic raving about? + +_Susan._ She remarks that I haven't finished my work on the second +floor. + +_Nokes [impatiently]._ Tell her to go to--the ground floor. Tell her you +are going to be married to me within the week, and order a +wedding-breakfast--for two--immediately. + +_Susan [aside]._ I can never tell her that, for she is a Frenchwoman, +and wouldn't believe it. I'll tell her something more melodramatic. +I'll say that Mr. Nokes is my father, who has suddenly recognized and +discovered his long-lost child.--_Madame, c'est mon pere longtemps +absent, qui vous en prie d'accepter ses remerciments pour votre bonte a +son enfant._ + +_Mistress of the hotel [all smiles, and with both hands outstretched]._ +Milor, I do congratulate you. Fortunate Susan! You will nevare forget to +recommend de hotel? + +_Nokes._ Thank you, thank you; you're a sensible old woman. [_Aside_] +She evidently sees no absurd disproportion in our years.--Breakfast, +breakfast!--_dejeuner a la_ what-do-you-call-it! _champagne!_ +[_Exit landlady, smiling and bowing_.] + +_Nokes._ In the mean time, Susan, put on your bonnet and let's go out +to--whatever they call Doctors' Commons here--and order a special +license. [_Susan goes._] Stop a bit, Susan; you forget something. +[_Kisses her._] [_Aside_] I did not like to dwell upon the idea before, +but she's got a most uncommon pretty mouth. + + +SCENE II.--_Drawing-room at the Tamarisks. Garden and Sea in the +distance. Grand piano, harp, sketch-book; and huge portfolio._ + +_Nokes [less gayly attired: solus]._ Gad, I feel rather nervous. There's +Sponge, and Rasper, and Robinson, all coming down by the mid-day train +to lunch with me and my new wife,--the Montmorenci, as they imagine. +It's impossible that Susan can keep up such a delusion, and especially +as she insists on talking English. She says her _French_ is so vulgar. +But there! I don't care how she talks or what she talks, bless her. +Everything sounds well from those charming lips. She's a kind-hearted, +good girl, and worth eight hundred dozen (as I should say if I hadn't +left the wine-trade) of the other one. There was something wrong about +that Montmorenci vintage, for all her sparkle; corked or something. Now, +my Susan's _all_ good,--good the second day, good the third day, good +every day. She's like port--all the better for keeping; and she's not +like port--because there's no crustiness about her. She's a deuced +clever woman. To hear her talk broken English when the squire's wife +called here the other day was as good as a play. Everybody hereabouts +believes she's a Frenchwoman; but then they're all country-people, and +they'll believe anything. Sponge and Rasper and Robinson are all London +born,--especially Rasper,--and London people believe nothing. They +only give credit. + + _Enter SUSAN, in an in-door morning dress, but gloved._ + +_Nokes._ Well, my darling, have you screwed your courage up to meet +these three gentlemen? Upon my life, I think it would be better if I +told them at once that I had been jilted, and instead of the Montmorenci +had found The Substitute infinitely preferable to the original; for I'm +sure I _have_, Susan [_fondly_]. + +_Susan [holding up her finger]._ Constance, if you please, my dear. I'm +continually correcting that little mistake of yours. How can I possibly +keep up my dignity as a Montmorenci while you are always calling me +Susan? + +_Nokes._ Then why keep it up at all, my dear? Why not stand at once upon +your merits, which I am sure are quite sufficient? Of course it would be +a little come-down for _me_ just at first; but that's no matter. + +_Susan._ My good, kind husband! [_Kisses his forehead._] No, dear; let +me first show your friends that you have no cause to be ashamed of me. +It will be much easier to do that if they think I am a born lady. +Appearances do such a deal in the world. + +_Nokes._ Yes, my dear, I've noticed that in the wine-trade. If you were +to sell cider at eighty shillings a dozen, it would be considered +uncommon good tipple by the customer who bought it. Tell them Madeira +has been twice to China--twice to China [_chuckles to himself_]--and how +they smack their lips! That reminds me, by the bye [_seriously_], of +another set of appearances, Susan, which we have to guard against,--the +pretence and show of poverty. You must learn to steel your heart against +_that_, my dear. There's that nephew of mine been writing one of his +persistent and appealing letters again. He adjures me to have pity, if +not upon him, at all events upon his innocent Clara. But she ought not +to have been his innocent Clara, and so I've told him. She ought not to +have been his Clara at all. Now, do you remember your solemn promise to +me about that young man? + +_Susan [sighing]._ Yes, sir, I remember. + +_Nokes [angrily]._ Why do you call me "sir," Susan? + +_Susan._ Because when you look so stern and talk so severely you don't +seem to be the same good, kind-hearted husband that I know you are. I'll +keep my promise, sir, not to hold out my hand to your unfortunate +nephew, but please don't let us talk about it. It makes me feel less +reverence, less respect, and even less gratitude, sir,--it does, +indeed,--since your very generosity toward me has made me the instrument +of punishment, and--as I feel--of wrong. I have been poor myself, and +what must that young couple think of my never answering their touching +letter, put in my hands as I first crossed this threshold? + +_Nokes [testily]._ Touching letter, indeed! Any begging-letter impostor +would have written as good a one. It's all humbug, Susan. Mrs. Charles +would like to see you whipped, if I know women. And as for my +nephew--[_Noises of wheels heard, and bell rings._] But there's the +front-door bell. Here are our visitors from town. Had you not better +leave the room for a minute or two, to wash those tears away? It would +never do, you know, to exhibit a Montmorenci with red eyes. [_Exit +SUSAN._] + +_Nokes [solus]._ That's the only matter about which my dear Susan and I +are ever likely to fall out,--the extending what she calls the hand of +forgiveness to Charles and his wife, just because they've got a baby. +I'll never do it if they have twelve. I said to myself I wouldn't when +he wrote to me about this marriage, and I always keep my word. + + _Enter SPONGE, RASPER, and ROBINSON._ + +_Nokes [shaking hands with all]._ Welcome, my friends, welcome to the +Tamarisks. + +_Robinson._ Thank ye, Nokes, thank ye. But how changed we are at the +Tamarisks! [_Pointing to the piano and portfolio._] I mean how changed +we are for the better! ain't we, Sponge? ain't we, Rasper? + +_Sponge [fawningly]._ It was always a charming retreat, but we now see +everywhere, in addition to its former beauties, the magical influence of +a female hand. + +_Rasper [vulgarly]._ Yes; no doubt of that. Directly I saw the new +coach-house, I said, "By Jove, that's Mrs. N----'s doing! _She'll_ spend +his money for him, will Mrs. N----." + +_Nokes [annoyed]._ You were very good, I'm sure. + +_Sponge._ But it is here, within-doors, my dear Nokes, that the great +transformation-scene has been effected. Pianos, harpsichords, +sketch-books,--these all bespeak the presence of lovely and accomplished +woman. + +_Robinson._ May we venture to peep into this portfolio, my good +fellow?--that is, if the contents have the interest for us that we +believe them to have. It holds Mrs. Nokes's sketches, I presume. + +_Nokes._ Yes, yes; they are her sketches and nobody else's. [_Aside_] +Certainly they are, for I bought them for her in Piccadilly.--But here +she comes to answer for herself. [_Enter SUSAN._] Sus--I mean Constance, +my dear, let me introduce to you three friends of my bachelor days, Mr. +Sponge, Mr. Rasper, Mr. Robinson. + +_Susan [speaking broken English]._ Gentlemens, I am mos glad to see you. +My husband--hees friends are mai friends. + +_Rasper [aside]._ She's devilish civil. If she had been English I +should almost think she was afraid of us. + +_Sponge [bowing]._ You are most kind, madam. The noble are always kind. +[_Aside to Nokes._] She's all blood, my dear fellow. + +_Nokes [looking toward her in alarm]._ What? Where? + +_Sponge._ No, no; don't misunderstand me. I mean she's all high birth. +If I had met your wife anywhere--in an omnibus, for instance--and only +heard her speak, I should have exclaimed, "There's a Montmorenci!" + +_Nokes [pleased]._ Should you really, now, my dear Sponge? Well, that +shows you are a man of discernment. + +_Robinson [to Susan]._ It is such a real pleasure to us, Mrs. Nokes, +that you speak English. We were afraid we should find it difficult to +converse with you. Sponge is the only one of us who understands-- + +_Sponge._ Yes, madam, we did fear that since no other tongue is spoken +in courts and camps--or, at all events, in courts--we should have some +difficulty in following your ideas. But you speak English like a native. + +_Susan [emphatically]._ I believe you. [_Recollecting and correcting +herself_] Dat is, I do trai mai best. It please my _mari_--my what ees +it?--my husband. He don't talk French heemself--not mooch. + +_Nokes._ Well, I don't think you should quite say that, my dear. I could +always make myself understood abroad, you know, though my accent is +perhaps a little anglicized. + +_Susan [laughing]._ Rayther so. + +[_Guests exchange looks of astonishment._] + +_Nokes [with precipation]._ My dear, what an expression! The fact is, my +friends, that madame has a young brother--Count Maximilian de +Montmorenci--at school in England, and what she knows of our language +she has mainly acquired from him. The consequence is, she occasionally +talks--in point of fact--slang. + +_Susan [in broken English]._ Cherk the tinklare, coot your luckies, whos +your hattar? [_To Rasper_] Have your moder sold her mangle? + +[_NOKES, SPONGE, and ROBINSON roar with laughter._] + +_Rasper [aside]._ Confound that Nokes! He must have told her about my +family. [_With indignation_] Madam, I--[_Points by accident to the +portfolio._] + +_Susan._ What? you weesh to see mai sketch? Oh, yas! [_Opens the +portfolio; the three guests crowd round it. Nokes comes down to the +front._] + +_Nokes [aside]._ I wish they'd take their lunch and go away. They put me +in a profuse perspiration. I know they'll find her out. + +_Robinson [with a sketch-book in his hand]._ Beautiful! + +_Sponge [looking over his shoulder on tiptoe]._ Exquisite! most lovely! +it's what I call perfection. + +_Rasper._ First-rate--only I've seen something like it before. [_Aside_] +If I haven't seen that in some print-shop. I'll be hanged. [_Blows._] + +_Susan._ Ha! ha! you halve seen eet beefore, Mr.--_Gasper_? Think of +that, my husband,--Mr. Gasper has seen it beefore! + +_Nokes [laughing uncomfortably]._ Ha! ha! What a funny idea! + +_Rasper [obstinately]._ But I _have_, though; and in a shop-window, too. + +_Susan [delightedly]._ That is superbe, magnifique! I am so happy, _so_ +proud! My husband, they have copied this leetle work of mine in London! + +[_ROBINSON and SPONGE clap their hands applaudingly._] + +_Rasper [shakes his head; aside]._ Dashed if I don't believe it's a +chromolithograph! [_To Nokes_] I say, Nokes, you wrote to us in such +raptures about your wife's hands. Why does she keep her gloves on? + +_Nokes [confused]._ Keep her gloves on? You mean why does she wear them +in-doors? Well, the fact is, the Montmorencis always do it. It's been a +family peculiarity for centuries,--like the Banshee. And, besides, she +does it to keep her hands delicate: they're just like roses--I mean +_white_ roses,--if you could only see 'em. But then she always wears +gloves. + +_Rasper [grunts disapproval]._ Then I suppose it's no use asking her to +give us a tune on the piano? + +_Nokes [hastily]._ Not a bit, not a bit; of course not; and, besides, we +shall have lunch directly. + +_Susan [approaching them]._ What is dat, Mr. Gasper? Did you not ask for +a leetle music? What you like for me to play? + +_Nokes [aside to Susan]._ How can you be such a fool? Why, this is +suicide! [_To Rasper_] My dear fellow, my wife would be delighted, but +the fact is the piano is out of order. The tuner is coming to-morrow. + +_Susan [seats herself at the piano]._ My dear husband, it weel do very +well. He only said we must note "thomp, thomp" until he had seen it; dat +is all. Now, gentlemens, what would you like? + +_Sponge [with an armful of music-books]._ Nay, madam, what will you do +us the favor to choose? [_Aside_] There is nothing I love so much in +this world as turning over the leaves of a music-book for a lady of +birth! + +_Susan._ Ah, I am so sorry, because I do only play by de ear, here +[_points to her ear_]. But what would you like, gentlemens? Handel, +Mozart, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, _it is all exactly de same to me_. + +_Robinson._ Oh, then, pray let us have Mendelssohn,--one of those +exquisite Songs without Words of his. + +_Susan._ Yas? with plaisir. I like dose songs best myself,--de songs +without words. + +_Nokes [aside, despairingly]._ It's impossible she can get out of this. +Now we shall have an _eclaircissement_, an exposure, an explosion. + +_Susan [strikes piano violently with both hands, and a string breaks +with a loud report]._ Ah, _quel dommage!_ How stupide, too, when he told +me not to "thomp, thomp"! I am so sorry, gentlemens! I did hope to give +you a song, but I cannot sing without an accompaniment. + +_Rasper [maliciously]._ There's the harp, ma'am,--unless its strings +are in the same unsatisfactory state as those of the piano. + +_Susan [with affected delight]._ What, you play de harp, Mr. Gasper? I +_am_ so glad, because I do not play it yet myself: I am only learning. +Come, I shall sing, and you shall play upon de harp. + +_Rasper [angrily]._ I play the harp, madam! what rubbish! of course I +can't. + +_Sponge [eagerly]._ But _I_ can, just a little,--just enough to +accompany one of Mrs. Nokes's charming songs. [_Brings the harp down to +the front, and sits down to it, trying the strings._] + +_Nokes [aside]._ The nasty little accomplished beast! He'll ruin +everything. Susan is at her wits' end. [_Aside to Susan_] What on earth +are we to do now? + + _Enter SERVANT._ + +[_In stentorian tones_] Luncheon is on the table! [_Then, approaching +Susan, he adds, in lower but distinct tones_] A lady wishes to see you, +madam, upon very particular business. + +_Susan [surprised]._ A lady! what lady? + +_Nokes [to Susan, aside and impatiently]._ Never mind _what_ lady; see +her at once, whoever she is: it will be an excuse for getting away from +these people.--My wife is engaged for the present, my good friends, so +we'll sit down to lunch without her. + +[_All bow and leave the room, receiving in return from Susan a stately +courtesy. Nokes, the last to leave, kisses his hand to her_.] Adorable +Susan, you have conquered, you remain in possession of the field; but +you must not risk another engagement. I will see to that. Champagne +shall do its work on Rasper--_Gasper_. + + _Enter MRS. CHARLES NOKES, neatly but cheaply attired. SUSAN rises, + bows, and looks toward her interrogatively._ + +_Mrs. Charles Nokes._ I did not send in my name, madam, because I feared +it would but prejudice you against your visitor. I am Charles's--that +is, your husband's niece by marriage; not a near relation to yourself, +you might say, if you wished to be unkind,--which [_with earnestness_] I +do not think you do. + +_Susan [distressed, but endeavoring to remain firm]._ Oh, but I do, +ma'am. I wish to be as hard as a stone. [Aside] Only I can't. What a +pretty, modest young creature she is! + +_Mrs. C.N._ The poor give you no such severe character, madam; and, +taking courage by their report, and being poor myself, and, alas! having +been the innocent cause of making others poor, I have ventured hither. + +_Susan [aside]._ Oh, I wish she wouldn't! I can't stand this. There's +something in her face, too, that reminds me--but there! have I not +promised my husband to be brutal and unfeeling? [_Aloud_] Madame, I am +sorry, but I have noting for you. Mr. Noke, mai husband, he tell me dat +hees nephew is very foolish, weeked _jeune homme_-- + +_Mrs. C.N. [interrupting]._ Foolish, madam, he may have been, nay, he +was, to fall in love with a poor orphan like myself, who had nothing to +give him _but_ my love,--but not wicked. He has a noble heart. His +sorrow is not upon his own account, but for his wife and child. He has +bent his proud spirit twice to entreat his uncle's forgiveness, but in +vain. And now _I_ have come to appeal to _you_,--though you are not of +my own country,--a woman to a woman. + +_Susan [aside]._ Dear heart alive! I'm melting like a tallow candle. + +_Mrs. C.N._ I was a poor Berkshire curate's daughter-- + +_Susan [interrupting hastily]._ A _what_? [_Recollecting herself._] A +poor _cure_'s daughter--yas, yas--in Berkishire, _qu'est-ce que c'est_ +Berkishire? + +_Mrs. C.N._ It is in the south of England, madam. We were poor, I say, +and I had been used to straits, even before my poor father died. But my +husband has been always accustomed to luxury and comfort, and now that +poverty has come suddenly upon us-- + +_Susan [interrupting with emotion, but still speaking broken English.]