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diff --git a/old/21770-h.htm.2021-01-25 b/old/21770-h.htm.2021-01-25 new file mode 100644 index 0000000..56552a8 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/21770-h.htm.2021-01-25 @@ -0,0 +1,2459 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Author of Beltraffio, by Henry James + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Author Of Beltraffio, by Henry James + +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: The Author Of Beltraffio + +Author: Henry James + +Release Date: June 8, 2007 [EBook #21770] +Last Updated: September 18, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AUTHOR OF BELTRAFFIO *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE AUTHOR OF BELTRAFFIO. + </h1> + <h2> + By Henry James <br /> <br /> <br /> 1885 + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART1"> PART I. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PART2"> PART II. </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PART1" id="link2H_PART1"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART I. + </h2> + <p> + Much as I wished to see him, I had kept my letter of introduction for + three weeks in my pocket-book. I was nervous and timid about meeting him,—conscious + of youth and ignorance, convinced that he was tormented by strangers, and + especially by my country-people, and not exempt from the suspicion that he + had the irritability as well as the brilliancy of genius. Moreover, the + pleasure, if it should occur (for I could scarcely believe it was near at + hand), would be so great that I wished to think of it in advance, to feel + that it was in my pocket, not to mix it with satisfactions more + superficial and usual In the little game of new sensations that I was + playing with my ingenuous mind, I wished to keep my visit to the author of + <i>Beltraffio</i> as a trump card. It was three years after the + publication of that fascinating work, which I had read over five times, + and which now, with my riper judgment, I admire on the whole as much as + ever. This will give you about the date of my first visit (of any + duration) to England; for you will not have forgotten the commotion—I + may even say the scandal—produced by Mark Ambient’s masterpiece. It + was the most complete presentation that had yet been made of the gospel of + art; it was a kind of aesthetic war-cry. People had endeavored to sail + nearer to “truth” in the cut of their sleeves and the shape of their + sideboards; but there had not as yet been, among English novels, such an + example of beauty of execution and genuineness of substance. Nothing had + been done in that line from the point of view of art for art This was my + own point of view, I may mention, when I was twenty-five; whether it is + altered now I won’t take upon myself to say—especially as the + discerning reader will be able to judge for himself. I had been in + England, briefly, a twelvemonth before the time to which I began by + alluding, and had learned then that Mr. Ambient was in distant lands—was + making a considerable tour in the East: so there was nothing to do but to + keep my letter till I should be in London again. It was of little use to + me to hear that his wife had not left England, and, with her little boy, + their only child, was spending the period of her husband’s absence—a + good many months—at a small place they had down in Surrey. They had + a house in London which was let. All this I learned, and also that Mrs. + Ambient was charming (my friend the American poet, from whom I had my + introduction, had never seen her, his relations with the great man being + only epistolary); but she was not, after all, though she had lived so near + the rose, the author of <i>Beltraffio</i>, and I did not go down into + Surrey to call on her. I went to the Continent, spent the following winter + in Italy, and returned to London in May. My visit to Italy opened my eyes + to a good many things, but to nothing more than the beauty of certain + pages in the works of Mark Ambient I had every one of his productions in + my portmanteau,—they are not, as you know, very numerous, but he had + preluded to <i>Beltraffio</i> by some exquisite things,—and I used + to read them over in the evening at the inn. I used to say to myself that + the man who drew those characters and wrote that style understood what he + saw and knew what he was doing. This is my only reason for mentioning my + winter in Italy. He had been there much in former years, and he was + saturated with what painters call the “feeling” of that classic land. He + expressed the charm of the old hill-cities of Tuscany, the look of certain + lonely grass-grown places which, in the past, had echoed with life; he + understood the great artists, he understood the spirit of the Renaissance, + he understood everything. The scene of one of his earlier novels was laid + in Borne, the scene of another in Florence, and I moved through these + cities in company with the figures whom Mark Ambient had set so vividly + upon their feet. This is why I was now so much happier even than before in + the prospect of making his acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + At last, when I had dallied with this privilege long enough, I despatched + to him the missive of the American poet He had already gone out of town; + he shrank from the rigor of the London “season” and it was his habit to + migrate on the first of June. Moreover, I had heard that this year he was + hard at work on a new book, into which some of his impressions of the East + were to be wrought, so that he desired nothing so much as quiet days. This + knowledge, however, did not prevent me—<i>cet âge est sans pitié</i>—from + sending with my friend’s letter a note of my own, in which I asked Mr. + Ambient’s leave to come down and see him for an hour or two, on a day to + be designated by himself. My proposal was accompanied with a very frank + expression of my sentiments, and the effect of the whole projectile was to + elicit from the great man the kindest possible invitation. He would be + delighted to see me, especially if I should turn up on the following + Saturday and would remain till the Monday morning. We would take a walk + over the Surrey commons, and I could tell him all about the other great + man, the one in America. He indicated to me the best train, and it may be + imagined whether on the Saturday afternoon I was punctual at Waterloo. He + carried his benevolence to the point of coming to meet me at the little + station at which I was to alight, and my heart beat very fast as I saw his + handsome face, surmounted with a soft wide-awake, and which I knew by a + photograph long since enshrined upon my mantelshelf, scanning the carriage + windows as the train rolled up. He recognized me as infallibly as I had + recognized him; he appeared to know by instinct how a young American of an + æsthetic turn would look when much divided between eagerness and modesty. + He took me by the hand, and smiled at me, and said: “You must be—a—<i>you</i>, + I think!” and asked if I should mind going on foot to his house, which + would take but a few minutes. I remember thinking it a piece of + extraordinary affability that he should give directions about the + conveyance of my bag, and feeling altogether very happy and rosy, in fact + quite transported, when he laid his hand on my shoulder as we came out of + the station. + </p> + <p> + I surveyed him, askance, as we walked together; I had already—I had + indeed instantly—seen that he was a delightful creature. His face is + so well known that I need n’t describe it; he looked to me at once an + English gentleman and a man of genius, and I thought that a happy + combination. There was just a little of the Bohemian in his appearance; + you would easily have guessed that he belonged to the guild of artists and + men of letters. He was addicted to velvet jackets, to cigarettes, to loose + shirt-collars, to looking a little dishevelled. His features, which were + fine, but not perfectly regular, are fairly enough represented in his + portraits; but no portrait that I have seen gives any idea of his + expression. There were so many things in it, and they chased each other in + and out of his face. I have seen people who were grave and gay in quick + alternation; but Mark Ambient was grave and gay at one and the same + moment. There were other strange oppositions and contradictions in his + slightly faded and fatigued countenance. He seemed both young and old, + both anxious and indifferent. He had evidently had an active past, which + inspired one with curiosity, and yet it was impossible not to be more + curious still about his future. He was just enough above middle height to + be spoken of as tall, and rather lean and long in the flank. He had the + friendliest, frankest manner possible, and yet I could see that he was + shy. He was thirty-eight years old at the time <i>Beltraffio</i> was + published. He asked me about his friend in America, about the length of my + stay in England, about the last news in London and the people I had seen + there; and I remember looking for the signs of genius in the very form of + his questions, and thinking I found it. I liked his voice. + </p> + <p> + There was genius in his house, too, I thought, when we got there; there + was imagination in the carpets and curtains, in the pictures and books, in + the garden behind it, where certain old brown walls were muffled in + creepers that appeared to me to have been copied from a masterpiece of one + of the pre-Raphaelites. That was the way many things struck me at that + time, in England; as if they were reproductions of something that existed + primarily in art or literature. It was not the picture, the poem, the + fictive page, that seemed to me a copy; these things were the originals, + and the life of happy and distinguished people was fashioned in their + image. Mark Ambient called his house a cottage, and I perceived afterwards + that he was right; for if it had not been a cottage it must have been a + villa, and a villa, in England at least, was not a place in which one + could fancy him at home. But it was, to my vision, a cottage glorified and + translated; it was a palace of art, on a slightly reduced scale,—it + was an old English demesne. It nestled under a cluster of magnificent + beeches, it had little creaking lattices that opened out of, or into, + pendent mats of ivy, and gables, and old red tiles, as well as a general + aspect of being painted in water-colors and inhabited by people whose + lives would go on in chapters and volumes. The lawn seemed to me of + extraordinary extent, the garden-walls of incalculable height, the whole + air of the place delightfully still, private, proper to itself. “My wife + must be somewhere about,” Mark Ambient said, as we went in. “We shall find + her perhaps; we have got about an hour before dinner. She may be in the + garden. I will show you my little place.” + </p> + <p> + We passed through the house, and into the grounds, as I should have called + them, which extended into the rear. They covered but three or four acres, + but, like the house, they were very old and crooked, and full of traces of + long habitation, with inequalities of level and little steps—mossy + and cracked were these—which connected the different parts with each + other. The limits of the place, cleverly dissimulated, were muffled in the + deepest verdure. They made, as I remember, a kind of curtain at the + further end, in one of the folds of which, as it were, we presently + perceived, from afar, a little group. “Ah, there she is!” said Mark + Ambient; “and she has got the boy.” He made this last remark in a slightly + different tone from any in which he yet had spoken. I was not fully aware + of it at the time, but it lingered in my ear and I afterwards understood + it. + </p> + <p> + “Is it your son?” I inquired, feeling the question not to be brilliant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my only child. He’s always in his mother’s pocket She coddles him + too much.” It came back to me afterwards, too—the manner in which he + spoke these words. They were not petulant; they expressed rather a sudden + coldness, a kind of mechanical submission. We went a few steps further, + and then he stopped short and called the boy, beckoning to him repeatedly. + </p> + <p> + “Dolcino, come and see your daddy!” There was something in the way he + stood still and waited that made me think he did it for a purpose. Mrs. + Ambient had her arm round the child’s waist, and he was leaning against + her knee; but though he looked up at the sound of his father’s voice, she + gave no sign of releasing him. A lady, apparently a neighbor, was seated + near her, and before them was a garden-table, on which a tea-service had + been placed. + </p> + <p> + Mark Ambient called again, and Dolcino struggled in the maternal embrace, + but he was too tightly held, and after two or three fruitless efforts he + suddenly turned round and buried his head deep in his mother’s lap. There + was a certain awkwardness in the scene; I thought it rather odd that Mrs. + Ambient should pay so little attention to her husband. But I would not for + the world have betrayed my thought, and, to conceal it, I observed that it + must be such a pleasant thing to have tea in the garden. “Ah, she won’t + let him come!” said Mark Ambient, with a sigh; and we went our way ‘till + we reached the two ladies. He mentioned my name to his wife, and I noticed + that he addressed her as “My dear,” very genially, without any trace of + resentment at her detention of the child. The quickness of the transition + made me vaguely ask myself whether he were henpecked,—a shocking + conjecture, which I instantly dismissed. Mrs. Ambient was quite such a + wife as I should have expected him to have; slim and fair, with a long + neck and pretty eyes and an air of great refinement. She was a little + cold, and a little shy; but she was very sweet, and she had a certain look + of race, justified