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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:20:34 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3134-0.txt b/3134-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c47675 --- /dev/null +++ b/3134-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5649 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Backlog Studies, by Charles Dudley Warner + +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: Backlog Studies + +Author: Charles Dudley Warner + +Release Date: August 29, 2016 [EBook #3134] +Last Updated: February 24, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BACKLOG STUDIES *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +BACKLOG STUDIES + +By Charles Dudley Warner + + + + +FIRST STUDY + + + + +I + +The fire on the hearth has almost gone out in New England; the +hearth has gone out; the family has lost its center; age ceases to be +respected; sex is only distinguished by a difference between millinery +bills and tailors' bills; there is no more toast-and-cider; the young +are not allowed to eat mince-pies at ten o'clock at night; half a cheese +is no longer set to toast before the fire; you scarcely ever see in +front of the coals a row of roasting apples, which a bright little girl, +with many a dive and start, shielding her sunny face from the fire with +one hand, turns from time to time; scarce are the gray-haired sires who +strop their razors on the family Bible, and doze in the chimney-corner. +A good many things have gone out with the fire on the hearth. + +I do not mean to say that public and private morality have vanished +with the hearth. A good degree of purity and considerable happiness are +possible with grates and blowers; it is a day of trial, when we are all +passing through a fiery furnace, and very likely we shall be purified +as we are dried up and wasted away. Of course the family is gone, as an +institution, though there still are attempts to bring up a family round +a "register." But you might just as well try to bring it up by hand, as +without the rallying-point of a hearthstone. Are there any homesteads +nowadays? Do people hesitate to change houses any more than they do +to change their clothes? People hire houses as they would a masquerade +costume, liking, sometimes, to appear for a year in a little fictitious +stone-front splendor above their means. Thus it happens that so many +people live in houses that do not fit them. I should almost as soon +think of wearing another person's clothes as his house; unless I could +let it out and take it in until it fitted, and somehow expressed my own +character and taste. But we have fallen into the days of conformity. It +is no wonder that people constantly go into their neighbors' houses by +mistake, just as, in spite of the Maine law, they wear away each other's +hats from an evening party. It has almost come to this, that you might +as well be anybody else as yourself. + +Am I mistaken in supposing that this is owing to the discontinuance of +big chimneys, with wide fireplaces in them? How can a person be attached +to a house that has no center of attraction, no soul in it, in the +visible form of a glowing fire, and a warm chimney, like the heart in +the body? When you think of the old homestead, if you ever do, your +thoughts go straight to the wide chimney and its burning logs. No wonder +that you are ready to move from one fireplaceless house into another. +But you have something just as good, you say. Yes, I have heard of +it. This age, which imitates everything, even to the virtues of +our ancestors, has invented a fireplace, with artificial, iron, or +composition logs in it, hacked and painted, in which gas is burned, so +that it has the appearance of a wood-fire. This seems to me blasphemy. +Do you think a cat would lie down before it? Can you poke it? If +you can't poke it, it is a fraud. To poke a wood-fire is more solid +enjoyment than almost anything else in the world. The crowning human +virtue in a man is to let his wife poke the fire. I do not know how any +virtue whatever is possible over an imitation gas-log. What a sense of +insincerity the family must have, if they indulge in the hypocrisy of +gathering about it. With this center of untruthfulness, what must the +life in the family be? Perhaps the father will be living at the rate of +ten thousand a year on a salary of four thousand; perhaps the mother, +more beautiful and younger than her beautified daughters, will rouge; +perhaps the young ladies will make wax-work. A cynic might suggest +as the motto of modern life this simple legend,--"just as good as +the real." But I am not a cynic, and I hope for the rekindling of +wood-fires, and a return of the beautiful home light from them. If +a wood-fire is a luxury, it is cheaper than many in which we indulge +without thought, and cheaper than the visits of a doctor, made necessary +by the want of ventilation of the house. Not that I have anything +against doctors; I only wish, after they have been to see us in a way +that seems so friendly, they had nothing against us. + +My fireplace, which is deep, and nearly three feet wide, has a broad +hearthstone in front of it, where the live coals tumble down, and a +pair of gigantic brass andirons. The brasses are burnished, and shine +cheerfully in the firelight, and on either side stand tall shovel and +tongs, like sentries, mounted in brass. The tongs, like the two-handed +sword of Bruce, cannot be wielded by puny people. We burn in it hickory +wood, cut long. We like the smell of this aromatic forest timber, and +its clear flame. The birch is also a sweet wood for the hearth, with +a sort of spiritual flame and an even temper,--no snappishness. Some +prefer the elm, which holds fire so well; and I have a neighbor who uses +nothing but apple-tree wood,--a solid, family sort of wood, fragrant +also, and full of delightful suggestions. But few people can afford to +burn up their fruit trees. I should as soon think of lighting the fire +with sweet-oil that comes in those graceful wicker-bound flasks from +Naples, or with manuscript sermons, which, however, do not burn well, be +they never so dry, not half so well as printed editorials. + +Few people know how to make a wood-fire, but everybody thinks he or +she does. You want, first, a large backlog, which does not rest on the +andirons. This will keep your fire forward, radiate heat all day, and +late in the evening fall into a ruin of glowing coals, like the last +days of a good man, whose life is the richest and most beneficent at the +close, when the flames of passion and the sap of youth are burned out, +and there only remain the solid, bright elements of character. Then +you want a forestick on the andirons; and upon these build the fire of +lighter stuff. In this way you have at once a cheerful blaze, and the +fire gradually eats into the solid mass, sinking down with increasing +fervor; coals drop below, and delicate tongues of flame sport along the +beautiful grain of the forestick. There are people who kindle a fire +underneath. But these are conceited people, who are wedded to their own +way. I suppose an accomplished incendiary always starts a fire in the +attic, if he can. I am not an incendiary, but I hate bigotry. I don't +call those incendiaries very good Christians who, when they set fire to +the martyrs, touched off the fagots at the bottom, so as to make them +go slow. Besides, knowledge works down easier than it does up. Education +must proceed from the more enlightened down to the more ignorant strata. +If you want better common schools, raise the standard of the colleges, +and so on. Build your fire on top. Let your light shine. I have seen +people build a fire under a balky horse; but he wouldn't go, he'd be a +horse-martyr first. A fire kindled under one never did him any good. Of +course you can make a fire on the hearth by kindling it underneath, but +that does not make it right. I want my hearthfire to be an emblem of the +best things. + + + + +II + +It must be confessed that a wood-fire needs as much tending as a pair of +twins. To say nothing of fiery projectiles sent into the room, even by +the best wood, from the explosion of gases confined in its cells, the +brands are continually dropping down, and coals are being scattered +over the hearth. However much a careful housewife, who thinks more +of neatness than enjoyment, may dislike this, it is one of the chief +delights of a wood-fire. I would as soon have an Englishman without +side-whiskers as a fire without a big backlog; and I would rather have +no fire than one that required no tending,--one of dead wood that +could not sing again the imprisoned songs of the forest, or give out in +brilliant scintillations the sunshine it absorbed in its growth. Flame +is an ethereal sprite, and the spice of danger in it gives zest to the +care of the hearth-fire. Nothing is so beautiful as springing, changing +flame,--it was the last freak of the Gothic architecture men to +represent the fronts of elaborate edifices of stone as on fire, by +the kindling flamboyant devices. A fireplace is, besides, a private +laboratory, where one can witness the most brilliant chemical +experiments, minor conflagrations only wanting the grandeur of cities on +fire. It is a vulgar notion that a fire is only for heat. A chief value +of it is, however, to look at. It is a picture, framed between the +jambs. You have nothing on your walls, by the best masters (the poor +masters are not, however, represented), that is really so fascinating, +so spiritual. Speaking like an upholsterer, it furnishes the room. +And it is never twice the same. In this respect it is like the +landscape-view through a window, always seen in a new light, color, or +condition. The fireplace is a window into the most charming world I ever +had a glimpse of. + +Yet direct heat is an agreeable sensation. I am not scientific enough +to despise it, and have no taste for a winter residence on Mount +Washington, where the thermometer cannot be kept comfortable even by +boiling. They say that they say in Boston that there is a satisfaction +in being well dressed which religion cannot give. There is certainly a +satisfaction in the direct radiance of a hickory fire which is not to be +found in the fieriest blasts of a furnace. The hot air of a furnace is +a sirocco; the heat of a wood-fire is only intense sunshine, like that +bottled in Lacrimae Christi. Besides this, the eye is delighted, the +sense of smell is regaled by the fragrant decomposition, and the ear is +pleased with the hissing, crackling, and singing,--a liberation of +so many out-door noises. Some people like the sound of bubbling in a +boiling pot, or the fizzing of a frying-spider. But there is nothing +gross in the animated crackling of sticks of wood blazing on the earth, +not even if chestnuts are roasting in the ashes. All the senses are +ministered to, and the imagination is left as free as the leaping +tongues of flame. + +The attention which a wood-fire demands is one of its best +recommendations. We value little that which costs us no trouble to +maintain. If we had to keep the sun kindled up and going by private +corporate action, or act of Congress, and to be taxed for the support of +customs officers of solar heat, we should prize it more than we do. Not +that I should like to look upon the sun as a job, and have the proper +regulation of its temperature get into politics, where we already have +so much combustible stuff; but we take it quite too much as a matter +of course, and, having it free, do not reckon it among the reasons for +gratitude. Many people shut it out of their houses as if it were an +enemy, watch its descent upon the carpet as if it were only a thief of +color, and plant trees to shut it away from the mouldering house. All +the animals know better than this, as well as the more simple races of +men; the old women of the southern Italian coasts sit all day in the sun +and ply the distaff, as grateful as the sociable hens on the south side +of a New England barn; the slow tortoise likes to take the sun upon his +sloping back, soaking in color that shall make him immortal when the +imperishable part of him is cut up into shell ornaments. The capacity +of a cat to absorb sunshine is only equaled by that of an Arab or an +Ethiopian. They are not afraid of injuring their complexions. + +White must be the color of civilization; it has so many natural +disadvantages. But this is politics. I was about to say that, however it +may be with sunshine, one is always grateful for his wood-fire, because +he does not maintain it without some cost. + +Yet I cannot but confess to a difference between sunlight and the light +of a wood-fire. The sunshine is entirely untamed. Where it rages most +freely it tends to evoke the brilliancy rather than the harmonious +satisfactions of nature. The monstrous growths and the flaming colors +of the tropics contrast with our more subdued loveliness of foliage and +bloom. The birds of the middle region dazzle with their contrasts of +plumage, and their voices are for screaming rather than singing. I +presume the new experiments in sound would project a macaw's voice +in very tangled and inharmonious lines of light. I suspect that the +fiercest sunlight puts people, as well as animals and vegetables, on +extremes in all ways. A wood-fire on the hearth is a kindler of the +domestic virtues. It brings in cheerfulness, and a family center, and, +besides, it is artistic. I should like to know if an artist could ever +represent on canvas a happy family gathered round a hole in the floor +called a register. Given a fireplace, and a tolerable artist could +almost create a pleasant family round it. But what could he conjure out +of a register? If there was any virtue among our ancestors,--and they +labored under a great many disadvantages, and had few of the aids which +we have to excellence of life,--I am convinced they drew it mostly from +the fireside. If it was difficult to read the eleven commandments by the +light of a pine-knot, it was not difficult to get the sweet spirit +of them from the countenance of the serene mother knitting in the +chimney-corner. + + + + +III + +When the fire is made, you want to sit in front of it and grow genial in +its effulgence. I have never been upon a throne,--except in moments of a +traveler's curiosity, about as long as a South American dictator remains +on one,--but I have no idea that it compares, for pleasantness, with a +seat before a wood-fire. A whole leisure day before you, a good novel +in hand, and the backlog only just beginning to kindle, with uncounted +hours of comfort in it, has life anything more delicious? For "novel" +you can substitute "Calvin's Institutes," if you wish to be virtuous +as well as happy. Even Calvin would melt before a wood-fire. A great +snowstorm, visible on three sides of your wide-windowed room, loading +the evergreens, blown in fine powder from the great chestnut-tops, piled +up in ever accumulating masses, covering the paths, the shrubbery, the +hedges, drifting and clinging in fantastic deposits, deepening your +sense of security, and taking away the sin of idleness by making it a +necessity, this is an excellent ground to your day by the fire. + +To deliberately sit down in the morning to read a novel, to enjoy +yourself, is this not, in New England (I am told they don't read much +in other parts of the country), the sin of sins? Have you any right to +read, especially novels, until you have exhausted the best part of the +day in some employment that is called practical? Have you any right to +enjoy yourself at all until the fag-end of the day, when you are +tired and incapable of enjoying yourself? I am aware that this is the +practice, if not the theory, of our society,--to postpone the delights +of social intercourse until after dark, and rather late at night, when +body and mind are both weary with the exertions of business, and when +we can give to what is the most delightful and profitable thing in life, +social and intellectual society, only the weariness of dull brains and +over-tired muscles. No wonder we take our amusements sadly, and that so +many people find dinners heavy and parties stupid. Our economy leaves no +place for amusements; we merely add them to the burden of a life already +full. The world is still a little off the track as to what is really +useful. + +I confess that the morning is a very good time to read a novel, or +anything else which is good and requires a fresh mind; and I take it +that nothing is worth reading that does not require an alert mind. I +suppose it is necessary that business should be transacted; though the +amount of business that does not contribute to anybody's comfort or +improvement suggests the query whether it is not overdone. I know that +unremitting attention to business is the price of success, but I don't +know what success is. There is a man, whom we all know, who built a +house that cost a quarter of a million of dollars, and furnished it for +another like sum, who does not know anything more about architecture, +or painting, or books, or history, than he cares for the rights of those +who have not so much money as he has. I heard him once, in a foreign +gallery, say to his wife, as they stood in front of a famous picture +by Rubens: "That is the Rape of the Sardines!" What a cheerful world it +would be if everybody was as successful as that man! While I am reading +my book by the fire, and taking an active part in important transactions +that may be a good deal better than real, let me be thankful that +a great many men are profitably employed in offices and bureaus and +country stores in keeping up the gossip and endless exchange of opinions +among mankind, so much of which is made to appear to the women at home +as "business." I find that there is a sort of busy idleness among men +in this world that is not held in disrepute. When the time comes that +I have to prove my right to vote, with women, I trust that it will be +remembered in my favor that I made this admission. If it is true, as a +witty conservative once said to me, that we never shall have peace in +this country until we elect a colored woman president, I desire to be +rectus in curia early. + + + + +IV + +The fireplace, as we said, is a window through which we look out upon +other scenes. We like to read of the small, bare room, with cobwebbed +ceiling and narrow window, in which the poor child of genius sits with +his magical pen, the master of a realm of beauty and enchantment. +I think the open fire does not kindle the imagination so much as it +awakens the memory; one sees the past in its crumbling embers and ashy +grayness, rather than the future. People become reminiscent and even +sentimental in front of it. They used to become something else in those +good old days when it was thought best to heat the poker red hot before +plunging it into the mugs of flip. This heating of the poker has been +disapproved of late years, but I do not know on what grounds; if one +is to drink bitters and gins and the like, such as I understand as good +people as clergymen and women take in private, and by advice, I do not +know why one should not make them palatable and heat them with his own +poker. Cold whiskey out of a bottle, taken as a prescription six times +a day on the sly, is n't my idea of virtue any more than the social +ancestral glass, sizzling wickedly with the hot iron. Names are so +confusing in this world; but things are apt to remain pretty much the +same, whatever we call them. + +Perhaps as you look into the fireplace it widens and grows deep and +cavernous. The back and the jambs are built up of great stones, not +always smoothly laid, with jutting ledges upon which ashes are apt to +lie. The hearthstone is an enormous block of trap rock, with a surface +not perfectly even, but a capital place to crack butternuts on. Over +the fire swings an iron crane, with a row of pot-hooks of all lengths +hanging from it. It swings out when the housewife wants to hang on +the tea-kettle, and it is strong enough to support a row of pots, or a +mammoth caldron kettle on occasion. What a jolly sight is this fireplace +when the pots and kettles in a row are all boiling and bubbling over +the flame, and a roasting spit is turning in front! It makes a person +as hungry as one of Scott's novels. But the brilliant sight is in the +frosty morning, about daylight, when the fire is made. The coals are +raked open, the split sticks are piled up in openwork criss-crossing, as +high as the crane; and when the flame catches hold and roars up through +the interstices, it is like an out-of-door bonfire. Wood enough is +consumed in that morning sacrifice to cook the food of a Parisian family +for a year. How it roars up the wide chimney, sending into the air the +signal smoke and sparks which announce to the farming neighbors another +day cheerfully begun! The sleepiest boy in the world would get up in his +red flannel nightgown to see such a fire lighted, even if he dropped +to sleep again in his chair before the ruddy blaze. Then it is that the +house, which has shrunk and creaked all night in the pinching cold of +winter, begins to glow again and come to life. The thick frost melts +little by little on the small window-panes, and it is seen that the gray +dawn is breaking over the leagues of pallid snow. It is time to blow out +the candle, which has lost all its cheerfulness in the light of day. The +morning romance is over; the family is astir; and member after member +appears with the morning yawn, to stand before the crackling, fierce +conflagration. The daily round begins. The most hateful employment ever +invented for mortal man presents itself: the "chores" are to be done. +The boy who expects every morning to open into a new world finds that +to-day is like yesterday, but he believes to-morrow will be different. +And yet enough for him, for the day, is the wading in the snowdrifts, or +the sliding on the diamond-sparkling crust. Happy, too, is he, when the +storm rages, and the snow is piled high against the windows, if he can +sit in the warm chimney-corner and read about Burgoyne, and General +Fraser, and Miss McCrea, midwinter marches through the wilderness, +surprises of wigwams, and the stirring ballad, say, of the Battle of the +Kegs:-- + + "Come, gallants, attend and list a friend + Thrill forth harmonious ditty; + While I shall tell what late befell + At Philadelphia city." + + +I should like to know what heroism a boy in an old New England +farmhouse--rough-nursed by nature, and fed on the traditions of the old +wars did not aspire to. "John," says the mother, "You'll burn your head +to a crisp in that heat." But John does not hear; he is storming the +Plains of Abraham just now. "Johnny, dear, bring in a stick of wood." +How can Johnny bring in wood when he is in that defile with Braddock, +and the Indians are popping at him from behind every tree? There is +something about a boy that I like, after all. + +The fire rests upon the broad hearth; the hearth rests upon a great +substruction of stone, and the substruction rests upon the cellar. What +supports the cellar I never knew, but the cellar supports the family. +The cellar is the foundation of domestic comfort. Into its dark, +cavernous recesses the child's imagination fearfully goes. Bogies guard +the bins of choicest apples. I know not what comical sprites sit astride +the cider-barrels ranged along the walls. The feeble flicker of the +tallow-candle does not at all dispel, but creates, illusions, and +magnifies all the rich possibilities of this underground treasure-house. +When the cellar-door is opened, and the boy begins to descend into the +thick darkness, it is always with a heart-beat as of one started upon +some adventure. Who can forget the smell that comes through the opened +door;--a mingling of fresh earth, fruit exhaling delicious aroma, +kitchen vegetables, the mouldy odor of barrels, a sort of ancestral +air,--as if a door had been opened into an old romance. Do you like it? +Not much. But then I would not exchange the remembrance of it for a good +many odors and perfumes that I do like. + +It is time to punch the backlog and put on a new forestick. + + + + + +SECOND STUDY + + + + +I + +The log was white birch. The beautiful satin bark at once kindled into +a soft, pure, but brilliant flame, something like that of naphtha. There +is no other wood flame so rich, and it leaps up in a joyous, spiritual +way, as if glad to burn for the sake of burning. Burning like a clear +oil, it has none of the heaviness and fatness of the pine and the +balsam. Woodsmen are at a loss to account for its intense and yet +chaste flame, since the bark has no oily appearance. The heat from it +is fierce, and the light dazzling. It flares up eagerly like young love, +and then dies away; the wood does not keep up the promise of the +bark. The woodsmen, it is proper to say, have not considered it in its +relation to young love. In the remote settlements the pine-knot is still +the torch of courtship; it endures to sit up by. The birch-bark has +alliances with the world of sentiment and of letters. The most poetical +reputation of the North American Indian floats in a canoe made of it; +his picture-writing was inscribed on it. It is the paper that nature +furnishes for lovers in the wilderness, who are enabled to convey a +delicate sentiment by its use, which is expressed neither in their ideas +nor chirography. It is inadequate for legal parchment, but does very +well for deeds of love, which are not meant usually to give a perfect +title. With care, it may be split into sheets as thin as the Chinese +paper. It is so beautiful to handle that it is a pity civilization +cannot make more use of it. But fancy articles manufactured from it are +very much like all ornamental work made of nature's perishable seeds, +leaves, cones, and dry twigs,--exquisite while the pretty fingers are +fashioning it, but soon growing shabby and cheap to the eye. And yet +there is a pathos in "dried things," whether they are displayed as +ornaments in some secluded home, or hidden religiously in bureau drawers +where profane eyes cannot see how white ties are growing yellow and ink +is fading from treasured letters, amid a faint and discouraging perfume +of ancient rose-leaves. + +The birch log holds out very well while it is green, but has not +substance enough for a backlog when dry. Seasoning green timber or men +is always an experiment. A man may do very well in a simple, let us say, +country or backwoods line of life, who would come to nothing in a more +complicated civilization. City life is a severe trial. One man is struck +with a dry-rot; another develops season-cracks; another shrinks and +swells with every change of circumstance. Prosperity is said to be more +trying than adversity, a theory which most people are willing to accept +without trial; but few men stand the drying out of the natural sap +of their greenness in the artificial heat of city life. This, be it +noticed, is nothing against the drying and seasoning process; character +must be put into the crucible some time, and why not in this world? A +man who cannot stand seasoning will not have a high market value in any +part of the universe. It is creditable to the race, that so many men and +women bravely jump into the furnace of prosperity and expose themselves +to the drying influences of city life. + +The first fire that is lighted on the hearth in the autumn seems to +bring out the cold weather. Deceived by the placid appearance of the +dying year, the softness of the sky, and the warm color of the foliage, +we have been shivering about for days without exactly comprehending what +was the matter. The open fire at once sets up a standard of comparison. +We find that the advance guards of winter are besieging the house. The +cold rushes in at every crack of door and window, apparently signaled +by the flame to invade the house and fill it with chilly drafts and +sarcasms on what we call the temperate zone. It needs a roaring fire +to beat back the enemy; a feeble one is only an invitation to the +most insulting demonstrations. Our pious New England ancestors were +philosophers in their way. It was not simply owing to grace that +they sat for hours in their barnlike meeting-houses during the winter +Sundays, the thermometer many degrees below freezing, with no fire, +except the zeal in their own hearts,--a congregation of red noses and +bright eyes. It was no wonder that the minister in the pulpit warmed up +to his subject, cried aloud, used hot words, spoke a good deal of the +hot place and the Person whose presence was a burning shame, hammered +the desk as if he expected to drive his text through a two-inch plank, +and heated himself by all allowable ecclesiastical gymnastics. A few of +their followers in our day seem to forget that our modern churches are +heated by furnaces and supplied with gas. In the old days it would +have been thought unphilosophic as well as effeminate to warm the +meeting-houses artificially. In one house I knew, at least, when it was +proposed to introduce a stove to take a little of the chill from the +Sunday services, the deacons protested against the innovation. They said +that the stove might benefit those who sat close to it, but it would +drive all the cold air to the other parts of the church, and freeze the +people to death; it was cold enough now around the edges. Blessed days +of ignorance and upright living! Sturdy men who served God by resolutely +sitting out the icy hours of service, amid the rattling of windows and +the carousal of winter in the high, windswept galleries! Patient women, +waiting in the chilly house for consumption to pick out his victims, and +replace the color of youth and the flush of devotion with the hectic +of disease! At least, you did not doze and droop in our over-heated +edifices, and die of vitiated air and disregard of the simplest +conditions of organized life. It is fortunate that each generation +does not comprehend its own ignorance. We are thus enabled to call our +ancestors barbarous. It is something also that each age has its choice +of the death it will die. Our generation is most ingenious. From our +public assembly-rooms and houses we have almost succeeded in excluding +pure air. It took the race ages to build dwellings that would keep out +rain; it has taken longer to build houses air-tight, but we are on the +eve of success. We are only foiled by the ill-fitting, insincere work of +the builders, who build for a day, and charge for all time. + + + + +II + +When the fire on the hearth has blazed up and then settled into steady +radiance, talk begins. There is no place like the chimney-corner for +confidences; for picking up the clews of an old friendship; for taking +note where one's self has drifted, by comparing ideas and prejudices +with the intimate friend of years ago, whose course in life has lain +apart from yours. No stranger puzzles you so much as the once close +friend, with whose thinking and associates you have for years been +unfamiliar. Life has come to mean this and that to you; you have fallen +into certain habits of thought; for you the world has progressed in +this or that direction; of certain results you feel very sure; you +have fallen into harmony with your surroundings; you meet day after day +people interested in the things that interest you; you are not in the +least opinionated, it is simply your good fortune to look upon the +affairs of the world from the right point of view. When you last saw +your friend,--less than a year after you left college,--he was the most +sensible and agreeable of men; he had no heterodox notions; he agreed +with you; you could even tell what sort of a wife he would select, and +if you could do that, you held the key to his life. + +Well, Herbert came to visit me the other day from the antipodes. And +here he sits by the fireplace. I cannot think of any one I would rather +see there, except perhaps Thackery; or, for entertainment, Boswell; or +old, Pepys; or one of the people who was left out of the Ark. They were +talking one foggy London night at Hazlitt's about whom they would most +like to have seen, when Charles Lamb startled the company by declaring +that he would rather have seen Judas Iscariot than any other person +who had lived on the earth. For myself, I would rather have seen Lamb +himself once, than to have lived with Judas. Herbert, to my great +delight, has not changed; I should know him anywhere,--the same serious, +contemplative face, with lurking humor at the corners of the mouth,--the +same cheery laugh and clear, distinct enunciation as of old. There is +nothing so winning as a good voice. To see Herbert again, unchanged +in all outward essentials, is not only gratifying, but valuable as a +testimony to nature's success in holding on to a personal identity, +through the entire change of matter that has been constantly taking +place for so many years. I know very well there is here no part of the +Herbert whose hand I had shaken at the Commencement parting; but it is +an astonishing reproduction of him,--a material likeness; and now for +the spiritual. + +Such a wide chance for divergence in the spiritual. It has been such +a busy world for twenty years. So many things have been torn up by the +roots again that were settled when we left college. There were to be no +more wars; democracy was democracy, and progress, the differentiation +of the individual, was a mere question of clothes; if you want to be +different, go to your tailor; nobody had demonstrated that there is +a man-soul and a woman-soul, and that each is in reality only a +half-soul,--putting the race, so to speak, upon the half-shell. The +social oyster being opened, there