_ +Were you considaired like your fader? + +_Mrs. C.N._ Yes, madam, very like. + +_Susan [anxiously and tremblingly]._ What was his name? + +_Mrs. C.N._ Woodward, madam. He was curate of Salthill, near Eton. + +_Susan [throwing herself at her feet and kissing her hands]._ Why, +you're Miss Clara! and I'm Susan,--Susan Montem, to whom he was so kind +and noble [_sobbing_]. I'm no more a Montmorenci than you are,--nor half +as much. I'm a workhouse orphan, and--and--your aunt by marriage. +[_Aside, and clasping her hands_]. Oh, what _can_ I do to help them? +what _can_ I do? + +_Mrs. C.N. [fervently]._ I thank heaven. There is genuine gratitude in +your kind face. I remember you now, though I am sure I should never have +recognized you, Susan. + +_Susan._ I dare say not, Miss Clara [_rising and wiping her eyes_]. Fine +feathers make fine birds. Lor, how I should like to have a talk with you +about old times! But there, we've got something else to do first. +Where's your good husband? + +_Mrs. C.N._ In the garden, hiding in the laurel-bed, with Chickabiddy. +That's our baby, you know. + +[_Carriage heard departing; they listen. Enter Mr. Nokes, slightly +elevated with champagne, and not perceiving Mrs. C.N._] + +_Nokes._ Hurrah, my dear! they're off, all three of them,--all five of +them, for each of them sees two of the others; they have no notion that +your name is Susan--[_sees Mrs. C.N._] I mean Constance. [_Aside_] Oh, +Lor! just as I thought we'd weathered the storm, too, and got into still +water! + +_Susan [gravely]._ She knows all about it, husband. That lady is the +daughter of my benefactor, Mr. Woodward, to whom I owed everything on +earth till I met you. + +_Nokes [with enthusiasm, and holding out both hands]._ The deuce she is! +I am most uncommonly glad to see you, ma'am, under this roof. [_Aside to +Susan_] She don't look very prosperous, Susan: if there's anything that +money can get for her, I'll see she has it; mind that. + +_Susan [aloud]._ She is poor, sir, and much in need of home and friends. + +_Nokes [to Mrs. C.N.]._ Then you have found them here, ma'am. You're a +fixture at "the Tamarisks" for life, if it so pleases you. + +_Mrs. C.N._ You are most kind, sir, but I have a husband and one +_little_ child. + +_Nokes._ Never mind that: he'll grow. There's room here for you and your +husband and the little child, even if he does grow. Where are they? Show +them up. + +_Mrs. C.N. runs to window and calls, "Charles, Charles."_ + +_Nokes [aside]._ I think I've had quite as much champagne as is good for +me; just enough; the golden mean. + + _Enter CHARLES with baby, which he holds at full stretch of his + arms._ + +_Nokes [indignantly]._ You young scoundrel! How dare you show your face +in this house? + +_Mrs. C.N. [interfering]._ You sent for him, sir. + +_Nokes._ I sent for nothing of the sort. I sent for your husband. + +_Mrs. C.N._ That is my husband, sir, and our little child. You promised +us an asylum for life under your roof; and I am certain you will keep +your word. + +_Nokes [to Susan, endeavoring to be severe]._ Now, this is all _your_ +fault; and yet you promised me never to interfere on behalf of these +people. + +_Susan_. Nor _did_ I, my dear husband. You have done it all yourself. + +_Nokes [aside]._ It was all that last glass of champagne. + +_Charles [giving up the baby to his wife, and coming up with +outstretched hand to his uncle]._ Come, sir, pray forgive me. I could +not enjoy your favors without your forgiveness, believe me. + +_Nokes [holding out his hand unwillingly]._ There. [_Aside_] How _could_ +I be such a fool, knowing so well what champagne is made of?--Well, sir, +if you have regained your place here, remember it has all happened +through your aunt's goodness. Let nobody ever show any of their airs to +my Susan. + +_Charles and his wife [together]._ We shall never forget her kindness, +sir. + +_Nokes._ Mind you don't, then. For, you see, it's to her own +disadvantage, since when I die--and supposing I have forgiven you--the +child that has to grow will inherit everything, and Susan only have a +life-interest in it. + +_Charles [hopefully]._ I don't see that, sir. Why shouldn't you have +children of your own? + +_Nokes [complacently]._ True, true. Why shouldn't we? I didn't like to +dwell upon the idea before, but why shouldn't we? At all events, Susan +[_comes forward with Susan_], I am sure I shall never repent having shot +at the pigeon--I mean, having wooed the Montmorenci, but won THE +SUBSTITUTE. + +JAMES PAYN. + + + + +NEW YORK LIBRARIES + + +New York has been accused of being purely commercial in tone, and there +was a period in her history when she must have pleaded guilty to the +indictment. That day, however, is past: she has now many +interests--scientific, artistic, literary, musical--as influential as +that mentioned, though not perhaps numerically so important. Of the fine +arts the city is the acknowledged New World centre, and it is fast +forming a literary circle as noteworthy as that of any other capital. +The latter owes its existence in part, no doubt, to the great +publishing-houses, but has been attracted chiefly by the facilities for +research afforded by those great storehouses of learning, the city +libraries. Few old residents are aware of the literary wealth stored in +these depositories, or of the extent to which they are consulted by +scholars and by writers generally. + +There are four large libraries in the city whose interest is almost +purely literary,--the Society, the Astor, the Lenox, and the Historical +Society's,--one both literary and popular,--the Mercantile,--one +interesting as being the outcome of a great trades' guild,--the +Apprentices',--and one purely popular,--the Free Circulating Library. +There are others, of course, but the above are such as from their +character and history seem best calculated for treatment in a magazine +paper. The oldest of these is the Society Library, which is located in +its own commodious fire-proof building at No. 67 University Place. This +library is perhaps the oldest in the United States: its origin dates +back to the year 1700, when, Lord Bellamont being governor and New York +a police-precinct of five thousand inhabitants, the worthy burghers +founded the Public Library. For many years it seems to have flourished +in the slow, dignified way peculiar to Knickerbocker institutions. In +1729 it received an accession in the library of the Rev. Dr. Millington, +rector of Newington, England, which was bequeathed to the Society for +the Propagation of the Gospel in Foreign Parts, and by it transferred to +the New York Public Library. The institution remained under the care of +the city until 1754, when a company of gentlemen formed an association +to enhance its usefulness by bringing it under private control. They +collected a number of books, and on application the Public Library was +incorporated with these, and the whole placed under the care of trustees +chosen by the shareholders. Believing that "a public library would be +very useful as well as ornamental to the city," and also advantageous to +"our intended college," the shareholders agreed to pay "five pounds each +on the first day of May, and ten shillings each on every first of May +forever thereafter." Subscribers had the right to take out one book at a +time by depositing one-third more than the value of it with the +library-keeper. Rights could be alienated or bequeathed "like any other +chattel." No person, even if he owned several shares, could have more +than one vote, nor could a part of a subscription-right entitle the +holder to any privileges. By 1772 the Society had increased to such an +extent that it was thought best to incorporate it, and a charter was +secured from the crown. In its preamble seven "esquires," two +"merchants," two "gentlemen," and one "physician" appear as petitioners, +and fifty-six gentlemen, with one lady, Mrs. Anne Waddel, are named +members of the corporation. The style of the latter was changed to the +"New York Society Library," and the usual corporate privileges were +granted, including the right to purchase and hold real estate of the +yearly value of one thousand pounds sterling. The Society is practically +working under this charter to-day, the legislature of New York having +confirmed it in 1789. The earliest printed catalogue known to be in +existence was issued about 1758: it gives the titles of nine hundred and +twenty-two volumes, with a list of members, one hundred and eighteen in +all. A second catalogue followed in 1761. During the Revolution many of +the volumes were scattered or destroyed. The first catalogue printed +after the war enumerates five thousand volumes; these had increased in +1813 to thirteen thousand, in 1838 to twenty-five thousand, and the +present number is estimated at seventy-five thousand. Down to 1795 the +library was housed in the City Hall, and during the sessions of Congress +was used by that body as a Congressional Library. Its first building was +erected in 1795, in Nassau Street, opposite the Middle Dutch Church, +and here the library remained until 1836, when, its premises becoming in +demand for business purposes, it was sold, and the Society purchased a +lot on the corner of Broadway and Leonard Street. A building was +completed on this lot in 1840, and the library removed thither from the +rooms of the Mechanics' Society in Chambers Street, where it had been +placed on the sale of its property in 1836. In 1853 a third removal was +made, to the Bible House, its property on Broadway being again swallowed +up by the advancing tide of business. In the same year its present +property on University Place was purchased, on which, two years later, +in 1855, the commodious building which it now occupies was erected, the +Society taking possession in May, 1856. Many features of the Society +Library are unique, to be met with, perhaps, in no other organization of +the kind in the world. Many of its members hold shares that have +descended to them from father to son from the time of the first +founders. The annual dues are placed at such a figure (ten dollars) as +practically to debar people with slender purses. The scholar, however, +may have the range of its treasures on paying a fee of twenty-five +cents, and the stranger may enjoy the use of the library for one month +on being introduced by a member. The market value of a share is now one +hundred and fifty dollars, with the annual dues of ten dollars commuted, +but shares may be purchased for twenty-five dollars, subject to the +annual dues. The library proper occupies the whole of the second floor. +On the first floor, besides the large hall, is a well-lighted +drawing-room, filled with periodicals in all languages, a ladies' +parlor, and a conversation-room. The library-room is a large, airy, +well-lighted apartment, with a series of artistic alcoves ranged about +two of its sides. Here are to be found the Winthrop Collection, +comprising some three hundred curious and ancient tomes, chiefly in +Latin, which formed a part of the library of John Winthrop, "the founder +of Connecticut," the De Peyster Alcove, containing one thousand +volumes, very full in special subjects, the Hammond Library, collected +by a Newport scholar, comprising some eighteen hundred quaint and +curious volumes, and a collection of over six hundred rare and costly +works on art contained in the John C. Green Alcove. This last alcove, +which was fitted up and presented to the library by Mr. Robert Lenox +Kennedy as a memorial of Mr. and Mrs. John C. Green, benefactors of the +Society, is an artistic gem. The sides and ceilings are finished in hard +woods by Marcotte, after designs by the architect, Sidney Stratton. +Opposite the entrance is a memorial window, its centre-pin representing +two female figures,--Knowledge and Prudence,--with the four great poets, +Homer, Virgil, Dante, and Chaucer, in the corners. On the east wall is a +portrait of Mr. Green by Madrazo, and on the west a tablet with an +inscription informing the visitor that, the library having received a +donation of fifty thousand dollars from the estate of John Cleve Green, +the trustees had placed the tablet as a memento of this munificence. +There are books in this alcove not to be duplicated in European +libraries. A work on Russian antiquities, for instance, containing +beautifully-colored lithographs of the Russian crown-jewels, royal +robes, ecclesiastical vestments, and the like, cannot be found, it is +said, either in Paris or London. The scope of the collection may be seen +by a glance at the catalogue, whose departments embrace architecture, +art-study, anatomy, biography, book-illustration, cathedrals and +churches, costumes, decorative, domestic, and industrial art, heraldry, +painting, and picturesque art. + +It is a coincidence merely, but nearly all the great libraries of the +city are grouped within a block or two of Astor Place, making that short +thoroughfare the scholarly centre of the town. In its immediate +vicinity, on the corner of Second Avenue and Eleventh Street, stands the +fire-proof building of the New York Historical Society, whose library +and collection of paintings and relics form one of the features of the +city. This Society dates back to the year 1804, when Egbert Benson, De +Witt Clinton, Rev. William Linn, Rev. Samuel Miller, Rev. John N. Abeel, +Rev. John M. Mason, Dr. David Hosack, Anthony Bleecker, Samuel Bayard, +Peter G. Stuyvesant, and John Pintard, met by appointment at the City +Hall and agreed to form a society "the principal design of which should +be to collect and preserve whatever might relate to the natural, civil, +or ecclesiastical history of the United States in general and of the +State of New York in particular." Active measures were at once taken for +the formation of a library and museum, special committees being +appointed for the purpose. The range of the collection embraced books, +manuscripts, statistics, newspapers, pictures, antiquities, medals, +coins, and specimens in natural history. The Society made the usual +number of removals before being finally established as a householder. +From 1804 to 1809 it met in the old City Hall, from 1809 to 1816 in the +Government House, from 1816 to 1832 in the New York Institution, from +1832 to 1837 in Remsen's Building, Broadway, from 1837 to 1841 in the +Stuyvesant Institute, from 1841 to 1857 in the New York University, and +at length, after surmounting many pecuniary obstacles, celebrated its +fifty-third anniversary by taking possession of its present structure. +Meantime, the efforts of the library committees had resulted in a +collection of Americana of exceeding interest and value, the nucleus of +the present library. In its one specialty this library is believed to be +unrivalled. The Society has issued some twenty-four volumes of its own +publications, in addition to numerous essays and addresses. Besides +these, its library contains