by my afterwards learning that she was “connected” with + two or three great families. I have seen poets married to women of whom it + was difficult to conceive that they should gratify the poetic fancy,—women + with dull faces and glutinous minds, who were none the less, however, + excellent wives. But there was no obvious incongruity in Mark Ambient’s + union. Mrs. Ambient, delicate and quiet, in a white dress, with her + beautiful child at her side, was worthy of the author of a work so + distinguished as <i>Beltraffio</i>. Bound her neck she wore a black velvet + ribbon, of which the long ends, tied behind, hung down her back, and to + which, in front, was attached a miniature portrait of her little boy. Her + smooth, shining hair was confined in a net She gave me a very pleasant + greeting, and Dolcino—I thought this little name of endearment + delightful—took advantage of her getting up to slip away from her + and go to his father, who said nothing to him, but simply seized him and + held him high in his arms for a moment, kissing him several times. + </p> + <p> + I had lost no time in observing that the child, who was not more than + seven years old, was extraordinarily beautiful He had the face of an + angel,—the eyes, the hair, the more than mortal bloom, the smile of + innocence. There was something touching, almost alarming, in his beauty, + which seemed to be composed of elements too fine and pure for the breath + of this world. When I spoke to him, and he came and held out his hand and + smiled at me, I felt a sudden pity for him, as if he had been an orphan, + or a changeling, or stamped with some social stigma. It was impossible to + be, in fact, more exempt from these misfortunes, and yet, as one kissed + him, it was hard to keep from murmuring “Poor little devil!” though why + one should have applied this epithet to a living cherub is more than I can + say. Afterwards, indeed, I knew a little better; I simply discovered that + he was too charming to live, wondering at the same time that his parents + should not have perceived it, and should not be in proportionate grief and + despair. For myself, I had no doubt of his evanescence, having already + noticed that there is a kind of charm which is like a death-warrant. + </p> + <p> + The lady who had been sitting with Mrs. Ambient was a jolly, ruddy + personage, dressed in velveteen and rather limp feathers, whom I guessed + to be the vicar’s wife,—our hostess did not introduce me,—and + who immediately began to talk to Ambient about chrysanthemums. This was a + safe subject, and yet there was a certain surprise for me in seeing the + author of <i>Beltraffio</i> even in such superficial communion with the + Church of England. His writings implied so much detachment from that + institution, expressed a view of life so profane, as it were, so + independent, and so little likely, in general, to be thought edifying, + that I should have expected to find him an object of horror to vicars and + their ladies—of horror repaid on his own part by good-natured but + brilliant mockery. This proves how little I knew as yet of the English + people and their extraordinary talent for keeping up their forms, as well + as of some of the mysteries of Mark Ambient’s hearth and home. I found + afterwards that he had, in his study, between smiles and cigar-smoke, some + wonderful comparisons for his clerical neighbors; but meanwhile the + chrysanthemums were a source of harmony, for he and the vicaress were + equally fond of them, and I was surprised at the knowledge they exhibited + of this interesting plant. The lady’s visit, however, had presumably + already been long, and she presently got up, saying she must go, and + kissed Mrs. Ambient Mark started to walk with her to the gate of the + grounds, holding Dolcino by the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Stay with me, my darling,” Mrs. Ambient said to the boy, who was + wandering away with his father. + </p> + <p> + Mark Ambient paid no attention to the summons, but Dolcino turned round + and looked with eyes of shy entreaty at his mother. “Can’t I go with + papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Not when I ask you to stay with me.” + </p> + <p> + “But please don’t ask me, mamma,” said the child, in his little clear, new + voice. + </p> + <p> + “I must ask you when I want you. Come to me, my darling.” And Mrs. + Ambient, who had seated herself again, held out her long, slender hands. + </p> + <p> + Her husband stopped, with his back turned to her, but without releasing + the child. He was still talking to the vicaress, but this good lady, I + think, had lost the thread of her attention. She looked at Mrs. Ambient + and at Dolcino, and then she looked at me, smiling very hard, in an + extremely fixed, cheerful manner. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said the child, “mamma wants me not to go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s very tired—he has run about all day. He ought to be quiet till + he goes to bed. Otherwise he won’t sleep.” These declarations fell + successively and gravely from Mrs. Ambient’s lips. + </p> + <p> + Her husband, still without turning round, bent over the boy and looked at + him in silence. The vicaress gave a genial, irrelevant laugh, and observed + that he was a precious little pet “Let him choose,” said Mark Ambient. “My + dear little boy, will you go with me or will you stay with your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s a shame!” cried the vicar’s lady, with increased hilarity. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, I don’t think I can choose,” the child answered, making his voice + very low and confidential. “But I have been a great deal with mamma + to-day,” he added in a moment. + </p> + <p> + “And very little with papa! My dear fellow, I think you have chosen!” And + Mark Ambient walked off with his son, accompanied by re-echoing but + inarticulate comments from my fellow-visitor. + </p> + <p> + His wife had seated herself again, and her fixed eyes, bent upon the + ground, expressed for a few moments so much mute agitation that I felt as + if almost any remark from my own lips would be a false note. But Mrs. + Ambient quickly recovered herself, and said to me civilly enough that she + hoped I did n’t mind having had to walk from the station. I reassured her + on this point, and she went on, “We have got a thing that might have gone + for you, but my husband wouldn’t order it.” + </p> + <p> + “That gave me the pleasure of a walk with him,” I rejoined. + </p> + <p> + She was silent a minute, and then she said, “I believe the Americans walk + very little.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we always run,” I answered laughingly. + </p> + <p> + She looked at me seriously, and I began to perceive a certain coldness in + her pretty eyes. “I suppose your distances are so great?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but we break our marches I I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is + for me to find myself here,” I added. “I have the greatest admiration for + Mr. Ambient.” + </p> + <p> + “He will like that. He likes being admired.” + </p> + <p> + “He must have a very happy life, then. He has many worshippers.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I have seen some of them,” said Mrs. Ambient, looking away, very + far from me, rather as if such a vision were before her at the moment + Something in her tone seemed to indicate that the vision was scarcely + edifying, and I guessed very quickly that she was not in sympathy with the + author of <i>Beltraffio</i>. I thought the fact strange, but, somehow, in + the glow of my own enthusiasm, I did n’t think it important; it only made + me wish to be rather explicit about that enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + “For me, you know,” I remarked, “he is quite the greatest of living + writers.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I can’t judge. Of course he’s very clever,” said Mrs. Ambient, + smiling a little. + </p> + <p> + “He’s magnificent, Mrs. Ambient! There are pages in each of his books that + have a perfection that classes them with the greatest things. Therefore, + for me to see him in this familiar way,—in his habit as he lives,—and + to find, apparently, the man as delightful as the artist, I can’t tell you + how much too good to be true it seems, and how great a privilege I think + it.” I knew that I was gushing, but I could n’t help it, and what I said + was a good deal less than what I felt. I was by no means sure that I + should dare to say even so much as this to Ambient himself, and there was + a kind of rapture in speaking it out to his wife which was not affected by + the fact that, as a wife, she appeared peculiar. She listened to me with + her face grave again, and with her lips a little compressed, as if there + were no doubt, of course, that her husband was remarkable, but at the same + time she had heard all this before and couldn’t be expected to be + particularly interested in it. There was even in her manner an intimation + that I was rather young, and that people usually got over that sort of + thing. “I assure you that for me this is a red-letter day,” I added. + </p> + <p> + She made no response, until after a pause, looking round her, she said + abruptly, though gently, “We are very much afraid about the fruit this + year.” + </p> + <p> + My eyes wandered to the mossy, mottled, garden walls, where plum-trees and + pear-trees, flattened and fastened upon the rusty bricks, looked like + crucified figures with many arms. “Does n’t it promise well?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No, the trees look very dull. We had such late frosts.” + </p> + <p> + Then there was another pause. Mrs. Ambient kept her eyes fixed on the + opposite end of the grounds, as if she were watching for her husband’s + return with the child. “Is Mr. Ambient fond of gardening?” it occurred to + me to inquire, irresistibly impelled as I felt myself, moreover, to bring + the conversation constantly back to him. + </p> + <p> + “He’s very fond of plums,” said his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, well then, I hope your crop will be better than you fear. It’s a + lovely old place,” I continued. “The whole character of it is that of + certain places that he describes. Your house is like one of his pictures.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a pleasant little place. There are hundreds like it” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it has got his tone,” I said, laughing, and insisting on my point the + more that Mrs. Ambient appeared to see in my appreciation of her simple + establishment a sign of limited experience. + </p> + <p> + It was evident that I insisted too much. “His tone?” she repeated, with a + quick look at me, and a slightly heightened color. + </p> + <p> + “Surely he has a tone, Mrs. Ambient” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he has indeed! But I don’t in the least consider that I am + living in one of his books; I should n’t care for that, at all,” she went + on, with a smile which had in some degree the effect of converting her + slightly sharp protest into a joke deficient in point “I am afraid I am + not very literary,” said Mrs. Ambient. “And I am not artistic.” + </p> + <p> + “I am very sure you are not ignorant, not stupid,” I ventured to reply, + with the accompaniment of feeling immediately afterwards that I had been + both familiar and patronizing. My only consolation was in the reflection + that it was she, and not I, who had begun it She had brought her + idiosyncrasies into the discussion. + </p> + <p> + “Well, whatever I am, I am very different from my husband. If you like + him, you won’t like me. You need n’t say anything. Your liking me is n’t + in the least necessary!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t defy me!” I exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + She looked as if she had not heard me, which was the best thing she could + do; and we sat some time without further speech. Mrs. Ambient had + evidently the enviable English quality of being able to be silent without + being restless. But at last she spoke; she asked me if there seemed to be + many people in town. I gave her what satisfaction I could on this point, + and we talked a little about London and of some pictures it presented at + that time of the year. At the end of this I came back, irrepressibly, to + Mark Ambient. + </p> + <p> + “Does n’t he like to be there now? I suppose he does n’t find the proper + quiet for his work. I should think his things had been written, for the + most part, in a very still place. They suggest a great stillness, + following on a kind of tumult. Don’t you think so? I suppose London is a + tremendous place to collect impressions, but a refuge like this, in the + country, must be much better for working them up. Does he get many of his + impressions in London, do you think?” I proceeded from point to point in + this malign inquiry, simply because my hostess, who probably thought me a + very pushing and talkative young man, gave me time; for when I paused—I + have not represented my pauses—she simply continued to let her eyes + wander, and, with her long fair fingers, played with the medallion on her + neck. When I stopped altogether, however, she was obliged to say + something, and what she said was that she had not the least idea where her + husband got his impressions. This made me think her, for a moment, + positively disagreeable; delicate and proper and rather aristocratically + dry as she sat there. But I must either have lost the impression a moment + later, or been goaded by it to further aggression, for I remember asking + her whether Mr. Ambient were in a good vein of work, and when we might + look for the appearance of the book on which he was engaged. I have every + reason now to know that she thought me an odious person. + </p> + <p> + She gave a strange, small laugh as she said, “I am afraid you think I know + a great deal more about my husband’s work than I do. I haven’t the least + idea what he is doing,” she added presently, in a slightly different, that + is a more explanatory, tone, as if she recognized in some degree the + enormity of her confession. “I don’t read what he writes!” + </p> + <p> + She did not succeed (and would not, even had she tried much harder) in + making it seem to me anything less than monstrous. I stared at her, and I + think I blushed. “Don’t you admire his genius? Don’t you admire <i>Beltraffio?