appears to be two shells and only one +oyster; who shall have it? So many new canons of taste, of criticism, +of morality have been set up; there has been such a resurrection of +historical reputations for new judgment, and there have been so many +discoveries, geographical, archaeological, geological, biological, that +the earth is not at all what it was supposed to be; and our philosophers +are much more anxious to ascertain where we came from than whither we +are going. In this whirl and turmoil of new ideas, nature, which has +only the single end of maintaining the physical identity in the body, +works on undisturbed, replacing particle for particle, and preserving +the likeness more skillfully than a mosaic artist in the Vatican; she +has not even her materials sorted and labeled, as the Roman artist has +his thousands of bits of color; and man is all the while doing his +best to confuse the process, by changing his climate, his diet, all his +surroundings, without the least care to remain himself. But the mind? + +It is more difficult to get acquainted with Herbert than with an entire +stranger, for I have my prepossessions about him, and do not find him +in so many places where I expect to find him. He is full of criticism +of the authors I admire; he thinks stupid or improper the books I most +read; he is skeptical about the "movements" I am interested in; he has +formed very different opinions from mine concerning a hundred men and +women of the present day; we used to eat from one dish; we could n't +now find anything in common in a dozen; his prejudices (as we call +our opinions) are most extraordinary, and not half so reasonable as +my prejudices; there are a great many persons and things that I am +accustomed to denounce, uncontradicted by anybody, which he defends; his +public opinion is not at all my public opinion. I am sorry for him. He +appears to have fallen into influences and among a set of people foreign +to me. I find that his church has a different steeple on it from my +church (which, to say the truth, hasn't any). It is a pity that such a +dear friend and a man of so much promise should have drifted off into +such general contrariness. I see Herbert sitting here by the fire, +with the old look in his face coming out more and more, but I do not +recognize any features of his mind,--except perhaps his contrariness; +yes, he was always a little contrary, I think. And finally he surprises +me with, "Well, my friend, you seem to have drifted away from your old +notions and opinions. We used to agree when we were together, but I +sometimes wondered where you would land; for, pardon me, you showed +signs of looking at things a little contrary." + +I am silent for a good while. I am trying to think who I am. There was +a person whom I thought I knew, very fond of Herbert, and agreeing with +him in most things. Where has he gone? and, if he is here, where is the +Herbert that I knew? + +If his intellectual and moral sympathies have all changed, I wonder if +his physical tastes remain, like his appearance, the same. There has +come over this country within the last generation, as everybody knows, +a great wave of condemnation of pie. It has taken the character of a +"movement!" though we have had no conventions about it, nor is any one, +of any of the several sexes among us, running for president against it. +It is safe almost anywhere to denounce pie, yet nearly everybody eats +it on occasion. A great many people think it savors of a life abroad to +speak with horror of pie, although they were very likely the foremost +of the Americans in Paris who used to speak with more enthusiasm of +the American pie at Madame Busque's than of the Venus of Milo. To talk +against pie and still eat it is snobbish, of course; but snobbery, being +an aspiring failing, is sometimes the prophecy of better things. +To affect dislike of pie is something. We have no statistics on the +subject, and cannot tell whether it is gaining or losing in the country +at large. Its disappearance in select circles is no test. The amount of +writing against it is no more test of its desuetude, than the number of +religious tracts distributed in a given district is a criterion of its +piety. We are apt to assume that certain regions are substantially free +of it. Herbert and I, traveling north one summer, fancied that we could +draw in New England a sort of diet line, like the sweeping curves on the +isothermal charts, which should show at least the leading pie sections. +Journeying towards the White Mountains, we concluded that a line passing +through Bellows Falls, and bending a little south on either side, would +mark northward the region of perpetual pie. In this region pie is to +be found at all hours and seasons, and at every meal. I am not sure, +however, that pie is not a matter of altitude rather than latitude, as +I find that all the hill and country towns of New England are full of +those excellent women, the very salt of the housekeeping earth, who +would feel ready to sink in mortification through their scoured kitchen +floors, if visitors should catch them without a pie in the house. The +absence of pie would be more noticed than a scarcity of Bible even. +Without it the housekeepers are as distracted as the boarding-house +keeper, who declared that if it were not for canned tomato, she should +have nothing to fly to. Well, in all this great agitation I find Herbert +unmoved, a conservative, even to the under-crust. I dare not ask him +if he eats pie at breakfast. There are some tests that the dearest +friendship may not apply. + +"Will you smoke?" I ask. + +"No, I have reformed." + +"Yes, of course." + +"The fact is, that when we consider the correlation of forces, the +apparent sympathy of spirit manifestations with electric conditions, the +almost revealed mysteries of what may be called the odic force, and the +relation of all these phenomena to the nervous system in man, it is not +safe to do anything to the nervous system that will--" + +"Hang the nervous system! Herbert, we can agree in one thing: old +memories, reveries, friendships, center about that:--is n't an open +wood-fire good?" + +"Yes," says Herbert, combatively, "if you don't sit before it too long." + + + + + +III + +The best talk is that which escapes up the open chimney and cannot be +repeated. The finest woods make the best fire and pass away with the +least residuum. I hope the next generation will not accept the reports +of "interviews" as specimens of the conversations of these years of +grace. + +But do we talk as well as our fathers and mothers did? We hear wonderful +stories of the bright generation that sat about the wide fireplaces +of New England. Good talk has so much short-hand that it cannot be +reported,--the inflection, the change of voice, the shrug, cannot be +caught on paper. The best of it is when the subject unexpectedly +goes cross-lots, by a flash of short-cut, to a conclusion so suddenly +revealed that it has the effect of wit. It needs the highest culture and +the finest breeding to prevent the conversation from running into mere +persiflage on the one hand--its common fate--or monologue on the +other. Our conversation is largely chaff. I am not sure but the former +generation preached a good deal, but it had great practice in fireside +talk, and must have talked well. There were narrators in those days who +could charm a circle all the evening long with stories. When each day +brought comparatively little new to read, there was leisure for +talk, and the rare book and the in-frequent magazine were thoroughly +discussed. Families now are swamped by the printed matter that comes +daily upon the center-table. There must be a division of labor, one +reading this, and another that, to make any impression on it. The +telegraph brings the only common food, and works this daily miracle, +that every mind in Christendom is excited by one topic simultaneously +with every other mind; it enables a concurrent mental action, a burst +of sympathy, or a universal prayer to be made, which must be, if we +have any faith in the immaterial left, one of the chief forces in modern +life. It is fit that an agent so subtle as electricity should be the +minister of it. + +When there is so much to read, there is little time for conversation; +nor is there leisure for another pastime of the ancient firesides, +called reading aloud. The listeners, who heard while they looked into +the wide chimney-place, saw there pass in stately procession the events +and the grand persons of history, were kindled with the delights of +travel, touched by the romance of true love, or made restless by tales +of adventure;--the hearth became a sort of magic stone that could +transport those who sat by it to the most distant places and times, as +soon as the book was opened and the reader began, of a winter's night. +Perhaps the Puritan reader read through his nose, and all the little +Puritans made the most dreadful nasal inquiries as the entertainment +went on. The prominent nose of the intellectual New-Englander +is evidence of the constant linguistic exercise of the organ for +generations. It grew by talking through. But I have no doubt that +practice made good readers in those days. Good reading aloud is almost +a lost accomplishment now. It is little thought of in the schools. It is +disused at home. It is rare to find any one who can read, even from the +newspaper, well. Reading is so universal, even with the uncultivated, +that it is common to hear people mispronounce words that you did not +suppose they had ever seen. In reading to themselves they glide over +these words, in reading aloud they stumble over them. Besides, our +every-day books and newspapers are so larded with French that the +ordinary reader is obliged marcher a pas de loup,--for instance. + +The newspaper is probably responsible for making current many words with +which the general reader is familiar, but which he rises to in the +flow of conversation, and strikes at with a splash and an unsuccessful +attempt at appropriation; the word, which he perfectly knows, hooks him +in the gills, and he cannot master it. The newspaper is thus widening +the language in use, and vastly increasing the number of words which +enter into common talk. The Americans of the lowest intellectual class +probably use more words to express their ideas than the similar class +of any other people; but this prodigality is partially balanced by the +parsimony of words in some higher regions, in which a few phrases of +current slang are made to do the whole duty of exchange of ideas; if +that can be called exchange of ideas when one intellect flashes forth +to another the remark, concerning some report, that "you know how it is +yourself," and is met by the response of "that's what's the matter," and +rejoins with the perfectly conclusive "that's so." It requires a high +degree of culture to use slang with elegance and effect; and we are yet +very far from the Greek attainment. + + + + + +IV + +The fireplace wants to be all aglow, the wind rising, the night heavy +and black above, but light with sifting snow on the earth, a background +of inclemency for the illumined room with its pictured walls, tables +heaped with books, capacious easy-chairs and their occupants,--it needs, +I say, to glow and throw its rays far through the crystal of the broad +windows, in order that we may rightly appreciate the relation of the +wide-jambed chimney to domestic architecture in our climate. We fell to +talking about it; and, as is usual when the conversation is professedly +on one subject, we wandered all around it. The young lady staying with +us was roasting chestnuts in the ashes, and the frequent explosions +required considerable attention. The mistress, too, sat somewhat alert, +ready to rise at any instant and minister to the fancied want of this or +that guest, forgetting the reposeful truth that people about a fireside +will not have any wants if they are not suggested. The worst of them, +if they desire anything, only want something hot, and that later in the +evening. And it is an open question whether you ought to associate with +people who want that. + +I was saying that nothing had been so slow in its progress in the +world as domestic architecture. Temples, palaces, bridges, aqueducts, +cathedrals, towers of marvelous delicacy and strength, grew to +perfection while the common people lived in hovels, and the richest +lodged in the most gloomy and contracted quarters. The dwelling-house +is a modern institution. It is a curious fact that it has only improved +with the social elevation of women. Men were never more brilliant in +arms and letters than in the age of Elizabeth, and yet they had no +homes. They made themselves thick-walled castles, with slits in the +masonry for windows, for defense, and magnificent banquet-halls for +pleasure; the stone rooms into which they crawled for the night were +often little better than dog-kennels. The Pompeians had no comfortable +night-quarters. The most singular thing to me, however, is that, +especially interested as woman is in the house, she has never done +anything for architecture. And yet woman is reputed to be an ingenious +creature. + +HERBERT. I doubt if woman has real ingenuity; she has great +adaptability. I don't say that she will do the same thing twice +alike, like a Chinaman, but she is most cunning in suiting herself to +circumstances. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, if you speak of constructive, creative ingenuity, +perhaps not; but in the higher ranges of achievement--that of +accomplishing any purpose dear to her heart, for instance--her ingenuity +is simply incomprehensible to me. + +HERBERT. Yes, if you mean doing things by indirection. + +THE MISTRESS. When you men assume all the direction, what else is left +to us? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see a woman refurnish a house? + +THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH US. I never saw a man do it, unless he was +burned out of his rookery. + +HERBERT. There is no comfort in new things. + +THE FIRE-TENDER (not noticing the interruption). Having set her mind +on a total revolution of the house, she buys one new thing, not too +obtrusive, nor much out of harmony with the old. The husband scarcely +notices it, least of all does he suspect the revolution, which she +already has accomplished. Next, some article that does look a little +shabby beside the new piece of furniture is sent to the garret, and its +place is supplied by something that will match in color and effect. Even +the man can see that it ought to match, and so the process goes on, it +may be for years, it may be forever, until nothing of the old is left, +and the house is transformed as it was predetermined in the woman's +mind. I doubt if the man ever understands how or when it was done; his +wife certainly never says anything about the refurnishing, but quietly +goes on to new conquests. + +THE MISTRESS. And is n't it better to buy little by little, enjoying +every new object as you get it, and assimilating each article to your +household life, and making the home a harmonious expression of your own +taste, rather than to order things in sets, and turn your house, for the +time being, into a furniture ware-room? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, I only spoke of the ingenuity of it. + +THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I never can get acquainted with more than +one piece of furniture at a time. + +HERBERT. I suppose women are our superiors in artistic taste, and I +fancy that I can tell whether a house is furnished by a woman or a +man; of course, I mean the few houses that appear to be the result of +individual taste and refinement,--most of them look as if they had been +furnished on contract by the upholsterer. + +THE MISTRESS. Woman's province in this world is putting things to +rights. + +HERBERT. With a vengeance, sometimes. In the study, for example. My +chief objection to woman is that she has no respect for the newspaper, +or the printed page, as such. She is Siva, the destroyer. I have noticed +that a great part of a married man's time at home is spent in trying to +find the things he has put on his study-table. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Herbert speaks with the bitterness of a bachelor shut +out of paradise. It is my experience that if women did not destroy the +rubbish that men bring into the house, it would become uninhabitable, +and need to be burned down every five years. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I confess women do a great deal for the appearance of +things. When the mistress is absent, this room, although everything is +here as it was before, does not look at all like the same place; it is +stiff, and seems to lack a soul. When she returns, I can see that her +eye, even while greeting me, takes in the situation at a glance. +While she is talking of the journey, and before she has removed her +traveling-hat, she turns this chair and moves that, sets one piece of +furniture at a different angle, rapidly, and apparently unconsciously, +shifts a dozen little knick-knacks and bits of color, and the room is +transformed. I couldn't do it in a week. + +THE MISTRESS. That is the first time I ever knew a man admit he couldn't +do anything if he had time. + +HERBERT. Yet with all their peculiar instinct for making a home, women +make themselves very little felt in our domestic architecture. + +THE MISTRESS. Men build most of the houses in what might be called the +ready-made-clothing style, and we have to do the best we can with them; +and hard enough it is to make cheerful homes in most of them. You will +see something different when the woman is constantly consulted in the +plan of the house. + +HERBERT. We might see more difference if women would give any attention +to architecture. Why are there no women architects? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Want of the ballot, doubtless. It seems to me that here +is a splendid opportunity for woman to come to the front. + +THE YOUNG LADY. They have no desire to come to the front; they would +rather manage things where they are. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. If they would master the noble art, and put their +brooding taste upon it, we might very likely compass something in our +domestic architecture that we have not yet attained. The outside of our +houses needs attention as well as the inside. Most of them are as ugly +as money can build. + +THE YOUNG LADY. What vexes me most is, that women, married women, have +so easily consented to give up open fires in their houses. + +HERBERT. They dislike the dust and the bother. I think that women rather +like the confined furnace heat. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Nonsense; it is their angelic virtue of submission. We +wouldn't be hired to stay all-day in the houses we build. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That has a very chivalrous sound, but I know there will +be no reformation until women rebel and demand everywhere the open fire. + +HERBERT. They are just now rebelling about something else; it seems to +me yours is a sort of counter-movement, a fire in the rear. + +THE MISTRESS. I'll join that movement. The time has come when woman must +strike for her altars and her fires. + +HERBERT. Hear, hear! + +THE MISTRESS. Thank you, Herbert. I applauded you once, when you +declaimed that years ago in the old Academy. I remember how eloquently +you did it. + +HERBERT. Yes, I was once a spouting idiot. + +Just then the door-bell rang, and company came in. And the company +brought in a new atmosphere, as company always does, something of the +disturbance of out-doors, and a good deal of its healthy cheer. The +direct news that the thermometer was approaching zero, with a hopeful +prospect of going below it, increased to liveliness our satisfaction in +the fire. When the cider was heated in the brown stone pitcher, there +was difference of opinion whether there should be toast in it; some +were for toast, because that was the old-fashioned way, and others were +against it, "because it does not taste good" in cider. Herbert said +there, was very little respect left for our forefathers. + +More wood was put on, and the flame danced in a hundred fantastic +shapes. The snow had ceased to fall, and the moonlight lay in silvery +patches among the trees in the ravine. The conversation became worldly. + + + + + +THIRD STUDY + + + + +I + +Herbert said, as we sat by the fire one night, that he wished he had +turned his attention to writing poetry like Tennyson's. + +The remark was not whimsical, but satirical. Tennyson is a man of +talent, who happened to strike a lucky vein, which he has worked with +cleverness. The adventurer with a pickaxe in Washoe may happen upon like +good fortune. The world is full of poetry as the earth is of "pay-dirt;" +one only needs to know how to "strike" it. An able man can make himself +almost anything that he will. It is melancholy to think how many epic +poets have been lost in the tea-trade, how many dramatists (though +the age of the drama has passed) have wasted their genius in great +mercantile and mechanical enterprises. I know a man who might have been +the poet, the essayist, perhaps the critic, of this country, who chose +to become a country judge, to sit day after day upon a bench in +an obscure corner of the world, listening to wrangling lawyers and +prevaricating witnesses, preferring to judge his fellow-men rather than +enlighten them. + +It is fortunate for the vanity of the living and the reputation of the +dead, that men get almost as much credit for what they do not as for +what they do. It was the opinion of many that Burns might have excelled +as a statesman, or have been a great captain in war; and Mr. Carlyle +says that if he had been sent to a university, and become a trained +intellectual workman, it lay in him to have changed the whole course of +British literature! A large undertaking, as so vigorous and dazzling a +writer as Mr. Carlyle must know by this time, since British +literature has swept by him in a resistless and widening flood, mainly +uncontaminated, and leaving his grotesque contrivances wrecked on the +shore with other curiosities of letters, and yet among the richest of +all the treasures lying there. + +It is a temptation to a temperate man to become a sot, to hear what +talent, what versatility, what genius, is almost always attributed to a +moderately bright man who is habitually drunk. Such a mechanic, such a +mathematician, such a poet he would be, if he were only sober; and +then he is sure to be the most generous, magnanimous, friendly soul, +conscientiously honorable, if he were not so conscientiously drunk. I +suppose it is now notorious that the most brilliant and promising men +have been lost to the world in this way. It is sometimes almost painful +to think what a surplus of talent and genius there would be in the world +if the habit of intoxication should suddenly cease; and what a slim +chance there would be for the plodding people who have always had +tolerably good habits. The fear is only mitigated by the observation +that the reputation of a person for great talent sometimes ceases with +his reformation. + +It is believed by some that the maidens who would make the best wives +never marry, but remain free to bless the world with their impartial +sweetness, and make it generally habitable. This is one of the mysteries +of Providence and New England life. It seems a pity, at first sight, +that all those who become poor wives have the matrimonial chance, and +that they are deprived of the reputation of those who would be good +wives were they not set apart for the high and perpetual office of +priestesses of society. There is no beauty like that which was spoiled +by an accident, no accomplishments--and graces are so to be envied as +those that circumstances rudely hindered the development of. All +of which shows what a charitable and good-tempered world it is, +notwithstanding its reputation for cynicism and detraction. + +Nothing is more beautiful than the belief of the faithful wife that her +husband has all the talents, and could, if he would, be distinguished in +any walk in life; and nothing will be more beautiful--unless this is +a very dry time for signs--than the husband's belief that his wife is +capable of taking charge of any of the affairs of this confused planet. +There is no woman but thinks that her husband, the green-grocer, could +write poetry if he had given his mind to it, or else she thinks small +beer of poetry in comparison with an occupation or accomplishment purely +vegetable. It is touching to see the look of pride with which the +wife turns to her husband from any more brilliant personal presence or +display of wit than his, in the perfect confidence that if the world +knew what she knows, there would be one more popular idol. How she +magnifies his small wit, and dotes upon the self-satisfied look in his +face as if it were a sign of wisdom! What a councilor that man would +make! What a warrior he would be! There are a great many corporals +in their retired homes who did more for the safety and success of +our armies in critical moments, in the late war, than any of the +"high-cock-a-lorum" commanders. Mrs. Corporal does not envy the +reputation of General Sheridan; she knows very well who really won Five +Forks, for she has heard the story a hundred times, and will hear it a +hundred times more with apparently unabated interest. What a general +her husband would have made; and how his talking talent would shine in +Congress! + +HERBERT. Nonsense. There isn't a wife in the world who has not taken +the exact measure of her husband, weighed him and settled him in her own +mind, and knows him as well as if she had ordered him after designs and +specifications of her own. That knowledge, however, she ordinarily keeps +to herself, and she enters into a league with her husband, which he was +never admitted to the secret of, to impose upon the world. In nine out +of ten cases he more than half believes that he is what his wife tells +him he is. At any rate, she manages him as easily as the keeper does the +elephant, with only a bamboo wand and a sharp spike in the end. Usually +she flatters him, but she has the means of pricking clear through his +hide on occasion. It is the great secret of her power to have him think +that she thoroughly believes in him. + +THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH Us. And you call this hypocrisy? I have +heard authors, who thought themselves sly observers of women, call it +so. + +HERBERT. Nothing of the sort. It is the basis on which society rests, +the conventional agreement. If society is about to be overturned, it is +on this point. Women are beginning to tell men what they really think of +them; and to insist that the same relations of downright sincerity and +independence that exist between men shall exist between women and men. +Absolute truth between souls, without regard to sex, has always been the +ideal life of the poets. + +THE MISTRESS. Yes; but there was never a poet yet who would bear to have +his wife say exactly what she thought of his poetry, any more than +he would keep his temper if his wife beat him at chess; and there is +nothing that disgusts a man like getting beaten at chess by a woman. + +HERBERT. Well, women know how to win by losing. I think that the reason +why most women do not want to take the ballot and stand out in the open +for a free trial of power, is that they are reluctant to change the +certain domination of centuries, with weapons they are perfectly +competent to handle, for an experiment. I think we should be better +off if women were more transparent, and men were not so systematically +puffed up by the subtle flattery which is used to control them. + +MANDEVILLE. Deliver me from transparency. When a woman takes that guise, +and begins to convince me that I can see through her like a ray of +light, I must run or be lost. Transparent women are the truly dangerous. +There was one on ship-board [Mandeville likes to say that; he has just +returned from a little tour in Europe, and he quite often begins his +remarks with "on the ship going over;" the Young Lady declares that +he has a sort of roll in his chair, when he says it, that makes her +sea-sick] who was the most innocent, artless, guileless, natural bunch +of lace and feathers you ever saw; she was all candor and helplessness +and dependence; she sang like a nightingale, and talked like a nun. +There never was such simplicity. There was n't a sounding-line on board +that would have gone to the bottom of her soulful eyes. But she managed +the captain and all the officers, and controlled the ship as if she had +been the helm. All the passengers were waiting on her, fetching this +and that for her comfort, inquiring of her health, talking about her +genuineness, and exhibiting as much anxiety to get her ashore in safety, +as if she had been about to knight them all and give them a castle +apiece when they came to land. + +THE MISTRESS. What harm? It shows what I have always said, that the +service of a noble woman is the most ennobling influence for men. + +MANDEVILLE. If she is noble, and not a mere manager. I watched this +woman to see if she would ever do anything for any one else. She never +did. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see her again? I presume Mandeville has +introduced her here for some purpose. + +MANDEVILLE. No purpose. But we did see her on the Rhine; she was the +most disgusted traveler, and seemed to be in very ill humor with her +maid. I judged that her happiness depended upon establishing controlling +relations with all about her. On this Rhine boat, to be sure, there was +reason for disgust. And that reminds me of a remark that was made. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Oh! + +MANDEVILLE. When we got aboard at Mayence we were conscious of a +dreadful odor somewhere; as it was a foggy morning, we could see no +cause of it, but concluded it was from something on the wharf. The +fog lifted, and we got under way, but the odor traveled with us, and +increased. We went to every part of the vessel to avoid it, but in vain. +It occasionally reached us in great waves of disagreeableness. We had +heard of the odors of the towns on the Rhine, but we had no idea that +the entire stream was infected. It was intolerable. + +The day was lovely, and the passengers stood about on deck holding their +noses and admiring the scenery. You might see a row of them leaning over +the side, gazing up at some old ruin or ivied crag, entranced with the +romance of the situation, and all holding their noses with thumb and +finger. The sweet Rhine! By and by somebody discovered that the odor +came from a pile of cheese on the forward deck, covered with a canvas; +it seemed that the Rhinelanders are so fond of it that they take it +with them when they travel. If there should ever be war between us +and Germany, the borders of the Rhine would need no other defense from +American soldiers than a barricade of this cheese. I went to the stern +of the steamboat to tell a stout American traveler what was the origin +of the odor he had been trying to dodge all the morning. He looked more +disgusted than before, when he heard that it was cheese; but his only +reply was: "It must be a merciful God who can forgive a smell like +that!" + + + + + +II + +The above is introduced here in order to illustrate the usual effect +of an anecdote on conversation. Commonly it kills it. That talk must be +very well in hand, and under great headway, that an anecdote thrown in +front of will not pitch off the track and wreck. And it makes little +difference what the anecdote is; a poor one depresses the spirits, +and casts a gloom over the company; a good one begets others, and the +talkers go to telling stories; which is very good entertainment in +moderation, but is not to be mistaken for that unwearying flow of +argument, quaint remark, humorous color, and sprightly interchange of +sentiments and opinions, called conversation. + +The reader will perceive that all hope is gone here of deciding whether +Herbert could have written Tennyson's poems, or whether Tennyson could +have dug as much money out of the Heliogabalus Lode as Herbert did. The +more one sees of life, I think the impression deepens that men, after +all, play about the parts assigned them, according to their mental and +moral gifts, which are limited and preordained, and that their entrances +and exits are governed by a law no less certain because it is hidden. +Perhaps nobody ever accomplishes all that he feels lies in him to do; +but nearly every one who tries his powers touches the walls of his being +occasionally, and learns about how far to attempt to spring. There are +no impossibilities to youth and inexperience; but when a person has +tried several times to reach high C and been coughed down, he is quite +content to go down among the chorus. It is only the fools who keep +straining at high C all their lives. + +Mandeville here began to say that that reminded him of something that +happened when he was on the-- + +But Herbert cut in with the observation that no matter what a man's +single and several capacities and talents might be, he is controlled by +his own mysterious individuality, which is what metaphysicians call the +substance, all else being the mere accidents of the man. And this is the +reason that we cannot with any certainty tell what any person will do or +amount to, for, while we know his talents and abilities, we do not know +the resulting whole, which is he himself. THE FIRE-TENDER. So if you +could take all the first-class qualities that we admire in men and +women, and put them together into one being, you wouldn't be sure of the +result? + +HERBERT. Certainly not. You would probably have a monster. It takes a +cook of long experience, with the best materials, to make a dish "taste +good;" and the "taste good" is the indefinable essence, the resulting +balance or harmony which makes man or woman agreeable or beautiful or +effective in the world. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That must be the reason why novelists fail so lamentably +in almost all cases in creating good characters. They put in real +traits, talents, dispositions, but the result of the synthesis is +something that never was seen on earth before. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, a good character in fiction is an inspiration. +We admit this in poetry. It is as true of such creations as Colonel +Newcome, and Ethel, and Beatrix Esmond. There is no patchwork about +them. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Why was n't Thackeray ever inspired to create a noble +woman? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. That is the standing conundrum with all the women. They +will not accept Ethel Newcome even. Perhaps we shall have to admit that +Thackeray was a writer for men. + +HERBERT. Scott and the rest had drawn so many perfect women that +Thackeray thought it was time for a real one. + +THE MISTRESS. That's ill-natured. Thackeray did, however, make ladies. +If he had depicted, with his searching pen, any of us just as we are, I +doubt if we should have liked it much. + +MANDEVILLE. That's just it. Thackeray never pretended to make ideals, +and if the best novel is an idealization of human nature, then he was +not the best novelist. When I was crossing the Channel-- + +THE MISTRESS. Oh dear, if we are to go to sea again, Mandeville, I move +we have in the nuts and apples, and talk about our friends. + + + + + +III + +There is this advantage in getting back to a wood-fire on the hearth, +that you return to a kind of simplicity; you can scarcely imagine any +one being stiffly conventional in front of it. It thaws out formality, +and puts the company who sit around it into easy attitudes of mind and +body,--lounging attitudes,--Herbert said. + +And this brought up the subject of culture in America, especially as to +manner. The backlog period having passed, we are beginning to have in +society people of the cultured manner, as it is called, or polished +bearing, in which the polish is the most noticeable thing about the man. +Not the courtliness, the easy simplicity of the old-school gentleman, in +whose presence the milkmaid was as much at her ease as the countess, +but something far finer than this. These are the people of unruffled +demeanor, who never forget it for a moment, and never let you forget it. +Their presence is a constant rebuke to society. They are never "jolly;" +their laugh is never anything more than a well-bred smile; they +are never betrayed into any enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is a sign of +inexperience, of ignorance, of want of culture. They never lose +themselves in any cause; they never heartily praise any man or woman +or book; they are superior to all tides of feeling and all outbursts +of passion. They are not even shocked at vulgarity. They are simply +indifferent. They are calm, visibly calm, painfully calm; and it is +not the eternal, majestic calmness of the Sphinx either, but a rigid, +self-conscious repression. You would like to put a bent pin in their +chair when they are about calmly to sit down. + +A sitting hen on her nest is calm, but hopeful; she has faith that her +eggs are not china. These people appear to be sitting on china eggs. +Perfect culture has refined all blood, warmth, flavor, out of them. We +admire them without envy. They are too beautiful in their manners to be +either prigs or snobs. They are at once our models and our despair. They +are properly careful of themselves as models, for they know that if they +should break, society would become a scene of mere animal confusion. + +MANDEVILLE. I think that the best-bred people in the world are the +English. + +THE YOUNG LADY. You mean at home. + +MANDEVILLE. That's where I saw them. There is no nonsense about a +cultivated English man or woman. They express themselves sturdily and +naturally, and with no subservience to the opinions of others. There's a +sort of hearty sincerity about them that I like. Ages of culture on the +island have gone deeper than the surface, and they have simpler and +more natural manners than we. There is something good in the full, round +tones of their voices. + +HERBERT. Did you ever get into a diligence with a growling English-man +who had n't secured the place he wanted? + +[Mandeville once spent a week in London, riding about on the tops of +omnibuses.] + +THE MISTRESS. Did you ever see an English exquisite at the San Carlo, +and hear him cry "Bwavo"? + +MANDEVILLE. At any rate, he acted out his nature, and was n't afraid to. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I think Mandeville is right, for once. The men of the +best culture in England, in the middle and higher social classes, +are what you would call good fellows,--easy and simple in manner, +enthusiastic on occasion, and decidedly not cultivated into the smooth +calmness of indifference which some Americans seem to regard as the sine +qua non of good breeding. Their position is so assured that they do not +need that lacquer of calmness of which we were speaking. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Which is different from the manner acquired by those who +live a great deal in American hotels? + +THE MISTRESS. Or the Washington manner? + +HERBERT. The last two are the same. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Not exactly. You think you can always tell if a man +has learned his society carriage of a dancing-master. Well, you cannot +always tell by a person's manner whether he is a habitui of hotels or +of Washington. But these are distinct from the perfect polish and +politeness of indifferentism. + + + + + +IV + +Daylight disenchants. It draws one from the fireside, and dissipates the +idle illusions of conversation, except under certain conditions. Let us +say that the conditions are: a house in the country, with some forest +trees near, and a few evergreens, which are Christmas-trees all winter +long, fringed with snow, glistening with ice-pendants, cheerful by +day and grotesque by night; a snow-storm beginning out of a dark +sky, falling in a soft profusion that fills all the air, its dazzling +whiteness making a light near at hand, which is quite lost in the +distant darkling spaces. + +If one begins to watch the swirling flakes and crystals, he soon gets an +impression of infinity of resources that he can have from nothing else +so powerfully, except it be from Adirondack gnats. Nothing makes one +feel at home like a great snow-storm. Our intelligent cat will quit the +fire and sit for hours in the low window, watching the falling snow +with a serious and contented air. His thoughts are his own, but he is in +accord with the subtlest agencies of Nature; on such a day he is charged +with enough electricity to run a telegraphic battery, if it could be +utilized. The connection between thought and electricity has not been +exactly determined, but the cat is mentally very alert in certain +conditions of the atmosphere. Feasting his eyes on the beautiful +out-doors does not prevent his attention to the slightest noise in the +wainscot. And the snow-storm brings content, but not stupidity, to all +the rest of the household. + +I can see Mandeville now, rising from his armchair and swinging his long +arms as he strides to the window, and looks out and up, with, "Well, I +declare!" Herbert is pretending to read Herbert Spencer's tract on the +philosophy of style but he loses much time in looking at the Young Lady, +who is writing a letter, holding her portfolio in her lap,--one of her +everlasting letters to one of her fifty everlasting friends. She is one +of the female patriots who save the post-office department from being +a disastrous loss to the treasury. Herbert is thinking of the great +radical difference in the two sexes, which legislation will probably +never change; that leads a woman always, to write letters on her lap and +a man on a table,--a distinction which is commended to the notice of the +anti-suffragists. + +The Mistress, in a pretty little breakfast-cap, is moving about the room +with a feather-duster, whisking invisible dust from the picture-frames, +and talking with the Parson, who has just come in, and is thawing the +snow from his boots on the hearth. The Parson says the thermometer is 15 +deg., and going down; that there is a snowdrift across the main church +entrance three feet high, and that the house looks as if it had gone +into winter quarters, religion and all. There were only ten persons at +the conference meeting last night, and seven of those were women; he +wonders how many weather-proof Christians there are in the parish, +anyhow. + +The Fire-Tender is in the adjoining library, pretending to write; but +it is a poor day for ideas. He has written his wife's name about eleven +hundred times, and cannot get any farther. He hears the Mistress tell +the Parson that she believes he is trying to write a lecture on the +Celtic Influence in Literature. The Parson says that it is a first-rate +subject, if there were any such influence, and asks why he does n't take +a shovel and make a path to the gate. Mandeville says that, by George! +he himself should like no better fun, but it wouldn't look well for a +visitor to do it. The Fire-Tender, not to be disturbed by this sort of +chaff, keeps on writing his wife's name. + +Then the Parson and the Mistress fall to talking about the soup-relief, +and about old Mrs. Grumples in Pig Alley, who had a present of one of +Stowe's Illustrated Self-Acting Bibles on Christmas, when she had n't +coal enough in the house to heat her gruel; and about a family behind +the church, a widow and six little children and three dogs; and he did +n't believe that any of them had known what it was to be warm in +three weeks, and as to food, the woman said, she could hardly beg cold +victuals enough to keep the dogs alive. + +The Mistress slipped out into the kitchen to fill a basket with +provisions and send it somewhere; and when the Fire-Tender brought in +a new forestick, Mandeville, who always wants to talk, and had been +sitting drumming his feet and drawing deep sighs, attacked him. + +MANDEVILLE. Speaking about culture and manners, did you ever notice how +extremes meet, and that the savage bears himself very much like the sort +of cultured persons we were talking of last night? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. In what respect? + +MANDEVILLE. Well, you take the North American Indian. He is never +interested in anything, never surprised at anything. He has by nature +that calmness and indifference which your people of culture have +acquired. If he should go into literature as a critic, he would scalp +and tomahawk with the same emotionless composure, and he would do +nothing else. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Then you think the red man is a born gentleman of the +highest breeding? + +MANDEVILLE. I think he is calm. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How is it about the war-path and all that? + +MANDEVILLE. Oh, these studiously calm and cultured people may have +malice underneath. It takes them to give the most effective "little +digs;" they know how to stick in the pine-splinters and set fire to +them. + +HERBERT. But there is more in Mandeville's idea. You bring a red man +into a picture-gallery, or a city full of fine architecture, or into +a drawing-room crowded with objects of art and beauty, and he is +apparently insensible to them all. Now I have seen country people,--and +by country people I don't mean people necessarily who live in the +country, for everything is mixed in these days,--some of the best people +in the world, intelligent, honest, sincere, who acted as the Indian +would. + +THE MISTRESS. Herbert, if I did n't know you were cynical, I should say +you were snobbish. + +HERBERT. Such people think it a point of breeding never to speak of +anything in your house, nor to appear to notice it, however beautiful it +may be; even to slyly glance around strains their notion of etiquette. +They are like the countryman who confessed afterwards that he could +hardly keep from laughing at one of Yankee Hill's entertainments. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Do you remember those English people at our house in +Flushing last summer, who pleased us all so much with their apparent +delight in everything that was artistic or tasteful, who explored the +rooms and looked at everything, and were so interested? I suppose that +Herbert's country relations, many of whom live in the city, would have +thought it very ill-bred. + +MANDEVILLE. It's just as I said. The English, the best of them, have +become so civilized that they express themselves, in speech and action, +naturally, and are not afraid of their emotions. + +THE PARSON. I wish Mandeville would travel more, or that he had stayed +at home. It's wonderful what a fit of Atlantic sea-sickness will do for +a man's judgment and cultivation. He is prepared to pronounce on art, +manners, all kinds of culture. There is more nonsense talked about +culture than about anything else. + +HERBERT. The Parson reminds me of an American country minister I once +met walking through the Vatican. You could n't impose upon him with any +rubbish; he tested everything by the standards of his native place, and +there was little that could bear the test. He had the sly air of a man +who could not be deceived, and he went about with his mouth in a pucker +of incredulity. There is nothing so placid as rustic conceit. There was +something very enjoyable about his calm superiority to all the treasures +of art. + +MANDEVILLE. And the Parson reminds me of another American minister, a +consul in an Italian city, who said he was going up to Rome to have a +thorough talk with the Pope, and give him a piece of his mind. Ministers +seem to think that is their business. They serve it in such small pieces +in order to make it go round. + +THE PARSON. Mandeville is an infidel. Come, let's have some music; +nothing else will keep him in good humor till lunch-time. + +THE MISTRESS. What shall it be? + +THE PARSON. Give us the larghetto from Beethoven's second symphony. + +The Young Lady puts aside her portfolio. Herbert looks at the young +lady. The Parson composes himself for critical purposes. Mandeville +settles himself in a chair and stretches his long legs nearly into the +fire, remarking that music takes the tangles out of him. + +After the piece is finished, lunch is announced. It is still snowing. + + + + + +FOURTH STUDY + +It is difficult to explain the attraction which the uncanny and even +the horrible have for most minds. I have seen a delicate woman half +fascinated, but wholly disgusted, by one of the most unseemly of +reptiles, vulgarly known as the "blowing viper" of the Alleghanies. She +would look at it, and turn away with irresistible shuddering and the +utmost loathing, and yet turn to look at it again and again, only to +experience the same spasm of disgust. In spite of her aversion, she must +have relished the sort of electric mental shock that the sight gave her. + +I can no more account for the fascination for us of the stories of +ghosts and "appearances," and those weird tales in which the dead are +the chief characters; nor tell why we should fall into converse about +them when the winter evenings are far spent, the embers are glazing over +on the hearth, and the listener begins to hear the eerie noises in the +house. At such times one's dreams become of importance, and people like +to tell them and dwell upon them, as if they were a link between the +known and unknown, and could give us a clew to that ghostly region which +in certain states of the mind we feel to be more real than that we see. + +Recently, when we were, so to say, sitting around the borders of the +supernatural late at night, MANDEVILLE related a dream of his which he +assured us was true in every particular, and it interested us so much +that we asked him to write it out. In doing so he has curtailed it, and +to my mind shorn it of some of its more vivid and picturesque features. +He might have worked it up with more art, and given it a finish +which the narration now lacks, but I think best to insert it in its +simplicity. It seems to me that it may properly be called, + + +A NEW "VISION OF SIN" + +In the winter of 1850 I was a member of one of the leading colleges of +this country. I was in moderate circumstances pecuniarily, though I was +perhaps better furnished with less fleeting riches than many others. +I was an incessant and indiscriminate reader of books. For the solid +sciences I had no particular fancy, but with mental modes and habits, +and especially with the eccentric and fantastic in the intellectual and +spiritual operations, I was tolerably familiar. All the literature of +the supernatural was as real to me as the laboratory of the chemist, +where I saw the continual struggle of material substances to evolve +themselves into more volatile, less palpable and coarse forms. My +imagination, naturally vivid, stimulated by such repasts, nearly +mastered me. At times I could scarcely tell where the material ceased +and the immaterial began (if I may so express it); so that once and +again I walked, as it seemed, from the solid earth onward upon an +impalpable plain, where I heard the same voices, I think, that Joan +of Arc heard call to her in the garden at Domremy. She was inspired, +however, while I only lacked exercise. I do not mean this in any literal +sense; I only describe a state of mind. I was at this time of spare +habit, and nervous, excitable temperament. I was ambitious, proud, and +extremely sensitive. I cannot deny that I had seen something of the +world, and had contracted about the average bad habits of young men who +have the sole care of themselves, and rather bungle the matter. It is +necessary to this relation to admit that I had seen a trifle more of +what is called life than a young man ought to see, but at this period +I was not only sick of my experience, but my habits were as correct as +those of any Pharisee in our college, and we had some very favorable +specimens of that ancient sect. + +Nor can I deny that at this period of my life I was in a peculiar mental +condition. I well remember an illustration of it. I sat writing late one +night, copying a prize essay,--a merely manual task, leaving my thoughts +free. It was in June, a sultry night, and about midnight a wind arose, +pouring in through the open windows, full of mournful reminiscence, not +of this, but of other summers,--the same wind that De Quincey heard at +noonday in midsummer blowing through the room where he stood, a mere +boy, by the side of his dead sister,--a wind centuries old. As I wrote +on mechanically, I became conscious of a presence in the room, though I +did not lift my eyes from the paper on which I wrote. Gradually I came +to know that my grandmother--dead so long ago that I laughed at +the idea--was in the room. She stood beside her old-fashioned +spinning-wheel, and quite near me. She wore a plain muslin cap with a +high puff in the crown, a short woolen gown, a white and blue checked +apron, and shoes with heels. She did not regard me, but stood facing the +wheel, with the left hand near the spindle, holding lightly between the +thumb and forefinger the white roll of wool which was being spun and +twisted on it. In her right hand she held a small stick. I heard the +sharp click of this against the spokes of the wheel, then the hum of the +wheel, the buzz of the spindles as the twisting yarn was teased by the +whirl of its point, then a step backwards, a pause, a step forward and +the running of the yarn upon the spindle, and again a backward step, +the drawing out of the roll and the droning and hum of the wheel, most +mournfully hopeless sound that ever fell on mortal ear. Since childhood +it has haunted me. All this time I wrote, and I could hear distinctly +the scratching of the pen upon the paper. But she stood behind me (why +I did not turn my head I never knew), pacing backward and forward by the +spinning-wheel, just as I had a hundred times seen her in childhood in +the old kitchen on drowsy summer afternoons. And I heard the step, the +buzz and whirl of the spindle, and the monotonous and dreary hum of the +mournful wheel. Whether her face was ashy pale and looked as if it might +crumble at the touch, and the border of her white cap trembled in the +June wind that blew, I cannot say, for I tell you I did NOT see her. But +I know she was there, spinning yarn that had been knit into hose years +and years ago by our fireside. For I was in full possession of my +faculties, and never copied more neatly and legibly any manuscript than +I did the one that night. And there the phantom (I use the word out +of deference to a public prejudice on this subject) most persistently +remained until my task was finished, and, closing the portfolio, +I abruptly rose. Did I see anything? That is a silly and ignorant +question. Could I see the wind which had now risen stronger, and drove +a few cloud-scuds across the sky, filling the night, somehow, with a +longing that was not altogether born of reminiscence? + +In the winter following, in January, I made an effort to give up the +use of tobacco,--a habit in which I was confirmed, and of which I have +nothing more to say than this: that I should attribute to it almost all +the sin and misery in the world, did I not remember that the old Romans +attained a very considerable state of corruption without the assistance +of the Virginia plant. + +On the night of the third day of my abstinence, rendered more nervous +and excitable than usual by the privation, I retired late, and later +still I fell into an uneasy sleep, and thus into a dream, vivid, +illuminated, more real than any event of my life. I was at home, and +fell sick. The illness developed into a fever, and then a delirium set +in, not an intellectual blank, but a misty and most delicious wandering +in places of incomparable beauty. I learned subsequently that our +regular physician was not certain to finish me, when a consultation was +called, which did the business. I have the satisfaction of knowing that +they were of the proper school. I lay sick for three days. + +On the morning of the fourth, at sunrise, I died. The sensation was not +unpleasant. It was not a sudden shock. I passed out of my body as one +would walk from the door of his house. There the body lay,--a blank, +so far as I was concerned, and only interesting to me as I was rather +entertained with watching the respect paid to it. My friends stood about +the bedside, regarding me (as they seemed to suppose), while I, in +a different part of the room, could hardly repress a smile at their +mistake, solemnized as they were, and I too, for that matter, by +my recent demise. A sensation (the word you see is material and +inappropriate) of etherealization and imponderability pervaded me, and +I was not sorry to get rid of such a dull, slow mass as I now perceived +myself to be, lying there on the bed. When I speak of my death, let me +be understood to say that there was no change, except that I passed out +of my body and floated to the top of a bookcase in the corner of the +room, from which I looked down. For a moment I was interested to see my +person from the outside, but thereafter I was quite indifferent to +the body. I was now simply soul. I seemed to be a globe, impalpable, +transparent, about six inches in diameter. I saw and heard everything as +before. Of course, matter was no obstacle to me, and I went easily and +quickly wherever I willed to go. There was none of that tedious process +of communicating my wishes to the nerves, and from them to the muscles. +I simply resolved to be at a particular place, and I was there. It was +better than the telegraph. + +It seemed to have been intimated to me at my death (birth I half incline +to call it) that I could remain on this earth for four weeks after my +decease, during which time I could amuse myself as I chose. + +I chose, in the first place, to see myself decently buried, to stay by +myself to the last, and attend my own funeral for once. As most of those +referred to in this true narrative are still living, I am forbidden to +indulge in personalities, nor shall I dare to say exactly how my death +affected my friends, even the home circle. Whatever others did, I sat +up with myself and kept awake. I saw the "pennies" used instead of the +"quarters" which I should have preferred. I saw myself "laid out," a +phrase that has come to have such a slang meaning that I smile as I +write it. When the body was put into the coffin, I took my place on the +lid. + +I cannot recall all the details, and they are commonplace besides. The +funeral took place at the church. We all rode thither in carriages, +and I, not fancying my place in mine, rode on the outside with the +undertaker, whom I found to be a good deal more jolly than he looked to +be. The coffin was placed in front of the pulpit when we arrived. I +took my station on the pulpit cushion, from which elevation I had an +admirable view of all the ceremonies, and could hear the sermon. +How distinctly I remember the services. I think I could even at this +distance write out the sermon. The tune sung was of--the usual country +selection,--Mount Vernon. I recall the text. I was rather flattered +by the tribute paid to me, and my future was spoken of gravely and as +kindly as possible,--indeed, with remarkable charity, considering that +the minister was not aware of my presence. I used to beat him at chess, +and I thought, even then, of the last game; for, however solemn the +occasion might be to others, it was not so to me. With what interest +I watched my kinsfolks, and neighbors as they filed past for the last +look! I saw, and I remember, who pulled a long face for the occasion +and who exhibited genuine sadness. I learned with the most dreadful +certainty what people really thought of me. It was a revelation never +forgotten. + +Several particular acquaintances of mine were talking on the steps as we +passed out. + +"Well, old Starr's gone up. Sudden, was n't it? He was a first-rate +fellow." + +"Yes, queer about some things; but he had some mighty good streaks," +said another. And so they ran on. + +Streaks! So that is the reputation one gets during twenty years of life +in this world. Streaks! + +After the funeral I rode home with the family. It was pleasanter than +the ride down, though it seemed sad to my relations. They did not +mention me, however, and I may remark, that although I stayed about +home for a week, I never heard my name mentioned by any of the family. +Arrived at home, the tea-kettle was put on and supper got ready. This +seemed to lift the gloom a little, and under the influence of the tea +they brightened up and gradually got more cheerful. They discussed the +sermon and the singing, and the mistake of the sexton in digging +the grave in the wrong place, and the large congregation. From the +mantel-piece I watched the group. They had waffles for supper,--of which +I had been exceedingly fond, but now I saw them disappear without a +sigh. + +For the first day or two of my sojourn at home I was here and there at +all the neighbors, and heard a good deal about my life and character, +some of which was not very pleasant, but very wholesome, doubtless, for +me to hear. At the expiration of a week this amusement ceased to be such +for I ceased to be talked of. I realized the fact that I was dead and +gone. + +By an act of volition I found myself back at college. I floated into my +own room, which was empty. I went to the room of my two warmest friends, +whose friendship I was and am yet assured of. As usual, half a dozen +of our set were lounging there. A game of whist was just commencing. I +perched on a bust of Dante on the top of the book-shelves, where I could +see two of the hands and give a good guess at a third. My particular +friend Timmins was just shuffling the cards. + +"Be hanged if it is n't lonesome without old Starr. Did you cut? I +should like to see him lounge in now with his pipe, and with feet on the +mantel-piece proceed to expound on the duplex functions of the soul." + +"There--misdeal," said his vis-a-vis. "Hope there's been no misdeal for +old Starr." + +"Spades, did you say?" the talk ran on, "never knew Starr was sickly." + +"No more was he; stouter than you are, and as brave and plucky as he was +strong. By George, fellows,--how we do get cut down! Last term little +Stubbs, and now one of the best fellows in the class." + +"How suddenly he did pop off,--one for game, honors easy,--he was good +for the Spouts' Medal this year, too." + +"Remember the joke he played on Prof. A., freshman year?" asked another. + +"Remember he borrowed ten dollars of me about that time," said Timmins's +partner, gathering the cards for a new deal. + +"Guess he is the only one who ever did," retorted some one. + +And so the talk went on, mingled with whist-talk, reminiscent of me, not +all exactly what I would have chosen to go into my biography, but on the +whole kind and tender, after the fashion of the boys. At least I was in +their thoughts, and I could see was a good deal regretted,--so I passed +a very pleasant evening. Most of those present were of my society, and +wore crape on their badges, and all wore the usual crape on the left +arm. I learned that the following afternoon a eulogy would be delivered +on me in the chapel. + +The eulogy was delivered before members of our society and others, +the next afternoon, in the chapel. I need not say that I was present. +Indeed, I was perched on the desk within reach of the speaker's hand. +The apotheosis was pronounced by my most intimate friend, Timmins, and +I must say he did me ample justice. He never was accustomed to "draw it +very mild" (to use a vulgarism which I dislike) when he had his head, +and on this occasion he entered into the matter with the zeal of a true +friend, and a young man who never expected to have another occasion +to sing a public "In Memoriam." It made my hair stand on +end,--metaphorically, of course. From my childhood I had been extremely +precocious. There were anecdotes of preternatural brightness, picked +up, Heaven knows where, of my eagerness to learn, of my adventurous, +chivalrous young soul, and of my arduous struggles with chill penury, +which was not able (as it appeared) to repress my rage, until I entered +this institution, of which I had been ornament, pride, cynosure, and +fair promising bud blasted while yet its fragrance was mingled with the +dew of its youth. Once launched upon my college days, Timmins went +on with all sails spread. I had, as it were, to hold on to the pulpit +cushion. Latin, Greek, the old literatures, I was perfect master of; all +history was merely a light repast to me; mathematics I glanced at, and +it disappeared; in the clouds of modern philosophy I was wrapped but not +obscured; over the field of light literature I familiarly roamed as +the honey-bee over the wide fields of clover which blossom white in the +Junes of this world! My life was pure, my character spotless, my name +was inscribed among the names of those deathless few who were not born +to die! + +It was a noble eulogy, and I felt before he finished, though I had +misgivings at the beginning, that I deserved it all. The effect on the +audience was a little different. They said it was a "strong" oration, +and I think Timmins got more credit by it than I did. After the +performance they stood about the chapel, talking in a subdued tone, and +seemed to be a good deal impressed by what they had heard, or perhaps by +thoughts of the departed. At least they all soon went over to Austin's +and called for beer. My particular friends called for it twice. Then +they all lit pipes. The old grocery keeper was good enough to say that +I was no fool, if I did go off owing him four dollars. To the credit of +human nature, let me here record that the fellows were touched by this +remark reflecting upon my memory, and immediately made up a purse and +paid the bill,--that is, they told the old man to charge it over to +them. College boys are rich in credit and the possibilities of life. + +It is needless to dwell upon the days I passed at college during this +probation. So far as I could see, everything went on as if I were there, +or had never been there. I could not even see the place where I had +dropped out of the ranks. Occasionally I heard my name, but I must say +that four weeks was quite long enough to stay in a world that had pretty +much forgotten me. There is no great satisfaction in being dragged up to +light now and then, like an old letter. The case was somewhat different +with the people with whom I had boarded. They were relations of mine, +and I often saw them weep, and they talked of me a good deal at +twilight and Sunday nights, especially the youngest one, Carrie, who was +handsomer than any one I knew, and not much older than I. I never used +to imagine that she cared particularly for me, nor would she have done +so, if I had lived, but death brought with it a sort of sentimental +regret, which, with the help of a daguerreotype, she nursed into quite a +little passion. I spent most of my time there, for it was more congenial +than the college. + +But time hastened. The last sand of probation leaked out of the glass. +One day, while Carrie played (for me, though she knew it not) one of +Mendelssohn's "songs without words," I suddenly, yet gently, without +self-effort or volition, moved from the house, floated in the air, rose +higher, higher, by an easy, delicious, exultant, yet inconceivably rapid +motion. The ecstasy of that triumphant flight! Groves, trees, houses, +the landscape, dimmed, faded, fled away beneath me. Upward mounting, as +on angels' wings, with no effort, till the earth hung beneath me a round +black ball swinging, remote, in the universal ether. Upward mounting, +till the earth, no longer bathed in the sun's rays, went out to my +sight, disappeared in the blank. Constellations, before seen from afar, +I sailed among stars, too remote for shining on earth, I neared, and +found to be round globes flying through space with a velocity only +equaled by my own. New worlds continually opened on my sight; newfields +of everlasting space opened and closed behind me. + +For days and days--it seemed a mortal forever--I mounted up the great +heavens, whose everlasting doors swung wide. How the worlds and systems, +stars, constellations, neared me, blazed and flashed in splendor, and +fled away! At length,--was it not a thousand years?