some seventy-three thousand volumes of +printed works, chiefly Americana, many of them relating to the Indians +and obscure early colonial history. Eight hundred and eleven genealogies +of American families--the fountain-head of the national history--are a +feature of the collection. The library also possesses one of the best +sets of Congressional documents extant, also complete sets of State and +city documents. There are four thousand volumes of newspapers, beginning +with the first journal published in America,--the "Boston News-Letter" +of 1704,--and comprising a complete record to the present day. There are +also tons of pamphlets and "broadsides," and several hundred copies of +the inflammatory hand-bills posted on the trees and fences of New York +during the Revolution. The library is also rich in old family letters +and documents containing much curious and interesting history. The +Society is very conservative in its ways,--more so than most +institutions of the kind. Theoretically, its stores of information can +be drawn on by members only, but, as a general thing, properly +accredited scholars, non-residents, have little difficulty in gaining +access to them, provided the material sought is not elsewhere +accessible. + +Lafayette Place is a wide, quiet thoroughfare, a few blocks in extent, +opening into Astor Place on the north. On the left, a few doors from the +latter street, stands the Astor Library, in some respects one of the +noteworthy libraries of the world. John Jacob Astor died March 29, 1848, +leaving a will which contained a codicil in these words: "Desiring to +render a public benefit to the city of New York, and to contribute to +the advancement of useful knowledge and the general good of society, I +do by this codicil appoint four hundred thousand dollars out of my +residuary estate to the establishment of a public library in the city of +New York." The instrument then proceeded to give specific directions as +to how the money was to be applied: first, in the erection of a suitable +building; second, in supplying the same with books, maps, charts, +models, drawings, paintings, engravings, casts, statues, furniture, and +other things appropriate to a library upon the most ample scale and +liberal character; and, third, in maintaining and upholding the +buildings and other property, and in paying the necessary expenses of +the care of the same, and the salaries of the persons connected with +the library, said library to be accessible at all reasonable hours and +times for general use, free of expense, and subject only to such +conditions as the trustees may exact. It was further provided that its +affairs should be managed by eleven trustees, "selected from the +different liberal professions and employments of life and the classes of +educated men." The mayor was also to be a trustee by virtue of his +office. The entire fund was vested in this board, with power to expend +and invest moneys, and to appoint, direct, control, and remove the +superintendent, librarian, and others employed about the library. The +first trustees were named in the will, and Washington Irving was chosen +president. + +Dr. Joseph G. Cogswell, who it is said first suggested the idea of a +library to Mr. Astor, was appointed first superintendent and despatched +to Europe to purchase books, which he succeeded in doing to the best +advantage, the political disturbances of 1848 having thrown many +valuable libraries on the market. Meantime, a building had been +commenced on the east side of Lafayette Place, on a lot sixty-five feet +front by one hundred and twenty deep; but as the books arrived before +this was completed they were placed temporarily in a hired house in Bond +Street. The new building, which was opened January 9, 1854, was in the +Byzantine style, after the design by Alexander Saeltzer, the lower story +being of brownstone and the two upper stories of red brick. The main +hall or library-room, beginning on the second floor, was carried up +through two stories and lighted by a large skylight in the roof. Around +the sides of this room were built two tiers of alcoves capable of +holding about one hundred thousand books. The library opened on the date +mentioned with about eighty thousand volumes, devoted chiefly to +science, history, art, and kindred topics, the trustees agreeing with +the superintendent that the design of the founder could only be carried +out and the "advancement of knowledge" and "general good of society" be +best secured by making the new library one of reference only. + +In October, 1855, Mr. William B. Astor, son of the founder, conveyed to +the trustees the lot, eighty feet front by one hundred and twenty deep, +adjoining the library on the north, and proceeded to erect upon it an +addition similar in all respects to the existing structure, the library +thus enlarged being opened September 1, 1859, with one hundred and ten +thousand volumes on its shelves. The addition led to a rearrangement of +the material, the old hall being devoted to science and the industrial +arts, and the new to history and general literature. In 1866 Mr. Astor +further signified his interest in the library by a gift of fifty +thousand dollars, twenty thousand dollars of it to be expended in the +purchase of books, and on his death in 1875 left it a bequest of two +hundred and forty-nine thousand dollars. In 1879 Mr. John Jacob Astor, +grandson of the founder, added to this enduring monument of his family +by building a second addition, seventy-five feet front and one hundred +and twenty feet deep, on the lot adjoining on the north, making the +entire building two hundred feet front by one hundred deep. At the same +time an additional story was placed on the Middle Hall, and a new +entrance and stairway constructed. The enlarged building, the present +Astor Library, was opened in October, 1881, with two hundred thousand +volumes and a shelf-capacity of three hundred thousand. Its present +contents are estimated at two hundred and twenty thousand volumes, +exclusive of pamphlets. The shelves are ranged in alcoves extending +around the sides of the three main halls and subdivided into sections of +six shelves each, each section being designated by a numeral. Each shelf +is designated by a letter of the alphabet, beginning at the bottom with +A. The alcoves have no distinguishing mark, the books being arranged +therein by subjects which the distributing librarian is expected to +carry in his mind. The first catalogue, in four volumes, was compiled by +Dr. Cogswell and printed in 1861. This was followed in 1866 by an index +of subjects from the same hand. Recently a catalogue in continuation of +Dr. Cogswell's, bringing the work down to the end of 1880, has been +prepared, and is being printed at the Riverside Press, Boston. The +current card catalogue is arranged on the dictionary plan, giving author +and subject under one alphabet. Opposite each title is written the +number of the alcove and the letter designating the shelf. By the +regulations the reader is required to find the title of the book desired +in the catalogue, write it with the number and letter on a slip of paper +provided for the purpose, and give it to the distributing librarian, who +despatches one of his boy Mercuries to the shelf designated for the +work. More often than not, however, the reader asks directly for the +book desired, without consulting the catalogue, and it is rarely that +the librarian cannot from memory direct his messenger to the section and +shelf containing it. In the matter of theft and mutilation of books the +library depends largely on the honor of readers, although some +safeguards are provided. All readers are required to enter their names +and addresses in a book, and the volume on being given out is charged to +them, to be checked off on its return: it would be difficult, too, for a +thief to purloin books without being detected by the employees or the +porter in the vestibule. Yet books are stolen occasionally. In June, +1881, a four-volume work by Bentley on "Medicinal Plants," valued at +sixty dollars, was taken from the library. It was soon missed, and +search made for it without avail. A few weeks later, however, it was +discovered by the principal librarian in a Broadway book-stall and +recovered. + +Few strangers in the city depart without paying a visit to the Astor +Library, and it is one of the few lions of the city that do not +disappoint. The main entrance is approached by two flights of stone +steps, from the north and south, leading to a brownstone platform +enclosed by the same material. From this, broad door-ways give entrance +to the vestibule, sixty feet by forty, paved in black and white marble, +and wainscoted four feet above the floor with beautifully variegated +marble from Vermont. The panelled ceiling is elaborately frescoed, as +well as the upper part of the walls. Busts of the sages and heroes of +antiquity adorn the hall. From the vestibule a stairway of white marble, +with massive newels of variegated marble, leads up to the library +proper. The visitor enters this in the centre of Middle Hall. Before +him, separated by a balustrade, are the desks and tables of the +distributing librarian and his assistants. The ladies' reading-room is +in the rear. On the left and right arched passages give access to the +North and South Halls, in which the main reading-rooms are situated. The +ceiling above is the skylight of the roof, and the alcoves, filled with +the wealth of learning of all ages and peoples, rise on either hand +quite to the ceiling. At long, green-covered tables, ranged in two +parallel lines through the halls, are seated the readers, in themselves +an interesting study. Scientists, artists, literary men, special +students, inventors, and _dilettante_ loungers make up the company. They +come with the opening of the doors at nine in the morning, and remain, +some of them, until they close at five in the evening. There are daily +desertions from their ranks, but always new-comers enough to fill the +gaps. Their wants are as various as their conditions. This well-dressed, +self-respectful mechanic wishes to consult the patent-office reports of +various countries, in which the library is rich. His long-haired Saxon +neighbor is poring over a Chinese manuscript, German scholars being the +only ones so far who have attacked the fine collection of Chinese and +Japanese works in the library. Next him is a _dilettante_ reader +languidly poring over "Lothair:" were the trustees to fill their shelves +with trashy fiction, readers of his class would soon crowd out the more +earnest workers. Here is a student with the thirty or more volumes of +the "New England Historic Genealogical Register" piled before him, +flanked on one side by the huge volumes of Burke's "Peerage" and on the +other by Walford's "County Families." There are many readers of this +class, the library's department of Genealogy and Heraldry being well +filled. There is a lady here and there at the tables working with a male +companion, but, as a rule, they are to be found at the ladies' tables in +the Middle Hall. There seem to be but two classes of readers here,--the +lady in silken attire, engaged in looking out some item of family +history or question of decorative art, and the brisk business-like +literary lady, seeking material for story or sketch. Any student or +literary worker who can show to the satisfaction of one of the trustees +that he is engaged in work requiring free access to the library receives +a card from the superintendent which admits him to the alcoves and +places all the treasures of the library at his command. A register is +placed near the distributing librarian's desk, in which on entering each +visitor to the alcove is required to sign his name, and in this register +each year is accumulated a roll of autographs of which any institution +might be proud. Famous scholars, scientists, authors, journalists, +poets, artists, and divines, both of this country and of Europe, are +included in the lists. + +Of its treasures of literary and artistic interest it is impossible to +give categorical details. Perhaps the library prizes most the +magnificent elephant folio edition, in four volumes, of Audubon's "Birds +and Quadrupeds of North America," with its colored plates, heavy paper, +and general air of sumptuousness. The work is rare as well as +magnificent, and, though the library does not set a price upon its +books, it is known that three thousand dollars would not replace a +missing copy. In an adjoining alcove is an equally sumptuous but more +ancient volume, the Antiphonale, or mammoth manuscript of the chants for +the Christian year. This volume was used at the coronation of Charles +X., King of France. The covers of this huge folio are bound with brass, +beautiful illuminations by Le Brun adorn its title-pages, and then +follows, in huge black characters, the music of the chants. In its +immediate vicinity are many of the treasures of the library,--Zahn's +great work on Pompeii, three volumes of very large folios, containing +splendidly-colored frescos from the walls of the dead city; Sylvester's +elaborate work of "Fac-Similes of the Illuminated Manuscripts of the +Middle Ages," in four large folios; and also Count Bastard's great work +on the same, seeming more sumptuous in gold, silver, and colors. Another +notable work is Count Littar's "Genealogies of Celebrated Italian +Families," in ten folio volumes, emblazoned in gold, and illustrated +with richly-colored portraits finished like ivory miniatures. There are +whole galleries of European art,--Versailles, Florence, Spain, the +Vatican, Nash's Portfolio of Colored Pictures of Windsor Castle and +Palace, the Royal Pitti Gallery, Munich, Dresden, and others. A work on +the "Archaeology of the Bosphorus," presented by the Emperor of Russia to +the library, is in three folio volumes, printed on thick vellum paper, +with two folding maps and ninety-four illuminated plates: but two +hundred copies of the book were printed, for presentation solely. Other +notable gifts are the publications of the Royal Danish Academy of +Sciences, in seventeen volumes, catalogue of antiquities, chiefly +British, at Alnwick Castle, and one of Egyptian antiquities at the same, +from the Duke of Northumberland, a complete file of the "Liberator," +from Mr. Wendell Phillips, numerous works on Oriental art, from the +imperial governments of Japan and China, and many thousand folio volumes +of Parliamentary papers and British patents, from the British +government. Of its Orientalia and its department of Egyptology the +library is especially proud. The latter so good an authority as +Professor Seyffarth pronounces second only to that of the British +Museum. + +In addition to the large collection of costly books of art with which +this library is enriched, there are some of the rarest manuscripts and +earliest printed books to be seen kept in glass cases in the Middle +Hall. Among these may be mentioned the superbly illuminated manuscript of +the ninth century entitled "Evangelistarium,"--one of the finest +existing productions of the revival of learning under Charlemagne; the +"Sarum Missal," a richly-emblazoned manuscript of the tenth century; +some choice Greek and Latin codices once belonging to the library of +Pope Pius VI.; and the Persian manuscripts recently acquired, which +formerly were in the library of the Mogul emperors at Delhi, bearing the +stamp of Shah Akbar and Shah Jehan. The writing is by the famous +calligrapher Sultan Alee Meshedee (896 A.H., or 1518 A.D.). + +There is as great a popular misconception of the character and purpose +of the Lenox Library as of the Astor. The two are like and yet +unlike,--alike in the rich treasures which they contain, but quite +unlike in their scope and purposes. In reality the Lenox is a museum of +art rather than a library: its books are, with few exceptions, rarities, +"first editions," illuminated manuscripts, specimens showing the advance +of the typographic art from the beginning, books of artistic interest, +and works not to be found in this