</i>” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated a moment, and I wondered what she could possibly say. She + did not speak—I could see—the first words that rose to her + lips; she repeated what she had said a few minutes before. “Oh, of course + he ‘s very clever!” And with this she got up; her husband and little boy + had reappeared. Mrs. Ambient left me and went to meet them; she stopped + and had a few words with her husband, which I did not hear, and which + ended in her taking the child by the hand and returning to the house with + him. Her husband joined me in a moment, looking, I thought, the least bit + conscious and constrained, and said that if I would come in with him he + would show me my room. In looking back upon these first moments of my + visit to him, I find it important to avoid the error of appearing to have + understood his situation from the first, and to have seen in him the signs + of things which I learnt only afterwards. This later knowledge throws a + backward light, and makes me forget that at least on the occasion of which + I am speaking now (I mean that first afternoon), Mark Ambient struck me as + a fortunate man. Allowing for this, I think he was rather silent and + irresponsive as we walked back to the house, though I remember well the + answer he made to a remark of mine in relation to his child. + </p> + <p> + “That’s an extraordinary little boy of yours,” I said. “I have never seen + such a child.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you call him extraordinary?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s so beautiful, so fascinating. He’s like a little work of art.” + </p> + <p> + He turned quickly, grasping my arm an instant. “Oh, don’t call him that, + or you ‘ll—you ‘ll—!” + </p> + <p> + And in his hesitation he broke off suddenly, laughing at my surprise. But + immediately afterwards he added, “You will make his little future very + difficult.” + </p> + <p> + I declared that I wouldn’t for the world take any liberties with his + little future—it seemed to me to hang by threads of such delicacy. I + should only be highly interested in watching it. + </p> + <p> + “You Americans are very sharp,” said Ambient “You notice more things than + we do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if you want visitors who are not struck with you, you should n’t ask + me down here!” + </p> + <p> + He showed me my room, a little bower of chintz, with open windows where + the light was green, and before he left me he said irrelevantly, “As for + my little boy, you know, we shall probably kill him between us, before wo + have done with him!” And he made this assertion as if he really believed + it, without any appearance of jest, with his fine, near-sighted, + expressive eyes looking straight into mine. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean by spoiling him?” + </p> + <p> + “No; by fighting for him!” + </p> + <p> + “You had better give him to me to keep for you,” I said. “Let me remove + the apple of discord.” + </p> + <p> + I laughed, of course, but he had the air of being perfectly serious. “It + would be quite the best thing we could do. I should be quite ready to do + it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am greatly obliged to you for your confidence.” + </p> + <p> + Mark Ambient lingered there, with his hands in his pockets. I felt, within + a few moments, as if I had, morally speaking, taken several steps nearer + to him. He looked weary, just as he faced me then, looked preoccupied, and + as if there were something one might do for him. I was terribly conscious + of the limits of my own ability, but I wondered what such a service might + be, feeling at bottom, however, that the only thing I could do for him was + to like him. I suppose he guessed this, and was grateful for what was in + my mind; for he went on presently, “I have n’t the advantage of being an + American. But I also notice a little, and I have an idea that—a—” + here he smiled and laid his hand on my shoulder, “that even apart from + your nationality, you are not destitute of intelligence! I have only known + you half an hour, but—a—” And here he hesitated again. “You + are very young, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “But you may treat me as if I could understand you!” I said; and before he + left me to dress for dinner he had virtually given me a promise that he + would. + </p> + <p> + When I went down into the drawing-room—I was very punctual—I + found that neither my hostess nor my host had appeared. A lady rose from a + sofa, however, and inclined her head as I rather surprisedly gazed at her. + “I dare say you don’t know me,” she said, with the modern laugh. “I am + Mark Ambient’s sister.” Whereupon I shook hands with her, saluting her + very low. Her laugh was modern—by which I mean that it consisted of + the vocal agitation which, between people who meet in drawing-rooms, + serves as the solvent of social mysteries, the medium of transitions; but + her appearance was—what shall I call it?—mediaeval. She was + pale and angular, with a long, thin face, inhabited by sad, dark eyes, and + black hair intertwined with golden fillets and curious chains. She wore a + faded velvet robe, which clung to her when she moved, fashioned, as to the + neck and sleeves, like the garments of old Venetians and Florentines. She + looked pictorial and melancholy, and was so perfect an image of a type + which I, in my ignorance, supposed to be extinct, that while she rose + before me I was almost as much startled as if I had seen a ghost. I + afterwards perceived that Miss Ambient was not incapable of deriving + pleasure from the effect she produced, and I think this sentiment had + something to do with her sinking again into her seat, with her long, lean, + but not ungraceful arms locked together in an archaic manner on her knees, + and her mournful eyes addressing themselves to me with an intentness which + was a menace of what they were destined subsequently to inflict upon me. + She was a singular, self-conscious, artificial creature, and I never, + subsequently, more than half penetrated her motives and, mysteries. Of one + thing I am sure, however: that they were considerably less extraordinary + than her appearance announced. Miss Ambient was a restless, disappointed, + imaginative spinster, consumed with the love of Michael-Angelesque + attitudes and mystical robes; but I am pretty sure she had not in her + nature those depths of unutterable thought which, when you first knew her, + seemed to look out from her eyes and to prompt her complicated gestures. + Those features, in especial, had a misleading eloquence; they rested upon + you with a far-off dimness, an air of obstructed sympathy, which was + certainly not always a key to the spirit of their owner; and I suspect + that a young lady could not really have been so dejected and disillusioned + as Miss Ambient looked, without having committed a crime for which she was + consumed with remorse, or parted with a hope which she could not sanely + have entertained. She had, I believe, the usual allowance of vulgar + impulses: she wished to be looked at, she wished to be married, she wished + to be thought original. It costs me something to speak in this irreverent + manner of Mark Ambient’s sister, but I shall have still more disagreeable + things to say before I have finished my little anecdote, and moreover,—I + confess it,—I owe the young lady a sort of grudge. Putting aside the + curious cast of her face, she had no natural aptitude for an artistic + development,—she had little real intelligence. But her affectations + rubbed off on her brother’s renown, and as there were plenty of people who + disapproved of him totally, they could easily point to his sister as a + person formed by his influence. It was quite possible to regard her as a + warning, and she had done him but little good with the world at large. He + was the original, and she was the inevitable imitation. I think he was + scarcely aware of the impression she produced, beyond having a general + idea that she made up very well as a Rossetti; he was used to her, and he + was sorry for her,—wishing she would marry and observing that she + did n’t Doubtless I take her too seriously, for she did me no harm, though + I am bound to add that I feel I can only half account for her. She was not + so mystical as she looked, but she was a strange, indirect, uncomfortable, + embarrassing woman. My story will give the reader at best so very small a + knot to untie that I need not hope to excite his curiosity by delaying to + remark that Mrs. Ambient hated her sister-in-law. This I only found out + afterwards, when I found out some other things. But I mention it at once, + for I shall perhaps not seem to count too much on having enlisted the + imagination of the reader if I say that he will already have guessed it + Mrs. Ambient was a person of conscience, and she endeavored to behave + properly to her kinswoman, who spent a month with her twice a year; but it + required no great insight to discover that the two ladies were made of a + very different paste, and that the usual feminine hypocrisies must have + cost them, on either side, much more than the usual effort. Mrs. Ambient, + smooth-haired, thin-lipped, perpetually fresh, must have regarded her + crumpled and dishevelled visitor as a very stale joke; she herself was not + a Rossetti, but a Gainsborough or a Lawrence, and she had in her + appearance no elements more romantic than a cold, ladylike candor, and a + well-starched muslin dress. + </p> + <p> + It was in a garment, and with an expression, of this kind, that she made + her entrance, after I had exchanged a few words with Miss Ambient. Her + husband presently followed her, and there being no other company we went + to dinner. The impression I received from that repast is present to me + still. There were elements of oddity in my companions, but they were vague + and latent, and did n’t interfere with my delight It came mainly, of + course, from Ambient’s talk, which was the most brilliant and interesting + I had ever heard. I know not whether he laid himself out to dazzle a + rather juvenile pilgrim from over the sea; but it matters little, for it + was very easy for him to shine. He was almost better as a talker than as a + writer; that is, if the extraordinary finish of his written prose be + really, as some people have maintained, a fault. There was such a kindness + in him, however, that I have no doubt it gave him ideas to see me sit + open-mouthed, as I suppose I did. Not so the two ladies, who not only were + very nearly dumb from beginning to the end of the meal, but who had not + the air of being struck with such an exhibition of wit and knowledge. Mrs. + Ambient, placid and detached, met neither my eye nor her husband’s; she + attended to her dinner, watched the servants, arranged the puckers in her + dress, exchanged at wide intervals a remark with her sister-in-law, and + while she slowly rubbed her white hands between the courses, looked out of + the window at the first signs of twilight—the long June day allowing + us to dine without candles.. Miss Ambient appeared to give little direct + heed to her brother’s discourse; but on the other hand she was much + engaged in watching its effect upon me. Her lustreless pupils continued to + attach themselves to my countenance, and it was only her air of belonging + to another century that kept them from being importunate. She seemed to + look at me across the ages, and the interval of time diminished the + vividness of the performance. It was as if she knew in a general way that + her brother must be talking very well, but she herself was so rich in + ideas that she had no need to pick them up, and was at liberty to see what + would become of a young American when subjected to a high aesthetic + temperature. + </p> + <p> + The temperature was æsthetic, certainly, but it was less so than I could + have desired, for I was unsuccessful in certain little attempts to make + Mark Ambient talk about himself I tried to put him on the ground of his + own writings, but he slipped through my fingers every time and shifted the + saddle to one of his contemporaries. He talked about Balzac and Browning, + and what was being done in foreign countries, and about his recent tour in + the East, and the extraordinary forms of life that one saw in that part of + the world. I perceived that he had reasons for not wishing to descant upon + literature, and suffered him without protest to deliver himself on certain + social topics, which he treated with extraordinary humor and with constant + revelations of that power of ironical portraiture of which his books are + full. He had a great deal to say about London, as London appears to the + observer who does n’t fear the accusation of cynicism, during the + high-pressure time—from April to July—of its peculiarities. He + flashed his faculty of making the fanciful real and the real fanciful over + the perfunctory pleasures and desperate exertions of so many of his + compatriots, among whom there were evidently not a few types for which he + had little love. London bored him, and he made capital sport of it; his + only allusion, that I can remember, to his own work was his saying that he + meant some day to write an immense grotesque epic of London society. Miss + Ambient’s perpetual gaze seemed to say to me: “Do you perceive how + artistic we are? Frankly now, is it possible to be more artistic than + this? You surely won’t deny that we are remarkable.” I