--I saw before me, +yet afar off, a wall, the rocky bourn of that country whence travelers +come not back, a battlement wider than I could guess, the height of +which I could not see, the depth of which was infinite. As I approached, +it shone with a splendor never yet beheld on earth. Its solid substance +was built of jewels the rarest, and stones of priceless value. It +seemed like one solid stone, and yet all the colors of the rainbow were +contained in it. The ruby, the diamond, the emerald, the carbuncle, +the topaz, the amethyst, the sapphire; of them the wall was built up in +harmonious combination. So brilliant was it that all the space I floated +in was full of the splendor. So mild was it and so translucent, that I +could look for miles into its clear depths. + +Rapidly nearing this heavenly battlement, an immense niche was disclosed +in its solid face. The floor was one large ruby. Its sloping sides were +of pearl. Before I was aware I stood within the brilliant recess. I say +I stood there, for I was there bodily, in my habit as I lived; how, I +cannot explain. Was it the resurrection of the body? Before me rose, a +thousand feet in height, a wonderful gate of flashing diamond. Beside +it sat a venerable man, with long white beard, a robe of light gray, +ancient sandals, and a golden key hanging by a cord from his waist. In +the serene beauty of his noble features I saw justice and mercy had met +and were reconciled. I cannot describe the majesty of his bearing or the +benignity of his appearance. It is needless to say that I stood before +St. Peter, who sits at the Celestial Gate. + +I humbly approached, and begged admission. St. Peter arose, and regarded +me kindly, yet inquiringly. + +"What is your name?" asked he, "and from what place do you come?" + +I answered, and, wishing to give a name well known, said I was from +Washington, United States. He looked doubtful, as if he had never heard +the name before. + +"Give me," said he, "a full account of your whole life." + +I felt instantaneously that there was no concealment possible; all +disguise fell away, and an unknown power forced me to speak absolute and +exact truth. I detailed the events of my life as well as I could, +and the good man was not a little affected by the recital of my early +trials, poverty, and temptation. It did not seem a very good life when +spread out in that presence, and I trembled as I proceeded; but I plead +youth, inexperience, and bad examples. + +"Have you been accustomed," he said, after a time, rather sadly, "to +break the Sabbath?" + +I told him frankly that I had been rather lax in that matter, especially +at college. I often went to sleep in the chapel on Sunday, when I was +not reading some entertaining book. He then asked who the preacher was, +and when I told him, he remarked that I was not so much to blame as he +had supposed. + +"Have you," he went on, "ever stolen, or told any lie?" + +I was able to say no, except admitting as to the first, usual college +"conveyances," and as to the last, an occasional "blinder" to the +professors. He was gracious enough to say that these could be overlooked +as incident to the occasion. + +"Have you ever been dissipated, living riotously and keeping late +hours?" + +"Yes." + +This also could be forgiven me as an incident of youth. + +"Did you ever," he went on, "commit the crime of using intoxicating +drinks as a beverage?" + +I answered that I had never been a habitual drinker, that I had never +been what was called a "moderate drinker," that I had never gone to a +bar and drank alone; but that I had been accustomed, in company with +other young men, on convivial occasions to taste the pleasures of the +flowing bowl, sometimes to excess, but that I had also tasted the +pains of it, and for months before my demise had refrained from liquor +altogether. The holy man looked grave, but, after reflection, said this +might also be overlooked in a young man. + +"What," continued he, in tones still more serious, "has been your +conduct with regard to the other sex?" + +I fell upon my knees in a tremor of fear. I pulled from my bosom +a little book like the one Leperello exhibits in the opera of "Don +Giovanni." There, I said, was a record of my flirtation and inconstancy. +I waited long for the decision, but it came in mercy. + +"Rise," he cried; "young men will be young men, I suppose. We shall +forgive this also to your youth and penitence." + +"Your examination is satisfactory, he informed me," after a pause; "you +can now enter the abodes of the happy." + +Joy leaped within me. We approached the gate. The key turned in the +lock. The gate swung noiselessly on its hinges a little open. Out +flashed upon me unknown splendors. What I saw in that momentary gleam +I shall never whisper in mortal ears. I stood upon the threshold, just +about to enter. + +"Stop! one moment," exclaimed St. Peter, laying his hand on my shoulder; +"I have one more question to ask you." + +I turned toward him. + +"Young man, did you ever use tobacco?" + +"I both smoked and chewed in my lifetime," I faltered, "but..." + +"THEN TO HELL WITH YOU!" he shouted in a voice of thunder. + +Instantly the gate closed without noise, and I was flung, hurled, from +the battlement, down! down! down! Faster and faster I sank in a dizzy, +sickening whirl into an unfathomable space of gloom. The light faded. +Dampness and darkness were round about me. As before, for days and days +I rose exultant in the light, so now forever I sank into thickening +darkness,--and yet not darkness, but a pale, ashy light more fearful. + +In the dimness, I at length discovered a wall before me. It ran up and +down and on either hand endlessly into the night. It was solid, black, +terrible in its frowning massiveness. + +Straightway I alighted at the gate,--a dismal crevice hewn into the +dripping rock. The gate was wide open, and there sat-I knew him at once; +who does not?--the Arch Enemy of mankind. He cocked his eye at me in an +impudent, low, familiar manner that disgusted me. I saw that I was not +to be treated like a gentleman. + +"Well, young man," said he, rising, with a queer grin on his face, "what +are you sent here for?" + +"For using tobacco," I replied. + +"Ho!" shouted he in a jolly manner, peculiar to devils, "that's what +most of 'em are sent here for now." + +Without more ado, he called four lesser imps, who ushered me within. +What a dreadful plain lay before me! There was a vast city laid out in +regular streets, but there were no houses. Along the streets were places +of torment and torture exceedingly ingenious and disagreeable. For miles +and miles, it seemed, I followed my conductors through these horrors, +Here was a deep vat of burning tar. Here were rows of fiery ovens. I +noticed several immense caldron kettles of boiling oil, upon the rims +of which little devils sat, with pitchforks in hand, and poked down the +helpless victims who floundered in the liquid. But I forbear to go into +unseemly details. The whole scene is as vivid in my mind as any earthly +landscape. + +After an hour's walk my tormentors halted before the mouth of an +oven,--a furnace heated seven times, and now roaring with flames. They +grasped me, one hold of each hand and foot. Standing before the blazing +mouth, they, with a swing, and a "one, two, THREE...." + +I again assure the reader that in this narrative I have set down nothing +that was not actually dreamed, and much, very much of this wonderful +vision I have been obliged to omit. + +Haec fabula docet: It is dangerous for a young man to leave off the use +of tobacco. + + + + + +FIFTH STUDY + + + + +I + +I wish I could fitly celebrate the joyousness of the New England winter. +Perhaps I could if I more thoroughly believed in it. But skepticism +comes in with the south wind. When that begins to blow, one feels the +foundations of his belief breaking up. This is only another way of +saying that it is more difficult, if it be not impossible, to freeze out +orthodoxy, or any fixed notion, than it is to thaw it out; though it is +a mere fancy to suppose that this is the reason why the martyrs, of all +creeds, were burned at the stake. There is said to be a great relaxation +in New England of the ancient strictness in the direction of toleration +of opinion, called by some a lowering of the standard, and by others a +raising of the banner of liberality; it might be an interesting inquiry +how much this change is due to another change,--the softening of the New +England winter and the shifting of the Gulf Stream. It is the fashion +nowadays to refer almost everything to physical causes, and this hint is +a gratuitous contribution to the science of metaphysical physics. + +The hindrance to entering fully into the joyousness of a New England +winter, except far inland among the mountains, is the south wind. It +is a grateful wind, and has done more, I suspect, to demoralize society +than any other. It is not necessary to remember that it filled the +silken sails of Cleopatra's galley. It blows over New England every few +days, and is in some portions of it the prevailing wind. That it brings +the soft clouds, and sometimes continues long enough to almost deceive +the expectant buds of the fruit trees, and to tempt the robin from the +secluded evergreen copses, may be nothing; but it takes the tone out of +the mind, and engenders discontent, making one long for the tropics; it +feeds the weakened imagination on palm-leaves and the lotus. Before we +know it we become demoralized, and shrink from the tonic of the sudden +change to sharp weather, as the steamed hydropathic patient does from +the plunge. It is the insidious temptation that assails us when we are +braced up to profit by the invigorating rigor of winter. + +Perhaps the influence of the four great winds on character is only a +fancied one; but it is evident on temperament, which is not altogether a +matter of temperature, although the good old deacon used to say, in his +humble, simple way, that his third wife was a very good woman, but her +"temperature was very different from that of the other two." The north +wind is full of courage, and puts the stamina of endurance into a +man, and it probably would into a woman too if there were a series of +resolutions passed to that effect. The west wind is hopeful; it has +promise and adventure in it, and is, except to Atlantic voyagers +America-bound, the best wind that ever blew. The east wind is +peevishness; it is mental rheumatism and grumbling, and curls one up in +the chimney-corner like a cat. And if the chimney ever smokes, it smokes +when the wind sits in that quarter. The south wind is full of longing +and unrest, of effeminate suggestions of luxurious ease, and perhaps we +might say of modern poetry,--at any rate, modern poetry needs a change +of air. I am not sure but the south is the most powerful of the winds, +because of its sweet persuasiveness. Nothing so stirs the blood in +spring, when it comes up out of the tropical latitude; it makes men +"longen to gon on pilgrimages." + +I did intend to insert here a little poem (as it is quite proper to do +in an essay) on the south wind, composed by the Young Lady Staying With +Us, beginning,-- + + "Out of a drifting southern cloud + My soul heard the night-bird cry," + +but it never got any farther than this. The Young Lady said it was +exceedingly difficult to write the next two lines, because not only +rhyme but meaning had to be procured. And this is true; anybody can +write first lines, and that is probably the reason we have so many +poems which seem to have been begun in just this way, that is, with a +south-wind-longing without any thought in it, and it is very fortunate +when there is not wind enough to finish them. This emotional poem, if +I may so call it, was begun after Herbert went away. I liked it, +and thought it was what is called "suggestive;" although I did not +understand it, especially what the night-bird was; and I am afraid I +hurt the Young Lady's feelings by asking her if she meant Herbert by the +"night-bird,"--a very absurd suggestion about two unsentimental people. +She said, "Nonsense;" but she afterwards told the Mistress that there +were emotions that one could never put into words without the danger +of being ridiculous; a profound truth. And yet I should not like to say +that there is not a tender lonesomeness in love that can get comfort out +of a night-bird in a cloud, if there be such a thing. Analysis is the +death of sentiment. + +But to return to the winds. Certain people impress us as the winds do. +Mandeville never comes in that I do not feel a north-wind vigor and +healthfulness in his cordial, sincere, hearty manner, and in his +wholesome way of looking at things. The Parson, you would say, was the +east wind, and only his intimates know that his peevishness is only a +querulous humor. In the fair west wind I know the Mistress herself, full +of hope, and always the first one to discover a bit of blue in a cloudy +sky. It would not be just to apply what I have said of the south wind to +any of our visitors, but it did blow a little while Herbert was here. + + + + + +II + +In point of pure enjoyment, with an intellectual sparkle in it, I +suppose that no luxurious lounging on tropical isles set in tropical +seas compares with the positive happiness one may have before a great +woodfire (not two sticks laid crossways in a grate), with a veritable +New England winter raging outside. In order to get the highest +enjoyment, the faculties must be alert, and not be lulled into a mere +recipient dullness. There are those who prefer a warm bath to a brisk +walk in the inspiring air, where ten thousand keen influences minister +to the sense of beauty and run along the excited nerves. There are, +for instance, a sharpness of horizon outline and a delicacy of color +on distant hills which are wanting in summer, and which convey to one +rightly organized the keenest delight, and a refinement of enjoyment +that is scarcely sensuous, not at all sentimental, and almost passing +the intellectual line into the spiritual. + +I was speaking to Mandeville about this, and he said that I was drawing +it altogether too fine; that he experienced sensations of pleasure in +being out in almost all weathers; that he rather liked to breast a north +wind, and that there was a certain inspiration in sharp outlines and +in a landscape in trim winter-quarters, with stripped trees, and, as it +were, scudding through the season under bare poles; but that he must say +that he preferred the weather in which he could sit on the fence by +the wood-lot, with the spring sun on his back, and hear the stir of the +leaves and the birds beginning their housekeeping. + +A very pretty idea for Mandeville; and I fear he is getting to have +private thoughts about the Young Lady. Mandeville naturally likes the +robustness and sparkle of winter, and it has been a little suspicious to +hear him express the hope that we shall have an early spring. + +I wonder how many people there are in New England who know the glory and +inspiration of a winter walk just before sunset, and that, too, not only +on days of clear sky, when the west is aflame with a rosy color, which +has no suggestion of languor or unsatisfied longing in it, but on dull +days, when the sullen clouds hang about the horizon, full of threats of +storm and the terrors of the gathering night. We are very busy with +our own affairs, but there is always something going on out-doors worth +looking at; and there is seldom an hour before sunset that has not some +special attraction. And, besides, it puts one in the mood for the cheer +and comfort of the open fire at home. + +Probably if the people of New England could have a plebiscitum on their +weather, they would vote against it, especially against winter. Almost +no one speaks well of winter. And this suggests the idea that most +people here were either born in the wrong place, or do not know what is +best for them. I doubt if these grumblers would be any better satisfied, +or would turn out as well, in the tropics. Everybody knows our +virtues,--at least if they believe half we tell them,--and for delicate +beauty, that rare plant, I should look among the girls of the New +England hills as confidently as anywhere, and I have traveled as far +south as New Jersey, and west of the Genesee Valley. Indeed, it would be +easy to show that the parents of the pretty girls in the West emigrated +from New England. And yet--such is the mystery of Providence--no one +would expect that one of the sweetest and most delicate flowers that +blooms, the trailing arbutus, would blossom in this inhospitable +climate, and peep forth from the edge of a snowbank at that. + +It seems unaccountable to a superficial observer that the thousands +of people who are dissatisfied with their climate do not seek a more +congenial one--or stop grumbling. The world is so small, and all parts +of it are so accessible, it has so many varieties of climate, that one +could surely suit himself by searching; and, then, is it worth while to +waste our one short life in the midst of unpleasant surroundings and in +a constant friction with that which is disagreeable? One would suppose +that people set down on this little globe would seek places on it most +agreeable to themselves. It must be that they are much more content with +the climate and country upon which they happen, by the accident of their +birth, than they pretend to be. + + + + + +III + +Home sympathies and charities are most active in the winter. Coming +in from my late walk,--in fact driven in by a hurrying north wind that +would brook no delay,--a wind that brought snow that did not seem to +fall out of a bounteous sky, but to be blown from polar fields,--I +find the Mistress returned from town, all in a glow of philanthropic +excitement. + +There has been a meeting of a woman's association for Ameliorating the +Condition of somebody here at home. Any one can belong to it by paying +a dollar, and for twenty dollars one can become a life Ameliorator,--a +sort of life assurance. The Mistress, at the meeting, I believe, +"seconded the motion" several times, and is one of the Vice-Presidents; +and this family honor makes me feel almost as if I were a president +of something myself. These little distinctions are among the sweetest +things in life, and to see one's name officially printed stimulates +his charity, and is almost as satisfactory as being the chairman of a +committee or the mover of a resolution. It is, I think, fortunate, and +not at all discreditable, that our little vanity, which is reckoned +among our weaknesses, is thus made to contribute to the activity of our +nobler powers. Whatever we may say, we all of us like distinction; and +probably there is no more subtle flattery than that conveyed in the +whisper, "That's he," "That's she." + +There used to be a society for ameliorating the condition of the Jews; +but they were found to be so much more adept than other people in +ameliorating their own condition that I suppose it was given up. +Mandeville says that to his knowledge there are a great many people +who get up ameliorating enterprises merely to be conspicuously busy in +society, or to earn a little something in a good cause. They seem +to think that the world owes them a living because they are +philanthropists. In this Mandeville does not speak with his usual +charity. It is evident that there are Jews, and some Gentiles, whose +condition needs ameliorating, and if very little is really accomplished +in the effort for them, it always remains true that the charitable reap +a benefit to themselves. It is one of the beautiful compensations of +this life that no one can sincerely try to help another without helping +himself. + +OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR. Why is it that almost all philanthropists and +reformers are disagreeable? + +I ought to explain who our next-door neighbor is. He is the person who +comes in without knocking, drops in in the most natural way, as his wife +does also, and not seldom in time to take the after-dinner cup of tea +before the fire. Formal society begins as soon as you lock your doors, +and only admit visitors through the media of bells and servants. It is +lucky for us that our next-door neighbor is honest. + +THE PARSON. Why do you class reformers and philanthropists together? +Those usually called reformers are not philanthropists at all. They are +agitators. Finding the world disagreeable to themselves, they wish to +make it as unpleasant to others as possible. + +MANDEVILLE. That's a noble view of your fellow-men. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Well, granting the distinction, why are both apt to be +unpleasant people to live with? + +THE PARSON. As if the unpleasant people who won't mind their own +business were confined to the classes you mention! Some of the best +people I know are philanthropists,--I mean the genuine ones, and not the +uneasy busybodies seeking notoriety as a means of living. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It is not altogether the not minding their own +business. Nobody does that. The usual explanation is, that people with +one idea are tedious. But that is not all of it. For few persons +have more than one idea,--ministers, doctors, lawyers, teachers, +manufacturers, merchants,--they all think the world they live in is the +central one. + +MANDEVILLE. And you might add authors. To them nearly all the life of +the world is in letters, and I suppose they would be astonished if they +knew how little the thoughts of the majority of people are occupied with +books, and with all that vast thought circulation which is the vital +current of the world to book-men. Newspapers have reached their present +power by becoming unliterary, and reflecting all the interests of the +world. + +THE MISTRESS. I have noticed one thing, that the most popular persons in +society are those who take the world as it is, find the least fault, and +have no hobbies. They are always wanted to dinner. + +THE YOUNG LADY. And the other kind always appear to me to want a dinner. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It seems to me that the real reason why reformers and +some philanthropists are unpopular is, that they disturb our serenity +and make us conscious of our own shortcomings. It is only now and then +that a whole people get a spasm of reformatory fervor, of investigation +and regeneration. At other times they rather hate those who disturb +their quiet. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Professional reformers and philanthropists are +insufferably conceited and intolerant. + +THE MISTRESS. Everything depends upon the spirit in which a reform or a +scheme of philanthropy is conducted. + +MANDEVILLE. I attended a protracted convention of reformers of a certain +evil, once, and had the pleasure of taking dinner with a tableful of +them. It was one of those country dinners accompanied with green tea. +Every one disagreed with every one else, and you would n't wonder at +it, if you had seen them. They were people with whom good food wouldn't +agree. George Thompson was expected at the convention, and I remember +that there was almost a cordiality in the talk about him, until one +sallow brother casually mentioned that George took snuff,--when a chorus +of deprecatory groans went up from the table. One long-faced maiden in +spectacles, with purple ribbons in her hair, who drank five cups of tea +by my count, declared that she was perfectly disgusted, and did n't +want to hear him speak. In the course of the meal the talk ran upon the +discipline of children, and how to administer punishment. I was quite +taken by the remark of a thin, dyspeptic man who summed up the matter +by growling out in a harsh, deep bass voice, "Punish 'em in love!" It +sounded as if he had said, "Shoot 'em on the spot!" + +THE PARSON. I supposed you would say that he was a minister. There is +another thing about those people. I think they are working against the +course of nature. Nature is entirely indifferent to any reform. She +perpetuates a fault as persistently as a virtue. There's a split in +my thumb-nail that has been scrupulously continued for many years, not +withstanding all my efforts to make the nail resume its old regularity. +You see the same thing in trees whose bark is cut, and in melons that +have had only one summer's intimacy with squashes. The bad traits in +character are passed down from generation to generation with as much +care as the good ones. Nature, unaided, never reforms anything. + +MANDEVILLE. Is that the essence of Calvinism? + +THE PARSON. Calvinism has n't any essence, it's a fact. + +MANDEVILLE. When I was a boy, I always associated Calvinism and calomel +together. I thought that homeopathy--similia, etc.--had done away with +both of them. + +OUR NEXT DOOR (rising). If you are going into theology, I'm off.. + + + + + +IV + +I fear we are not getting on much with the joyousness of winter. In +order to be exhilarating it must be real winter. I have noticed that the +lower the thermometer sinks the more fiercely the north wind rages, and +the deeper the snow is, the higher rise the spirits of the community. +The activity of the "elements" has a great effect upon country folk +especially; and it is a more wholesome excitement than that caused by +a great conflagration. The abatement of a snow-storm that grows to +exceptional magnitude is regretted, for there is always the half-hope +that this will be, since it has gone so far, the largest fall of snow +ever known in the region, burying out of sight the great fall of 1808, +the account of which is circumstantially and aggravatingly thrown in our +way annually upon the least provocation. We all know how it reads: "Some +said it began at daylight, others that it set in after sunrise; but +all agree that by eight o'clock Friday morning it was snowing in heavy +masses that darkened the air." + +The morning after we settled the five--or is it seven?--points +of Calvinism, there began a very hopeful snow-storm, one of those +wide-sweeping, careering storms that may not much affect the city, +but which strongly impress the country imagination with a sense of the +personal qualities of the weather,--power, persistency, fierceness, and +roaring exultation. Out-doors was terrible to those who looked out of +windows, and heard the raging wind, and saw the commotion in all the +high tree-tops and the writhing of the low evergreens, and could not +summon resolution to go forth and breast and conquer the bluster. The +sky was dark with snow, which was not permitted to fall peacefully +like a blessed mantle, as it sometimes does, but was blown and rent and +tossed like the split canvas of a ship in a gale. The world was taken +possession of by the demons of the air, who had their will of it. There +is a sort of fascination in such a scene, equal to that of a tempest at +sea, and without its attendant haunting sense of peril; there is no fear +that the house will founder or dash against your neighbor's cottage, +which is dimly seen anchored across the field; at every thundering onset +there is no fear that the cook's galley will upset, or the screw break +loose and smash through the side, and we are not in momently expectation +of the tinkling of the little bell to "stop her." The snow rises in +drifting waves, and the naked trees bend like strained masts; but so +long as the window-blinds remain fast, and the chimney-tops do not go, +we preserve an equal mind. Nothing more serious can happen than the +failure of the butcher's and the grocer's carts, unless, indeed, the +little news-carrier should fail to board us with the world's daily +bulletin, or our next-door neighbor should be deterred from coming to +sit by the blazing, excited fire, and interchange the trifling, harmless +gossip of the day. The feeling of seclusion on such a day is sweet, but +the true friend who does brave the storm and come is welcomed with a +sort of enthusiasm that his arrival in pleasant weather would never +excite. The snow-bound in their Arctic hulk are glad to see even a +wandering Esquimau. + +On such a day I recall the great snow-storms on the northern New England +hills, which lasted for a week with no cessation, with no sunrise or +sunset, and no observation at noon; and the sky all the while dark with +the driving snow, and the whole world full of the noise of the rioting +Boreal forces; until the roads were obliterated, the fences covered, +and the snow was piled solidly above the first-story windows of the +farmhouse on one side, and drifted before the front door so high that +egress could only be had by tunneling the bank. + +After such a battle and siege, when the wind fell and the sun struggled +out again, the pallid world lay subdued and tranquil, and the scattered +dwellings were not unlike wrecks stranded by the tempest and half buried +in sand. But when the blue sky again bent over all, the wide expanse of +snow sparkled like diamond-fields, and the chimney signal-smokes could +be seen, how beautiful was the picture! Then began the stir abroad, +and the efforts to open up communication through roads, or fields, or +wherever paths could be broken, and the ways to the meeting-house +first of all. Then from every house and hamlet the men turned out with +shovels, with the patient, lumbering oxen yoked to the sleds, to break +the roads, driving into the deepest drifts, shoveling and shouting as +if the severe labor were a holiday frolic, the courage and the hilarity +rising with the difficulties encountered; and relief parties, meeting at +length in the midst of the wide white desolation, hailed each other as +chance explorers in new lands, and made the whole country-side ring with +the noise of their congratulations. There was as much excitement and +healthy stirring of the blood in it as in the Fourth of July, and +perhaps as much patriotism. The boy saw it in dumb show from the +distant, low farmhouse window, and wished he were a man. At night there +were great stories of achievement told by the cavernous fireplace; +great latitude was permitted in the estimation of the size of particular +drifts, but never any agreement was reached as to the "depth on a +level." I have observed since that people are quite as apt to agree upon +the marvelous and the exceptional as upon simple facts. + + + + + +V + +By the firelight and the twilight, the Young Lady is finishing a letter +to Herbert,--writing it, literally, on her knees, transforming thus the +simple deed into an act of devotion. Mandeville says that it is bad for +her eyes, but the sight of it is worse for his eyes. He begins to doubt +the wisdom of reliance upon that worn apothegm about absence conquering +love. + +Memory has the singular characteristic of recalling in a friend absent, +as in a journey long past, only that which is agreeable. Mandeville +begins to wish he were in New South Wales. + +I did intend to insert here a letter of Herbert's to the Young +Lady,--obtained, I need not say, honorably, as private letters which get +into print always are,--not to gratify a vulgar curiosity, but to show +how the most unsentimental and cynical people are affected by the master +passion. But I cannot bring myself to do it. Even in the interests +of science one has no right to make an autopsy of two loving hearts, +especially when they are suffering under a late attack of the one +agreeable epidemic. + +All the world loves a lover, but it laughs at him none the less in his +extravagances. He loses his accustomed reticence; he has something of +the martyr's willingness for publicity; he would even like to show the +sincerity of his devotion by some piece of open heroism. Why should he +conceal a discovery which has transformed the world to him, a secret +which explains all the mysteries of nature and humanity? He is in that +ecstasy of mind which prompts those who were never orators before to +rise in an experience-meeting and pour out a flood of feeling in the +tritest language and the most conventional terms. I am not sure that +Herbert, while in this glow, would be ashamed of his letter in print, +but this is one of the cases where chancery would step in and protect +one from himself by his next friend. This is really a delicate matter, +and perhaps it is brutal to allude to it at all. + +In truth, the letter would hardly be interesting in print. Love has a +marvelous power of vivifying language and charging the simplest words +with the most tender meaning, of restoring to them the power they had +when first coined. They are words of fire to those two who know their +secret, but not to others. It is generally admitted that the best +love-letters would not make very good literature. "Dearest," begins +Herbert, in a burst of originality, felicitously selecting a word whose +exclusiveness shuts out all the world but one, and which is a whole +letter, poem, confession, and creed in one breath. What a weight of +meaning it has to carry! There may be beauty and wit and grace and +naturalness and even the splendor of fortune elsewhere, but there is one +woman in the world whose sweet presence would be compensation for the +loss of all else. It is not to be reasoned about; he wants that one; it +is her plume dancing down the sunny street that sets his heart beating; +he knows her form among a thousand, and follows her; he longs to run +after her carriage, which the cruel coachman whirls out of his sight. It +is marvelous to him that all the world does not want her too, and he is +in a panic when he thinks of it. And what exquisite flattery is in that +little word addressed to her, and with what sweet and meek triumph she +repeats it to herself, with a feeling that is not altogether pity for +those who still stand and wait. To be chosen out of all the available +world--it is almost as much bliss as it is to choose. "All that long, +long stage-ride from Blim's to Portage I thought of you every moment, +and wondered what you were doing and how you were looking just that +moment, and I found the occupation so charming that I was almost sorry +when the journey was ended." Not much in that! But I have no doubt the +Young Lady read it over and over, and dwelt also upon every moment, and +found in it new proof of unshaken constancy, and had in that and the +like things in the letter a sense of the sweetest communion. There is +nothing in this letter that we need dwell on it, but I am convinced that +the mail does not carry any other letters so valuable as this sort. + +I suppose that the appearance of Herbert in this new light unconsciously +gave tone a little to the evening's talk; not that anybody mentioned +him, but Mandeville was evidently generalizing from the qualities +that make one person admired by another to those that win the love of +mankind. + +MANDEVILLE. There seems to be something in some persons that wins them +liking, special or general, independent almost of what they do or say. + +THE MISTRESS. Why, everybody is liked by some one. + +MANDEVILLE. I'm not sure of that. There are those who are friendless, +and would be if they had endless acquaintances. But, to take the case +away from ordinary examples, in which habit and a thousand circumstances +influence liking, what is it that determines the world upon a personal +regard for authors whom it has never seen? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Probably it is the spirit shown in their writings. + +THE MISTRESS. More likely it is a sort of tradition; I don't believe +that the world has a feeling of personal regard for any author who was +not loved by those who knew him most intimately. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Which comes to the same thing. The qualities, the +spirit, that got him the love of his acquaintances he put into his +books. + +MANDEVILLE. That does n't seem to me sufficient. Shakespeare has put +everything into his plays and poems, swept the whole range of human +sympathies and passions, and at times is inspired by the sweetest spirit +that ever man had. + +THE YOUNG LADY. No one has better interpreted love. + +MANDEVILLE. Yet I apprehend that no person living has any personal +regard for Shakespeare, or that his personality affects many,--except +they stand in Stratford church and feel a sort of awe at the thought +that the bones of the greatest poet are so near them. + +THE PARSON. I don't think the world cares personally for any mere man or +woman dead for centuries. + +MANDEVILLE. But there is a difference. I think there is still rather a +warm feeling for Socrates the man, independent of what he said, which is +little known. Homer's works are certainly better known, but no one cares +personally for Homer any more than for any other shade. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Why not go back to Moses? We've got the evening before us +for digging up people. + +MANDEVILLE. Moses is a very good illustration. No name of antiquity +is better known, and yet I fancy he does not awaken the same kind of +popular liking that Socrates does. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Fudge! You just get up in any lecture assembly and +propose three cheers for Socrates, and see where you'll be. Mandeville +ought to be a missionary, and read Robert Browning to the Fijis. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How do you account for the alleged personal regard for +Socrates? + +THE PARSON. Because the world called Christian is still more than half +heathen. + +MANDEVILLE. He was a plain man; his sympathies were with the people; he +had what is roughly known as "horse-sense," and he was homely. Franklin +and Abraham Lincoln belong to his class. They were all philosophers of +the shrewd sort, and they all had humor. It was fortunate for Lincoln +that, with his other qualities, he was homely. That was the last +touching recommendation to the popular heart. + +THE MISTRESS. Do you remember that ugly brown-stone statue of St. +Antonio by the bridge in Sorrento? He must have been a coarse saint, +patron of pigs as he was, but I don't know any one anywhere, or the +homely stone image of one, so loved by the people. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Ugliness being trump, I wonder more people don't win. +Mandeville, why don't you get up a "centenary" of Socrates, and put up +his statue in the Central Park? It would make that one of Lincoln in +Union Square look beautiful. + +THE PARSON. Oh, you'll see that some day, when they have a museum there +illustrating the "Science of Religion." + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Doubtless, to go back to what we were talking of, +the world has a fondness for some authors, and thinks of them with an +affectionate and half-pitying familiarity; and it may be that this +grows out of something in their lives quite as much as anything in +their writings. There seems to be more disposition of personal liking +to Thackeray than to Dickens, now both are dead,--a result that would +hardly have been predicted when the world was crying over Little Nell, +or agreeing to hate Becky Sharp. + +THE YOUNG LADY. What was that you were telling about Charles Lamb, +the other day, Mandeville? Is not the popular liking for him somewhat +independent of his writings? + +MANDEVILLE. He is a striking example of an author who is loved. Very +likely the remembrance of his tribulations has still something to do +with the tenderness felt for him. He supported no dignity and permitted +a familiarity which indicated no self-appreciation of his real rank in +the world of letters. I have heard that his acquaintances familiarly +called him "Charley." + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a relief to know that! Do you happen to know what +Socrates was called? + +MANDEVILLE. I have seen people who knew Lamb very well. One of them told +me, as illustrating his want of dignity, that as he was going home late +one night through the nearly empty streets, he was met by a roystering +party who were making a night of it from tavern to tavern. They fell +upon Lamb, attracted by his odd figure and hesitating manner, and, +hoisting him on their shoulders, carried him off, singing as they went. +Lamb enjoyed the lark, and did not tell them who he was. When they were +tired of lugging him, they lifted him, with much effort and difficulty, +to the top of a high wall, and left him there amid the broken bottles, +utterly unable to get down. Lamb remained there philosophically in the +enjoyment of his novel adventure, until a passing watchman rescued him +from his ridiculous situation. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How did the story get out? + +MANDEVILLE. Oh, Lamb told all about it next morning; and when asked +afterwards why he did so, he replied that there was no fun in it unless +he told it. + + + + + +SIXTH STUDY + + + + +I + +The King sat in the winter-house in the ninth month, and there was a +fire on the hearth burning before him.... When Jehudi had read three or +four leaves he cut it with the penknife. + +That seems to be a pleasant and home-like picture from a not very remote +period,--less than twenty-five hundred years ago, and many centuries +after the fall of Troy. And that was not so very long ago, for Thebes, +in the splendid streets of which Homer wandered and sang to the kings +when Memphis, whose ruins are older than history, was its younger rival, +was twelve centuries old when Paris ran away with Helen. + +I am sorry that the original--and you can usually do anything with +the "original"--does not bear me out in saying that it was a pleasant +picture. I should like to believe that Jehoiakim--for that was the +singular name of the gentleman who sat by his hearthstone--had just +received the Memphis "Palimpsest," fifteen days in advance of the date +of its publication, and that his secretary was reading to him that +monthly, and cutting its leaves as he read. I should like to have seen +it in that year when Thales was learning astronomy in Memphis, and Necho +was organizing his campaign against Carchemish. If Jehoiakim took the +"Attic Quarterly," he might have read its comments on the banishment +of the Alcmaeonida, and its gibes at Solon for his prohibitory laws, +forbidding the sale of unguents, limiting the luxury of dress, and +interfering with the sacred rights of mourners to passionately bewail +the dead in the Asiatic manner; the same number being enriched with +contributions from two rising poets,--a lyric of love by Sappho, and an +ode sent by Anacreon from Teos, with an editorial note explaining that +the Maces was not responsible for the sentiments of the poem. + +But, in fact, the gentleman who sat before the backlog in his +winter-house had other things to think of. For Nebuchadnezzar was coming +that way with the chariots and horses of Babylon and a great crowd of +marauders; and the king had not even the poor choice whether he would +be the vassal of the Chaldean or of the Egyptian. To us, this is only +a ghostly show of monarchs and conquerors stalking across vast historic +spaces. It was no doubt a vulgar enough scene of war and plunder. The +great captains of that age went about to harry each other's territories +and spoil each other's cities very much as we do nowadays, and for +similar reasons;--Napoleon the Great in Moscow, Napoleon the Small in +Italy, Kaiser William in Paris, Great Scott in Mexico! Men have not +changed much;--The Fire-Tender sat in his winter-garden in the third +month; there was a fire on the hearth burning before him. He cut +the leaves of "Scribner's Monthly" with his penknife, and thought of +Jehoiakim. + +That seems as real as the other. In the garden, which is a room of the +house, the tall callas, rooted in the ground, stand about the fountain; +the sun, streaming through the glass, illumines the many-hued flowers. I +wonder what Jehoiakim did with the mealy-bug on his passion-vine, and +if he had any way of removing the scale-bug from his African acacia? One +would like to know, too, how he treated the red spider on the Le Marque +rose. The record is silent. I do not doubt he had all these insects in +his winter-garden, and the aphidae besides; and he could not smoke them +out with tobacco, for the world had not yet fallen into its second stage +of the knowledge of good and evil by eating the forbidden tobacco-plant. + +I confess that this little picture of a fire on the hearth so many +centuries ago helps to make real and interesting to me that somewhat +misty past. No doubt the lotus and the acanthus from the Nile grew in +that winter-house, and perhaps Jehoiakim attempted--the most difficult +thing in the world the cultivation of the wild flowers from Lebanon. +Perhaps Jehoiakim was interested also, as I am through this ancient +fireplace,--which is a sort of domestic window into the ancient +world,--in the loves of Bernice and Abaces at the court of the Pharaohs. +I see that it is the same thing as the sentiment--perhaps it is the +shrinking which every soul that is a soul has, sooner or later, from +isolation--which grew up between Herbert and the Young Lady Staying With +Us. Jeremiah used to come in to that fireside very much as the Parson +does to ours. The Parson, to be sure, never prophesies, but he grumbles, +and is the chorus in the play that sings the everlasting ai ai of "I +told you so!" Yet we like the Parson. He is the sprig of bitter herb +that makes the pottage wholesome. I should rather, ten times over, +dispense with the flatterers and the smooth-sayers than the grumblers. +But the grumblers are of two sorts,--the healthful-toned and the +whiners. There are makers of beer who substitute for the clean bitter of +the hops some deleterious drug, and then seek to hide the fraud by some +cloying sweet. There is nothing of this sickish drug in the Parson's +talk, nor was there in that of Jeremiah, I sometimes think there is +scarcely enough of this wholesome tonic in modern society. The Parson +says he never would give a child sugar-coated pills. Mandeville says he +never would give them any. After all, you cannot help liking Mandeville. + + + + + +II + +We were talking of this late news from Jerusalem. The Fire-Tender was +saying that it is astonishing how much is telegraphed us from the East +that is not half so interesting. He was at a loss philosophically to +account for the fact that the world is so eager to know the news of +yesterday which is unimportant, and so indifferent to that of the day +before which is of some moment. + +MANDEVILLE. I suspect that it arises from the want of imagination. +People need to touch the facts, and nearness in time is contiguity. It +would excite no interest to bulletin the last siege of Jerusalem in a +village where the event was unknown, if the date was appended; and yet +the account of it is incomparably more exciting than that of the siege +of Metz. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. The daily news is a necessity. I cannot get along without +my morning paper. The other morning I took it up, and was absorbed in +the telegraphic columns for an hour nearly. I thoroughly enjoyed the +feeling of immediate contact with all the world of yesterday, until +I read among the minor items that Patrick Donahue, of the city of New +York, died of a sunstroke. If he had frozen to death, I should have +enjoyed that; but to die of sunstroke in February seemed inappropriate, +and I turned to the date of the paper. When I found it was printed in +July, I need not say that I lost all interest in it, though why the +trivialities and crimes and accidents, relating to people I never knew, +were not as good six months after date as twelve hours, I cannot say. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. You know that in Concord the latest news, except +a remark or two by Thoreau or Emerson, is the Vedas. I believe the +Rig-Veda is read at the breakfast-table instead of the Boston journals. + +THE PARSON. I know it is read afterward instead of the Bible. + +MANDEVILLE. That is only because it is supposed to be older. I have +understood that the Bible is very well spoken of there, but it is not +antiquated enough to be an authority. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. There was a project on foot to put it into the +circulating library, but the title New in the second part was considered +objectionable. + +HERBERT. Well, I have a good deal of sympathy with Concord as to the +news. We are fed on a daily diet of trivial events and gossip, of +the unfruitful sayings of thoughtless men and women, until our mental +digestion is seriously impaired; the day will come when no one will be +able to sit down to a thoughtful, well-wrought book and assimilate its +contents. + +THE MISTRESS. I doubt if a daily newspaper is a necessity, in the higher +sense of the word. + +THE PARSON. Nobody supposes it is to women,--that is, if they can see +each other. + +THE MISTRESS. Don't interrupt, unless you have something to say; though +I should like to know how much gossip there is afloat that the minister +does not know. The newspaper may be needed in society, but how quickly +it drops out of mind when one goes beyond the bounds of what is called +civilization. You remember when we were in the depths of the woods last +summer how difficult it was to get up any interest in the files of late +papers that reached us, and how unreal all the struggle and turmoil of +the world seemed. We stood apart, and could estimate things at their +true value. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Yes, that was real life. I never tired of the guide's +stories; there was some interest in the intelligence that a deer had +been down to eat the lily-pads at the foot of the lake the night before; +that a bear's track was seen on the trail we crossed that day; even +Mandeville's fish-stories had a certain air of probability; and how to +roast a trout in the ashes and serve him hot and juicy and clean, and +how to cook soup and prepare coffee and heat dish-water in one tin-pail, +were vital problems. + +THE PARSON. You would have had no such problems at home. Why will people +go so far to put themselves to such inconvenience? I hate the woods. +Isolation breeds conceit; there are no people so conceited as those who +dwell in remote wildernesses and live mostly alone. + +THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I feel humble in the presence of mountains, +and in the vast stretches of the wilderness. + +THE PARSON. I'll be bound a woman would feel just as nobody would expect +her to feel, under given circumstances. + +MANDEVILLE. I think the reason why the newspaper and the world it +carries take no hold of us in the wilderness is that we become a kind of +vegetable ourselves when we go there. I have often attempted to improve +my mind in the woods with good solid books. You might as well offer a +bunch of celery to an oyster. The mind goes to sleep: the senses and the +instincts wake up. The best I can do when it rains, or the trout won't +bite, is to read Dumas's novels. Their ingenuity will almost keep a man +awake after supper, by the camp-fire. And there is a kind of unity about +them that I like; the history is as good as the morality. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I always wondered where Mandeville got his historical +facts. + +THE MISTRESS. Mandeville misrepresents himself in the woods. I heard him +one night repeat "The Vision of Sir Launfal"--(THE FIRE-TENDER. Which +comes very near being our best poem.)--as we were crossing the lake, and +the guides became so absorbed in it that they forgot to paddle, and sat +listening with open mouths, as if it had been a panther story. + +THE PARSON. Mandeville likes to show off well enough. I heard that he +related to a woods' boy up there the whole of the Siege of Troy. The +boy was very much interested, and said "there'd been a man up there that +spring from Troy, looking up timber." Mandeville always carries the news +when he goes into the country. + +MANDEVILLE. I'm going to take the Parson's sermon on Jonah next summer; +it's the nearest to anything like news we've had from his pulpit in ten +years. But, seriously, the boy was very well informed. He'd heard of +Albany; his father took in the "Weekly Tribune," and he had a partial +conception of Horace Greeley. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I never went so far out of the world in America yet that +the name of Horace Greeley did n't rise up before me. One of the first +questions asked by any camp-fire is, "Did ye ever see Horace?" + +HERBERT. Which shows the power of the press again. But I have often +remarked how little real conception of the moving world, as it is, +people in remote regions get from the newspaper. It needs to be read in +the midst of events. A chip cast ashore in a refluent eddy tells no tale +of the force and swiftness of the current. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I don't exactly get the drift of that last remark; but +I rather like a remark that I can't understand; like the landlady's +indigestible bread, it stays by you. + +HERBERT. I see that I must talk in words of one syllable. The newspaper +has little effect upon the remote country mind, because the remote +country mind is interested in a very limited number of things. Besides, +as the Parson says, it is conceited. The most accomplished scholar will +be the butt of all the guides in the woods, because he cannot follow a +trail that would puzzle a sable (saple the trappers call it). + +THE PARSON. It's enough to read the summer letters that people write +to the newspapers from the country and the woods. Isolated from the +activity of the world, they come to think that the little adventures of +their stupid days and nights are important. Talk about that being real +life! Compare the letters such people write with the other contents of +the newspaper, and you will see which life is real. That's one reason I +hate to have summer come, the country letters set in. + +THE MISTRESS. I should like to see something the Parson does n't hate to +have come. + +MANDEVILLE. Except his quarter's salary; and the meeting of the American +Board. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I don't see that we are getting any nearer the solution +of the original question. The world is evidently interested in events +simply because they are recent. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I have a theory that a newspaper might be published at +little cost, merely by reprinting the numbers of years before, only +altering the dates; just as the Parson preaches over his sermons. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It's evident we must have a higher order of +news-gatherers. It has come to this, that the newspaper furnishes +thought-material for all the world, actually prescribes from day to day +the themes the world shall think on and talk about. The occupation of +news-gathering becomes, therefore, the most important. When you think of +it, it is astonishing that this department should not be in the hands +of the ablest men, accomplished scholars, philosophical observers, +discriminating selectors of the news of the world that is worth thinking +over and talking about. The editorial comments frequently are able +enough, but is it worth while keeping an expensive mill going to grind +chaff? I sometimes wonder, as I open my morning paper, if nothing did +happen in the twenty-four hours except crimes, accidents, defalcations, +deaths of unknown loafers, robberies, monstrous births,--say about the +level of police-court news. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I have even noticed that murders have deteriorated; they +are not so high-toned and mysterious as they used to be. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It is true that the newspapers have improved vastly +within the last decade. + +HERBERT. I think, for one, that they are very much above the level of +the ordinary gossip of the country. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But I am tired of having the under-world still occupy +so much room in the newspapers. The reporters are rather more alert for +a dog-fight than a philological convention. It must be that the good +deeds of the world outnumber the bad in any given day; and what a good +reflex action it would have on society if they could be more fully +reported than the bad! I suppose the Parson would call this the +Enthusiasm of Humanity. + +THE PARSON. You'll see how far you can lift yourself up by your +boot-straps. + +HERBERT. I wonder what influence on the quality (I say nothing of +quantity) of news the coming of women into the reporter's and editor's +work will have. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. There are the baby-shows; they make cheerful reading. + +THE MISTRESS. All of them got up by speculating men, who impose upon the +vanity of weak women. + +HERBERT. I think women reporters are more given to personal details +and gossip than the men. When I read the Washington correspondence I am +proud of my country, to see how many Apollo Belvederes, Adonises, how +much marble brow and piercing eye and hyacinthine locks, we have in the +two houses of Congress. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That's simply because women understand the personal +weakness of men; they have a long score of personal flattery to pay off +too. + +MANDEVILLE. I think women will bring in elements of brightness, +picturesqueness, and purity very much needed. Women have a power +of investing simple ordinary things with a charm; men are bungling +narrators compared with them. + +THE PARSON. The mistake they make is in trying to write, and especially +to "stump-speak," like men; next to an effeminate man there is nothing +so disagreeable as a mannish woman. + +HERBERT. I heard one once address a legislative committee. The knowing +air, the familiar, jocular, smart manner, the nodding and winking +innuendoes, supposed to be those of a man "up to snuff," and au fait in +political wiles, were inexpressibly comical. And yet the exhibition +was pathetic, for it had the suggestive vulgarity of a woman in man's +clothes. The imitation is always a dreary failure. + +THE MISTRESS. Such women are the rare exceptions. I am ready to defend +my sex; but I won't attempt to defend both sexes in one. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I have great hope that women will bring into the +newspaper an elevating influence; the common and sweet life of society +is much better fitted to entertain and instruct us than the exceptional +and extravagant. I confess (saving the Mistress's presence) that the +evening talk over the dessert at dinner is much more entertaining and +piquant than the morning paper, and often as important. + +THE MISTRESS. I think the subject had better be changed. + +MANDEVILLE. The person, not the subject. There is no entertainment +so full of quiet pleasure as the hearing a lady of cultivation and +refinement relate her day's experience in her daily rounds of calls, +charitable visits, shopping, errands of relief and condolence. The +evening budget is better than the finance minister's. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That's even so. My wife will pick up more news in six +hours than I can get in a week, and I'm fond of news. + +MANDEVILLE. I don't mean gossip, by any means, or scandal. A woman of +culture skims over that like a bird, never touching it with the tip of a +wing. What she brings home is the freshness and brightness of life. She +touches everything so daintily, she hits off a character in a sentence, +she gives the pith of a dialogue without tediousness, she mimics without +vulgarity; her narration sparkles, but it does n't sting. The picture +of her day is full of vivacity, and it gives new value and freshness to +common things. If we could only have on the stage such actresses as we +have in the drawing-room! + +THE FIRE-TENDER. We want something more of this grace, sprightliness, +and harmless play of the finer life of society in the newspaper. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder Mandeville does n't marry, and become a +permanent subscriber to his embodied idea of a newspaper. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Perhaps he does not relish the idea of being unable to +stop his subscription. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Parson, won't you please punch that fire, and give us +more blaze? we are getting into the darkness of socialism. + + + + + +III + +Herbert returned to us in March. The Young Lady was spending the winter +with us, and March, in spite of the calendar, turned out to be a winter +month. It usually is in New England, and April too, for that matter. And +I cannot say it is unfortunate for us. There are so many topics to be +turned over and settled at our fireside that a winter of ordinary length +would make little impression on the list. The fireside is, after all, +a sort of private court of chancery, where nothing ever does come to a +final decision. The chief effect of talk on any subject is to strengthen +one's own opinions, and, in fact, one never knows exactly what he does +believe until he is warmed into conviction by the heat of attack and +defence. A man left to himself drifts about like a boat on a calm lake; +it is only when the wind blows that the boat goes anywhere. + +Herbert said he had been dipping into the recent novels written by +women, here and there, with a view to noting the effect upon literature +of this sudden and rather overwhelming accession to it. There was a good +deal of talk about it evening after evening, off and on, and I can only +undertake to set down fragments of it. + +HERBERT. I should say that the distinguishing feature of the literature +of this day is the prominence women have in its production. They figure +in most of the magazines, though very rarely in the scholarly and +critical reviews, and in thousands of newspapers; to them we are +indebted for the oceans of Sunday-school books, and they write the +majority of the novels, the serial stories, and they mainly pour out the +watery flood of tales in the weekly papers. Whether this is to result in +more good than evil it is impossible yet to say, and perhaps it would be +unjust to say, until this generation has worked off its froth, and women +settle down to artistic, conscientious labor in literature. + +THE MISTRESS. You don't mean to say that George Eliot, and Mrs. Gaskell, +and George Sand, and Mrs. Browning, before her marriage and severe +attack of spiritism, are less true to art than contemporary men +novelists and poets. + +HERBERT. You name some exceptions that show the bright side of the +picture, not only for the present, but for the future. Perhaps genius +has no sex; but ordinary talent has. I refer to the great body of +novels, which you would know by internal evidence were written by women. +They are of two sorts: the domestic story, entirely unidealized, and as +flavorless as water-gruel; and the spiced novel, generally immoral in +tendency, in which the social problems are handled, unhappy marriages, +affinity and passional attraction, bigamy, and the violation of the +seventh commandment. These subjects are treated in the rawest manner, +without any settled ethics, with little discrimination of eternal right +and wrong, and with very little sense of responsibility for what is set +forth. Many of these novels are merely the blind outbursts of a nature +impatient of restraint and the conventionalities of society, and are as +chaotic as the untrained minds that produce them. + +MANDEVILLE. Don't you think these novels fairly represent a social +condition of unrest and upheaval? + +HERBERT. Very likely; and they help to create and spread abroad the +discontent they describe. Stories of bigamy (sometimes disguised by +divorce), of unhappy marriages, where the injured wife, through an +entire volume, is on the brink of falling into the arms of a sneaking +lover, until death kindly removes the obstacle, and the two souls, who +were born for each other, but got separated in the cradle, melt and +mingle into one in the last chapter, are not healthful reading for maids +or mothers. + +THE MISTRESS. Or men. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The most disagreeable object to me in modern literature +is the man the women novelists have introduced as the leading character; +the women who come in contact with him seem to be fascinated by his +disdainful mien, his giant strength, and his brutal manner. He is broad +across the shoulders, heavily moulded, yet as lithe as a cat; has an +ugly scar across his right cheek; has been in the four quarters of the +globe; knows seventeen languages; had a harem in Turkey and a Fayaway in +the Marquesas; can be as polished as Bayard in the drawing-room, but is +as gloomy as Conrad in the library; has a terrible eye and a withering +glance, but can be instantly subdued by a woman's hand, if it is not +his wife's; and through all his morose and vicious career has carried a +heart as pure as a violet. + +THE MISTRESS. Don't you think the Count of Monte Cristo is the elder +brother of Rochester? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. One is a mere hero of romance; the other is meant for a +real man. + +MANDEVILLE. I don't see that the men novel-writers are better than the +women. + +HERBERT. That's not the question; but what are women who write so large +a proportion of the current stories bringing into literature? Aside +from the question of morals, and the absolutely demoralizing manner +of treating social questions, most of their stories are vapid and weak +beyond expression, and are slovenly in composition, showing neither +study, training, nor mental discipline. + +THE MISTRESS. Considering that women have been shut out from the +training of the universities, and have few opportunities for the wide +observation that men enjoy, isn't it pretty well that the foremost +living writers of fiction are women? + +HERBERT. You can say that for the moment, since Thackeray and Dickens +have just died. But it does not affect the general estimate. We +are inundated with a flood of weak writing. Take the Sunday-school +literature, largely the product of women; it has n't as much character +as a dried apple pie. I don't know what we are coming to if the presses +keep on running. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. We are living, we are dwelling, in a grand and awful +time; I'm glad I don't write novels. + +THE PARSON. So am I. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I tried a Sunday-school book once; but I made the good +boy end in the poorhouse, and the bad boy go to Congress; and the +publisher said it wouldn't do, the public wouldn't stand that sort of +thing. Nobody but the good go to Congress. + +THE MISTRESS. Herbert, what do you think women are good for? + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That's a poser. + +HERBERT. Well, I think they are in a tentative state as to literature, +and we cannot yet tell what they will do. Some of our most brilliant +books of travel, correspondence, and writing on topics in which their +sympathies have warmly interested them, are by women. Some of them are +also strong writers in the daily journals. + +MANDEVILLE. I 'm not sure there's anything a woman cannot do as well as +a man, if she sets her heart on it. + +THE PARSON. That's because she's no conscience. + +CHORUS. O Parson! + +THE PARSON. Well, it does n't trouble her, if she wants to do anything. +She looks at the end, not the means. A woman, set on anything, will walk +right through the moral crockery without wincing. She'd be a great deal +more unscrupulous in politics than the average man. Did you ever see a +female lobbyist? Or a criminal? It is Lady Macbeth who does not falter. +Don't raise your hands at me! The sweetest angel or the coolest devil is +a woman. I see in some of the modern novels we have been talking of the +same unscrupulous daring, a blindness to moral distinctions, a constant +exaltation of a passion into a virtue, an entire disregard of the +immutable laws on which the family and society rest. And you ask lawyers +and trustees how scrupulous women are in business transactions! + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Women are often ignorant of affairs, and, besides, they +may have a notion often that a woman ought to be privileged more than +a man in business matters; but I tell you, as a rule, that if men +would consult their wives, they would go a deal straighter in business +operations than they do go. + +THE PARSON. We are all poor sinners. But I've another indictment against +the women writers. We get no good old-fashioned love-stories from them. +It's either a quarrel of discordant natures one a panther, and the other +a polar bear--for courtship, until one of them is crippled by a railway +accident; or a long wrangle of married life between two unpleasant +people, who can neither live comfortably together nor apart. I suppose, +by what I see, that sweet wooing, with all its torturing and delightful +uncertainty, still goes on in the world; and I have no doubt that the +majority of married people live more happily than the unmarried. But +it's easier to find a dodo than a new and good love-story. + +MANDEVILLE. I suppose the old style of plot is exhausted. Everything in +man and outside of him has been turned over so often that I should think +the novelists would cease simply from want of material. + +THE PARSON. Plots are no more exhausted than men are. Every man is a new +creation, and combinations are simply endless. Even if we did not have +new material in the daily change of society, and there were only a +fixed number of incidents and characters in life, invention could not be +exhausted on them. I amuse myself sometimes with my kaleidoscope, but +I can never reproduce a figure. No, no. I cannot say that you may not +exhaust everything else: we may get all the secrets of a nature into a +book by and by, but the novel is immortal, for it deals with men. + +The Parson's vehemence came very near carrying him into a sermon; and +as nobody has the privilege of replying to his sermons, so none of the +circle made any reply now. + +Our Next Door mumbled something about his hair standing on end, to hear +a minister defending the novel; but it did not interrupt the general +silence. Silence is unnoticed when people sit before a fire; it would be +intolerable if they sat and looked at each other. + +The wind had risen during the evening, and Mandeville remarked, as they +rose to go, that it had a spring sound in it, but it was as cold as +winter. The Mistress said she heard a bird that morning singing in the +sun a spring song, it was a winter bird, but it sang. + + + + + +SEVENTH STUDY + + +We have been much interested in what is called the Gothic revival. We +have spent I don't know how many evenings in looking over Herbert's +plans for a cottage, and have been amused with his vain efforts to cover +with Gothic roofs the vast number of large rooms which the Young Lady +draws in her sketch of a small house. + +I have no doubt that the Gothic, which is capable of infinite +modification, so that every house built in that style may be as +different from every other house as one tree is from every other, can be +adapted to our modern uses, and will be, when artists catch its spirit +instead of merely copying its old forms. But just now we are taking the +Gothic very literally, as we took the Greek at one time, or as we should +probably have taken the Saracenic, if the Moors had not been colored. +Not even the cholera is so contagious in this country as a style of +architecture which we happen to catch; the country is just now broken +out all over with the Mansard-roof epidemic. + +And in secular architecture we do not study what is adapted to our +climate any more than in ecclesiastic architecture we adopt that which +is suited to our religion. + +We are building a great many costly churches here and there, we +Protestants, and as the most of them are ill adapted to our forms of +worship, it may be necessary and best for us to change our religion in +order to save our investments. I am aware that this would be a grave +step, and we should not hasten to throw overboard Luther and the right +of private judgment without reflection. And yet, if it is necessary to +revive the ecclesiastical Gothic architecture, not in its spirit (that +we nowhere do), but in the form which served another age and another +faith, and if, as it appears, we have already a great deal of money +invested in this reproduction, it may be more prudent to go forward than +to go back. The question is, "Cannot one easier change his creed than +his pew?" + +I occupy a seat in church which is an admirable one for reflection, but +I cannot see or hear much that is going on in what we like to call the +apse. There is a splendid stone pillar, a clustered column, right in +front of me, and I am as much protected from the minister as Old Put's +troops were from the British, behind the stone wall at Bunker's Hill. I +can hear his voice occasionally wandering round in the arches overhead, +and I recognize the tone, because he is a friend of mine and an +excellent man, but what he is saying I can very seldom make out. If +there was any incense burning, I could smell it, and that would be +something. I rather like the smell of incense, and it has its holy +associations. But there is no smell in our church, except of bad +air,--for there is no provision for ventilation in the splendid and +costly edifice. The reproduction of the old Gothic is so complete that +the builders even seem to have brought over the ancient air from one +of the churches of the Middle Ages,--you would declare it had n't been +changed in two centuries. + +I am expected to fix my attention during the service upon one man, who +stands in the centre of the apse and has a sounding-board behind him in +order to throw his voice out of the sacred semicircular space (where the +altar used to stand, but now the sounding-board takes the place of +the altar) and scatter it over the congregation at large, and send it +echoing up in the groined roof I always like to hear a minister who is +unfamiliar with the house, and who has a loud voice, try to fill the +edifice. The more he roars and gives himself with vehemence to the +effort, the more the building roars in indistinguishable noise and +hubbub. By the time he has said (to suppose a case), "The Lord is in +his holy temple," and has passed on to say, "let all the earth keep +silence," the building is repeating "The Lord is in his holy temple" +from half a dozen different angles and altitudes, rolling it and +growling it, and is not keeping silence at all. A man who understands +it waits until the house has had its say, and has digested one passage, +before he launches another into the vast, echoing spaces. I am expected, +as I said, to fix my eye and mind on the minister, the central point +of the service. But the pillar hides him. Now if there were several +ministers in the church, dressed in such gorgeous colors that I could +see them at the distance from the apse at which my limited income +compels me to sit, and candles were burning, and censers were swinging, +and the platform was full of the sacred bustle of a gorgeous ritual +worship, and a bell rang to tell me the holy moments, I should not mind +the pillar at all. I should sit there, like any other Goth, and enjoy +it. But, as I have said, the pastor is a friend of mine, and I like +to look at him on Sunday, and hear what he says, for he always says +something worth hearing. I am on such terms with him, indeed we all are, +that it would be pleasant to have the service of a little more social +nature, and more human. When we put him away off in the apse, and set +him up for a Goth, and then seat ourselves at a distance, scattered +about among the pillars, the whole thing seems to me a trifle unnatural. +Though I do not mean to say that the congregations do not "enjoy their +religion" in their splendid edifices which cost so much money and are +really so beautiful. + +A good many people have the idea, so it seems, that Gothic architecture +and Christianity are essentially one and the same thing. Just as many +regard it as an act of piety to work an altar cloth or to cushion a +pulpit. It may be, and it may not be. + +Our Gothic church is likely to prove to us a valuable religious +experience, bringing out many of the Christian virtues. It may have +had its origin in pride, but it is all being overruled for our good. Of +course I need n't explain that it is the thirteenth century ecclesiastic +Gothic that is epidemic in this country; and I think it has attacked the +Congregational and the other non-ritual churches more violently than any +others. We have had it here in its most beautiful and dangerous forms. I +believe we are pretty much all of us supplied with a Gothic church now. +Such has been the enthusiasm in this devout direction, that I should not +be surprised to see our rich private citizens putting up Gothic churches +for their individual amusement and sanctification. As the day will +probably come when every man in Hartford will live in his own mammoth, +five-story granite insurance building, it may not be unreasonable to +expect that every man will sport his own Gothic church. It is beginning +to be discovered that the Gothic sort of church edifice is fatal to +the Congregational style of worship that has been prevalent here in +New England; but it will do nicely (as they say in Boston) for private +devotion. + +There isn't a finer or purer church than ours any where, inside and +outside Gothic to the last. The elevation of the nave gives it even that +"high-shouldered" appearance which seemed more than anything else to +impress Mr. Hawthorne in the cathedral at Amiens. I fancy that for +genuine high-shoulderness we are not exceeded by any church in the city. +Our chapel in the rear is as Gothic as the rest of it,--a beautiful +little edifice. The committee forgot to make any more provision for +ventilating that than the church, and it takes a pretty well-seasoned +Christian to stay in it long at a time. The Sunday-school is held there, +and it is thought to be best to accustom the children to bad air before +they go into the church. The poor little dears shouldn't have the +wickedness and impurity of this world break on them too suddenly. If the +stranger noticed any lack about our church, it would be that of a spire. +There is a place for one; indeed, it was begun, and then the builders +seem to have stopped, with the notion that it would grow itself from +such a good root. It is a mistake however, to suppose that we do not +know that the church has what the profane here call a "stump-tail" +appearance. But the profane are as ignorant of history as they are of +true Gothic. All the Old World cathedrals were the work of centuries. +That at Milan is scarcely finished yet; the unfinished spires of the +Cologne cathedral are one of the best-known features of it. I doubt if +it would be in the Gothic spirit to finish a church at once. We can tell +cavilers that we shall have a spire at the proper time, and not a minute +before. It may depend a little upon what the Baptists do, who are to +build near us. I, for one, think we had better wait and see how high the +Baptist spire is before we run ours up. The church is everything that +could be desired inside. There is the nave, with its lofty and beautiful +arched ceiling; there are the side aisles, and two elegant rows of stone +pillars, stained so as to be a perfect imitation of stucco; there is +the apse, with its stained glass and exquisite lines; and there is an +organ-loft over the front entrance, with a rose window. Nothing was +wanting, so far as we could see, except that we should adapt ourselves +to the circumstances; and that we have been trying to do ever since. It +may be well to relate how we do it, for the benefit of other inchoate +Goths. + +It was found that if we put up the organ in the loft, it would hide the +beautiful rose window. Besides, we wanted congregational singing, and +if we hired a choir, and hung it up there under the roof, like a cage of +birds, we should not have congregational singing. We therefore left +the organ-loft vacant, making no further use of it than to satisfy our +Gothic cravings. As for choir,--several of the singers of the church +volunteered to sit together in the front side-seats, and as there was no +place for an organ, they gallantly rallied round a melodeon,--or perhaps +it is a cabinet organ,--a charming instrument, and, as everybody knows, +entirely in keeping with the pillars, arches, and great spaces of a real +Gothic edifice. It is the union of simplicity with grandeur, for which +we have all been looking. I need not say to those who have ever heard a +melodeon, that there is nothing like it. It is rare, even in the finest +churches on the Continent. And we had congregational singing. And it +went very well indeed. One of the advantages of pure congregational +singing, is that you can join in the singing whether you have a voice +or not. The disadvantage is, that your neighbor can do the same. It is +strange what an uncommonly poor lot of voices there is, even among good +people. But we enjoy it. If you do not enjoy it, you can change your +seat until you get among a good lot. + +So far, everything went well. But it was next discovered that it was +difficult to hear the minister, who had a very handsome little desk in +the apse, somewhat distant from the bulk of the congregation; still, we +could most of us see him on a clear day. The church was admirably built +for echoes, and the centre of the house was very favorable to them. When +you sat in the centre of the house, it sometimes seemed as if three or +four ministers were speaking. + +It is usually so in cathedrals; the Right Reverend So-and-So is +assisted by the very Reverend Such-and-Such, and the good deal Reverend +Thus-and-Thus, and so on. But a good deal of the minister's voice +appeared to go up into the groined arches, and, as there was no one up +there, some of his best things were lost. We also had a notion that some +of it went into the cavernous organ-loft. It would have been all right +if there had been a choir there, for choirs usually need more preaching, +and pay less heed to it, than any other part of the congregation. Well, +we drew a sort of screen over the organ-loft; but the result was not +as marked as we had hoped. We next devised a sounding-board,--a sort of +mammoth clamshell, painted white,--and erected it behind the minister. +It had a good effect on the minister. It kept him up straight to his +work. So long as he kept his head exactly in the focus, his voice +went out and did not return to him; but if he moved either way, he was +assailed by a Babel of clamoring echoes. There was no opportunity for +him to splurge about from side to side of the pulpit, as some do. And if +he raised his voice much, or attempted any extra flights, he was liable +to be drowned in a refluent sea of his own eloquence. And he could +hear the congregation as well as they could hear him. All the coughs, +whispers, noises, were gathered in the wooden tympanum behind him, and +poured into his ears. + +But the sounding-board was an improvement, and we advanced to bolder +measures; having heard a little, we wanted to hear more. Besides, those +who sat in front began to be discontented with the melodeon. There are +depths in music which the melodeon, even when it is called a cabinet +organ, with a colored boy at the bellows, cannot sound. The melodeon was +not, originally, designed for the Gothic worship. We determined to have +an organ, and we speculated whether, by erecting it in the apse, we +could not fill up that elegant portion of the church, and compel the +preacher's voice to leave it, and go out over the pews. It would of +course do something to efface the main beauty of a Gothic church; but +something must be done, and we began a series of experiments to test the +probable effects of putting the organ and choir behind the minister. We +moved the desk to the very front of the platform, and erected behind +it a high, square board screen, like a section of tight fence round the +fair-grounds. This did help matters. The minister spoke with more ease, +and we could hear him better. If the screen had been intended to stay +there, we should have agitated the subject of painting it. But this was +only an experiment. + +Our next move was to shove the screen back and mount the volunteer +singers, melodeon and all, upon the platform,--some twenty of them +crowded together behind the minister. The effect was beautiful. It +seemed as if we had taken care to select the finest-looking people in +the congregation,--much to the injury of the congregation, of course, as +seen from the platform. There are few congregations that can stand +this sort of culling, though ours can endure it as well as any; yet it +devolves upon those of us who remain the responsibility of looking as +well as we can. + +The experiment was a success, so far as appearances went, but when the +screen went back, the minister's voice went back with it. We could not +hear him very well, though we could hear the choir as plain as day. We +have thought of remedying this last defect by putting the high screen in +front of the singers, and close to the minister, as it was before. This +would make the singers invisible,--"though lost to sight, to memory +dear,"--what is sometimes called an "angel choir," when the singers (and +the melodeon) are concealed, with the most subdued and religious effect. +It is often so in cathedrals. + +This plan would have another advantage. The singers on the platform, all +handsome and well dressed, distract our attention from the minister, +and what he is saying. We cannot help looking at them, studying all the +faces and all the dresses. If one of them sits up very straight, he is +a rebuke to us; if he "lops" over, we wonder why he does n't sit up; if +his hair is white, we wonder whether it is age or family peculiarity; if +he yawns, we want to yawn; if he takes up a hymn-book, we wonder if he +is uninterested in the sermon; we look at the bonnets, and query if that +is the latest spring style, or whether we are to look for another; if +he shaves close, we wonder why he doesn't let his beard grow; if he has +long whiskers, we wonder why he does n't trim 'em; if she sighs, we feel +sorry; if she smiles, we would like to know what it is about. And, +then, suppose any of the singers should ever want to eat fennel, or +peppermints, or Brown's troches, and pass them round! Suppose the +singers, more or less of them, should sneeze! + +Suppose one or two of them, as the handsomest people sometimes will, +should go to sleep! In short, the singers there take away all our +attention from the minister, and would do so if they were the homeliest +people in the world. We must try something else. + +It is needless to explain that a Gothic religious life is not an idle +one. + + + + + +EIGHTH STUDY + + + + +I + +Perhaps the clothes question is exhausted, philosophically. I cannot +but regret that the Poet of the Breakfast-Table, who appears to have +an uncontrollable penchant for saying the things you would like to +say yourself, has alluded to the anachronism of "Sir Coeur de Lion +Plantagenet in the mutton-chop whiskers and the plain gray suit." + +A great many scribblers have felt the disadvantage of writing after +Montaigne; and it is impossible to tell how much originality in others +Dr. Holmes has destroyed in this country. In whist there are some men +you always prefer to have on your left hand, and I take it that +this intuitive essayist, who is so alert to seize the few remaining +unappropriated ideas and analogies in the world, is one of them. + +No doubt if the Plantagenets of this day were required to dress in a +suit of chain-armor and wear iron pots on their heads, they would be as +ridiculous as most tragedy actors on the stage. The pit which recognizes +Snooks in his tin breastplate and helmet laughs at him, and Snooks +himself feels like a sheep; and when the great tragedian comes +on, shining in mail, dragging a two-handed sword, and mouths the +grandiloquence which poets have put into the speech of heroes, the +dress-circle requires all its good-breeding and its feigned love of the +traditionary drama not to titter. + +If this sort of acting, which is supposed to have come down to us from +the Elizabethan age, and which culminated in the school of the Keans, +Kembles, and Siddonses, ever had any fidelity to life, it must have +been in a society as artificial as the prose of Sir Philip Sidney. That +anybody ever believed in it is difficult to think, especially when we +read what privileges the fine beaux and gallants of the town took behind +the scenes and on the stage in the golden days of the drama. When a part +of the audience sat on the stage, and gentlemen lounged or reeled across +it in the midst of a play, to speak to acquaintances in the audience, +the illusion could not have been very strong. + +Now and then a genius, like Rachel as Horatia, or Hackett as +Falstaff, may actually seem to be the character assumed by virtue of a +transforming imagination, but I suppose the fact to be that getting +into a costume, absurdly antiquated and remote from all the habits and +associations of the actor, largely accounts for the incongruity and +ridiculousness of most of our modern acting. Whether what is called the +"legitimate drama" ever was legitimate we do not know, but the advocates +of it appear to think that the theatre was some time cast in a +mould, once for all, and is good for all times and peoples, like the +propositions of Euclid. To our eyes the legitimate drama of to-day is +the one in which the day is reflected, both in costume and speech, and +which touches the affections, the passions, the humor, of the present +time. The brilliant success of the few good plays that have been written +out of the rich life which we now live--the most varied, fruitful, and +dramatically suggestive--ought to rid us forever of the buskin-fustian, +except as a pantomimic or spectacular curiosity. + +We have no objection to Julius Caesar or Richard III. stalking about in +impossible clothes, and stepping four feet at a stride, if they want to, +but let them not claim to be more "legitimate" than "Ours" or "Rip Van +Winkle." There will probably be some orator for years and years to come, +at every Fourth of July, who will go on asking, Where is Thebes? but +he does not care anything about it, and he does not really expect an +answer. I have sometimes wished I knew the exact site of Thebes, so that +I could rise in the audience, and stop that question, at any rate. It is +legitimate, but it is tiresome. + +If we went to the bottom of this subject, I think we should find that +the putting upon actors clothes to which they are unaccustomed makes +them act and talk artificially, and often in a manner intolerable. + +An actor who has not the habits or instincts of a gentleman cannot be +made to appear like one on the stage by dress; he only caricatures and +discredits what he tries to represent; and the unaccustomed clothes and +situation make him much more unnatural and insufferable than he would +otherwise be. Dressed appropriately for parts for which he is fitted, +he will act well enough, probably. What I mean is, that the clothes +inappropriate to the man make the incongruity of him and his part more +apparent. Vulgarity is never so conspicuous as in fine apparel, on or +off the stage, and never so self-conscious. Shall we have, then, no +refined characters on the stage? Yes; but let them be taken by men +and women of taste and refinement and let us have done with this +masquerading in false raiment, ancient and modern, which makes nearly +every stage a travesty of nature and the whole theatre a painful +pretension. We do not expect the modern theatre to be a place of +instruction (that business is now turned over to the telegraphic +operator, who is making a new language), but it may give amusement +instead of torture, and do a little in satirizing folly and kindling +love of home and country by the way. + +This is a sort of summary of what we all said, and no one in particular +is responsible for it; and in this it is like public opinion. The +Parson, however, whose only experience of the theatre was the endurance +of an oratorio once, was very cordial in his denunciation of the stage +altogether. + +MANDEVILLE. Yet, acting itself is delightful; nothing so entertains +us as mimicry, the personation of character. We enjoy it in private. +I confess that I am always pleased with the Parson in the character of +grumbler. He would be an immense success on the stage. I don't know but +the theatre will have to go back into the hands of the priests, who once +controlled it. + +THE PARSON. Scoffer! + +MANDEVILLE. I can imagine how enjoyable the stage might be, cleared of +all its traditionary nonsense, stilted language, stilted behavior, all +the rubbish of false sentiment, false dress, and the manners of +times that were both artificial and immoral, and filled with living +characters, who speak the thought of to-day, with the wit and culture +that are current to-day. I've seen private theatricals, where all the +performers were persons of cultivation, that.... + +OUR NEXT DOOR. So have I. For something particularly cheerful, commend +me to amateur theatricals. I have passed some melancholy hours at them. + +MANDEVILLE. That's because the performers acted the worn stage plays, +and attempted to do them in the manner they had seen on the stage. It is +not always so. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I suppose Mandeville would say that acting has got into +a mannerism which is well described as stagey, and is supposed to +be natural to the stage; just as half the modern poets write in a +recognized form of literary manufacture, without the least impulse from +within, and not with the purpose of saying anything, but of turning out +a piece of literary work. That's the reason we have so much poetry +that impresses one like sets of faultless cabinet-furniture made by +machinery. + +THE PARSON. But you need n't talk of nature or naturalness in acting or +in anything. I tell you nature is poor stuff. It can't go alone. Amateur +acting--they get it up at church sociables nowadays--is apt to be as +near nature as a school-boy's declamation. Acting is the Devil's art. + +THE MISTRESS. Do you object to such innocent amusement? + +MANDEVILLE. What the Parson objects to is, that he isn't amused. + +THE PARSON. What's the use of objecting? It's the fashion of the day to +amuse people into the kingdom of heaven. + +HERBERT. The Parson has got us off the track. My notion about the stage +is, that it keeps along pretty evenly with the rest of the world; the +stage is usually quite up to the level of the audience. Assumed dress +on the stage, since you were speaking of that, makes people no more +constrained and self-conscious than it does off the stage. + +THE MISTRESS. What sarcasm is coming now? + +HERBERT. Well, you may laugh, but the world has n't got used to good +clothes yet. The majority do not wear them with ease. People who only +put on their best on rare and stated occasions step into an artificial +feeling. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder if that's the reason the Parson finds it so +difficult to get hold of his congregation. + +HERBERT. I don't know how else to account for the formality and vapidity +of a set "party," where all the guests are clothed in a manner to +which they are unaccustomed, dressed into a condition of vivid +self-consciousness. The same people, who know each other perfectly +well, will enjoy themselves together without restraint in their ordinary +apparel. But nothing can be more artificial than the behavior of +people together who rarely "dress up." It seems impossible to make the +conversation as fine as the clothes, and so it dies in a kind of inane +helplessness. Especially is this true in the country, where people have +not obtained the mastery of their clothes that those who live in the +city have. It is really absurd, at this stage of our civilization, that +we should be so affected by such an insignificant accident as dress. +Perhaps Mandeville can tell us whether this clothes panic prevails in +the older societies. + +THE PARSON. Don't. We've heard it; about its being one of the +Englishman's thirty-nine articles that he never shall sit down to dinner +without a dress-coat, and all that. + +THE MISTRESS. I wish, for my part, that everybody who has time to eat +a dinner would dress for that, the principal event of the day, and do +respectful and leisurely justice to it. + +THE YOUNG LADY. It has always seemed singular to me that men who work +so hard to build elegant houses, and have good dinners, should take so +little leisure to enjoy either. + +MANDEVILLE. If the Parson will permit me, I should say that the chief +clothes question abroad just now is, how to get any; and it is the same +with the dinners. + + + + + +II + +It is quite unnecessary to say that the talk about clothes ran into the +question of dress-reform, and ran out, of course. You cannot converse on +anything nowadays that you do not run into some reform. The Parson says +that everybody is intent on reforming everything but himself. We are all +trying to associate ourselves to make everybody else behave as we do. +Said-- + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Dress reform! As if people couldn't change their clothes +without concert of action. Resolved, that nobody should put on a clean +collar oftener than his neighbor does. I'm sick of every sort of reform. +I should like to retrograde awhile. Let a dyspeptic ascertain that he +can eat porridge three times a day and live, and straightway he insists +that everybody ought to eat porridge and nothing else. I mean to get +up a society every member of which shall be pledged to do just as he +pleases. + +THE PARSON. That would be the most radical reform of the day. That +would be independence. If people dressed according to their means, acted +according to their convictions, and avowed their opinions, it would +revolutionize society. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I should like to walk into your church some Sunday and +see the changes under such conditions. + +THE PARSON. It might give you a novel sensation to walk in at any time. +And I'm not sure but the church would suit your retrograde ideas. +It's so Gothic that a Christian of the Middle Ages, if he were alive, +couldn't see or hear in it. + +HERBERT. I don't know whether these reformers who carry the world on +their shoulders in such serious fashion, especially the little fussy +fellows, who are themselves the standard of the regeneration they seek, +are more ludicrous than pathetic. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Pathetic, by all means. But I don't know that they +would be pathetic if they were not ludicrous. There are those reform +singers who have been piping away so sweetly now for thirty years, with +never any diminution of cheerful, patient enthusiasm; their hair growing +longer and longer, their eyes brighter and brighter, and their faces, I +do believe, sweeter and sweeter; singing always with the same +constancy for the slave, for the drunkard, for the snufftaker, for the +suffragist,--"There'sa-good-time-com-ing-boys (nothing offensive is +intended by 'boys,' it is put in for euphony, and sung pianissimo, not +to offend the suffragists), it's-almost-here." And what a brightening up +of their faces there is when they say, "it's-al-most-here," not doubting +for a moment that "it's" coming tomorrow; and the accompanying melodeon +also wails its wheezy suggestion that "it's-al-most-here," that +"good-time" (delayed so long, waiting perhaps for the invention of the +melodeon) when we shall all sing and all play that cheerful instrument, +and all vote, and none shall smoke, or drink, or eat meat, "boys." I +declare it almost makes me cry to hear them, so touching is their faith +in the midst of a jeer-ing world. + +HERBERT. I suspect that no one can be a genuine reformer and not be +ridiculous. I mean those who give themselves up to the unction of the +reform. + +THE MISTRESS. Does n't that depend upon whether the reform is large or +petty? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I should say rather that the reforms attracted to them +all the ridiculous people, who almost always manage to become the most +conspicuous. I suppose that nobody dare write out all that was ludicrous +in the great abolition movement. But it was not at all comical to those +most zealous in it; they never could see--more's the pity, for thereby +they lose much--the humorous side of their performances, and that is why +the pathos overcomes one's sense of the absurdity of such people. + +THE YOUNG LADY. It is lucky for the world that so many are willing to be +absurd. + +HERBERT. Well, I think that, in the main, the reformers manage to look +out for themselves tolerably well. I knew once a lean and faithful agent +of a great philanthropic scheme, who contrived to collect every year for +the cause just enough to support him at a good hotel comfortably. + +THE MISTRESS. That's identifying one's self with the cause. + +MANDEVILLE. You remember the great free-soil convention at Buffalo, in +1848, when Van Buren was nominated. All the world of hope and discontent +went there, with its projects of reform. There seemed to be no doubt, +among hundreds that attended it, that if they could get a resolution +passed that bread should be buttered on both sides, it would be so +buttered. The platform provided for every want and every woe. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I remember. If you could get the millennium by +political action, we should have had it then. + +MANDEVILLE. We went there on the Erie Canal, the exciting and +fashionable mode of travel in those days. I was a boy when we began the +voyage. The boat was full of conventionists; all the talk was of what +must be done there. I got the impression that as that boat-load went +so would go the convention; and I was not alone in that feeling. I +can never be grateful enough for one little scrubby fanatic who was on +board, who spent most of his time in drafting resolutions and reading +them privately to the passengers. He was a very enthusiastic, nervous, +and somewhat dirty little man, who wore a woolen muffler about his +throat, although it was summer; he had nearly lost his voice, and could +only speak in a hoarse, disagreeable whisper, and he always carried +a teacup about, containing some sticky compound which he stirred +frequently with a spoon, and took, whenever he talked, in order to +improve his voice. If he was separated from his cup for ten minutes, his +whisper became inaudible. I greatly delighted in him, for I never saw +any one who had so much enjoyment of his own importance. He was fond +of telling what he would do if the convention rejected such and such +resolutions. He'd make it hot for them. I did n't know but he'd make +them take his mixture. The convention had got to take a stand on +tobacco, for one thing. He'd heard Gid-dings took snuff; he'd see. +When we at length reached Buffalo he took his teacup and carpet-bag of +resolutions and went ashore in a great hurry. I saw him once again in +a cheap restaurant, whispering a resolution to another delegate, but he +did n't appear in the convention. I have often wondered what became of +him. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably he's consul somewhere. They mostly are. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. After all, it's the easiest thing in the world to sit +and sneer at eccentricities. But what a dead and uninteresting world it +would be if we were all proper, and kept within the lines! Affairs would +soon be reduced to mere machinery. There are moments, even days, when +all interests and movements appear to be settled upon some universal +plan of equilibrium; but just then some restless and absurd person +is inspired to throw the machine out of gear. These individual +eccentricities seem to be the special providences in the general human +scheme. + +HERBERT. They make it very hard work for the rest of us, who are +disposed to go along peaceably and smoothly. + +MANDEVILLE. And stagnate. I 'm not sure but the natural condition +of this planet is war, and that when it is finally towed to +its anchorage--if the universe has any harbor for worlds out of +commission--it will look like the Fighting Temeraire in Turner's +picture. + +HERBERT. There is another thing I should like to understand: the +tendency of people who take up one reform, perhaps a personal +regeneration in regard to some bad habit, to run into a dozen other +isms, and get all at sea in several vague and pernicious theories and +practices. + +MANDEVILLE. Herbert seems to think there is safety in a man's being +anchored, even if it is to a bad habit. + +HERBERT. Thank you. But what is it in human nature that is apt to carry +a man who may take a step in personal reform into so many extremes? + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably it's human nature. + +HERBERT. Why, for instance, should a reformed drunkard (one of the +noblest examples of victory over self) incline, as I have known the +reformed to do, to spiritism, or a woman suffragist to "pantarchism" +(whatever that is), and want to pull up all the roots of society, and +expect them to grow in the air, like orchids; or a Graham-bread disciple +become enamored of Communism? + +MANDEVILLE. I know an excellent Conservative who would, I think, suit +you; he says that he does not see how a man who indulges in the theory +and practice of total abstinence can be a consistent believer in the +Christian religion. + +HERBERT. Well, I can understand what he means: that a person is bound +to hold himself in conditions of moderation and control, using and not +abusing the things of this world, practicing temperance, not retiring +into a convent of artificial restrictions in order to escape the full +responsibility of self-control. And yet his theory would certainly wreck +most men and women. What does the Parson say? + +THE PARSON. That the world is going crazy on the notion of individual +ability. Whenever a man attempts to reform himself, or anybody else, +without the aid of the Christian religion, he is sure to go adrift, and +is pretty certain to be blown about by absurd theories, and shipwrecked +on some pernicious ism. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I think the discussion has touched bottom. + + + + + +III + +I never felt so much the value of a house with a backlog in it as during +the late spring; for its lateness was its main feature. Everybody was +grumbling about it, as if it were something ordered from the tailor, and +not ready on the day. Day after day it snowed, night after night it blew +a gale from the northwest; the frost sunk deeper and deeper into the +ground; there was a popular longing for spring that was almost a prayer; +the weather bureau was active; Easter was set a week earlier than the +year before, but nothing seemed to do any good. The robins sat under the +evergreens, and piped in a disconsolate mood, and at last the bluejays +came and scolded in the midst of the snow-storm, as they always do scold +in any weather. The crocuses could n't be coaxed to come up, even with +a pickaxe. I'm almost ashamed now to recall what we said of the weather +only I think that people are no more accountable for what they say of +the weather than for their remarks when their corns are stepped on. + +We agreed, however, that, but for disappointed expectations and the +prospect of late lettuce and peas, we were gaining by the fire as much +as we were losing by the frost. And the Mistress fell to chanting the +comforts of modern civilization. + +THE FIRE-TENDER said he should like to know, by the way, if our +civilization differed essentially from any other in anything but its +comforts. + +HERBERT. We are no nearer religious unity. + +THE PARSON. We have as much war as ever. + +MANDEVILLE. There was never such a social turmoil. + +THE YOUNG LADY. The artistic part of our nature does not appear to have +grown. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. We are quarreling as to whether we are in fact +radically different from the brutes. + +HERBERT. Scarcely two people think alike about the proper kind of human +government. + +THE PARSON. Our poetry is made out of words, for the most part, and not +drawn from the living sources. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. And Mr. Cumming is uncorking his seventh phial. I never +felt before what barbarians we are. + +THE MISTRESS. Yet you won't deny that the life of the average man is +safer and every way more comfortable than it was even a century ago. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But what I want to know is, whether what we call +our civilization has done any thing more for mankind at large than to +increase the ease and pleasure of living? Science has multiplied wealth, +and facilitated intercourse, and the result is refinement of manners and +a diffusion of education and information. Are men and women essentially +changed, however? I suppose the Parson would say we have lost faith, for +one thing. + +MANDEVILLE. And superstition; and gained toleration. + +HERBERT. The question is, whether toleration is anything but +indifference. + +THE PARSON. Everything is tolerated now but Christian orthodoxy. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It's easy enough to make a brilliant catalogue of +external achievements, but I take it that real progress ought to be in +man himself. It is not a question of what a man enjoys, but what he can +produce. The best sculpture was executed two thousand years ago. +The best paintings are several centuries old. We study the finest +architecture in its ruins. The standards of poetry are Shakespeare, +Homer, Isaiah, and David. The latest of the arts, music, culminated in +composition, though not in execution, a century ago. + +THE MISTRESS. Yet culture in music certainly distinguishes the +civilization of this age. It has taken eighteen hundred years for +the principles of the Christian religion to begin to be practically +incorporated in government and in ordinary business, and it will take a +long time for Beethoven to be popularly recognized; but there is growth +toward him, and not away from him, and when the average culture has +reached his height, some other genius will still more profoundly and +delicately express the highest thoughts. + +HERBERT. I wish I could believe it. The spirit of this age is expressed +by the Calliope. + +THE PARSON. Yes, it remained for us to add church-bells and cannon to +the orchestra. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a melancholy thought to me that we can no longer +express ourselves with the bass-drum; there used to be the whole of the +Fourth of July in its patriotic throbs. + +MANDEVILLE. We certainly have made great progress in one art,--that of +war. + +THE YOUNG LADY. And in the humane alleviations of the miseries of war. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The most discouraging symptom to me in our undoubted +advance in the comforts and refinements of society is the facility +with which men slip back into barbarism, if the artificial and external +accidents of their lives are changed. We have always kept a fringe of +barbarism on our shifting western frontier; and I think there never was +a worse society than that in California and Nevada in their early days. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That is because women were absent. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But women are not absent in London and New York, and +they are conspicuous in the most exceptionable demonstrations of social +anarchy. Certainly they were not wanting in Paris. Yes, there was a city +widely accepted as the summit of our material civilization. No city was +so beautiful, so luxurious, so safe, so well ordered for the comfort +of living, and yet it needed only a month or two to make it a kind of +pandemonium of savagery. Its citizens were the barbarians who destroyed +its own monuments of civilization. I don't mean to say that there was +no apology for what was done there in the deceit and fraud that preceded +it, but I simply notice how ready the tiger was to appear, and how +little restraint all the material civilization was to the beast. + +THE MISTRESS. I can't deny your instances, and yet I somehow feel that +pretty much all you have been saying is in effect untrue. Not one of +you would be willing to change our civilization for any other. In your +estimate you take no account, it seems to me, of the growth of charity. + +MANDEVILLE. And you might add a recognition of the value of human life. + +THE MISTRESS. I don't believe there was ever before diffused everywhere +such an element of good-will, and never before were women so much +engaged in philanthropic work. + +THE PARSON. It must be confessed that one of the best signs of the times +is woman's charity for woman. That certainly never existed to the same +extent in any other civilization. + +MANDEVILLE. And there is another thing that distinguishes us, or is +beginning to. That is, the notion that you can do something more with a +criminal than punish him; and that society has not done its duty when +it has built a sufficient number of schools for one class, or of decent +jails for another. + +HERBERT. It will be a long time before we get decent jails. + +MANDEVILLE. But when we do they will begin to be places of education and +training as much as of punishment and disgrace. The public will provide +teachers in the prisons as it now does in the common schools. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The imperfections of our methods and means of selecting +those in the community who ought to be in prison are so great, that +extra care in dealing with them becomes us. We are beginning to learn +that we cannot draw arbitrary lines with infallible justice. Perhaps +half those who are convicted of crimes are as capable of reformation as +half those transgressors who are not convicted, or who keep inside the +statutory law. + +HERBERT. Would you remove the odium of prison? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. No; but I would have criminals believe, and society +believe, that in going to prison a man or woman does not pass an +absolute line and go into a fixed state. + +THE PARSON. That is, you would not have judgment and retribution begin +in this world. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Don't switch us off into theology. I hate to go up in a +balloon, or see any one else go. + +HERBERT. Don't you think there is too much leniency toward crime and +criminals, taking the place of justice, in these days? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. There may be too much disposition to condone the crimes +of those who have been considered respectable. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That is, scarcely anybody wants to see his friend hung. + +MANDEVILLE. I think a large part of the bitterness of the condemned +arises from a sense of the inequality with which justice is +administered. I am surprised, in visiting jails, to find so few +respectable-looking convicts. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Nobody will go to jail nowadays who thinks anything of +himself. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. When society seriously takes hold of the reformation +of criminals (say with as much determination as it does to carry an +election) this false leniency will disappear; for it partly springs from +a feeling that punishment is unequal, and does not discriminate enough +in individuals, and that society itself has no right to turn a man over +to the Devil, simply because he shows a strong leaning that way. A part +of the scheme of those who work for the reformation of criminals is +to render punishment more certain, and to let its extent depend upon +reformation. There is no reason why a professional criminal, who won't +change his trade for an honest one, should have intervals of freedom in +his prison life in which he is let loose to prey upon society. Criminals +ought to be discharged, like insane patients, when they are cured. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a wonder to me, what with our multitudes of statutes +and hosts of detectives, that we are any of us out of jail. I never +come away from a visit to a State-prison without a new spasm of fear and +virtue. The faculties for getting into jail seem to be ample. We want +more organizations for keeping people out. + +MANDEVILLE. That is the sort of enterprise the women are engaged in, the +frustration of the criminal tendencies of those born in vice. I believe +women have it in their power to regenerate the world morally. + +THE PARSON. It's time they began to undo the mischief of their mother. + +THE MISTRESS. The reason they have not made more progress is that they +have usually confined their individual efforts to one man; they are now +organizing for a general campaign. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I'm not sure but here is where the ameliorations of the +conditions of life, which are called the comforts of this civilization, +come in, after all, and distinguish the age above all others. They have +enabled the finer powers of women to have play as they could not in a +ruder age. I should like to live a hundred years and see what they will +do. + +HERBERT. Not much but change the fashions, unless they submit themselves +to the same training and discipline that men do. + +I have no doubt that Herbert had to apologize for this remark afterwards +in private, as men are quite willing to do in particular cases; it is +only in general they are unjust. The talk drifted off into general and +particular depreciation of other times. Mandeville described a picture, +in which he appeared to have confidence, of a fight between an Iguanodon +and a Megalosaurus, where these huge iron-clad brutes were represented +chewing up different portions of each other's bodies in a forest of the +lower cretaceous period. So far as he could learn, that sort of thing +went on unchecked for hundreds of thousands of years, and was typical of +the intercourse of the races of man till a comparatively recent period. +There was also that gigantic swan, the Plesiosaurus; in fact, all the +early brutes were disgusting. He delighted to think that even the lower +animals had improved, both in appearance and disposition. + +The conversation ended, therefore, in a very amicable manner, having +been taken to a ground that nobody knew anything about. + + + + + +NINTH STUDY + + + + +I + +Can you have a backlog in July? That depends upon circumstances. + +In northern New England it is considered a sign of summer when the +housewives fill the fireplaces with branches of mountain laurel, and, +later, with the feathery stalks of the asparagus. This is often, too, +the timid expression of a tender feeling, under Puritanic repression, +which has not sufficient vent in the sweet-william and hollyhock at the +front door. This is a yearning after beauty and ornamentation which has +no other means of gratifying itself. + +In the most rigid circumstances, the graceful nature of woman thus +discloses itself in these mute expressions of an undeveloped taste. You +may never doubt what the common flowers growing along the pathway to the +front door mean to the maiden of many summers who tends them;--love and +religion, and the weariness of an uneventful life. The sacredness of the +Sabbath, the hidden memory of an unrevealed and unrequited affection, +the slow years of gathering and wasting sweetness, are in the smell +of the pink and the sweet-clover. These sentimental plants breathe +something of the longing of the maiden who sits in the Sunday evenings +of summer on the lonesome front doorstone, singing the hymns of the +saints, and perennial as the myrtle that grows thereby. + +Yet not always in summer, even with the aid of unrequited love and +devotional feeling, is it safe to let the fire go out on the hearth, in +our latitude. I remember when the last almost total eclipse of the sun +happened in August, what a bone-piercing chill came over the world. +Perhaps the imagination had something to do with causing the chill from +that temporary hiding of the sun to feel so much more penetrating +than that from the coming on of night, which shortly followed. It +was impossible not to experience a shudder as of the approach of the +Judgment Day, when the shadows were flung upon the green lawn, and we +all stood in the wan light, looking unfamiliar to each other. The +birds in the trees felt the spell. We could in fancy see those spectral +camp-fires which men would build on the earth, if the sun should slow +its fires down to about the brilliancy of the moon. It was a great +relief to all of us to go into the house, and, before a blazing +wood-fire, talk of the end of the world. + +In New England it is scarcely ever safe to let the fire go out; it is +best to bank it, for it needs but the turn of a weather-vane at any +hour to sweep the Atlantic rains over us, or to bring down the chill of +Hudson's Bay. There are days when the steam ship on the Atlantic glides +calmly along under a full canvas, but its central fires must always be +ready to make steam against head-winds and antagonistic waves. Even +in our most smiling summer days one needs to have the materials of a +cheerful fire at hand. It is only by this readiness for a change that +one can preserve an equal mind. We are made provident and sagacious by +the fickleness of our climate. We should be another sort of people if +we could have that serene, unclouded trust in nature which the Egyptian +has. The gravity and repose of the Eastern peoples is due to the +unchanging aspect of the sky, and the deliberation and regularity of the +great climatic processes. Our literature, politics, religion, show +the effect of unsettled weather. But they compare favorably with the +Egyptian, for all that. + + + + + +II + +You cannot know, the Young Lady wrote, with what longing I look back to +those winter days by the fire; though all the windows are open to this +May morning, and the brown thrush is singing in the chestnut-tree, and +I see everywhere that first delicate flush of spring, which seems too +evanescent to be color even, and amounts to little more than a suffusion +of the atmosphere. I doubt, indeed, if the spring is exactly what it +used to be, or if, as we get on in years [no one ever speaks of "getting +on in years" till she is virtually settled in life], its promises and +suggestions do not seem empty in comparison with the sympathies and +responses of human friendship, and the stimulation of society. Sometimes +nothing is so tiresome as a perfect day in a perfect season. + +I only imperfectly understand this. The Parson says that woman is always +most restless under the most favorable conditions, and that there is no +state in which she is really happy except that of change. I suppose this +is the truth taught in what has been called the "Myth of the Garden." +Woman is perpetual revolution, and is that element in the world which +continually destroys and re-creates. She is the experimenter and the +suggester of new combinations. She has no belief in any law of eternal +fitness of things. She is never even content with any arrangement of her +own house. The only reason the Mistress could give, when she +rearranged her apartment, for hanging a picture in what seemed the most +inappropriate place, was that it had never been there before. Woman has +no respect for tradition, and because a thing is as it is is sufficient +reason for changing it. When she gets into law, as she has come into +literature, we shall gain something in the destruction of all our vast +and musty libraries of precedents, which now fetter our administration +of individual justice. It is Mandeville's opinion that women are not +so sentimental as men, and are not so easily touched with the unspoken +poetry of nature; being less poetical, and having less imagination, they +are more fitted for practical affairs, and would make less failures in +business. I have noticed the almost selfish passion for their flowers +which old gardeners have, and their reluctance to part with a leaf or a +blossom from their family. They love the flowers for themselves. A woman +raises flowers for their use. She is destruct-ion in a conservatory. +She wants the flowers for her lover, for the sick, for the poor, for the +Lord on Easter day, for the ornamentation of her house. She delights in +the costly pleasure of sacrificing them. She never sees a flower but she +has an intense but probably sinless desire to pick it. + +It has been so from the first, though from the first she has been +thwarted by the accidental superior strength of man. Whatever she has +obtained has been by craft, and by the same coaxing which the sun uses +to draw the blossoms out of the apple-trees. I am not surprised to learn +that she has become tired of indulgences, and wants some of the original +rights. We are just beginning to find out the extent to which she +has been denied and subjected, and especially her condition among the +primitive and barbarous races. I have never seen it in a platform of +grievances, but it is true that among the Fijians she is not, unless a +better civilization has wrought a change in her behalf, permitted to eat +people, even her own sex, at the feasts of the men; the dainty enjoyed +by the men being considered too good to be wasted on women. Is anything +wanting to this picture of the degradation of woman? By a refinement of +cruelty she receives no benefit whatever from the missionaries who are +sent out by--what to her must seem a new name for Tantalus--the American +Board. + +I suppose the Young Lady expressed a nearly universal feeling in her +regret at the breaking up of the winter-fireside company. Society needs +a certain seclusion and the sense of security. Spring opens the doors +and the windows, and the noise and unrest of the world are let in. Even +a winter thaw begets a desire to travel, and summer brings longings +innumerable, and disturbs the most tranquil souls. Nature is, in fact, a +suggester of uneasiness, a promoter of pilgrimages and of excursions +of the fancy which never come to any satisfactory haven. The summer in +these latitudes is a campaign of sentiment and a season, for the most +part, of restlessness and discontent. We grow now in hot-houses roses +which, in form and color, are magnificent, and appear to be full of +passion; yet one simple June rose of the open air has for the Young +Lady, I doubt not, more sentiment and suggestion of love than a +conservatory full of them in January. And this suggestion, leavened as +it is with the inconstancy of nature, stimulated by the promises which +are so often like the peach-blossom of the Judas-tree, unsatisfying by +reason of its vague possibilities, differs so essentially from the more +limited and attainable and home-like emotion born of quiet intercourse +by the winter fireside, that I do not wonder the Young Lady feels as if +some spell had been broken by the transition of her life from in-doors +to out-doors. Her secret, if secret she has, which I do not at all know, +is shared by the birds and the new leaves and the blossoms on the fruit +trees. If we lived elsewhere, in that zone where the poets pretend +always to dwell, we might be content, perhaps I should say drugged, by +the sweet influences of an unchanging summer; but not living elsewhere, +we can understand why the Young Lady probably now looks forward to the +hearthstone as the most assured center of enduring attachment. + +If it should ever become the sad duty of this biographer to write of +disappointed love, I am sure he would not have any sensational story to +tell of the Young Lady. She is one of those women whose unostentatious +lives are the chief blessing of humanity; who, with a sigh heard only +by herself and no change in her sunny face, would put behind her all the +memories of winter evenings and the promises of May mornings, and give +her life to some ministration of human kindness with an assiduity that +would make her occupation appear like an election and a first choice. +The disappointed man scowls, and hates his race, and threatens +self-destruction, choosing oftener the flowing bowl than the dagger, and +becoming a reeling nuisance in the world. It would be much more manly in +him to become the secretary of a Dorcas society. + +I suppose it is true that women work for others with less expectation +of reward than men, and give themselves to labors of self-sacrifice with +much less thought of self. At least, this is true unless woman goes into +some public performance, where notoriety has its attractions, and mounts +some cause, to ride it man-fashion, when I think she becomes just as +eager for applause and just as willing that self-sacrifice should +result in self-elevation as man. For her, usually, are not those +unbought--presentations which are forced upon firemen, philanthropists, +legislators, railroad-men, and the superintendents of the moral +instruction of the young. These are almost always pleasing and +unexpected tributes to worth and modesty, and must be received with +satisfaction when the public service rendered has not been with a view +to procuring them. We should say that one ought to be most liable to +receive a "testimonial" who, being a superintendent of any sort, did not +superintend with a view to getting it. But "testimonials" have become +so common that a modest man ought really to be afraid to do his simple +duty, for fear his motives will be misconstrued. Yet there are instances +of very worthy men who have had things publicly presented to them. It +is the blessed age of gifts and the reward of private virtue. And the +presentations have become so frequent that we wish there were a little +more variety in them. There never was much sense in giving a gallant +fellow a big speaking-trumpet to carry home to aid him in his +intercourse with his family; and the festive ice-pitcher has become a +too universal sign of absolute devotion to the public interest. The lack +of one will soon be proof that a man is a knave. The legislative cane +with the gold head, also, is getting to be recognized as the sign of the +immaculate public servant, as the inscription on it testifies, and the +steps of suspicion must ere-long dog him who does not carry one. The +"testimonial" business is, in truth, a little demoralizing, almost as +much so as the "donation;" and the demoralization has extended even to +our language, so that a perfectly respectable man is often obliged to +see himself "made the recipient of" this and that. It would be much +better, if testimonials must be, to give a man a barrel of flour or a +keg of oysters, and let him eat himself at once back into the ranks of +ordinary men. + + + + + +III + +We may have a testimonial class in time, a sort of nobility here in +America, made so by popular gift, the members of which will all be able +to show some stick or piece of plated ware or massive chain, "of which +they have been the recipients." In time it may be a distinction not to +belong to it, and it may come to be thought more blessed to give than +to receive. For it must have been remarked that it is not always to the +cleverest and the most amiable and modest man that the deputation comes +with the inevitable ice-pitcher (and "salver to match"), which has in it +the magic and subtle quality of making the hour in which it is received +the proudest of one's life. There has not been discovered any method of +rewarding all the deserving people and bringing their virtues into the +prominence of notoriety. And, indeed, it would be an unreasonable world +if there had, for its chief charm and sweetness lie in the excellences +in it which are reluctantly disclosed; one of the chief pleasures +of living is in the daily discovery of good traits, nobilities, and +kindliness both in those we have long known and in the chance passenger +whose way happens for a day to lie with ours. The longer I live the more +I am impressed with the excess of human kindness over human hatred, and +the greater willingness to oblige than to disoblige that one meets at +every turn. The selfishness in politics, the jealousy in letters, +the bickering in art, the bitterness in theology, are all as nothing +compared to the sweet charities, sacrifices, and deferences of private +life. The people are few whom to know intimately is to dislike. Of +course you want to hate somebody, if you can, just to keep your powers +of discrimination bright, and to save yourself from becoming a mere mush +of good-nature; but perhaps it is well to hate some historical person +who has been dead so long as to be indifferent to it. It is more +comfortable to hate people we have never seen. I cannot but think that +Judas Iscariot has been of great service to the world as a sort of +buffer for moral indignation which might have made a collision nearer +home but for his utilized treachery. I used to know a venerable and most +amiable gentleman and scholar, whose hospitable house was always overrun +with wayside ministers, agents, and philanthropists, who loved their +fellow-men better than they loved to work for their living; and he, I +suspect, kept his moral balance even by indulgence in violent but most +distant dislikes. When I met him casually in the street, his first +salutation was likely to be such as this: "What a liar that Alison was! +Don't you hate him?" And then would follow specifications