country, and sometimes not in Europe. +Its collection of paintings and sculpture is important as well as its +literary treasures. It is not a library of general reference, though +many of its works will be sought by scholars for the value of their +contents: it is, in short, a private art-gallery and library thrown open +at stated times and under certain restrictions to the public. The +library owes its existence to the munificence of Mr. James Lenox, a +wealthy and educated gentleman of New York, who determined to establish +permanently in his native city his fine collection of manuscripts, +printed books, engravings and maps, statuary, paintings, drawings, and +other works of art, by giving the land and money necessary to provide a +building and a permanent fund for the maintenance of the same. In +January, 1870, the legislature of New York passed an act "creating a +body corporate by the name and style of 'The Trustees of the Lenox +Library.'" Nine trustees were named, and these gentlemen organized by +electing Mr. Lenox president and Mr. A.B. Belknap secretary. In the +succeeding March Mr. Lenox conveyed to the trustees three hundred +thousand dollars in stocks of the county of New York and bonds and +mortgage securities, and also the ten lots of land fronting on Fifth +Avenue on which the library-building now stands. One hundred thousand +dollars were set apart for the formation of a permanent fund, and two +hundred thousand dollars for a building-fund. Contracts for a +library-building were made early In 1872, and work on it was begun in +May of the same year,--the structure being finished in 1875. It has a +frontage of one hundred and ninety-two feet on Fifth Avenue, overlooking +the Park, and a depth of one hundred and fourteen feet on both +Seventieth and Seventy-first Streets. The general plan is that of a +central structure connecting two turreted wings which enclose a spacious +entrance-court. From the court the visitor enters a grand hall or +vestibule, from which every part of the building is reached. At either +end is a spacious library-room. Stone stairways lead from each end of +the vestibule to the mezzanine, or half-story, and the second-story +landings. From the latter one enters the principal gallery, ninety-six +by twenty-four, devoted to sculpture, and opening on the east into the +picture-gallery. At either end of the hall of sculpture are library- and +reading-rooms similar to those on the first floor. The stairway on the +north continues the ascent to an attic or third-floor gallery. The +building throughout is fitted up in a style befitting a shrine of the +arts. The first-floor library-rooms are one hundred and eight feet long +by thirty feet wide and twenty-four feet high, with level ceilings, +beautifully panelled and corniced. The sides of the hall of sculpture +are divided by five arcades, resting on piers decorated with niches, +pilasters, and other architectural ornaments; the ceiling has deep +panels resting on and supported by the pilasters; the walls are +wainscoted in oak to the height of the niches. The picture-gallery is +forty by fifty-six, well lighted from above by three large skylights. +Iron book-cases, with a capacity for eighty thousand volumes, are +arranged in two tiers on the sides of the galleries. The whole structure +is as nearly fire-proof as it could possibly be made, and its massive +walls and stone towers make it one of the prominent architectural +features of the avenue. While the building was in progress, several +benefactions of interest had accrued to the library. Mr. Lenox had given +an additional one hundred thousand dollars, and in 1872 one hundred +thousand dollars more, and Mr. Felix Astoin had promised to bestow his +fine collection of some five thousand rare French works. On the 15th of +January, 1877, the first exhibition of paintings and sculptures was +opened to the public, and continued on two days of the week to the end +of the year, and on the 1st of the following December an apartment for +the exhibition of rare works and manuscripts was also opened to the +public. Fifteen thousand people visited the library during this first +year, thus indicating the popular appreciation of a collection of this +kind. In 1881 nineteen thousand eight hundred and thirty-three +admission-tickets were issued,--the largest number of visitors on any +one day being eleven hundred, on the anniversary of Washington's +birthday. + +The scope and objects of this unique institution are so admirably set +forth by the trustees in their report to the legislature for 1881 that +we append an extract. "The library," they observe, "differs from most +public libraries. It is not a great general library intended in its +endowment and present equipment for the use of readers in all or most of +the departments of human knowledge.... Beyond its special collections it +should be regarded as supplementary to others more general and numerous +and directly adapted to popular use. It is not like the British Museum, +but rather like the Grenville collection in the British Museum, or +perhaps still more like the house and museum of Sir John Soane in +Lincoln's Inn's Fields, in London, both lasting monuments of the +learning and liberality of their honored founders. Thus, while the +library does not profess to be a general or universal collection of all +the knowledge stored up in the world of books, it is absolutely without +a peer or a rival here in the special collections to which the generous +taste and liberal scholarship of its founder devoted his best gifts of +intellectual ability and ample resources of fortune. It represents the +favorite studies of a lifetime consecrated after due offices of religion +and charity to the choicest pursuits of literature and art. It would be +difficult to estimate the value or importance of these marvellous +treasures, whose exhibition hitherto only in part has challenged the +admiration of all scholars and given a new impulse to those studies for +which they furnish an apparatus before unseen in America.... The +countless myriads of volumes produced in the past four centuries of +printing with movable types have left in all the libraries of all the +nations comparatively few monuments, or even memorials, of so many +eager, patient, or weary generations of men whose works have followed +them when they have rested from their labors. The Lenox Library was +established for the public exhibition and scholarly use of some of the +most rare and precious of such monuments and memorials of the +typographic art and the historic past as have escaped the wreck and been +preserved to this day. That exhibition and use must be governed by +regulations which will insure to the fullest extent the security and +preservation of the treasures intrusted to our care, in the enforcement +of which the trustees anticipate the sympathy and co-operation of all +scholars and men of letters, through whose use and labors alone the +public at large must chiefly derive real and permanent benefit from this +and all similar institutions." The "regulations" adopted by the trustees +for the preservation of their treasures do not seem unreasonable. +Admission is by ticket, which may be procured of the librarian by +addressing him by mail. We have space for but the briefest possible +glimpses at these treasures. The chief rarities in typography are found +in the north and south libraries on the first floor. In "first editions" +it would be difficult to say whether the library prides itself most on +its Bibles, its Miltoniana, or its Shakesperiana. In Bibles the whole +art of printing with movable types is fully portrayed, the series +beginning with the "Mazarin," or Gutenberg, Bible, the first book ever +printed with movable types. There are Bibles in all languages. There is +the first complete edition of the New Testament in Greek ever published, +its title-page dated Basle, 1516. In a glass case in the north library +are the four huge "Polyglot" Bibles, marvels of typography, known as the +Complutensian, Antwerp, Paris, and English Polyglots. In the same case +repose the Codex Sinaiticus, Codex Alexandrinus, and Codex +Vaticanus,--three great folios, in the original Greek and Hebrew, sacred +to scholars as the works on which all authority for the Scriptures +rests. Tyndale's New Testament, the first ever printed on English +ground, dated London, 1536, is here, and that rare copy of the King +James version known as the "Wicked Bible." In this copy the printer, as +a satire on the age, omitted the word "not" from the seventh +commandment, and for this piece of waggery was heavily fined, the money +going, it is said, to establish the first Greek press ever erected at +Oxford. Among its "first editions" the library has that of Homer, 1488, +and that of Dante, 1472. The Milton collection deserves special notice: +in addition to the first editions of the poet's various works, it +contains a folio volume of letters and documents pertaining to Milton +and his family, with autograph manuscripts giving exceedingly +interesting details of the poet's private life and fortunes. One of +these is a long original letter from Milton himself to his friend Carlo +Dati, the Florentine, with the latter's reply; there are also three +receipts or releases signed by Milton's three daughters, Anne Milton, +Mary Milton, and Deborah Clarke, a bond from Elizabeth Milton, his +widow, to one Randle Timmis, and several other agreements and +assignments, with the autographs of attesting witnesses. In folio +editions of Shakespeare, and in commentaries, glossaries, and +dissertations, the library is also exceedingly rich. Its collection of +Americana is the wonder and delight of scholars. We must mention the +first publication of the printed letter of Columbus, one in each of its +four editions, giving the first account of his discoveries in the West, +with three autograph letters of Diego Columbus, his son; the +"Cosmographia Introductio," printed at St. Die, 1507,--the first book in +which a suggestion of the name "America" occurs; and also the first map, +printed in 1520, in which the name appears. Here is the first American +book printed,--a Mexican work, dated 1543-44; the Bay Psalm-Book, 1640, +the first work printed in New England; and the first book printed in New +York,--the Laws of the Province, by Bradford, issued in 1691: the +Puritan evidently placing the gospel first, and the Knickerbocker the +law. + +Leaving the typographical treasures of the library, we ascend the broad +marble stairway to the floor above, for a brief glance at the paintings +and statuary. In the hall devoted to sculpture are many noble and +beautiful works of art in marble, the most noticeable perhaps being +Powers's "Il Penseroso," the bust of Washington and the "Babes in the +Wood" by Crawford, and the statue of Lincoln by Ball. In the +picture-gallery on the east are a hundred and fifty subjects. On the +south wall hangs a canvas which is at once recognized as the +masterpiece. It is Munkacsy's "Blind Milton dictating 'Paradise Lost' to +his Daughters." This painting is fitly supported on one side by a +portrait of Milton owned for many years by Charles Lamb, and on the +other by a copy of Lely's fine portrait of Cromwell. + +The Mercantile is the popular library of the city; in no sense a public +library, however, for the student or stranger must advance a pretty +liberal entrance-fee before he can avail himself of its benefits. This +institution is a pleasing example of what can be done by many hands, +even though there be little in them: it has reached its present +proportions without endowment or State aid, chiefly through the steady, +continuous efforts of the merchants' clerks of the city. They have +always managed it, one generation succeeding another, and they have in +it to-day the largest circulating library in America. Mr. William Wood, +a benevolent gentleman who devoted many of his later years to improving +the condition of clerks, apprentices, and sailors, is regarded as the +founder. Mr. Wood was a native of Boston, and in business there during +early life, but later removed to London. After distributing much dole to +the poor of that city, he founded a library for clerks in Liverpool, and +subsequently one in Boston, the latter being the first of its kind in +this country. The various mercantile libraries at Albany, Philadelphia, +New Orleans, and other places are said to have been founded on the plan +of this. In 1820 Mr. Wood began interesting the merchants' clerks of New +York in the project of a library for themselves. The first meeting to +consider it was held at the Tontine Coffee-House, in Wall Street, on +November 9 of that year; and at an adjourned meeting on the 27th of the +same month a constitution was formed and officers elected. The young men +contributed a little money for the purchase of books, the merchants +more, many books were begged or purchased by Mr. Wood, and on the 12th +of February, 1821, the library was formally opened, with seven hundred +volumes, in an upper room at No. 49 Fulton Street. The first librarian +was Mr. John Thompson, who received, it is remembered, one hundred and +fifty dollars a year as salary. It was not long before the library, like +its fellows, began its migrations up town, Harpers' Building, on Cliff +Street, being its second abode. This removal occurred in 1826, and the +association had then become so strong that it was able to open a +reading-room in connection with its library. Old readers remember that +there were four weekly newspapers and seven magazines in this first +reading-room. Its membership at that time numbered twelve hundred, there +were four thousand four hundred volumes on its shelves, and its annual +income amounted to seventeen hundred and fifty dollars. + +In 1828 the library was desirous of building: many of the merchants and +substantial men of the city were willing to aid it, but doubted the +wisdom of trusting such large property interests to the management of +young men. They formed, therefore, the Clinton Hall Association, to hold +and control real estate for the benefit of the library, with fund shares +of one hundred dollars each. The first year thirty-three thousand five +hundred dollars had been subscribed, and the corporation began erecting +the first Clinton Hall, at the corner of Nassau and Beekman Streets. +Here the library remained for nearly a score of years, or until 1853, +when a brisk agitation was begun for its removal up-town. A small but +determined party favored its removal. The more conservative objected. At +length, in January, 1853, the question was put to the vote, and lost by +a large majority. But while the excitement was still at its height it +was learned that the association had sold Clinton Hall and had purchased +the old Italian Opera-House in Astor Place. Here, in May, 1855, the +library opened, and here it has since remained, although for several +years past the question of a farther removal up-town has been agitated. +The constitution of this excellent institution provides that it shall be +composed of three classes of members,--active, subscribing, and +honorary. Any person engaged on a salary as clerk may become an active +member, if approved by the board of directors, on subscribing to the +constitution and paying an initiation-fee of one dollar, and two dollars +for the first six months, his regular dues thereafter being two dollars +semi-annually, in advance. Active members only may vote or hold office. +Subscribing members may become such by a payment of five dollars +annually or three dollars semi-annually. Persons of distinction may be +elected honorary members by a vote of three-fourths of the members of +the board of direction. The board of direction is composed of a +president, vice-president, treasurer, secretary, and eight directors, +the former elected annually, the directors four for one year and four +for two years. There is also a book committee, which reports one month +previous to each annual meeting. From the last annual report of the +board it appears that in April, 1883, there were 198,858 books in the +library. The total