was irritated by + her use of the plural pronoun, for she had no right to pair herself with + her brother; and moreover, of course, I could not see my way to include + Mrs. Ambient. But there was no doubt that, for that matter, they were all + remarkable, and, with all allowances, I had never heard anything so + artistic. Mark Ambient’s conversation seemed to play over the whole field + of knowledge and taste, and to flood it with light and color. + </p> + <p> + After the ladies had left us he took me into his study to smoke, and here + I led him on to talk freely enough about himself. I was bent upon proving + to him that I was worthy to listen to him, upon repaying him for what he + had said to me before dinner, by showing him how perfectly I understood. + He liked to talk; he liked to defend his ideas (not that I attacked them); + he liked a little perhaps—it was a pardonable weakness—to + astonish the youthful mind and to feel its admiration and sympathy. I + confess that my own youthful mind was considerably astonished at some of + his speeches; he startled me and he made me wince. He could not help + forgetting, or rather he could n’t know, how little personal contact I had + had with the school in which he was master; and he promoted me at a jump, + as it were, to the study of its innermost mysteries. My trepidations, + however, were delightful; they were just what I had hoped for, and their + only fault was that they passed away too quickly; for I found that, as + regards most things, I very soon seized Mark Ambient’s point of view. It + was the point of view of the artist to whom every manifestation of human + energy was a thrilling spectacle, and who felt forever the desire to + resolve his experience of life into a literary form. On this matter of the + passion for form,—the attempt at perfection, the quest for which was + to his mind the real search for the holy grail,—he said the most + interesting, the most inspiring things. He mixed with them a thousand + illustrations from his own life, from other lives that he had known, from + history and fiction, and above all from the annals of the time that was + dear to him beyond all periods,—the Italian <i>cinque-cento</i>. I + saw that in his books he had only said half of his thought, and what he + had kept back—from motives that I deplored when I learnt them later—was + the richer part It was his fortune to shock a great many people, but there + was not a grain of bravado in his pages (I have always maintained it, + though often contradicted), and at bottom the poor fellow, an artist to + his fingertips, and regarding a failure of completeness as a crime, had an + extreme dread of scandal. There are people who regret that having gone so + far he did not go further; but I regret nothing (putting aside two or + three of the motives I just mentioned), for he arrived at perfection, and + I don’t see how you can go beyond that The hours I spent in his study—this + first one and the few that followed it; they were not, after all, so + numerous—seem to glow, as I look back on them, with a tone which is + partly that of the brown old room, rich, under the shaded candlelight + where we sat and smoked, with the dusky, delicate bindings of valuable + books; partly that of his voice, of which I still catch the echo, charged + with the images that came at his command. When we went back to the + drawing-room we found Miss Ambient alone in possession of it; and she + informed us that her sister-in-law had a quarter of an hour before been + called by the nurse to see Dolcino, who appeared to be a little feverish. + </p> + <p> + “Feverish! how in the world does he come to be feverish?” Ambient asked. + “He was perfectly well this afternoon.” + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice says you walked him about too much—you almost killed him.” + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice must be very happy—she has an opportunity to triumph!” + Mark Ambient said, with a laugh of which the bitterness was just + perceptible. + </p> + <p> + “Surely not if the child is ill,” I ventured to remark, by way of pleading + for Mrs. Ambient. + </p> + <p> + “My dear fellow, you are not married—you don’t know the nature of + wives!” my host exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly not; but I know the nature of mothers.” + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice is perfect as a mother,” said Miss Ambient, with a tremendous + sigh and her fingers interlaced on her embroidered knees. + </p> + <p> + “I shall go up and see the child,” her brother went on. “Do you suppose + he’s asleep?” + </p> + <p> + “Beatrice won’t let you see him, Mark,” said the young lady, looking at + me, though she addressed, our companion. + </p> + <p> + “Do you call that being perfect as a mother?” Ambient inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, from her point of view.” + </p> + <p> + “Damn her point of view!” cried the author of <i>Beltraffio</i>. And he + left the room; after which we heard him ascend the stairs. + </p> + <p> + I sat there for some ten minutes with Miss Ambient, and we naturally had + some conversation, which was begun, I think, by my asking her what the + point of view of her sister-in-law could be. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it’s so very odd,” she said. “But we are so very odd, altogether. + Don’t you find us so? We have lived so much abroad. Have you people like + us in America?” + </p> + <p> + “You are not all alike, surely; so that I don’t think I understand your + question. We have no one like your brother—I may go so far as that.” + </p> + <p> + “You have probably more persons like his wife,” said Miss Ambient, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “I can tell you that better when you have told me about her point of + view.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—oh, yes. Well, she does n’t like his ideas. She doesn’t + like them for the child. She thinks them undesirable.” + </p> + <p> + Being quite fresh from the contemplation of some of Mark Ambient’s <i>arcana</i>, + I was particularly in a position to appreciate this announcement. But the + effect of it was to make me, after staring a moment, burst into laughter, + which I instantly checked when I remembered that there was a sick child + above. + </p> + <p> + “What has that infant to do with ideas?” I asked “Surely, he can’t tell + one from another. Has he read his father’s novels?” + </p> + <p> + “He’s very precocious and very sensitive, and his mother thinks she can’t + begin to guard him too early.” Miss Ambient’s head drooped a little to one + side, and her eyes fixed themselves on futurity. Then suddenly there was a + strange alteration in her face; she gave a smile that was more joyless + than her gravity—a conscious, insincere smile, and added, “When one + has children, it’s a great responsibility—what one writes.” + </p> + <p> + “Children are terrible critics,” I answered. “I am rather glad I have n’t + got any.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you also write then? And in the same style as my brother? And do you + like that style? And do people appreciate it in America? I don’t write, + but I think I feel.” To these and various other inquiries and remarks the + young lady treated me, till we heard her brother’s step in the hall again, + and Mark Ambient reappeared. He looked flushed and serious, and I supposed + that he had seen something to alarm him in the condition of his child. His + sister apparently had another idea; she gazed at him a moment as if he + were a burning ship on the horizon, and simply murmured, “Poor old Mark!” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you are not anxious,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “No, but I ‘m disappointed. She won’t let me in. She has locked the door, + and I ‘m afraid to make a noise.” I suppose there might have been + something ridiculous in a confession of this kind, but I liked my new + friend so much that for me it did n’t detract from his dignity. “She tells + me—from behind the door—that she will let me know if he is + worse.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s very good of her,” said Miss Ambient + </p> + <p> + I had exchanged a glance with Mark in which it is possible that he read + that my pity for him was untinged with contempt, though I know not why he + should have cared; and as, presently, his sister got up and took her + bedroom candlestick, he proposed that we should go back to his study. We + sat there till after midnight; he put himself into his slippers, into an + old velvet jacket, lighted an ancient pipe, and talked considerably less + than he had done before. + </p> + <p> + There were longish pauses in our communion, but they only made me feel + that we had advanced in intimacy. They helped me, too, to understand my + friend’s personal situation, and to perceive that it was by no means the + happiest possible. When his face was quiet, it was vaguely troubled; it + seemed to me to show that for him, too, life was a struggle, as it has + been for many another man of genius. At last I prepared to leave him, and + then, to my ineffable joy, he gave me some of the sheets of his + forthcoming book,—it was not finished, but he had indulged in the + luxury, so dear to writers of deliberation, of having it “set up,” from + chapter to chapter, as he advanced,—he gave me, I say, the early + pages, the <i>prémices</i>, as the French have it, of this new fruit of + his imagination, to take to my room and look over at my leisure. I was + just quitting him when the door of his study was noiselessly pushed open, + and Mrs. Ambient stood before us. She looked at us a moment, with her + candle in her hand, and then she said to her husband that as she supposed + he had not gone to bed, she had come down to tell him that Dolcino was + more quiet and would probably be better in the morning. Mark Ambient made + no reply; he simply slipped past her in the doorway, as if he were afraid + she would seize him in his passage, and bounded upstairs, to judge for + himself of his child’s condition. Mrs. Ambient looked slightly + discomfited, and for a moment I thought she was going to give chase to her + husband. But she resigned herself, with a sigh, while her eyes wandered + over the lamp-lit room, where various books, at which I had been looking, + were pulled out of their places on the shelves, and the fumes of tobacco + seemed to hang in mid-air. I bade her good-night, and then, without + intention, by a kind of fatality, the perversity which had already made me + insist unduly on talking with her about her husband’s achievements, I + alluded to the precious proof-sheets with which Ambient had intrusted me + and which I was nursing there under my arm. “It is the opening chapters of + his new book,” I said. “Fancy my satisfaction at being allowed to carry + them to my room!” + </p> + <p> + She turned away, leaving me to take my candlestick from the table in the + hall; but before we separated, thinking it apparently a good occasion to + let me know once for all—since I was beginning, it would seem, to be + quite “thick” with my host—that there was no fitness in my appealing + to her for sympathy in such a case; before we separated, I say, she + remarked to me with her quick, round, well-bred utterance, “I dare say you + attribute to me ideas that I have n’t got I don’t take that sort of + interest in my husband’s proof-sheets. I consider his writings most + objectionable!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PART2" id="link2H_PART2"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PART II. + </h2> + <p> + I had some curious conversation the next morning with Miss Ambient, whom I + found strolling in the garden before breakfast The whole place looked as + fresh and trim, amid the twitter of the birds, as if, an hour before, the + housemaids had been turned into it with their dustpans and + feather-brushes, I almost hesitated to light a cigarette, and was doubly + startled when, in the act of doing so, I suddenly perceived the sister of + my host, who had, in any case, something of the oddity of an apparition, + standing before me. She might have been posing for her photograph. Her + sad-colored robe arranged itself in serpentine folds at her feet; her + hands locked themselves listlessly together in front; and her chin rested + upon a cinque-cento ruff. The first thing I did, after bidding her + good-morning, was to ask her for news of her little nephew,—to + express the hope that she had heard he was better. She was able to gratify + this hope, and spoke as if we might expect to see him during the day. We + walked through the shrubberies together, and she gave me a great deal of + information about her brother’s ménage, which offered me an opportunity to + mention to her that his wife had told me, the night before, that she + thought his productions objectionable. + </p> + <p> + “She does n’t usually come out with that so soon!” Miss Ambient exclaimed, + in answer to this piece of gossip. “Poor lady, she saw that I am a + fanatic.” “Yes, she won’t like you for that. But you must n’t mind, if the + rest of us like you! Beatrice thinks a work of art ought to have a + ‘purpose.’ But she’s a charming woman—don’t you think her charming?—she’s + such a type of the lady.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s very beautiful,” I answered; while I reflected that though it was + true, apparently, that Mark Ambient was mismated, it was also perceptible + that his sister was perfidious. She told me that her brother and his wife + had no other difference but this one, that she thought his writings + immoral and his influence pernicious. It was a fixed idea; she was afraid + of these things for the child. I answered that it was not a trifle—a + woman’s regarding her husband’s mind as a well of corruption, and she + looked quite struck with the novelty of my remark. “But there has n’t been + any of the sort of trouble that there so often is among married people,” + she said. “I suppose you can judge for yourself that Beatrice isn’t at all—well, + whatever they call it when a woman misbehaves herself. And Mark does n’t + make love to other people, either. I assure you he does n’t! All the same, + of course, from her point of view, you know, she has a dread of my + brother’s influence on the child—on the formation of his character, + of his principles. It is as if it were a subtle poison, or a contagion, or + something that would rub off on Dolcino when his father kisses him or + holds him on his knee. If she could, she would prevent Mark from ever + touching him. Every one knows it; visitors see it for themselves; so there + is no harm in my telling you. Isn’t it excessively odd? It comes from + Beatrice’s being so religious, and so tremendously moral, and all that and + then, of course, we must n’t forget,” my companion added, unexpectedly, + “that some of Mark’s ideas are—well, really—rather queer!” + </p> + <p> + I reflected, as we went into the house, where we found Ambient unfolding + the <i>Observer</i> at the breakfast-table, that none of them were + probably quite so queer as his sister. Mrs. Ambient did not appear at + breakfast, being rather tired with her ministrations, during the night, to + Dolcino. Her husband mentioned, however, that she was hoping to go to + church. I afterwards learned that she did go, but I may as well announce + without delay that he and I did not accompany her. It was while the + church-bell was murmuring in the distance that the author of <i>Beltraffio</i> + led me forth for the ramble he had spoken of in his note. I will not + attempt to say where we went, or to describe what we saw. We kept to the + fields and copses and commons, and breathed the same sweet air as the + nibbling donkeys and the browsing sheep, whose woolliness seemed to me, in + those early days of my acquaintance with English objects, but a part of + the general texture of the small, dense landscape, which looked as if the + harvest were gathered by the shears. Everything was full of expression for + Mark Ambient’s visitor,—from the big, bandy-legged geese, whose + whiteness was a “note,” amid all the tones of green, as they wandered + beside a neat little oval pool, the foreground of a thatched and + whitewashed inn, with a grassy approach and a pictorial sign,—from + these humble wayside animals to the crests of high woods which let a gable + or a pinnacle peep here and there, and looked, even at a distance, like + trees of good company, conscious of an individual profile. I admired the + hedgerows, I plucked the faint-hued heather, and I was forever stopping to + say how charming I thought the thread-like footpaths across the fields, + which wandered, in a diagonal of finer grain, from one smooth stile to + another. Mark Ambient was abundantly good-natured, and was as much + entertained with my observations as I was with the literary allusions of + the landscape. We sat and smoked upon stiles, broaching paradoxes in the + decent English air; we took short cuts across a park or two, where the + bracken was deep and my companion nodded to the old woman at the gate; we + skirted rank covers, which rustled here and there as wo passed, and we + stretched ourselves at last on a heathery hillside, where, if the sun was + not too hot, neither was the earth too cold, and where the country lay + beneath us in a rich blue mist. Of course I had already told Ambient what + I thought of his new novel, having the previous night read every word of + the opening chapters before I went to bed. + </p> + <p> + “I am not without hope of being able to make it my best,” he said, as I + went back to the subject, while we turned up our heels to the sky. “At + least the people who dislike my prose—and there are a great many of + them, I believe—will dislike this work most” This was the first time + I had heard him allude to the people who couldn’t read him,—a class + which is supposed always to sit heavy upon the consciousness of the man of + letters. A man organized for literature, as Mark Ambient was, must + certainly have had the normal proportion of sensitiveness, of + irritability; the artistic <i>ego</i>, capable in some cases of such + monstrous development, must have been, in his composition, sufficiently + erect and definite. I will not therefore go so far as to say that he never + thought of his detractors, or that he had any illusions with regard to the + number of his admirers (he could never so far have deceived himself as to + believe he was popular); but I may at least affirm that adverse criticism, + as I had occasion to perceive later, ruffled him visibly but little, that + he had an air of thinking it quite natural he should be offensive to many + minds, and that he very seldom talked about the newspapers, which, by the + way, were always very stupid in regard to the author of <i>Beltraffio</i>. + Of course he may have thought about them—the newspapers—night + and day; the only point I wish to make is that he did n’t show it; while, + at the same time, he did n’t strike one as a man who was on his guard. I + may add that, as regards his hope of making the work on which he was then + engaged the best of his books, it was only partly carried out. That place + belongs, incontestably, to <i>Beltraffio</i>, in spite of the beauty of + certain parts of its successor. I am pretty sure, however, that he had, at + the moment of which I speak, no sense of failure; he was in love with his + idea, which was indeed magnificent, and though for him, as, I suppose, for + every artist, the act of execution had in it as much torment as joy, he + saw his work growing a little every day and filling-out the largest plan + he had yet conceived. “I want to be truer than I have ever been,” he said, + settling himself on his back, with his hands clasped behind his head; “I + want to give an impression of life itself. No, you may say what you will, + I have always arranged things too much, always smoothed them down and + rounded them off and tucked them in,—done everything to them that + life does n’t do. I have been a slave to the old superstitions.” + </p> + <p> + “You a slave, my dear Mark Ambient? You have the freest imagination of our + day!” + </p> + <p> + “All the more shame to me to have done some of the things I have! The + reconciliation of the two women in <i>Ginistrella</i>, for instance, which + could never really have taken place. That sort of thing is ignoble; I + blush when I think of it! This new affair must be a golden vessel, filled + with the purest distillation of the actual; and oh, how it bothers me, the + shaping of the vase—the hammering of the metal! I have to hammer it + so fine, so smooth; I don’t do more than an inch or two a day. And all the + while I have to be so careful not to let a drop of the liquor escape! When + I see the kind of things that Life does, I despair of ever catching her + peculiar trick. She has an impudence, life! If one risked a fiftieth part + of the effects she risks! It takes ever so long to believe it. You don’t + know yet, my dear fellow. It is n’t till one has been watching life for + forty years that one finds out half of what she’s up to! Therefore one’s + earlier things must inevitably contain a mass of rot. And with what one + sees, on one side, with its tongue in its cheek, defying one to be real + enough, and on the other the <i>bonnes gens</i> rolling up their eyes at + one’s cynicism, the situation has elements of the ludicrous which the + artist himself is doubtless in a position to appreciate better than any + one else. Of course one mustn’t bother about the <i>bonnes gens</i>.” Mark + Ambient went on, while my thoughts reverted to his ladylike wife, as + interpreted by his remarkable sister. + </p> + <p> + “To sink your shaft deep, and polish the plate through which people look + into it—that’s what your work consists of,” I remember remarking. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, polishing one’s plate—that is the torment of execution!” he + exclaimed, jerking himself up and sitting forward. “The effort to arrive + at a surface—if you think a surface necessary—some people + don’t, happily for them! My dear fellow, if you could see the surface I + dream of, as compared with the one with which I have to content myself. + Life is really too short for art—one hasn’t time to make one’s shell + ideally hard. Firm and bright—firm and bright!—the devilish + thing has a way, sometimes, of being bright without being firm. When I rap + it with my knuckles it doesn’t give the right sound. There are horrible + little flabby spots where I have taken the second-best word, because I + could n’t for the life of me think of the best. If you knew how stupid I + am sometimes! They look to me now like pimples and ulcers on the brow of + beauty!” + </p> + <p> + “That’s very bad—very bad,” I said, as gravely as I could. + </p> + <p> + “Very bad? It’s the highest social offence I know; it ought—it + absolutely ought—I’m quite serious—to be capital If I knew I + should be hanged else, I should manage to find the best word. The people + who could n’t—some of them don’t know it when they see it—would + shut their inkstands, and we should n’t be deluged by this flood of + rubbish!” + </p> + <p> + I will not attempt to repeat everything that passed between us, or to + explain just how it was that, every moment I spent in his company, Mark + Ambient revealed to me more and more that he looked at all things from the + standpoint of the artist, felt all life as literary material There are + people who will tell me that this is a poor way of feeling it, and I am + not concerned to defend my statement, having space merely to remark that + there is something to be said for any interest which makes a man feel so + much. If Mark Ambient did really, as I suggested above, have imaginative + contact with “all life,” I, for my part, envy him his <i>arriere-pensée</i>. + At any rate it was through the receipt of this impression of him that by + the time we returned I had acquired the feeling of intimacy I have noted. + Before we got up for the homeward stretch, he alluded to his wife’s having + once—or perhaps more than once—asked him whether he should + like Dolcino to read <i>Beltraffio</i>. I think he was unconscious at the + moment of all that this conveyed to me—as well, doubtless, of my + extreme curiosity to hear what he had replied. He had said that he hoped + very much Dolcino would read all his works—when he was twenty; he + should like him to know what his father had done. Before twenty it would + be useless; he would n’t understand them. + </p> + <p> + “And meanwhile do you propose to hide them,—to lock them up in a + drawer?” Mrs. Ambient had inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no; we must simply tell him that they are not intended for small + boys. If you bring him up properly, after that he won t touch them.” + </p> + <p> + To this Mrs. Ambient had made answer that it would be very awkward when he + was about fifteen; and I asked her husband if it was his opinion in + general, then, that young people should not read novels. + </p> + <p> + “Good ones—certainly not!” said my companion. I suppose I had had + other views, for I remember saying that, for myself, I was not sure it was + bad for them, if the novels were “good” enough. “Bad for <i>them</i>, I + don’t say so much!” Ambient exclaimed. “But very bad, I am afraid, for the + novel!” That oblique, accidental allusion to his wife’s attitude was + followed by a franker style of reference as we walked home. “The + difference between us is simply the opposition between two distinct ways + of looking at the world, which have never succeeded in getting on + together, or making any kind of common ménage, since the beginning of + time. They have borne all sorts of names, and my wife would tell you it’s + the difference between Christian and Pagan. I may be a pagan, but I don’t + like the name; it sounds sectarian. She thinks me, at any rate, no better + than an ancient Greek. It’s the difference between making the most of life + and making the least, so that you ‘ll get another better one in some other + time and place. Will it be a sin to make the most of that one too, I + wonder; and shall we have to be bribed off in the future state, as well as + in the present? Perhaps I care too much for beauty—I don’t know; I + delight in it, I adore it, I think of it continually, I try to produce it, + to reproduce it. My wife holds that we shouldn’t think too much about it + She’s always afraid of that, always on her guard. I don’t know what she + has got on her back! And she’s so pretty, too, herself! Don’t you think + she’s lovely? She was, at any rate, when I married her. At that time I was + n’t aware of that difference I speak of—I thought it all came to the + same thing: in the end, as they say. Well, perhaps it will, in the end. I + don’t know what the end will be. Moreover, I care for seeing things as + they are; that’s the way I try to show them in my novels. But you must n’t + talk to Mrs. Ambient about things as they are. She has a mortal dread of + things as they are.” + </p> + <p> + “She’s afraid of them for Dolcino,” I said: surprised a moment afterwards + at being in a position—thanks to Miss Ambient—to be so + explanatory; and surprised even now that Mark should n’t have shown + visibly that he wondered what the deuce I knew about it But he did n’t; he + simply exclaimed, with a tenderness that touched me,— + </p> + <p> + “Ah, nothing shall ever hurt <i>him!