number of members at the same time was 3136, and the +honorary members (71), the editors using the library (54), and the +Clinton Hall stockholders (1701) swelled the total number of those +availing themselves of its privileges to 4962. The total circulation for +the year was 112,375 volumes, of which 27,549 were distributed from the +branch office, No. 2 Liberty Place, and 1695 books were delivered by +messengers at members' residences. In 1870 the circulation was 234,120, +the large falling off--over one-half--being due to the era of cheap +books. The department of fiction, of course, suffers most. This in 1870 +formed about seventy per cent. of the circulation. In 1883 the number of +works of fiction circulated was 53,937,--not quite fifty per cent. + +To gain a fair idea of the popularity of the library one should spend a +mid-winter Saturday afternoon and evening with the librarian and his +busy assistants. Early in the afternoon numbers of young ladies leave +the shopping and fashionable thoroughfares up-town and throng the +library-room. The attendants, all young men, work with increased +animation under the stimulus. Books fly from counter to alcoves and +return, messenger-boys dart hither and thither, the fair patrons thumb +the catalogues and chatter in sad defiance of the rules. They are long +in making their selections, and appeal for aid to the librarians. But +the last of this class of visitors departs before the six-o'clock +dinner or tea, and the attendants have a respite for an hour. At seven +the real rush begins, with the advent of the clerks and other patrons +employed in store or office during the day, each intent on supplying +himself with reading-matter for the next day. From this hour until the +closing at nine the librarians are as busy as bees: there is a continual +running from counter to alcove and from gallery to gallery. In some of +the reports of the librarian interesting data are given of the tastes of +readers and the popularity of books. Fiction, as we have seen, leads; +but there is a growing taste for scientific and historical works. +Buckle, Mill, and Macaulay are favorites, and Tyndall, Huxley, and +Lubbock have many readers. The theft of its books is a serious drain on +the library each year, but the destruction of its rare and valuable +works of reference is still more provoking. Common gratitude, it might +seem, would deter persons admitted to the privileges of its alcoves from +injuring its property. What shall we think, then, of the vandals who +during the past year twice cut out the article on political economy in +"Appletons' Cyclopaedia," so mutilated Thomson's "Cyclopaedia of the +Useful Arts" as to render it valueless, and bore off bodily Storer's +"Dictionary of the Solubilities," the second volume of the new edition +of the "Encyclopaedia Britannica," Andrews's "Latin Dictionary," and +several other valuable works? + +There is a library in the city, the Apprentices', on Sixteenth Street, +whose existence is hardly known even to New-Yorkers, which is +exceedingly interesting to the student as an instance of the good a +trades' union may accomplish when its energies are rightly directed. +Here is a library of about sixty thousand volumes, with a supplementary +reference library of forty thousand seven hundred and fifty works, and a +well-equipped reading-room, free of debt, and free to its patrons, and +all the result of the well-directed efforts of the "Society of Mechanics +and Tradesmen." This society first organized for charitable purposes in +1792, receiving its first charter on the 14th of March of that year. In +January, 1821, its charter was amended, the society being empowered to +support a school for the education of the children of its deceased and +indigent members and for the establishment of an "Apprentices' Library +for the use of the apprentices of mechanics in the City of New York." A +small library had been opened the year before at 12 Chambers Street, and +there the library remained, constantly growing in number of volumes and +patrons, till 1835, when it was removed to the old High-School Building, +at 472 Broadway, which the society about that time purchased. It +remained there until 1878, when it followed the march of population +up-town, removing to its present spacious and convenient rooms in +Mechanics' Hall, in Sixteenth Street. Strange as it may seem, the +Apprentices' is the nearest approach to a public library on a large +scale that the city can boast. It is absolutely free to males up to the +age of eighteen; after that age it is required of the beneficiaries that +they be engaged in some mechanical employment. Ladies who are engaged in +any legitimate occupation may partake of its benefits. Books are loaned, +the applicants, besides meeting the above conditions, being only +required to furnish a guarantor. The total circulation of this excellent +institution for 1881-82 was 164,100 volumes, and its beneficial +influence on the class reached may be imagined. It is nevertheless a +class library; and the fact still remains that New York, with her vast +wealth and her splendid public and private charities, has yet to endow +the great public library which will place within reach of her citizens +the literary wealth of the ages. There is scarcely a disease, it is +said, but has its richly-endowed hospital in the city, the number of +eleemosynary institutions is legion, but the establishment of a public +library, which is usually the first care of a free, rich, intelligent +community, has been unaccountably neglected. The subject is now +receiving the earnest thought of the best people of the city. +Considerable difference of opinion exists as to the best method of +founding and supporting such an institution. Some argue that this should +be done by the city alone, holding that the self-respecting workingman +and workingwoman will never patronize a free library instituted solely +by private charity. Others urge that such an institution to be +successful should be free from city control and entirely the result of +private munificence. The latter gentlemen have added to the cogency of +their arguments by a practical demonstration. Early in 1880 they +organized on a small scale a free circulating library which should exist +solely by the benefactions of the public, with the object of furnishing +free reading at their homes to the people. The general plan adopted was +a central library, with branches in the various wards, by this means +bringing the centres of distribution within easy reach of the city's +homes. The success of the institution has been such that its development +should be carefully followed. It began operations by leasing two rooms +of the old mansion, No. 36 Bond Street, and in March, 1880, "moved in," +opening with a few hundred volumes donated chiefly from the libraries of +its projectors. The first month--March--1044 volumes were circulated. By +October this had grown to 4212. The next year--1881-82--the circulation +reached 69,280, and it continued to increase until in 1883 it reached +81,233,--an increase of nearly 10,000 over the preceding year. In May, +1883, the library was removed to the comfortable and roomy building, No. +49 Bond Street, which had been purchased and fitted up for it by the +trustees. Early in December, 1884, the Ottendorfer Library, at 135 +Second Avenue, the first of the projected branch libraries, was opened +with 8819 volumes, 4784 of which were in English and 4035 in German, the +whole, with the library building, being the gift of Mr. Oswald +Ottendorfer, of New York. The branch proved equally popular, having +circulated during the past year--1885--97,000 volumes, while the +circulation of the main library has increased to 104,000 volumes, the +combined circulation of both libraries exceeding that of any other in +the city. The percentage of loss has been only one book for 31,768 +circulated. The report of the treasurer shows that the annual expenses +of the library--about twelve thousand dollars--have been met by +voluntary contributions, and that it has a permanent fund of about +thirty-two thousand dollars besides its books. These figures prove that +libraries of this character will be appreciated, and used by the people. +The library committee say, in their last report, that after four years' +experience they feel competent to begin the establishment of branch +libraries, and observe that at least six of these centres of light and +intelligence should be opened in various quarters of the city. It is +understood that lack of funds alone prevents the institution from +entering on this wider field. When one considers the liberal and too +often indiscriminate charities of the metropolis, and reflects that the +need and utility of this excellent enterprise have been demonstrated, it +seems impossible that pecuniary obstacles will long be allowed to stand +in the way of its legitimate development. + +CHARLES BURR TODD. + + + + +THE DRAMA IN THE NURSERY. + + +A Darwinian might find evidence of the pedigree of our species in the +inherent taste for mimicry which we share, at all events, with the +anthropoid apes. This instinct of mimicry I take to be the humble +beginning from which dramatic art has sprung, and it appears in the +individual at a very early stage. Perhaps it is even expressed in the +first squalls of infancy, though this possibility has been overlooked +or obscured by philosophic pedantry. Now anent these squalls. Hegel +gravely declares that they indicate a revelation of the baby's exalted +nature (oh!), and are meant to inform the public that it feels itself +"permeated with the certitude" that it has a right to exact from the +external world the satisfaction of its needs. Michelet opines that the +squalls reveal the horror felt by the soul at being enslaved to nature. +Another writer regards them as an outburst of wrath on the part of the +baby at finding itself powerless against environing circumstances. Some +early theologians, on the other hand, pronounced squalling to be a proof +of innate wickedness; and this view strikes one as being much nearer the +mark. But none of these accounts are completely satisfactory. Innate +wickedness may supply the conception; it is the dramatic instinct that +suggests the means. Here is the real explanation of those yells which +embitter the life of a young father and drive the veteran into temporary +exile. It happens in this wise. The first aim of a baby--not yours, +madam; yours is well known to be an exception, but of other and common +babies--is to make itself as widely offensive as possible. The end, +indeed, is execrable, but the method is masterly. The baby has an _a +priori_ intuition that the note of the domestic cat is repulsive to the +ear of the human adult. Consequently, what does your baby do but betake +itself to a practical study of the caterwaul! After a few conscientious +rehearsals a creditable degree of perfection is usually reached, and a +series of excruciating performances are forthwith commenced, which last +with unbroken success until the stage arrives when correction becomes +possible. This process may check the child's taste for imitating the +lower animals in some of their less engaging peculiarities, but his +dramatic instincts will be diverted with a refreshing promptness to the +congenial subjects of parent or nurse. + +No sooner is your son and heir invested with the full dignity of +knickerbockers than he begins to celebrate this rise in the social +scale by "playing at being papa." The author of "Vice Versa" has drawn +an amusing picture of the discomforts to papa which an exchange of +environment with his school-boy son might involve. But there is another +side to the question; and at Christmas-time, for instance, most papas +would probably be glad enough to exchange the joys and responsibilities +of paternity for the simple taste which can tackle plum-pudding and the +youthful digestion for which this delicacy has no terrors. However, +while it is impossible, or at least inexpedient, for papa to play at +being his own urchin, the latter is restrained by no considerations, +moral or otherwise, from attempting to personate his papa. + +It is often said sententiously that the child is the father of the man. +In this case most of us should blush for our parentage. It will be +conceded at once (subject, of course, to special reservations in favor +of individual brats) that the baby is the most detestable of created +beings. But its physical impotence to some extent neutralizes its moral +baseness. In the child the deviltries of the baby are partially curbed, +but this loss is compensated for by superior bodily powers. Now, the +virtuous child--if such a conception can be framed--when representing +papa would delight to dwell on the better side of the paternal +character, the finer feelings, the flashes of genius, the sallies of +wit, the little touches of tenderness and romance, and so forth. Very +likely; but the actual child does just the reverse of this. Is there a +trivial weakness, a venial shortcoming, a microscopic spot of +imperfection anywhere? The ruthless little imp has marked it for his +own, and will infallibly reproduce it, certainly before your servants, +and possibly before your friends. + +"Now we'll play at being in church," quoth Master George in lordly wise +to his little sisters. "I'm papa." Whereupon he will twist himself into +an unseemly tangle of legs and arms which is simply a barbarous travesty +of the attitude of studied grace with which you drink in the sermon in +the corner of your family pew. + +"Master George, you mustn't," interposes the housemaid, in a tone of +faint rebuke, adding, however, with a thrill of generous appreciation, +"Law, 'ow funny the child is, and as like as like!" Applause is +delicious to every actor, and under its stimulus your first-born essays +a fresh flight. Above the laughter of the nurses and the admiring +shrieks of his sisters there rises a weird sound, as of a sucking pig +_in extremis_. Your son, my unfortunate friend, is attempting, with his +childish treble pipes, to formulate a masculine snore. This is a gross +calumny. You never--stop!