</i>” He told me more about his wife + before we arrived at the gate of his house, and if it be thought that he + was querulous, I am afraid I must admit that he had some of the foibles as + well as the gifts of the artistic temperament; adding, however, instantly, + that hitherto, to the best of my belief, he had very rarely complained. + “She thinks me immoral—that’s the long and short of it,” he said, as + we paused outside a moment, and his hand rested on one of the bars of his + gate; while his conscious, demonstrative, expressive, perceptive eyes,—the + eyes of a foreigner, I had begun to account them, much more than of the + usual Englishman,—viewing me now evidently as quite a familiar + friend, took part in the declaration. “It’s very strange, when one thinks + it all over, and there’s a grand comicality in it which I should like to + bring out. She is a very nice woman, extraordinarily well behaved, upright + and clever, and with a tremendous lot of good sense about a good many + matters. Yet her conception of a novel—she has explained it to me + once or twice, and she does n’t do it badly, as exposition—is a + thing so false that it makes me blush. It is a thing so hollow, so + dishonest, so lying, in which life is so blinked and blinded, so dodged + and disfigured, that it makes my ears burn. It’s two different ways of + looking at the whole affair,” he repeated, pushing open the gate. “And + they are irreconcilable!” he added, with a sigh. We went forward to the + house, but on the walk, half way to the door, he stopped, and said to me, + “If you are going into this kind of thing, there’s a fact you should know + beforehand; it may save you some disappointment. There’s a hatred of art, + there’s a hatred of literature!” I looked up at the charming house, with + its genial color and crookedness, and I answered, with a smile, that those + evil passions might exist, but that I should never have expected to find + them there. “Oh, it doesn’t matter, after all,” he said, laughing; which I + was glad to hear, for I was reproaching myself with having excited him. + </p> + <p> + If I had, his excitement soon passed off, for at lunch he was delightful; + strangely delightful, considering that the difference between himself and + his wife was, as he had said, irreconcilable. He had the art, by his + manner, by his smile, by his natural kindliness, of reducing the + importance of it in the common concerns of life; and Mrs. Ambient, I must + add, lent herself to this transaction with a very good grace. I watched + her, at table, for further illustrations of that fixed idea of which Miss + Ambient had spoken to me; for, in the light of the united revelations of + her sister-in-law and her husband, she had come to seem to me a very + singular personage. I am obliged to say that the signs of a fanatical + temperament were not more striking in my hostess than before; it was only + after a while that her air of incorruptible conformity, her tapering, + monosyllabic correctness, began to appear to be themselves a cold, thin + flame. Certainly, at first, she looked like a woman with as few passions + as possible; but if she had a passion at all, it would be that of + Philistinism. She might have been—for there are guardian-spirits, I + suppose, of all great principles—the angel of propriety. Mark + Ambient, apparently, ten years before, had simply perceived that she was + an angel, without asking himself of what He had been quite right in + calling my attention to her beauty. In looking for the reason why he + should have married her, I saw, more than before, that she was, physically + speaking, a wonderfully cultivated human plant—that she must have + given him many ideas and images. It was impossible to be more pencilled, + more garden-like, more delicately tinted and petalled. + </p> + <p> + If I had had it in my heart to think Ambient a little of a hypocrite for + appearing to forget at table everything he had said to me during our walk, + I should instantly have cancelled such a judgment, on reflecting that the + good news his wife was able to give him about their little boy was reason + enough for his sudden air of happiness. It may have come partly, too, from + a certain remorse at having complained to me of the fair lady who sat + there,—a desire to show me that he was after all not so miserable. + Dolcino continued to be much better, and he had been promised he should + come downstairs after he had had his dinner. As soon as we had risen from + our own meal Ambient slipped away, evidently for the purpose of going to + his child; and no sooner had I observed this than I became aware that his + wife had simultaneously vanished. It happened that Miss Ambient and I, + both at the same moment, saw the tail of her dress whisk out of a doorway, + which led the young lady to smile at me, as if I now knew all the secrets + of the Ambients. I passed with her into the garden, and we sat down on a + dear old bench which rested against the west wall of the house. It was a + perfect spot for the middle period of a Sunday in June, and its felicity + seemed to come partly from an antique sun-dial which, rising in front of + us and forming the centre of a small, intricate parterre, measured the + moments ever so slowly, and made them safe for leisure and talk. The + garden bloomed in the suffused afternoon, the tall beeches stood still for + an example, and, behind and above us, a rose-tree of many seasons, + clinging to the faded grain of the brick, expressed the whole character of + the place in a familiar, exquisite smell. It seemed to me a place for + genius to have every sanction, and not to encounter challenges and checks. + Miss Ambient asked me if I had enjoyed my walk with her brother, and + whether we had talked of many things. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of most things,” I said, smiling, though I remembered that we had + not talked of Miss Ambient. + </p> + <p> + “And don’t you think some of his theories are very peculiar?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I guess I agree with them all.” I was very particular, for Miss + Ambient’s entertainment, to guess. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think art is everything?” she inquired in, a moment. + </p> + <p> + “In art, of course I do!” + </p> + <p> + “And do you think beauty is everything?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know about its being everything. But it’s very delightful” + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is difficult for a woman to know how far to go,” said my + companion. “I adore everything that gives a charm to life. I am intensely + sensitive to form. But sometimes I draw back—don’t you see what I + mean?—I don’t quite see where I shall be landed. I only want to be + quiet, after all,” Miss Ambient continued, in a tone of stifled yearning + which seemed to indicate that she had not yet arrived at her desire. “And + one must be good, at any rate, must not one?” she inquired, with a cadence + apparently intended for an assurance that my answer would settle this + recondite question for her. It was difficult for me to make it very + original, and I am afraid I repaid her confidence with an unblushing + platitude. I remember, moreover, appending to it an inquiry, equally + destitute of freshness, and still more wanting perhaps in tact, as to + whether she did not mean to go to church, as that was an obvious way of + being good. She replied that she had performed this duty in the morning, + and that for her, on Sunday afternoon, supreme virtue consisted in + answering the week’s letters. Then suddenly, without transition, she said + to me, “It’s quite a mistake about Dolcino being better. I have seen him, + and he’s not at all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely his mother would know, would n’t she?” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + She appeared for a moment to be counting the leaves on one of the great + beeches. “As regards most matters, one can easily say what, in a given + situation, my sister-in-law would do. But as regards this one, there are + strange elements at work.” + </p> + <p> + “Strange elements? Do you mean in the constitution of the child?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I mean in my sister-in-law’s feelings.” + </p> + <p> + “Elements of affection, of course; elements of anxiety. Why do you call + them strange?” + </p> + <p> + She repeated my words. “Elements of affection, elements of anxiety. She is + very anxious.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Ambient made me vaguely uneasy; she almost frightened me, and I + wished she would go and write her letters. “His father will have seen him + now,” I said, “and if he is not satisfied he will send for the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor ought to have been here this morning. He lives only two miles + away.” + </p> + <p> + I reflected that all this was very possibly only a part of the general + tragedy of Miss Ambient’s view of things; but I asked her why she had n’t + urged such a necessity upon her sister-in-law. She answered me with a + smile of extraordinary significance, and told me that I must have very + little idea of what her relations with Beatrice were; but I must do her + the justice to add that she went on to make herself a little more + comprehensible by saying that it was quite reason enough for her sister + not to be alarmed that Mark would be sure to be. He was always nervous + about the child, and as they were predestined by nature to take opposite + views, the only thing for Beatrice was to cultivate a false optimism. If + Mark were not there, she would not be at all easy. I remembered what he + had said to me about their dealings with Dolcino,—that between them + they would put an end to him; but I did not repeat this to Miss Ambient: + the less so that just then her brother emerged from the house, carrying + his child in his arms. Close behind him moved his wife, grave and pale; + the boy’s face was turned over Ambient’s shoulder, towards his mother. We + got up to receive the group, and as they came near us Dolcino turned + round. I caught, on his enchanting little countenance, a smile of + recognition, and for the moment would have been quite content with it. + Miss Ambient, however, received another impression, and I make haste to + say that her quick sensibility, in which there was something maternal, + argues that, in spite of her affectations, there was a strain of kindness + in her. “It won’t do at all—it won’t do at all,” she said to me + under her breath. “I shall speak to Mark about the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + The child was rather white, but the main difference I saw in him was that + he was even more beautiful than the day before. He had been dressed in his + festal garments,—a velvet suit and a crimson sash,—and he + looked like a little invalid prince, too young to know condescension, and + smiling familiarly on his subjects. + </p> + <p> + “Put him down, Mark, he’s not comfortable,” Mrs. Ambient said. + </p> + <p> + “Should you like to stand on your feet, my boy?” his father asked. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; I ‘m remarkably well,” said the child. + </p> + <p> + Mark placed him on the ground; he had shining, pointed slippers, with + enormous bows. “Are you happy now, Mr. Ambient?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I am particularly happy,” Dolcino replied. The words were + scarcely out of his mouth when his mother caught him up, and in a moment, + holding him on her knees, she took her place on the bench where Miss + Ambient and I had been sitting. This young lady said something to her + brother, in consequence of which the two wandered away into the garden + together. I remained with Mrs. Ambient; but as a servant had brought out a + couple of chairs I was not obliged to seat myself beside her. Our + conversation was not animated, and I, for my part, felt there would be a + kind of hypocrisy in my trying to make myself agreeable to Mrs. Ambient I + didn’t dislike her—I rather admired her; but I was aware that I + differed from her inexpressibly. Then I suspected, what I afterwards + definitely knew and have already intimated, that the poor lady had taken a + dislike to me; and this of course was not encouraging. She thought me an + obtrusive and even depraved young man, whom a perverse Providence had + dropped upon their quiet lawn to flatter her husband’s worst tendencies. + She did me the honor to say to Miss Ambient, who repeated the speech, that + she didn’t know when she had seen her husband take such a fancy to a + visitor; and she measured, apparently, my evil influence by Mark’s + appreciation of my society. I had a consciousness, not yet acute, but + quite sufficient, of all this; but I must say that if it chilled my flow + of small-talk, it did n’t prevent me from thinking that the beautiful + mother and beautiful child, interlaced there against their background of + roses, made a picture such as I perhaps should not soon see again. I was + free, I supposed, to go into the house and write letters, to sit in the + drawing-room, to repair to my own apartment and take a nap; but the only + use I made of my freedom was to linger still in my chair and say to myself + that the light hand of Sir Joshua might have painted Mark Ambient’s wife + and son. I found myself looking perpetually at Dolcino, and Dolcino looked + back at me, and that was enough to detain me. When he looked at me he + smiled, and I felt it was an absolute impossibility to abandon a child who + was smiling at one like that. His eyes never wandered; they attached + themselves to mine, as if among all the small incipient things of his + nature there was a desire to say something to me. If I could have taken + him upon my own knee, he perhaps would have managed to say it; but it + would have been far too delicate a matter to ask his mother to give him + up, and it has remained a constant regret for me that on that Sunday + afternoon I did not, even for a moment, hold Dolcino in my arms. He had + said that he felt remarkably well, and that he was especially happy; but + though he may have been happy, with his charming head pillowed on his + mother’s breast, and his little crimson silk legs depending from her lap, + I did not think he looked well. He made no attempt to walk about; he was + content to swing his legs softly and strike one as languid and angelic. + </p> + <p> + Mark came back to us with his sister; and Miss Ambient, making some remark + about having to attend to her correspondence, passed into the house. Mark + came and stood in front of his wife, looking down at the child, who + immediately took hold of his hand, keeping it while he remained. “I think + Ailingham ought to see him,” Ambient said; “I think I will walk over and + fetch him.” + </p> + <p> + “That ‘s Gwendolen’s idea, I suppose,” Mrs. Ambient replied, very sweetly. + </p> + <p> + “It’s not such an out-of-the-way idea, when one’s child is ill.” + </p> + <p> + “I ‘m not ill, papa; I ‘m much better now,” Dolcino remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Is that the truth, or are you only saying it to be agreeable? You have a + great idea of being agreeable, you know.” + </p> + <p> + The boy seemed to meditate on this distinction this imputation, for a + moment; then his exaggerated eyes, which had wandered, caught my own as I + watched him. “Do <i>you</i> think me agreeable?” he inquired, with the + candor of his age, and with a smile that made his father turn round to me, + laughing, and ask, mutely, with a glance, “Is n’t he adorable?” + </p> + <p> + “Then why don’t you hop about, if you feel so lusty?” Ambient went on, + while the boy swung his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Because mamma is holding me close!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; I know how mamma holds you when I come near!” Ambient exclaimed, + looking at his wife. + </p> + <p> + She turned her charming eyes up to him, without deprecation or concession, + and after a moment she said, “You can go for Allingham if you like, I + think myself it would be better. You ought to drive.” + </p> + <p> + “She says that to get me away,” Ambient remarked to me, laughing; after + which he started for the doctor’s. + </p> + <p> + I remained there with Mrs. Ambient, though our conversation had more + pauses than speeches. The boy’s little fixed white face seemed, as before, + to plead with me to stay, and after a while it produced still another + effect, a very curious one, which I shall find it difficult to express. Of + course I expose myself to the charge of attempting to give fantastic + reasons for an act which may have been simply the fruit of a native want + of discretion; and indeed the traceable consequences of that perversity + were too lamentable to leave me any desire to trifle with the question. + All I can say is that I acted in perfect good faith, and that Dolcino’s + friendly little gaze gradually kindled the spark of my inspiration. What + helped it to glow were the other influences,—the silent, suggestive + garden-nook, the perfect opportunity (if it was not an opportunity for + that, it was an opportunity for nothing), and the plea that I speak of, + which issued from the child’s eyes, and seemed to make him say, “The + mother that bore me and that presses me here to her bosom—sympathetic + little organism that I am—has really the kind of sensibility which + she has been represented to you as lacking; if you only look for it + patiently and respectfully. How is it possible that she should n’t have + it? How is it possible that I should have so much of it (for I am quite + full of it, dear, strange gentleman), if it were not also in some degree + in her? I am my father’s child, but I am also my mother’s, and I am sorry + for the difference between them!” So it shaped itself before me, the + vision of reconciling Mrs. Ambient with her husband, of putting an end to + their great disagreement The project was absurd, of course, for had I not + had his word for it—spoken with all the bitterness of experience—that + the gulf that divided them was wellnigh bottomless? Nevertheless, a + quarter of an hour after Mark had left us, I said to his wife that I could + n’t get over what she told me the night before about her thinking her + husband’s writings “objectionable.” I had been so very sorry to hear it, + had thought of it constantly, and wondered whether it were not possible to + make her change her mind. Mrs. Ambient gave me rather a cold stare; she + seemed to be recommending me to mind my own business. I wish I had taken + this mute counsel, but I did not. I went on to remark that it seemed an + immense pity so much that was beautiful should be lost upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing is lost upon me,” said Mrs. Ambient “I know they are very + beautiful.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you like papa’s books?” Dolcino asked, addressing his mother, but + still looking at me. Then he added to me, “Won’t you read them to me, + American gentleman?” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather tell you some stories of my own,” I said. “I know some + that are very interesting.” “When will you tell them? To-morrow?” + “To-morrow, with pleasure, if that suits you.” Mrs. Ambient was silent at + this. Her husband, during our walk, had asked me to remain another day; my + promise to her son was an implication that I had consented, and it is not + probable that the prospect was agreeable to her. This ought, doubtless, to + have made me more careful as to what I said next; but all I can say is + that it did n’t. I presently observed that just after leaving her the + evening before, and after hearing her apply to her husband’s writings the + epithet I had already quoted, I had, on going up to my room, sat down to + the perusal of those sheets of his new book which he had been so good as + to lend me. I had sat entranced till nearly three in the morning. I had + read them twice over. “You say you have n’t looked at them. I think it ‘s + such a pity you should n’t Do let me beg you to take them up. They are so + very remarkable. I ‘m sure they will convert you. They place him in—really—such + a dazzling light. All that is best in him is there. I have no doubt it’s a + great liberty, my saying all this; but excuse me, and <i>do</i> read + them!” + </p> + <p> + “Do read them, mamma!” Dolcino repeated; “do read them!” + </p> + <p> + She bent her head and closed his lips with a kiss. “Of course I know he + has worked immensely over them,” she said; and after this she made no + remark, but sat there looking thoughtful, with her eyes on the ground. The + tone of these last words was such as to leave me no spirit for further + pressure, and after expressing a fear that her husband had not found the + doctor at home, I got up and took a turn about the grounds. When I came + back, ten minutes later, she was still in her place watching her boy, who + had fallen asleep in her lap. As I drew near she put her finger to her + lips, and a moment afterwards she rose, holding the child, and murmured + something about its being better that he should go upstairs. I offered to + carry him, and held out my hands to take him; but she thanked me and + turned away with the child seated on her arm, his head on her shoulder. “I + am very strong,” she said, as she passed into the house, and her slim, + flexible figure bent backwards with the filial weight So I never touched + Dolcino. + </p> + <p> + I betook myself to Ambient’s study, delighted to have a quiet hour to look + over his books by myself. The windows were open into the garden; the sunny + stillness, the mild light of the English summer, filled the room, without + quite chasing away the rich dusky tone which was a part of its charm, and + which abode in the serried shelves where old morocco exhaled the fragrance + of curious learning, and in the brighter intervals, where medals and + prints and miniatures were suspended upon a surface of faded stuff. The + place had both color and quiet; I thought it a perfect room for work, and + went so far as to say to myself that, if it were mine to sit and scribble + in, there was no knowing but that I might learn to write as well as the + author of <i>Beltraffio</i>. This distinguished man did not turn up, and I + rummaged freely among his treasures. At last I took down a book that + detained me awhile, and seated myself in a fine old leather chair by the + window to turn it over. I had been occupied in this way for half-an-hour,—a + good part of the afternoon had waned,—when I became conscious of + another presence in the room, and, looking up from my quarto, saw that + Mrs. Ambient, having pushed open the door in the same noiseless way that + marked, or disguised, her entrance the night before, had advanced across + the threshold. On seeing me she stopped; she had not, I think, expected to + find me. But her hesitation was only of a moment; she came straight to her + husband’s writing-table as if she were looking for something. I got up and + asked her if I could help her. She glanced about an instant, and then put + her hand upon a roll of papers which I recognized, as I had placed it in + that spot in the morning on coming down from my room. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the new book?” she asked, holding it up. “The very sheets, with + precious annotations.” “I mean to take your advice;” and she tucked the + little bundle under her arm. I congratulated her cordially, and ventured + to make of my triumph, as I presumed to call it, a subject of pleasantry. + But she was perfectly grave, and turned away from me, as she had presented + herself, without a smile; after which I settled down to my quarto again, + with the reflection that Mrs. Ambient was a queer woman. My triumph, too, + suddenly seemed to me rather vain. A woman who could n’t smile in the + right place would never understand Mark Ambient. He came in at last in + person, having brought the doctor back with him. “He was away from home,” + Mark said, “and I went after him, to where he was supposed to be. He had + left the place, and I followed him to two or three others, which accounts + for my delay.” He was now with Mrs. Ambient looking at the child, and was + to see Mark again before leaving the house. My host noticed, at the end of + ten minutes, that the proof-sheets of his new book had been removed from + the table; and when I told him, in reply to his question as to what I knew + about them, that Mrs. Ambient had carried them off to read, he turned + almost pale for an instant with surprise. “What has suddenly made her so + curious?” he exclaimed; and I was obliged to tell him that I was at the + bottom of the mystery. I had had it on my conscience to assure her that + she really ought to know of what her husband was capable. “Of what I am + capable? <i>Elle ne s’en dottie que trop!</i>” said Ambient, with a laugh; + but he took my meddling very good-naturedly, and contented himself with + adding that he was very much afraid she would burn up the sheets, with his + emendations, of which he had no duplicate. The doctor paid a long visit in + the nursery, and before he came down I retired to my own quarters, where I + remained till dinner-time. On entering the drawing-room at this hour, I + found Miss Ambient in possession, as she had been the evening before. + </p> + <p> + “I was right about Dolcino,” she said, as soon as she saw me, with a + strange little air of triumph. “He is really very ill.” + </p> + <p> + “Very ill! Why, when I last saw him, at four o’clock, he was in fairly + good form.” + </p> + <p> + “There has been a change for the worse, very sudden and rapid, and when + the doctor got here he found diphtheritic symptoms. He ought to have been + called, as I knew, in the morning, and the child ought n’t to have been + brought into the garden.” + </p> + <p> + “My dear lady, he was very happy there,” I answered, much appalled. + </p> + <p> + “He would be happy anywhere. I have no doubt he is happy now, with his + poor little throat in a state—” she dropped her voice as her brother + came in, and Mark let us know that, as a matter of course, Mrs. Ambient + would not appear. It was true that Dolcino had developed diphtheritic + symptoms, but he was quiet for the present, and his mother was earnestly + watching him. She was a perfect nurse, Mark said, and the doctor was + coming back at ten o’clock. Our dinner was not very gay; Ambient was + anxious and alarmed, and his sister irritated me by her constant tacit + assumption, conveyed in the very way she nibbled her bread and sipped her + wine, of having “told me so.” I had had no disposition to deny anything + she told me, and I could not see that her satisfaction in being justified + by the event made poor Dolcino’s throat any better. The truth is that, as + the sequel proved, Miss Ambient had some of the qualities of the sibyl, + and had therefore, perhaps, a right to the sibylline contortions. Her + brother was so preoccupied that I felt my presence to be an indiscretion, + and was sorry I had promised to remain over the morrow. I said to Mark + that, evidently, I had better leave them in the morning; to which he + replied that, on the contrary, if he was to pass the next days in the + fidgets, my company would be an extreme relief to him. The fidgets had + already begun for him, poor fellow; and as we sat in his study with our + cigars after dinner, he wandered to the door whenever he heard the sound + of the doctor’s wheels. Miss Ambient, who shared this apartment with us, + gave me at such moments significant glances; she had gone upstairs before + rejoining us to ask after the child His mother and his nurse gave a + tolerable account of him; but Miss Ambient found his fever high and his + symptoms very grave. The doctor came at ten o’clock, and I went to bed + after hearing from Mark that he saw no present cause for alarm. He had + made every provision for the night, and was to return early in the + morning. + </p> + <p> + I quitted my room at eight o’clock the next day, and, as I came + downstairs, saw, through the open door of the house, Mrs. Ambient standing + at the front gate of the grounds, in colloquy with the physician. She wore + a white dressing-gown, but her shining hair was carefully tucked away in + its net, and in the freshness of the morning, after a night of watching, + she looked as much “the type of the lady” as her sister-in-law had + described her. Her appearance, I suppose, ought to have reassured me; but + I was still nervous and uneasy, so that I shrank from meeting her with the + necessary question about Dolcino. None the less, however, was I impatient + to learn how the morning found him; and, as Mrs. Ambient had not seen me, + I passed into the grounds by a roundabout way, and, stopping at a further + gate, hailed the doctor just as he was driving away. Mrs. Ambient had + returned to the house before he got into his gig. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, but as a friend of the family, I should like very much to hear + about the little boy.” + </p> + <p> + The doctor, who was a stout, sharp man, looked at me from head to foot, + and then he said, “I’m sorry to say I have n’t seen him.” + </p> + <p> + “Have n’t seen him?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Ambient came down to meet me as I alighted, and told me that he was + sleeping so soundly, after a restless night, that she did n’t wish him + disturbed. I assured her I would n’t disturb him, but she said he was + quite safe now and she could look after him herself.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much. Are you coming back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I ‘ll be hanged if I come back!” exclaimed Dr. Allingham, who + was evidently very angry. And he started his horse again with the whip. + </p> + <p> + I wandered back into the garden, and five minutes later Miss Ambient came + forth from the house to greet me. She explained that breakfast would not + be served for some time, and that she wished to catch the doctor before he + went away. I informed her that this functionary had come and departed, and + I repeated to her what he had told me about his dismissal. This made Miss + Ambient very serious, very serious indeed, and she sank into a bench, with + dilated eyes, hugging her elbows with crossed arms. She indulged in many + ejaculations, she confessed that she was infinitely perplexed, and she + finally told me what her own last news of her nephew had been. She had sat + up very late,—after me, after Mark,—and before going to bed + had knocked at the door of the child’s room, which was opened to her by + the nurse. This good woman had admitted her, and she had found Dolcino + quiet, but flushed and “unnatural,” with his mother sitting beside his + bed. “She held his hand in one of hers,” said Miss Ambient, “and in the + other—what do you think?—the proof-sheets of Mark’s new book! + She was reading them there, intently: did you ever hear of anything so + extraordinary? Such a very odd time to be reading an author whom she never + could abide!” In her agitation Miss Ambient was guilty of this vulgarism + of speech, and I was so impressed by her narrative that it was only in + recalling her words later that I noticed the lapse. Mrs. Ambient had + looked up from her reading with her finger on her lips—I recognized + the gesture she had addressed to me in the afternoon—and, though the + nurse was about to go to rest, had not encouraged her sister-in-law to + relieve her of any part of her vigil. But certainly, then, Dolcino’s + condition was far from reassuring,—his poor little breathing was + most painful; and what change could have taken place in him in those few + hours that would justify Beatrice in denying the physician access to him? + This was the moral of Miss Ambient’s anecdote, the moral for herself at + least. The moral for me, rather, was that it <i>was</i> a very singular + time for Mrs. Ambient to be going into a novelist she had never + appreciated, and who had simply happened to be recommended to her by a + young American she disliked. I thought of her sitting there in the + sick-chamber in the still hours of the night, after the nurse had left + her, turning over those pages of genius and wrestling with their magical + influence. + </p> + <p> + I must relate very briefly the circumstances of the rest of my visit to + Mark Ambient,—it lasted but a few hours longer,—and devote but + three words to my later acquaintance with him. That lasted five years,—till + his death,—and was full of interest, of satisfaction, and, I may + add, of sadness. The main thing to be said with regard to it, is that I + had a secret from him. I believe he never suspected it, though of this I + am not absolutely sure. If he did, the line he had taken, the line of + absolute negation of the matter to himself, shows an immense effort of the + will. I may tell my secret now, giving it for what it is worth, now that + Mark Ambient has gone, that he has begun to be alluded to as one of the + famous early dead, and that his wife does not survive him; now, too, that + Miss Ambient, whom I also saw at intervals during the years that followed, + has, with her embroideries and her attitudes, her necromantic glances and + strange intuitions, retired to a Sisterhood, where, as I am told, she is + deeply immured and quite lost to the world. + </p> + <p> + Mark came in to breakfast after his sister and I had for some time been + seated there. He shook hands with me in silence, kissed his sister, opened + his letters and newspapers, and pretended to drink his coffee. But I could + see that these movements were mechanical, and I was little surprised when, + suddenly, he pushed away everything that was before him, and, with his + head in his hands and his elbows on the table, sat staring strangely at + the cloth. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter, <i>fratello mio?</i>” Miss Ambient inquired, peeping + from behind the urn. + </p> + <p> + He answered nothing, but got up with a certain violence and strode to the + window. We rose to our feet, his sister and I, by a common impulse, + exchanging a glance of some alarm, while he stared for a moment into the + garden. “In Heaven’s name what has got possession of Beatrice?” he cried + at last, turning round with an almost haggard face. And he looked from one + of us to the other; the appeal was addressed to me as well as to his + sister. + </p> + <p> + Miss Ambient gave a shrug. “My poor Mark, Beatrice is always—Beatrice!” + </p> + <p> + “She has locked herself up with the boy—bolted and barred the door; + she refuses to let me come near him!” Ambient went on. + </p> + <p> + “She refused to let the doctor see him an hour ago!” Miss Ambient + remarked, with intention, as they say on the stage. + </p> + <p> + “Refused to let the doctor see him? By heaven, I ‘ll smash in the door!” + And Mark brought his fist down upon the table, so that all the + breakfast-service rang. + </p> + <p> + I begged Miss Ambient to go up and try to have speech of her + sister-in-law, and I drew Mark out into the garden. “You ‘re exceedingly + nervous, and Mrs. Ambient is probably right,” I said to him. “Women know; + women should be supreme in such a situation. Trust a mother—a + devoted mother, my dear friend!” With such words as these I tried to + soothe and comfort him, and, marvellous to relate, I succeeded, with the + help of many cigarettes, in making him walk about the garden and talk, or + listen at least to my own ingenious chatter, for nearly an hour. At the + end of this time Miss Ambient returned to us, with a very rapid step, + holding her hand to her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Go for the doctor, Mark, go for the doctor this moment!” + </p> + <p> + “Is he dying? Has she killed him?” poor Ambient cried, flinging away his + cigarette. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know what she has done! But she’s frightened, and now she wants + the doctor.” + </p> + <p> + “He told me he would be hanged if he came back!” I felt myself obliged to + announce. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely—therefore Mark himself must go for him, and not a + messenger. You must see him, and tell him it ‘s to save your child. The + trap has been ordered—it’s ready.” + </p> + <p> + “To save him? I ‘ll save him, please God!” Ambient cried, bounding with + his great strides across the lawn. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had gone I felt that I ought to have volunteered in his + place, and I said as much to Miss Ambient; but she checked me by grasping + my arm quickly, while we heard the wheels of the dog-cart rattle away from + the gate. “He’s off—he’s off—and now I can think! To get him + away—while I think—while I think!” + </p> + <p> + “While you think of what, Miss Ambient?” + </p> + <p> + “Of the unspeakable thing that has happened under this roof!” + </p> + <p> + Her manner was habitually that of such a prophetess of ill that my first + impulse was to believe I must allow here for a great exaggeration. But in + a moment I saw that her emotion was real. “Dolcino <i>is</i> dying then,—he + is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s too late to save him. His mother has let him die! I tell you that + because you are sympathetic, because you have imagination,” Miss Ambient + was good enough to add, interrupting my expression of horror. “That’s why + you had the idea of making her read Mark’s new book!” + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with it? I don’t understand you; your accusation is + monstrous.” + </p> + <p> + “I see it all; I’m not stupid,” Miss Ambient went on, heedless of the + harshness of my tone. “It was the book that finished her; it was that + decided her!” + </p> + <p> + “Decided her? Do you mean she has murdered her child?” I demanded, + trembling at my own words. + </p> + <p> + “She sacrificed him; she determined to do nothing to make him live. Why + else did she lock herself up, why else did she turn away the doctor? The + book gave her a horror; she determined to rescue him,—to prevent him + from ever being touched. He had a crisis at two o’clock in the morning. I + know that from the nurse, who had left her then, but whom, for a short + time, she called back. Dolcino got much worse, but she insisted on the + nurse’s going back to bed, and after that she was alone with him for + hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you pretend that she has no pity, that she’s insane?” + </p> + <p> + “She held him in her arms, she pressed him to her breast, not to see him; + but she gave him no remedies; she did nothing the doctor ordered. + Everything is there, untouched. She has had the honesty not even to throw + the drugs away!” + </p> + <p> + I dropped upon the nearest bench, overcome with wonder and agitation, + quite as much at Miss Armbient’s terrible lucidity as at the charge she + made against her sister-in-law. There was an amazing coherency in her + story, and it was dreadful to me to see myself figuring in it as so + proximate a cause. + </p> + <p> + “You are a very strange woman, and you say strange things.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it necessary to protest, but you are quite ready to believe me. + You have received an impression of my sister-in-law, you have guessed of + what she is capable.” + </p> + <p> + I do not feel bound to say what concession, on this point, I made to Miss + Ambient, who went on to relate to me that within the last half-hour + Beatrice had had a revulsion; that she was tremendously frightened at what + she had done; that her fright itself betrayed her; and that she would now + give heaven and earth to save the child. “Let us hope she will!” I said, + looking at my watch and trying to time poor Ambient; whereupon my + companion repeated, in a singular tone, “Let us hope so!” When I asked her + if she herself could do nothing, and whether she ought not to be with her + sister-in-law, she replied, “You had better go and judge; she is like a + wounded tigress!” + </p> + <p> + I never saw Mrs. Ambient till six months after this, and therefore cannot + pretend to have verified the comparison. At the latter period she was + again the type of the lady. “She’ll treat him better after this,” I + remember Miss Ambient saying, in response to some quick outburst (on my + part) of compassion for her brother. Although I had been in the house but + thirty-six hours, this young lady had treated me with extraordinary + confidence, and there was therefore a certain demand which, as an + intimate, I might make of her. I extracted from her a pledge that she + would never say to her brother what she had just said to me; she would + leave him to form his own theory of his wife’s conduct. She agreed with me + that there was misery enough in the house, without her contributing a new + anguish, and that Mrs. Ambient’s proceedings might be explained, to her + husband’s mind, by the extravagance of a jealous devotion. Poor Mark came + back with the doctor much sooner than we could have hoped, but we knew, + five minutes afterwards, that they arrived too late. Poor little Dolcino + was more exquisitely beautiful in death than he had been in life. Mrs. + Ambient’s grief was frantic; she lost her head and said strange things. As + for Mark’s—but I will not speak of that. <i>Basta</i>, as he used to + say. Miss Ambient kept her secret,—I have already had occasion to + say that she had her good points,—but it rankled in her conscience + like a guilty participation, and, I imagine, had something to do with her + retiring ultimately to a Sisterhood. And, <i>à propos</i> of consciences, + the reader is now in a position to judge of my compunction for my effort + to convert Mrs. Ambient. I ought to mention that the death of her child in + some degree converted her. When the new book came out—it was long + delayed—she read it over as a whole, and her husband told me that a + few months before her death,—she failed rapidly after losing her + son, sank into a consumption, and faded away at Mentone,—during + those few supreme weeks she even dipped into <i>Beltraffio</i>. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Author Of Beltraffio, by Henry James + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AUTHOR OF BELTRAFFIO *** + +***** This file should be named 21770-h.htm or 21770-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/7/7/21770/ + +Produced by David Widger + +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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