--well, on one occasion perhaps--but then there +were extenuating circumstances. Very likely; but the child has grasped +the fact without the circumstances, and has framed his conclusion as a +universal proposition. It is a most improper induction, I admit; but +logic, like some other things, is not to be looked for in children. + +Next comes mamma's turn. Perhaps she has weakly yielded on some occasion +to young hopeful's entreaties that he might come down to the kitchen +with her to order dinner. By the perverse luck that waits on poor +mortals, there happened on that very day to be a passage of arms between +mistress and cook. Rapidly forgotten by the principals, it has been +carefully stored up in the memory of the witness, who will subsequently +bestow an immense amount of misguided energy in teaching a young sister +to reproduce, with appropriate gesture and intonation, "Cook, I desire +that you will not speak to me in that way. I am extremely displeased +with you, and I shall acquaint your master with your conduct." + +Small sisters, by the way, may be made to serve a variety of useful +purposes of a dramatic or semi-dramatic nature. They may safely be cast +for the unpleasant or uninteresting characters of the nursery drama. +They form convenient targets for the development of their brothers' +marksmanship; and they make excellent horses for their brothers to +drive, and, it may be added, for their brothers to flog. + +When the subjects afforded by its immediate surroundings are exhausted, +Theatre Royal Nursery turns to fiction or history for materials. And +here, too, the perversity of childhood is displayed. It is not the +virtuous, the benevolent, the amiable, that your child delights to +imitate, but rather the tyrant and the destroyer, the ogre who subsists +in rude plenty on the peasantry of the neighborhood, or the dragon who +is restricted by taste or convention to one young lady _per diem_, till +the national stock is exhausted, or the inevitable knight turns up to +supply the proper dramatic finale. + +The varied incident of the "Pilgrim's Progress," its romance, and the +weird fascination of its goblins and monsters, make it a favorite source +of dramatic adaptations. And here, if any man doubt the doctrine of +original sin, let him note the fierce competition among the youngsters +for the part of Apollyon, and put his doubts from him. With a little +care a great many scenes may be selected from this inimitable work. +Christian's entry into the haven of refuge in the early part of his +pilgrimage can be effectively reproduced in the nursery. It will be +remembered that the approach was commanded by a castle of Beelzebub's, +from which pilgrims were assailed by a shower of arrows. It is this that +gives the episode its charm. One child is of course obliged to sacrifice +his inclinations and personate Christian. The rest eagerly take service +under Beelzebub and become the persecuting garrison. The "properties" +required are of the simplest kind. The nursery sofa or settee--a +position of great natural strength--is further fortified with chairs and +other furniture to represent the stronghold of the enemy. Christian +should be equipped with a wide-awake hat, a stick, and a great-coat +(papa's will do, or, better still, a visitor's), with a stool wrapped up +in a towel and slung over his shoulders to do duty as the bundle of +sins. He is then made to totter along to a "practical" gate (two chairs +are the right thing) at the far end of the room, while the hosts of +darkness hurl boots, balls, and other suitable missiles at him from the +sofa. Sometimes the original is faithfully copied, and bows and arrows +are employed; but this is, on the whole, a mistake: there is some chance +of Christian being really injured, and this, though of course no +objection in itself, is apt to provoke a summary interference by the +authorities. Christian's passage through the Valley of the Shadow of +Death is another favorite piece. Here, too, there are great +opportunities for an enterprising demon. It will be necessary, however, +for the success of the performance that Christian should abandon his +strictly defensive attitude in the narrative and lay about him with +sufficient energy to produce a general scrimmage. + +"Robinson Crusoe" is a treasure-house of situations, some of which gain +a piquancy from the dash of the diabolical with which Crusoe's terrors +invested them. Even where this is wanting there is plenty of bloodshed +to take its place, and a happy combination of horrors is supplied by the +cannibal feast which Crusoe interrupts. The youngest member of the +troupe is, on the whole, the best victim; but, failing this, any pet +animal sufficiently lazy or good-tempered to endure the process makes a +tolerable substitute. "Masterman Ready," "The Swiss Family Robinson," +and other cognate works, together with appropriate selections from +sacred and profane history, are adapted with a shamelessness which would +make a dramatic author's blood run cold. + +Lions, tigers, and wild beasts generally are common objects of nursery +imitation, either from a genuine admiration of their qualities or from +the mysterious craving for locomotion on all-fours with which children +seem possessed. This branch of the art, however, struggles under some +difficulties. It has, of course, to contend with the undisguised +opposition of authority. This is hardly a matter for marvel, and perhaps +not even a matter for regret. A prudential regard for the knees of +puerile knickerbockers and the corresponding region of feminine frocks +may explain a good deal of parental discouragement in the matter; and +there is little public sympathy to counteract this, for it is felt that +the total decay of these mimes would not be a serious loss either to +dramatic art or to peace and quietness. + +In one sense, no doubt, these amusements of childhood are matters of +little moment; but, in spite of their seeming triviality, they have a +genuine importance which should not be overlooked. The spontaneous +exhibitions of children at play often reveal latent tastes, tendencies, +or traits of character to one who is able to interpret them aright. If +this be so,--and it is no longer open to doubt,--it is clear that even +infant acting may furnish hints and assistance of the highest value to +an intelligent system of education. It is true, no doubt, that till +quite lately any such possibility was steadily ignored; but it is only +quite lately that anything like an intelligent system of early education +has been attempted. The idiosyncrasies of a child, instead of being +carefully observed, were either disregarded as meaningless or repressed +as being naughty. No greater mistake could be possible; and this at last +is beginning to be understood. The first struggles of a young +consciousness to express itself externally are nearly always eccentric, +and often seem perverse. But this is nothing more than we ought to +expect. The oddities of a child's conduct are in reality nothing else +than direct expressions of character, uncurbed by the conventions which +regulate the demeanor of adults, or direct revelations of some taste or +aptitude, which education may foster, but which neglect will hardly +crush. The world contains a woful number of human pegs thrust forcibly +into holes which do not fit them, and the world's work suffers +proportionately from this misapplication of energy. The mischief is +abundantly clear, but the remedy, if we do not shut our eyes to it, is +tolerably clear also. Just as this condition of things is largely due to +our unscientific neglect of variations in character and the wooden +system of education which this neglect has produced, so we may expect to +see its evils disappear by an abolition of the one and a reform of the +other. If the world be indeed a stage, with all humanity for its _corps +dramatique_ it must surely be well for the success of the performance +that the cast should take account of individual aptitudes, and that to +each player should be allotted the part which he can best support in the +great drama of Life. + +NORMAN PEARSON. + + + + +OUR MONTHLY GOSSIP. + +"The Man who Laughs." + + +The degree of culture and good breeding which a man possesses may be +very correctly determined by the way he laughs. The primeval savage, +from whom we trace descent, was distinguished above everything else by +his demonstrativeness; and there is much in our present type of social +manners and conduct which betrays our barbarous origin. The brute-like +sounds that escape from the human throat in the exercise of laughter, +the coarse guffaw, the hoarse chuckle, and the high, cackling tones in +which many of the feminine half of the world express their sense of +amusement, attest very painfully the animal nature within us. It was +Emerson, I believe, who expressed a dislike of all loud laughter; and it +is difficult to imagine the scene or occasion which could draw from that +serene and even-minded philosopher a broader expression of amusement +than that conveyed in the "inscrutable smile" which Whipple describes as +his most characteristic feature. Yet Emerson was by no means wanting in +appreciation of the comic. On the contrary, he had an abiding sense of +humor, and it was this--a keen and lively perception of the grotesque, +derived as part of his Yankee inheritance--that kept him from uniting in +many of the extravagant reform movements of the day. Few of us, however, +even under the sanction of an Emerson, would wish to dispense with all +sound of laughter. + +The memory of a friend's voice, in which certain laughing notes and +tones are inextricably mingled with the graver inflections of common +speech, is almost as dear as the vision of his countenance or the warm +pressure of his hand. Yet among such remembrances we hold others, of +those from whom the sound of open laughter is seldom heard, the absence +of which, however, denotes no diminished sense of the humorous and +amusing. A quick, responsive smile, a flash or glance of the eye, a +kindling countenance, serve as substitutes for true laughter, and we do +not miss the sound of that which is supplied in a finer and often truer +quality. + +The freest, purest laughter is that of childhood, which is as +spontaneous as the song of birds. It is impossible that the laughter of +older people should retain this sound of perfect music. Knowledge of +life and the world has entered in to mar the natural harmonics of the +human voice, which not all the skill and efforts of the vocal culturists +can ever again restore. It is only those who in attaining the years and +stature of manhood have retained the nature of the child, its first +unconscious truth and simplicity, whose laughter is wholly pleasant to +hear. I recall the laugh of a friend which corresponds to this +description, a laugh as pure and melodious, as guiltless of premeditated +art or intention, as the notes of the rising lark; yet its owner is a +man of wide worldly experience. It is natural that I, who know my +friend so well, should find in this peculiarly happy laugh of his the +sign and test of that type of high, sincere manhood which he represents; +but it is a dangerous business, this attempting to define the character +and disposition of people by the turn of an eyelid, the curve of a lip, +or a particular vocal shade and inflection. Not only has Art learned to +imitate Nature very closely, but Nature herself plays many a trick upon +our credulity in matters of this kind. Upon a woman who owns no higher +motive than low and selfish cunning she bestows the musical tones of a +seraph, as she sheathes the sharp claws of all her feline progeny in +cases of softest fur. Rosamond Vincy is not the only example which might +be furnished, either in or out of print, in proof that a low, soft +voice, that excellent thing in woman, may have a wrongly persuasive +accent, luring to disappointment and death, like the Lorelei's song, to +which the harsh tones of the most strong-minded Xantippe are to be +preferred. + +Still, it does seem that, however right Shakespeare was when he said a +man may smile and smile and be a villain still, no real villain could +indulge in hearty, spontaneous laughter. Much smiling is one of the thin +disguises in which a certain kind of knavery seeks to hide itself, but +it is easy to conjecture that the low ruffian type of villain, like that +seen in Bill Sykes and Jonas Chuzzlewit, neither laughs nor smiles, +being as destitute of the courage to listen to the sound of its own +voice as of the wit that summons artifice to its aid in protection of +its guilty devices. + +The ghastly effect of guilt laughing with constrained glee to hide +suspicion of itself from the eyes of innocence is vividly portrayed in +Irving's performance of "The Bells," in the scene where Mathias, by a +supreme effort of will, joins in Christian's laugh over the supposition +that it might have been his, the respected burgomaster's, limekiln in +which the body of the Polish Jew was burned. Genuine laughter must +spring from a pure and undefiled source. It may not always be of +tuneful quality, but it must at least contain the note of sincerity. I +have in mind the outbursts of deep-chested sound with which another +friend evinces his appreciation of a humorous remark or incident, a +laugh which many fastidious people would pronounce too hard and rough by +half, bending their heads and darting from under, as if suddenly +assailed by some rude nor'wester. But I like the pleasant shock bestowed +in those strong, breezy tones, and the feeling of rejuvenation and new +expectancy which it imparts. + +Another laugh echoes in memory as I write, a girl's laugh this time, not +"idle and foolish and sweet," as such have been described, but clear, +and strong, and odd almost to the point of the ludicrous, yet charmingly +natural withal. A young woman's laugh is apt to begin at the highest +note, and, running down the scale, to end in a sigh of mingled relief +and exhaustion an octave or so lower down. This particular girl, +however, takes the other way, and, running her chromatic neatly up from +about middle C, pauses for a breath, and then astonishes her audience by +striking off two perfectly attuned notes several degrees higher up, +hitting her mark with the ease and deftness of a prima donna. So odd and +surprising a laugh is sure to be quickly infectious, and its owner is +never at a loss for company in her merriment, while a cheerful temper, +unclouded by a shade of envy or suspicion, is not in the least disturbed +by the knowledge that others are laughing at as well as with her. + +The question of what we shall laugh at deserves more attention than our +manner of laughing. "There is nothing," says Goethe, "in which people +more betray their character than in what they find to laugh at," adding, +"The man of understanding finds almost everything ridiculous, the man of +thought scarcely anything." This last corresponds somewhat to a +sentiment found in Horace Walpole: "Life is a comedy to those who think, +a tragedy to those who feel." + +With many people laughter seems to be an appetite, which grows by what +it feeds on, until all power of discrimination between the finer and the +more vulgar forms of wit is lost. Certain it is that the habit of +laughter is as easy to fall into as it is dangerous to all social +dignity. The muscles of the mouth have a natural upward curve,--a fact +which speaks well for the disposition of Mother Nature who made us, and +may also be held to signify that there are more things in the world +deserving our approval than our condemnation. But the hideous spectacle +presented in the contorted visage of Hugo's great character contains a +wholesome warning even for us of a later age; for there is a social +tyranny, almost as potent as the kingly despotism which ruled the world +centuries ago, that would fain shape the features of its victims after +one artificial pattern. We laugh too much, from which it necessarily +follows that we often laugh at the wrong things, a fault which betrays +intellectual weakness as well as moral cupidity. The determining quality +in true laughter lies in the degree of innocent mirth it gives +expression to; and when jealous satire, envy, or malice add their +dissonant note to its sound, its finest effect is destroyed and its +opportunity lost. + +C.P.W. + + +Why we Forget Names. + +In the last years of his life the venerated Emerson lost his memory of +names. In instance of this many will remember the story told about him +when returning from the funeral of his friend Longfellow. Walking away +from the cemetery with his companion, he said, "That gentleman whose +funeral we have just attended was a sweet and beautiful soul, but I +cannot recall his name." The little anecdote has something very touching +about it,--the old man asking for the name of the life-long friend, "the +gentleman whose funeral we have just attended." + +When I saw Mr. Emerson a year prior to his own death, this defect of +memory was very noticeable, and extended even to the names of common +objects, so that in talking he would use quaint, roundabout expressions +to supply the place of missing words. He would call a church, for +instance, "that building in the town where all the people go on Sunday." + +This loss of memory of names is very common with old people, but it is +not confined to them. Almost every one has at some time experienced the +peculiar, the almost desperate, feeling of trying to recall a name that +will not come. It is at our tongue's end; we know just what sort of a +name it is; it begins with a _B_; yet did we try for a year it would not +come. One curious fact about the phenomenon is that it seems to be +contagious. If one person suddenly finds himself unable to recall a +name, the person with whom he is talking will stick at it also. The name +almost always gets the best of them, and they have to say, "Yes, I know +what you mean," and go on with their talk. + +I have never seen an explanation of this name-forgetfulness; but it is +not difficult to find a reason for it. What needs explaining is that +names are so obstinate, and grow more obstinate the harder we try, while +other things we have forgotten and are trying to recall generally yield +themselves to our efforts. Moreover, in other cases of forgetfulness we +never experience that peculiar and most exasperating feature of +name-forgetfulness,--the feeling that we know the word perfectly well +all the time. This last fact, indeed, seems to show that we have not +forgotten the name at all, but have simply lost the clue to it. + +Now, let us inquire why this clue is so hard to find. Scientific men who +study the human mind and make a business of explaining thought, emotion, +memory, and the like, have an expression which they use frequently, and +which sounds difficult, but which really it is very easy as well as +interesting to understand. They speak of the _association of ideas_. The +association of ideas means simply the fact which every one has noticed, +that one thing tends to call up another in the mind. When you recall a +certain sleigh-ride last winter, you remember that you put hot bricks +in the sleigh; and this reminds you that you were intending to heat a +warming-pan for the bed to-night; and the thought of warming the bed +makes you think of poor President Garfield's sickness, during which they +tried to cool his room with ice. Each of these thoughts (ideas) has +evidently called up another connected--associated--with it in some way. +This is the association of ideas: it is a law that governs almost all +our thinking, as any one may discover by going back over his own +thoughts. Perhaps an easier way to discover it will be to observe the +rapid talk of an afternoon caller on the family, and see how the +conversation skips from one subject to another which the last suggested, +and from that to another suggested by this, and so on. + +Just this association of ideas it is which enables us to recall things +we have forgotten. Our ideas on any subject--say that sleigh-ride last +winter--resemble a lot of balls some distance apart in a room, but all +connected by strings. If there is any particular ball we cannot +find,--that is, some fact we cannot remember,--then if we pull the +neighboring balls it is likely that they by the connecting strings will +bring the missing ball into sight. To illustrate this, suppose that you +cannot remember the route of that sleigh-ride. You recall carefully all +the circumstances associated with the ride, in hopes that some one of +them will suggest the route that was taken. You think of your +companions, of the moon being full, of having borrowed extra robes, of +the hot bricks--Ah, there is a clue! The bricks were reheated somewhere. +Where was it? They were placed on a stove,--on a red-hot stove with a +loafers' foot-rail about it. That settles it. Such stoves are found only +in country grocery-stores; and now it all comes back to you. The ride +was by the hill road to Smith's Corners. It is as if there were a string +from the hot-bricks idea to the idea that the bricks were reheated, to +this necessarily being done on a stove, to the peculiar kind of stove it +was done on, to the only place in the neighborhood where such a stove +could be, to Smith's Corners; and this string has led you, like a clue, +to the fact you desired to remember. + +We can now return to the question asked above: In trying to recall +names, why is it so difficult to find a clue? After what has been said, +the question can be put in a better form: Why does not the association +of ideas enable us to recall names as it does other things? The answer +is, that names (proper names) have very few associations, very few +strings, or clues, leading to them. It is easy to see this; for suppose +you moved away from the neighborhood of that sleigh-ride many years +before, and in thinking over past times find yourself unable to recall +the name of the Corners where the store stood. The place can be +remembered perfectly, and a thousand circumstances connected with it, +but they furnish no clue to the name: the circumstances might all remain +the same and the name be any other as well. The only association the +name has is with an indistinct memory of how it sounded. It was of two +words: the second was something like Hollow, or Cross roads, or +Crossing; the first began with an _S_. But it is vain to seek for it: no +clue leads to it. Were it the ride you sought to remember, many of its +details could be recalled, some of which might lead to the desired fact; +but a name has no details, and it is only possible to say of it that it +sounded so and so, if it is possible to say that. + +It may be asked, how, then, is it that we do remember some names, as +those in use every day? Just as the multiplication-table is +remembered,--by force of familiarity. Constant repetition engraves them +in the mind. When in old age the vigor of the mind lessens, the +engraving wears out and names are hard to recall, since there is no +other clue to them than this engraved record. + +There may be mentioned one slight help in recalling names when the case +is important or desperate. It consists in going back to the period when +the name was known and deliberately writing out a circumstantial +account of all the connected incidents, mentioning names of persons and +places whenever they can be remembered. If this is done in a casual way, +without thinking of the purpose in view,--as if one were sending a +gossipy letter of personal history to a friend,--the mind falls into an +automatic condition that may result in producing the desired name +itself. Every one must have observed that it is this automatic activity +of the mind, and not conscious effort, which recovers lost names most +successfully. We "think of them afterwards." + +XENOS CLARK. + + +A Reminiscence of Harriet Martineau. + +It is more than fifty years since I, a mere child, spent a summer with +my parents in a sandy young city of Indiana. Eight or nine hundred +souls, perhaps more, were already anchored within its borders. Chicago, +a lusty infant just over the line, her feet blackened with prairie mud, +made faces, called names, and ridiculed its soil and architecture. +Nevertheless it was a valiant little city, even though its streets were +rivers of shifting sand, through which "prairie-schooners" were +toilsomely dragged by heavy oxen or a string of chubby ponies,--these +last a gift from the coppery Indian to the country he was fast +forsaking. Clouds of clear grit drifted into open casements on every +passing breeze, or, if a gale arose, were driven through every crevice. +Our little city was cradled amid the shifting sand-hills on Michigan's +wave-beaten shore. Indeed, it had received the name of the grand old +lake in loving baptism, and was pluckily determined to wear it worthily. +Its buildings were wholly of wood, and hastily constructed, some not +entirely unpretentious, while others tilted on legs, as if in readiness +at shortest notice to take to their heels and skip away. In those early +days there was only the round yellow-bodied coach swinging on leathern +straps, or the heavy lumber-wagon, to accommodate the tide of travel +already setting westward. It was a daily delight to listen to the +inspiring toot of the driver's horn and the crack of his long whip, as, +with six steaming horses, he swung his dusty passengers in a final grand +flourish up to the hospitable door of the inn. + +One memorable morning brought to the unique little town a literary +lion,--a woman of great heart, clear brain, and powerful pen,--in short, +Harriet Martineau. Her travelling companions were a professor, his +comely wife, and their eight-year-old son. The last-named was much +petted by Miss Martineau, and still flourishes in perennial youth on +many pages of her books of American travel. Michigan City felt honored +in its transient guest. The whisper that a real live author was among us +filled the inn hall with a changing throng eager to obtain a glimpse of +the celebrity. Not among the least of these were "the two little girls" +she mentions in her "Society in America," page 253. At breakfast the +party served their sharpened appetites quite like ordinary folk,--Miss +Martineau in thoughtful quiet, broken now and again by a brisk question +darted at the professor, who answered in a deliberate learned way that +was quite impressive. A shiver of disgust ruffled his plump features at +the absence of cream, which the host excused by the statement that, the +population having outgrown its flocks and herds, milk was held sacred to +the use of babes. Miss Martineau listened to the professor's complaints +with a twinkle of mirth in her eyes, while that indignant gentleman +vigorously applied himself to the solid edibles at hand. Shortly after +breakfast the strangers sallied forth in search of floral treasures, +over the low sand-hills stretching toward the lake (a spur of which +penetrated the main street), where in the face of the sandy drift +nestled a shanty quite like the "dug-out" of the timberless lands in +Kansas and New Mexico. The tomb-like structure, half buried in sand, +only its front being visible, seemed to afford Miss Martineau no end of +surprised amusement as she climbed to its submerged roof on her way to +the summit of the hill. A window-garden of tittering young women +merrily watched the progress of the quick-stepping Englishwoman, and, +really, there was some provocation to mirth, from their stand-point. +Anything approaching a _blanket_, plain, plaided, or striped, had never +disported itself before their astonished gaze as a part of feminine +apparel, except on the back of a grimy squaw. Of blanket-shawls, soon to +become a staple article of trade, the Western women had not then even +heard; and here was a civilized and cultivated creature enveloped in +what seemed to be a gay trophy wrested from the bed-furniture! Then, +too, the "only sweet thing" in bonnets was the demure "cottage," +fashioned of fine straw, while the woman in view sported a coarse, pied +affair, whose turret-like crown and flaring brim pointed ambitiously +skyward. Stout boots completed the costume criticised and laughed over +by the merry maidens who yet stood in wholesome awe of the presence of +the wearer. With what a wealth of gorgeous wild flowers and plumy ferns +the pilgrims came laden on their return! Quoting from "Society in +America," page 253, Miss Martineau says, "The scene was like what I had +always fancied the Norway coast, but for the wild flowers, which grew +among the pines on the slope almost into the tide. I longed to spend an +entire day on this flowery and shadowy margin of the inland sea. I +plucked handfuls of pea-vine and other trailing flowers, which seemed to +run all over the ground." + +Miss Martineau piled her treasures on a table and culled the specimens +worthy of pressing, and it seemed to pain her to reject the least +promising of her perishable plunder. She must have had a passion for +flowers, judging from the tenderness with which she handled the lovely +fronds and delicate petals under inspection, while her mouth was +continually open in admiring exclamation. + +And now came what I still fondly remember as the _Musicale_. A little +comrade came in the twilight to sing songs with me. With arms +interlaced, we paced the upper hall, vociferously warbling as breath was +given us, when a door opened, and the gifted, dark-faced woman, with +kindly eyes, beamed out on us. "Come," she called, "come in here, +children, and sing your songs for me: I am very fond of music." Very +bashfully we signified our willingness to oblige,--indeed, we dared not +do otherwise,--and sidled into the room. Closing the door, our hostess +curled herself comfortably on a gayly-cushioned lounge, and proceeded to +adjust a serpent-like, squirming appendage to her ear. With an +encouraging nod, she bade us commence, closing her eyes meanwhile with +an air of expectant rapture. But the vibrating trumpet stirred our +foolish souls to explosive laughter, partially smothered in a +simultaneous strangled cough. Wondering at the double paroxysm and +subsequent hush of shame, she unclosed her eyes, softly murmuring, +"Don't be bashful nor afraid, my dears. I am very far from home, and you +can make me very happy, if you will. Pray begin at once, and then I will +also sing for you." Taking courage, we piped as bidden, rendering in a +childish way the strains of "Blue-Eyed Mary," "Comin' through the Rye," +"I'd be a Butterfly," and "Auld Lang Syne," Our audience, with bright, +attentive looks, regarded the performance in pleased approval, softly +tapping time on her knee with a slender finger. + +"Now it is my turn," said Miss Martineau. Straightening herself and +casting aside the trumpet, primly folding her hands and pursing her +mouth curiously, she began, in a high, quavering voice, a song whose +burden was the fixed objection on the part of a certain damsel to +forsaking the pleasures of the world for the seclusion and safety of a +convent: + + Now, is it not a pity such a pretty girl as I + Should be sent to a nunnery to pine away and die? + But I _won't_ be a nun,--- no, I _won't_ be a _nun_; + I'm _so_ fond of _pleasure_ that I _cannot_ be a nun. + +It is impossible to give an idea of the jerky style of the lady's +singing which so tickled our sensitive ears. At every repetition of the +refrain, Susy and I squeezed our locked fingers spasmodically in order +to suppress the unseemly laughter bubbling to our lips. At every +emphatic word she nodded at us merrily, thus adding to our inward +disquiet. + +I like now, when picturing Harriet Martineau entertaining with noble +themes the men and women of letters she drew around her in England and +America, to remember, in connection with her strong, plain face and +brilliant intellect, the simple kindliness with which she once unbent to +a brace of little Hoosier maids in the "Far West." + +F.C.M. + + + + +LITERATURE OF THE DAY. + +"Louis Agassiz: His Life and Correspondence[A]." Edited by Elizabeth +Cary Agassiz. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + + +The northeastern corner of the ancient Pays de Vaud, only part of which +is included in the modern canton, is little known to tourists. It lies +away from the chief lines of travel, and it has neither the magnificent +views that draw the visitor aside to Orbe nor the associations that +induce him to stop at Coppet or Clarens. Yet its breezy upland plains +and its quiet villages--some of them once populous and prosperous +towns--are not devoid of charm, or of the interest connected with +historical epochs and famous names. The "lone wall" and "lonelier +column" at Avenches date from the period when this was the Roman capital +of Helvetia. Morat still shows many a mark and relic of its siege by +Charles the Bold and of the overthrow of his forces by the Swiss. +Payerne was the birthplace, in 1779, of Jomini, the greatest of all +writers on military operations, whose precocious genius, while he was a +mere stripling and before he had witnessed any battles or manoeuvres, +penetrated the secret of Bonaparte's combinations and victorious +campaigns, which veteran commanders were watching with mere wonderment +and dismay. At Motiers, a few miles farther north, was born, in 1807, +Louis Agassiz, who at an equally early age displayed a like intuitive +comprehension of many of the workings of Nature, and who subsequently +became the chief exponent of the glacial theory and the highest +authority on the structure and classification of fishes. Each of these +two men gave his ripest powers and longest labors to a great country far +from their common home,--Jomini to Russia, Agassiz to the United States; +and, dissimilar as were their objects and pursuits, their intellectual +resemblance was fundamental. The pre-eminent quality of each was the +power of rapid generalization, of mastering and subordinating details, +of grasping and applying principles and laws. Agassiz differed as much +from an animal-loving collector like Frank Buckland, whose father was +one of his stanchest friends and co-workers, as Jomini differed from a +fighting general like Ney, to whom he suggested the movements that +resulted in the French victory at Bautzen. Switzerland is equally proud +of the great strategist and the great naturalist, but to Americans in +general the former is at the most a mere name, while the career of the +latter is an object of wide-spread and even national interest. + +In the volumes before us the story of that career is clearly and +completely, yet concisely, set forth. Readers of biography who delight +mainly in social gossip may complain of the absence of everything of the +kind; but such matter neither belonged to the subject nor was required +for its elucidation. We are prone to draw a distinction between what we +call a man's personal life and the larger and more active part of his +existence, and to fancy that the clue to his character lies in some +minor idiosyncrasies, or in habits and tastes that were perhaps +accidentally formed. But every earnest worker reveals in his methods and +achievements not alone his intellectual capacities, but all the deep +and essential qualities of his nature. With Agassiz this was +conspicuously the case. The enthusiasm, the singleness of purpose, and +the indefatigable energy that constituted the _fond_, so to speak, of +his character were as open to view as the features of his countenance. +Hence the single and strong impression he produced on all with whom he +came in contact, the sympathy he so quickly kindled, and the +co-operation he so readily enlisted. It was easily perceived that he was +no self-seeker, that no thought of personal interest mingled with his +devotion to science, and that he was not more intent on absorbing +knowledge than desirous of diffusing it. No one has ever more fully and +happily blended the qualities of student and teacher, and it was in this +double capacity that he became so public and prominent a figure and +exerted so wide an influence in the country of his adoption. + +Some men overcome obstacles and attain their ends by sheer persistency +of will, others by tact and persuasiveness, while there is a third +class, before whom the barred doors open as they are successively +approached, through what are called either fortunate accidents or +Providential interventions, but are seen, on closer inspection, to have +been the direct and natural effects of the force unconsciously exerted +by an harmonious combination of qualities. Agassiz's career was full of +such instances. The insistent desire of his parents, while stinting +themselves to secure his education, that he should adopt a bread-winning +profession, yielded, not to any urgent appeals or dogged display of +resolution, but to the proof given by his labors that he was choosing +more wisely for himself. Cuvier, without any request or expectation, +resigned to the neophyte who, after following in his footsteps, was +outstripping him in certain lines, drawings and notes prepared for his +own use. Humboldt, at a critical moment, saved him from the necessity +for abandoning his projects by an unsolicited loan, supplemented by many +further acts of assistance of a different kind. In England every +possible facility and aid was afforded to him as well by private +individuals as by public institutions. In America, men like Mr. +Nathaniel Thayer and Mr. John Anderson needed only in some chance way to +become acquainted with his plans to be ready to provide the means for +carrying them out. It was the same on all occasions. The United States +government, the Coast Survey, the legislature of Massachusetts, private +individuals throughout the country, showed a rare willingness, and even +eagerness, to forward his views. The man and the object were identified +in people's minds, and, as in all such cases, a feeling was roused and +an impulse generated which could have sprung from no other source. + +The attractiveness and charm which everybody seems to have found in him +had perhaps the same origin. It does not appear that his nature was +peculiarly sympathetic, that it was through any unusual flow and warmth +of feeling toward others that he so quickly became the object of their +attachment or regard. Of course, we do not intend to intimate that he +was deficient in strength of affection or in the least degree cold or +unresponsive. But his "magnetism," to use the current word, lay in the +ardor and singleness of his devotion to science, not as an abstraction, +but as a potent agency in civilization, in the union of elevation with +enthusiasm, in an openness that seemed to reveal everything, yet nothing +that should have been hidden. Hence this biography, little as it deals +with purely personal matters, awakens an interest of precisely the same +kind as that which the living Agassiz was accustomed to excite. For the +student of comparative zoology or of glacial action all that is here +told about these subjects can have only an historical value. But no +reader can follow the successive steps of a career that was always in +the truest sense upward without being touched by that inspiring +influence which it constantly diffused, and which Americans, above all +others, have reason to hold in grateful remembrance. + + +Illustrated Books. + +"The Sermon on the Mount." Boston: Roberts Brothers. + +"Poems of Nature." By John Greenleaf Whittier. Illustrated from Nature +by Elbridge Kingsley. Boston and New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + +"Childe Harold's Pilgrimage." A Romaunt. By Lord Byron. Boston: Ticknor +& Co. + +"The Last Leaf." Poem. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. Illustrated by George +Wharton Edwards and F. Hopkinson Smith. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin & Co. + +"Pepper and Salt; or, Seasoning for Young Folks." Prepared by Howard +Pyle. New York: Harper & Brothers. + +"Davy the Goblin; or, What Followed Reading 'Alice's Adventures in +Wonderland,'" By Charles E. Carryl. Boston; Ticknor & Co. + +"Bric-a-Brac Stories." By Mrs. Burton Harrison. Illustrated by Walter +Crane. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons. + +"Rudder Grange." By Frank R. Stockton. Illustrated by A.B. Frost. New +York: Charles Scribner's Sons. + + +In turning over the pictorial books of the season one experiences a +genuine pleasure in coming upon this illustrated edition of "The Sermon +on the Mount," which belongs to a high order of merit from its +satisfactory interpretation of the subject and the beauty of its general +design and careful detail. It is, of course, a modern performance, and +nothing is more characteristic of most modern art than that it does +consciously, from reminiscence and with a reaching after certain +effects, what was once done simply, intuitively, and from the urgency of +poetic feeling. A great difference must naturally exist not only in the +outward mode but in the spirit of a group of modern artists who set to +work to illuminate a sacred text, and that in which the task was +undertaken by cloistered monks in whose gray lives a longing for beauty, +for color, found expression only here. Thus one realizes that the +decorative borders--which one looks at over and over again in this +volume, and which actually satisfy the eye--do not represent the +artist's own actual dreams, but are founded instead upon the ecstatic +visions of Fra Angelico and others as they bent over their work in their +silent cells; but they are beautiful nevertheless, far transcend what is +merely decorative, and are full of imagination and feeling. In fact, +into this frame-work, which might have contained nothing beyond +conventional imitation, Mr. Smith has put vivid touches which show that +he has the faculty to conceive and the skill to handle which belong to +the true artist. It would be easy to instance several of these borders +as remarkably good in their way: that which surrounds the "Lord's +Prayer" suggests dazzling effects in jewelled glass. The book is made up +in a delightful way, with full-page pictures interspersed with vignettes +illustrating the text and set round with those richly-designed borders +to which we have alluded. Mr. Fenn's pictures of actual places in the +Holy Land, besides striking the key-note of veracity which puts us in a +mood to see the whole story under fresh lights, are full of beauty and +charm. We are inclined to like everything in the book, although in the +various ways in which the beatitudes are interpreted we are conscious of +some incongruities, and wish that certain illustrations had made way for +designs showing more unity of conception among the artists. For +instance, Mr. Church's introduction of a New England scene of +tomahawking Indians cannot be said to throw a flood of light upon the +meaning of "Blessed are they that are persecuted for righteousness' +sake." Mr. St. John Harper's pictures are a trifle obscure; but their +obscurity veils their want of pertinence and suggests subtilties that +flatter the imagination into fitting the application to suit itself. Any +mention of the book which failed to include Mr. Copeland's work on the +engrossed text would be altogether inadequate, for it is very perfect, +very beautiful, full of surprises and delightful quaintnesses, and helps +to make the book what it actually is, a complete whole, which really +answers our wishes of what an illustrated book should be. + +Mr. Whittier's "Poems of Nature" make the felicitous occasion this year +for one of Messrs. Houghton & Mifflin's rich and attractive series of +their authors' selected works. An admirable etching of the poet faces +the title-page, and the poems, chiefly descriptive of New England +scenes, are illustrated by designs from nature, the work of a single +artist. That Mr. Kingsley is in sympathy with the poet, and that he is +an impassioned lover of nature and the various moods of nature, no one +can doubt, and the impression of truthfulness which his work produces on +the mind makes his pictures interesting and full of sentiment even when +they are not entirely successful. Perhaps he aims in general at rather +too large effects to bring them out vividly; for when the scene he +chooses is least composite he is at his best. "Deer Island Pines," for +example, and "The Merrimac" are excellent, and we find much charm in "A +Winter Scene" and in a Boughton-like "November Afternoon." + +There is a certain temerity in undertaking to illustrate a work like +"Childe Harold," which, if it has been read at all, has aroused its own +distinct conceptions of scenery in the mind of its reader which must +make any ordinary pictures setting off familiar lines tame and insipid. +It is the triumph of art when the artist can bring out meanings and +beauties in the text hitherto undreamed of; but we acquit the artists of +the present book of any failure in that respect, for their intention +seems never to have gone beyond amiable commonplace. The little cuts are +all pleasant, trim, and, if not suggestive, at least not sufficiently +the reverse to be displeasing. The head-pieces to the cantos are +extremely good, and the two scenes "There is a pleasure in the pathless +woods" and "There is a rapture on the lonely shore" we like sufficiently +well to exempt them from the accusation of insipidity. + +Happy the poet who lives to see one of the poems he carelessly flung off +in early youth come back to him in his old age in such a setting as is +here given to Dr. Holmes's "Last Leaf." "Just when it was written," the +author says in his delightful and characteristic "_Envoi_" to the +reader, "I cannot exactly say, nor in what paper or periodical it was +first published. It must have been written before April, 1833,"--that +is, when he was in the early twenties. The poem has always been a +favorite, its sentiment suggesting Lamb's "All, all are gone, the old +familiar faces." It must henceforth be ranked as a classic, for it is +the happy destiny of the two artists who have worked together to give it +this exquisite setting forth to make its actual worth clear to every +reader. They have put nothing into the lines which was not there +already, but they have shown fine insight in their choice of subjects +and in conveying delicate and far-reaching meanings. They have +subordinated--as designers do not invariably do--their instinctive +methods and capricious inclinations to a careful study of their subject. +The result is--instead of a pretty but chaotic decorativeness +interspersed with florid and meaningless exaggerations--a complete and +beautiful whole marred by no redundancy or incongruity. Their full play +of intelligence brought to bear upon the suggestions of the poet has +developed a series of pictures which give occasionally a delightful +sense of surprise at their grace and unexpectedness. For example, the +three which illustrate + + The mossy marbles rest + On the lips that he has prest + In their bloom + +have absolutely a magical effect. Besides the full-page pictures, +etchings, and photo-gravures, the minor details of title-lines, +head- and tail-pieces, and the like, are executed in a way so pretty and +clever as to leave nothing to be desired. The rich quarto is sumptuously +bound, and, altogether, as a holiday gift-book the work has every +element of beauty and appropriateness. + +"Pepper and Salt" is one of those brilliantly clever books for little +people which rouse a wonder as to whether the juvenile mind keeps pace +with the highly stimulated imaginative powers of modern artists and +finds solid entertainment in the richly-seasoned feast prepared for it. +There is plenty of humor and whim in this volume, in which many old +apologues appear in new shapes; wit, too, is to be found, and a +sprinkling of wisdom. Effective designs, droll, fantastic, and +invariably ingenious, set off the least of the poems and stories, and +make it as striking and attractive a quarto as will be found among the +young people's books this season. + +"Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" gave a new stimulus to children's +literature, with its effective magic for youthful minds and its +brilliant success among all classes of readers. "Davy the Goblin" is one +of the many volumes which have been founded, so to say, on its idea and +been carried along by its impulse. Thus little can be said for the +actual originality of the book, although it deals in new combinations +and abounds in droll situations. It is well printed and illustrated, and +most children will be glad to have a new excursion into Wonderland. + +Mrs. Burton Harrison's "Bric-a-Brac Stories," illustrated by Walter +Crane, make an attractive volume with a good deal of solid reading +within its covers. The stories are told with the _verve_ and skill of a +genuine story-teller, old themes are reset, and new material dexterously +worked in, with characters drawn from fairy- and dream-land, and, set off +by Mr. Crane's delightful drawings, the whole book is particularly +attractive. + +"Rudder Grange" is one of the books which it is essential to have always +with us, and we are glad to see the stories so well illustrated, +although the subject passes the domain of the artist, Mr. Stockton's +humor being of that delicate and elusive order which strikes the inward +and not the outward sense. "Pomona reading" in the wrecked canal-boat is +a droll contribution, and many of the cuts show that the artist is in +full harmony with the spirit of the author. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: On another occasion he remarked of Trollope, "What drivel +the man writes! He is the very essence of the commonplace."] + + +TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES: + +[Note A: Original reads 'Corresponddence'] + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Lippincott's Magazine, December, 1885, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIPPINCOTT'S MAGAZINE, *** + +***** This file should be named 15840.txt or 15840.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/5/8/4/15840/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Kathryn Lybarger 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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