of historical +inveracity enough to make one's blood run cold. When he was thus +discharged of his hatred by such a conductor, I presume he had not a +spark left for those whose mission was partly to live upon him and other +generous souls. + +Mandeville and I were talking of the unknown people, one rainy night by +the fire, while the Mistress was fitfully and interjectionally playing +with the piano-keys in an improvising mood. Mandeville has a good deal +of sentiment about him, and without any effort talks so beautifully +sometimes that I constantly regret I cannot report his language. He has, +besides, that sympathy of presence--I believe it is called magnetism +by those who regard the brain as only a sort of galvanic battery--which +makes it a greater pleasure to see him think, if I may say so, than to +hear some people talk. + +It makes one homesick in this world to think that there are so many rare +people he can never know; and so many excellent people that scarcely any +one will know, in fact. One discovers a friend by chance, and cannot but +feel regret that twenty or thirty years of life maybe have been spent +without the least knowledge of him. When he is once known, through him +opening is made into another little world, into a circle of culture +and loving hearts and enthusiasm in a dozen congenial pursuits, and +prejudices perhaps. How instantly and easily the bachelor doubles his +world when he marries, and enters into the unknown fellowship of the to +him continually increasing company which is known in popular language as +"all his wife's relations." + +Near at hand daily, no doubt, are those worth knowing intimately, if one +had the time and the opportunity. And when one travels he sees what a +vast material there is for society and friendship, of which he can never +avail himself. Car-load after car-load of summer travel goes by one at +any railway-station, out of which he is sure he could choose a score of +life-long friends, if the conductor would introduce him. There are +faces of refinement, of quick wit, of sympathetic kindness,--interesting +people, traveled people, entertaining people,--as you would say in +Boston, "nice people you would admire to know," whom you constantly meet +and pass without a sign of recognition, many of whom are no doubt your +long-lost brothers and sisters. You can see that they also have their +worlds and their interests, and they probably know a great many "nice" +people. The matter of personal liking and attachment is a good deal due +to the mere fortune of association. More fast friendships and pleasant +acquaintanceships are formed on the Atlantic steamships between those +who would have been only indifferent acquaintances elsewhere, than one +would think possible on a voyage which naturally makes one as selfish as +he is indifferent to his personal appearance. The Atlantic is the only +power on earth I know that can make a woman indifferent to her personal +appearance. + +Mandeville remembers, and I think without detriment to himself, the +glimpses he had in the White Mountains once of a young lady of whom +his utmost efforts could give him no further information than her name. +Chance sight of her on a passing stage or amid a group on some mountain +lookout was all he ever had, and he did not even know certainly whether +she was the perfect beauty and the lovely character he thought her. He +said he would have known her, however, at a great distance; there was to +her form that command of which we hear so much and which turns out to be +nearly all command after the "ceremony;" or perhaps it was something in +the glance of her eye or the turn of her head, or very likely it was a +sweet inherited reserve or hauteur that captivated him, that filled +his days with the expectation of seeing her, and made him hasten to the +hotel-registers in the hope that her name was there recorded. Whatever +it was, she interested him as one of the people he would like to know; +and it piqued him that there was a life, rich in friendships, no doubt, +in tastes, in many noblenesses, one of thousands of such, that must be +absolutely nothing to him,--nothing but a window into heaven momentarily +opened and then closed. I have myself no idea that she was a countess +incognito, or that she had descended from any greater heights than those +where Mandeville saw her, but I have always regretted that she went her +way so mysteriously and left no glow, and that we shall wear out the +remainder of our days without her society. I have looked for her name, +but always in vain, among the attendants at the rights-conventions, +in the list of those good Americans presented at court, among those +skeleton names that appear as the remains of beauty in the morning +journals after a ball to the wandering prince, in the reports of railway +collisions and steamboat explosions. No news comes of her. And so +imperfect are our means of communication in this world that, for +anything we know, she may have left it long ago by some private way. + + + + + +IV + +The lasting regret that we cannot know more of the bright, sincere, and +genuine people of the world is increased by the fact that they are all +different from each other. Was it not Madame de Sevigne who said she +had loved several different women for several different qualities? Every +real person--for there are persons as there are fruits that have no +distinguishing flavor, mere gooseberries--has a distinct quality, and +the finding it is always like the discovery of a new island to the +voyager. The physical world we shall exhaust some day, having a written +description of every foot of it to which we can turn; but we shall never +get the different qualities of people into a biographical dictionary, +and the making acquaintance with a human being will never cease to be an +exciting experiment. We cannot even classify men so as to aid us much in +our estimate of them. The efforts in this direction are ingenious, but +unsatisfactory. If I hear that a man is lymphatic or nervous-sanguine, I +cannot tell therefrom whether I shall like and trust him. He may produce +a phrenological chart showing that his knobby head is the home of all +the virtues, and that the vicious tendencies are represented by holes +in his cranium, and yet I cannot be sure that he will not be as +disagreeable as if phrenology had not been invented. I feel sometimes +that phrenology is the refuge of mediocrity. Its charts are almost as +misleading concerning character as photographs. And photography may be +described as the art which enables commonplace mediocrity to look like +genius. The heavy-jowled man with shallow cerebrum has only to incline +his head so that the lying instrument can select a favorable focus, to +appear in the picture with the brow of a sage and the chin of a poet. +Of all the arts for ministering to human vanity the photographic is the +most useful, but it is a poor aid in the revelation of character. You +shall learn more of a man's real nature by seeing him walk once up the +broad aisle of his church to his pew on Sunday, than by studying his +photograph for a month. + +No, we do not get any certain standard of men by a chart of their +temperaments; it will hardly answer to select a wife by the color of her +hair; though it be by nature as red as a cardinal's hat, she may be +no more constant than if it were dyed. The farmer who shuns all the +lymphatic beauties in his neighborhood, and selects to wife the most +nervous-sanguine, may find that she is unwilling to get up in the winter +mornings and make the kitchen fire. Many a man, even in this scientific +age which professes to label us all, has been cruelly deceived in +this way. Neither the blondes nor the brunettes act according to the +advertisement of their temperaments. The truth is that men refuse to +come under the classifications of the pseudo-scientists, and all our +new nomenclatures do not add much to our knowledge. You know what to +expect--if the comparison will be pardoned--of a horse with certain +points; but you wouldn't dare go on a journey with a man merely upon the +strength of knowing that his temperament was the proper mixture of the +sanguine and the phlegmatic. Science is not able to teach us concerning +men as it teaches us of horses, though I am very far from saying that +there are not traits of nobleness and of meanness that run through +families and can be calculated to appear in individuals with absolute +certainty; one family will be trusty and another tricky through all +its members for generations; noble strains and ignoble strains are +perpetuated. When we hear that she has eloped with the stable-boy and +married him, we are apt to remark, "Well, she was a Bogardus." And when +we read that she has gone on a mission and has died, distinguishing +herself by some extraordinary devotion to the heathen at Ujiji, we think +it sufficient to say, "Yes, her mother married into the Smiths." But +this knowledge comes of our experience of special families, and stands +us in stead no further. + +If we cannot classify men scientifically and reduce them under a kind +of botanical order, as if they had a calculable vegetable development, +neither can we gain much knowledge of them by comparison. It does not +help me at all in my estimate of their characters to compare Mandeville +with the Young Lady, or Our Next Door with the Parson. The wise man does +not permit himself to set up even in his own mind any comparison of +his friends. His friendship is capable of going to extremes with many +people, evoked as it is by many qualities. When Mandeville goes into +my garden in June I can usually find him in a particular bed of +strawberries, but he does not speak disrespectfully of the others. +When Nature, says Mandeville, consents to put herself into any sort of +strawberry, I have no criticisms to make, I am only glad that I have +been created into the same world with such a delicious manifestation of +the Divine favor. If I left Mandeville alone in the garden long enough, +I have no doubt he would impartially make an end of the fruit of all the +beds, for his capacity in this direction is as all-embracing as it is in +the matter of friendships. The Young Lady has also her favorite patch of +berries. And the Parson, I am sorry to say, prefers to have them picked +for him the elect of the garden--and served in an orthodox manner. The +straw-berry has a sort of poetical precedence, and I presume that no +fruit is jealous of it any more than any flower is jealous of the rose; +but I remark the facility with which liking for it is transferred to the +raspberry, and from the raspberry (not to make a tedious enumeration) to +the melon, and from the melon to the grape, and the grape to the pear, +and the pear to the apple. And we do not mar our enjoyment of each by +comparisons. + +Of course it would be a dull world if we could not criticise our +friends, but the most unprofitable and unsatisfactory criticism is that +by comparison. Criticism is not necessarily uncharitableness, but a +wholesome exercise of our powers of analysis and discrimination. It is, +however, a very idle exercise, leading to no results when we set the +qualities of one over against the qualities of another, and disparage by +contrast and not by independent judgment. And this method of procedure +creates jealousies and heart-burnings innumerable. + +Criticism by comparison is the refuge of incapables, and especially is +this true in literature. It is a lazy way of disposing of a young poet +to bluntly declare, without any sort of discrimination of his defects +or his excellences, that he equals Tennyson, and that Scott never wrote +anything finer. What is the justice of damning a meritorious novelist +by comparing him with Dickens, and smothering him with thoughtless and +good-natured eulogy? The poet and the novelist may be well enough, +and probably have qualities and gifts of their own which are worth the +critic's attention, if he has any time to bestow on them; and it is +certainly unjust to subject them to a comparison with somebody else, +merely because the critic will not take the trouble to ascertain what +they are. If, indeed, the poet and novelist are mere imitators of +a model and copyists of a style, they may be dismissed with such +commendation as we bestow upon the machines who pass their lives in +making bad copies of the pictures of the great painters. But the critics +of whom we speak do not intend depreciation, but eulogy, when they say +that the author they have in hand has the wit of Sydney Smith and the +brilliancy of Macaulay. Probably he is not like either of them, and may +have a genuine though modest virtue of his own; but these names +will certainly kill him, and he will never be anybody in the popular +estimation. The public finds out speedily that he is not Sydney Smith, +and it resents the extravagant claim for him as if he were an impudent +pretender. How many authors of fair ability to interest the world have +we known in our own day who have been thus sky-rocketed into notoriety +by the lazy indiscrimination of the critic-by-comparison, and then have +sunk into a popular contempt as undeserved! I never see a young aspirant +injudiciously compared to a great and resplendent name in literature, +but I feel like saying, My poor fellow, your days are few and full +of trouble; you begin life handicapped, and you cannot possibly run a +creditable race. + +I think this sort of critical eulogy is more damaging even than that +which kills by a different assumption, and one which is equally common, +namely, that the author has not done what he probably never intended +to do. It is well known that most of the trouble in life comes from our +inability to compel other people to do what we think they ought, and it +is true in criticism that we are unwilling to take a book for what it +is, and credit the author with that. When the solemn critic, like a +mastiff with a ladies' bonnet in his mouth, gets hold of a light piece +of verse, or a graceful sketch which catches the humor of an hour for +the entertainment of an hour, he tears it into a thousand shreds. It +adds nothing to human knowledge, it solves none of the problems of +life, it touches none of the questions of social science, it is not a +philosophical treatise, and it is not a dozen things that it might have +been. The critic cannot forgive the author for this disrespect to him. +This isn't a rose, says the critic, taking up a pansy and rending it; it +is not at all like a rose, and the author is either a pretentious idiot +or an idiotic pretender. What business, indeed, has the author to send +the critic a bunch of sweet-peas, when he knows that a cabbage would be +preferred,--something not showy, but useful? + +A good deal of this is what Mandeville said and I am not sure that it +is devoid of personal feeling. He published, some years ago, a little +volume giving an account of a trip through the Great West, and a very +entertaining book it was. But one of the heavy critics got hold of it, +and made Mandeville appear, even to himself, he confessed, like an +ass, because there was nothing in the volume about geology or mining +prospects, and very little to instruct the student of physical +geography. With alternate sarcasm and ridicule, he literally basted +the author, till Mandeville said that he felt almost like a depraved +scoundrel, and thought he should be held up to less execration if he had +committed a neat and scientific murder. + +But I confess that I have a good deal of sympathy with the critics. +Consider what these public tasters have to endure! None of us, I fancy, +would like to be compelled to read all that they read, or to take into +our mouths, even with the privilege of speedily ejecting it with a +grimace, all that they sip. The critics of the vintage, who pursue their +calling in the dark vaults and amid mouldy casks, give their opinion, +for the most part, only upon wine, upon juice that has matured and +ripened into development of quality. But what crude, unrestrained, +unfermented--even raw and drugged liquor, must the literary taster put +to his unwilling lips day after day! + + + + + +TENTH STUDY + + + + +I + +It was my good fortune once to visit a man who remembered the rebellion +of 1745. Lest this confession should make me seem very aged, I will add +that the visit took place in 1851, and that the man was then one hundred +and thirteen years old. He was quite a lad before Dr. Johnson drank Mrs. +Thrale's tea. That he was as old as he had the credit of being, I have +the evidence of my own senses (and I am seldom mistaken in a person's +age), of his own family, and his own word; and it is incredible that so +old a person, and one so apparently near the grave, would deceive about +his age. + +The testimony of the very aged is always to be received without +question, as Alexander Hamilton once learned. He was trying a land-title +with Aaron Burr, and two of the witnesses upon whom Burr relied were +venerable Dutchmen, who had, in their youth, carried the surveying +chains over the land in dispute, and who were now aged respectively one +hundred and four years and one hundred and six years. Hamilton gently +attempted to undervalue their testimony, but he was instantly put down +by the Dutch justice, who suggested that Mr. Hamilton could not be aware +of the age of the witnesses. + +My old man (the expression seems familiar and inelegant) had indeed an +exaggerated idea of his own age, and sometimes said that he supposed he +was going on four hundred, which was true enough, in fact; but for the +exact date, he referred to his youngest son,--a frisky and humorsome +lad of eighty years, who had received us at the gate, and whom we had at +first mistaken for the veteran, his father. But when we beheld the old +man, we saw the difference between age and age. The latter had settled +into a grizzliness and grimness which belong to a very aged and stunted +but sturdy oak-tree, upon the bark of which the gray moss is thick and +heavy. The old man appeared hale enough, he could walk about, his sight +and hearing were not seriously impaired, he ate with relish, and his +teeth were so sound that he would not need a dentist for at least +another century; but the moss was growing on him. His boy of eighty +seemed a green sapling beside him. + +He remembered absolutely nothing that had taken place within thirty +years, but otherwise his mind was perhaps as good as it ever was, for he +must always have been an ignoramus, and would never know anything if +he lived to be as old as he said he was going on to be. Why he was +interested in the rebellion of 1745 I could not discover, for he of +course did not go over to Scotland to carry a pike in it, and he only +remembered to have heard it talked about as a great event in the Irish +market-town near which he lived, and to which he had ridden when a boy. +And he knew much more about the horse that drew him, and the cart in +which he rode, than he did about the rebellion of the Pretender. + +I hope I do not appear to speak harshly of this amiable old man, and if +he is still living I wish him well, although his example was bad in some +respects. He had used tobacco for nearly a century, and the habit has +very likely been the death of him. If so, it is to be regretted. For +it would have been interesting to watch the process of his gradual +disintegration and return to the ground: the loss of sense after sense, +as decaying limbs fall from the oak; the failure of discrimination, of +the power of choice, and finally of memory itself; the peaceful wearing +out and passing away of body and mind without disease, the natural +running down of a man. The interesting fact about him at that time was +that his bodily powers seemed in sufficient vigor, but that the mind +had not force enough to manifest itself through his organs. The complete +battery was there, the appetite was there, the acid was eating the zinc; +but the electric current was too weak to flash from the brain. And yet +he appeared so sound throughout, that it was difficult to say that +his mind was not as good as it ever had been. He had stored in it very +little to feed on, and any mind would get enfeebled by a century's +rumination on a hearsay idea of the rebellion of '45. + +It was possible with this man to fully test one's respect for age, which +is in all civilized nations a duty. And I found that my feelings were +mixed about him. I discovered in him a conceit in regard to his long +sojourn on this earth, as if it were somehow a credit to him. In the +presence of his good opinion of himself, I could but question the real +value of his continued life, to himself or to others. If he ever had any +friends he had outlived them, except his boy; his wives--a century of +them--were all dead; the world had actually passed away for him. He hung +on the tree like a frost-nipped apple, which the farmer has neglected to +gather. The world always renews itself, and remains young. What relation +had he to it? + +I was delighted to find that this old man had never voted for George +Washington. I do not know that he had ever heard of him. Washington may +be said to have played his part since his time. I am not sure that he +perfectly remembered anything so recent as the American Revolution. He +was living quietly in Ireland during our French and Indian wars, and he +did not emigrate to this country till long after our revolutionary and +our constitutional struggles were over. The Rebellion Of '45 was the +great event of the world for him, and of that he knew nothing. + +I intend no disrespect to this man,--a cheerful and pleasant enough +old person,--but he had evidently lived himself out of the world, as +completely as people usually die out of it. His only remaining value +was to the moralist, who might perchance make something out of him. +I suppose if he had died young, he would have been regretted, and his +friends would have lamented that he did not fill out his days in the +world, and would very likely have called him back, if tears and prayers +could have done so. They can see now what his prolonged life amounted +to, and how the world has closed up the gap he once filled while he +still lives in it. + +A great part of the unhappiness of this world consists in regret for +those who depart, as it seems to us, prematurely. We imagine that if +they would return, the old conditions would be restored. But would it be +so? If they, in any case, came back, would there be any place for them? +The world so quickly readjusts itself after any loss, that the return +of the departed would nearly always throw it, even the circle most +interested, into confusion. Are the Enoch Ardens ever wanted? + + + + + +II + +A popular notion akin to this, that the world would have any room for +the departed if they should now and then return, is the constant +regret that people will not learn by the experience of others, that one +generation learns little from the preceding, and that youth never will +adopt the experience of age. But if experience went for anything, we +should all come to a standstill; for there is nothing so discouraging to +effort. Disbelief in Ecclesiastes is the mainspring of action. In that +lies the freshness and the interest of life, and it is the source of +every endeavor. + +If the boy believed that the accumulation of wealth and the acquisition +of power were what the old man says they are, the world would very soon +be stagnant. If he believed that his chances of obtaining either were as +poor as the majority of men find them to be, ambition would die within +him. It is because he rejects the experience of those who have preceded +him, that the world is kept in the topsy-turvy condition which we all +rejoice in, and which we call progress. + +And yet I confess I have a soft place in my heart for that rare +character in our New England life who is content with the world as he +finds it, and who does not attempt to appropriate any more of it to +himself than he absolutely needs from day to day. He knows from the +beginning that the world could get on without him, and he has never had +any anxiety to leave any result behind him, any legacy for the world to +quarrel over. + +He is really an exotic in our New England climate and society, and his +life is perpetually misunderstood by his neighbors, because he shares +none of their uneasiness about getting on in life. He is even called +lazy, good-for-nothing, and "shiftless,"--the final stigma that we put +upon a person who has learned to wait without the exhausting process of +laboring. + +I made his acquaintance last summer in the country, and I have not in +a long time been so well pleased with any of our species. He was a man +past middle life, with a large family. He had always been from boyhood +of a contented and placid mind, slow in his movements, slow in his +speech. I think he never cherished a hard feeling toward anybody, nor +envied any one, least of all the rich and prosperous about whom he liked +to talk. Indeed, his talk was a good deal about wealth, especially about +his cousin who had been down South and "got fore-handed" within a few +years. He was genuinely pleased at his relation's good luck, and pointed +him out to me with some pride. But he had no envy of him, and he evinced +no desire to imitate him. I inferred from all his conversation about +"piling it up" (of which he spoke with a gleam of enthusiasm in his +eye), that there were moments when he would like to be rich himself; but +it was evident that he would never make the least effort to be so, and I +doubt if he could even overcome that delicious inertia of mind and body +called laziness, sufficiently to inherit. + +Wealth seemed to have a far and peculiar fascination for him, and I +suspect he was a visionary in the midst of his poverty. Yet I suppose he +had--hardly the personal property which the law exempts from execution. +He had lived in a great many towns, moving from one to another with his +growing family, by easy stages, and was always the poorest man in the +town, and lived on the most niggardly of its rocky and bramble-grown +farms, the productiveness of which he reduced to zero in a couple of +seasons by his careful neglect of culture. The fences of his hired +domain always fell into ruins under him, perhaps because he sat on +them so much, and the hovels he occupied rotted down during his placid +residence in them. He moved from desolation to desolation, but carried +always with him the equal mind of a philosopher. Not even the occasional +tart remarks of his wife, about their nomadic life and his serenity in +the midst of discomfort, could ruffle his smooth spirit. + +He was, in every respect, a most worthy man, truthful, honest, +temperate, and, I need not say, frugal; and he had no bad +habits,--perhaps he never had energy enough to acquire any. Nor did +he lack the knack of the Yankee race. He could make a shoe, or build +a house, or doctor a cow; but it never seemed to him, in this brief +existence, worth while to do any of these things. He was an excellent +angler, but he rarely fished; partly because of the shortness of days, +partly on account of the uncertainty of bites, but principally because +the trout brooks were all arranged lengthwise and ran over so much +ground. But no man liked to look at a string of trout better than he +did, and he was willing to sit down in a sunny place and talk about +trout-fishing half a day at a time, and he would talk pleasantly and +well too, though his wife might be continually interrupting him by a +call for firewood. + +I should not do justice to his own idea of himself if I did not add that +he was most respectably connected, and that he had a justifiable though +feeble pride in his family. It helped his self-respect, which no ignoble +circumstances could destroy. He was, as must appear by this time, a most +intelligent man, and he was a well-informed man; that is to say, he read +the weekly newspapers when he could get them, and he had the average +country information about Beecher and Greeley and the Prussian war +("Napoleon is gettin' on't, ain't he?"), and the general prospect of +the election campaigns. Indeed, he was warmly, or rather luke-warmly, +interested in politics. He liked to talk about the inflated currency, +and it seemed plain to him that his condition would somehow be improved +if we could get to a specie basis. He was, in fact, a little troubled +by the national debt; it seemed to press on him somehow, while his +own never did. He exhibited more animation over the affairs of the +government than he did over his own,--an evidence at once of his +disinterestedness and his patriotism. He had been an old abolitionist, +and was strong on the rights of free labor, though he did not care to +exercise his privilege much. Of course he had the proper contempt for +the poor whites down South. I never saw a person with more correct +notions on such a variety of subjects. He was perfectly willing that +churches (being himself a member), and Sunday-schools, and missionary +enterprises should go on; in fact, I do not believe he ever opposed +anything in his life. No one was more willing to vote town taxes and +road-repairs and schoolhouses than he. If you could call him spirited at +all, he was public-spirited. + +And with all this he was never very well; he had, from boyhood, "enjoyed +poor health." You would say he was not a man who would ever catch +anything, not even an epidemic; but he was a person whom diseases would +be likely to overtake, even the slowest of slow fevers. And he was n't +a man to shake off anything. And yet sickness seemed to trouble him no +more than poverty. He was not discontented; he never grumbled. I am not +sure but he relished a "spell of sickness" in haying-time. + +An admirably balanced man, who accepts the world as it is, and evidently +lives on the experience of others. I have never seen a man with less +envy, or more cheerfulness, or so contented with as little reason for +being so. The only drawback to his future is that rest beyond the grave +will not be much change for him, and he has no works to follow him. + + + + + +III + +This Yankee philosopher, who, without being a Brahmin, had, in an +uncongenial atmosphere, reached the perfect condition of Nirvina, +reminded us all of the ancient sages; and we queried whether a world +that could produce such as he, and could, beside, lengthen a man's years +to one hundred and thirteen, could fairly be called an old and +worn-out world, having long passed the stage of its primeval poetry and +simplicity. Many an Eastern dervish has, I think, got immortality +upon less laziness and resignation than this temporary sojourner in +Massachusetts. It is a common notion that the world (meaning the people +in it) has become tame and commonplace, lost its primeval freshness and +epigrammatic point. Mandeville, in his argumentative way, dissents from +this entirely. He says that the world is more complex, varied, and a +thousand times as interesting as it was in what we call its youth, and +that it is as fresh, as individual and capable of producing odd and +eccentric characters as ever. He thought the creative vim had not in any +degree abated, that both the types of men and of nations are as sharply +stamped and defined as ever they were. + +Was there ever, he said, in the past, any figure more clearly cut and +freshly minted than the Yankee? Had the Old World anything to show more +positive and uncompromising in all the elements of character than the +Englishman? And if the edges of these were being rounded off, was there +not developing in the extreme West a type of men different from all +preceding, which the world could not yet define? He believed that the +production of original types was simply infinite. + +Herbert urged that he must at least admit that there was a freshness of +legend and poetry in what we call the primeval peoples that is wanting +now; the mythic period is gone, at any rate. + +Mandeville could not say about the myths. We couldn't tell what +interpretation succeeding ages would put upon our lives and history and +literature when they have become remote and shadowy. But we need not go +to antiquity for epigrammatic wisdom, or for characters as racy of the +fresh earth as those handed down to us from the dawn of history. He +would put Benjamin Franklin against any of the sages of the mythic or +the classic period. He would have been perfectly at home in ancient +Athens, as Socrates would have been in modern Boston. There might have +been more heroic characters at the siege of Troy than Abraham Lincoln, +but there was not one more strongly marked individually; not one his +superior in what we call primeval craft and humor. He was just the man, +if he could not have dislodged Priam by a writ of ejectment, to have +invented the wooden horse, and then to have made Paris the hero of some +ridiculous story that would have set all Asia in a roar. + +Mandeville said further, that as to poetry, he did not know much +about that, and there was not much he cared to read except parts of +Shakespeare and Homer, and passages of Milton. But it did seem to him +that we had men nowadays, who could, if they would give their minds to +it, manufacture in quantity the same sort of epigrammatic sayings and +legends that our scholars were digging out of the Orient. He did not +know why Emerson in antique setting was not as good as Saadi. Take for +instance, said Mandeville, such a legend as this, and how easy it would +be to make others like it: + +The son of an Emir had red hair, of which he was ashamed, and wished +to dye it. But his father said: "Nay, my son, rather behave in such a +manner that all fathers shall wish their sons had red hair." + +This was too absurd. Mandeville had gone too far, except in the opinion +of Our Next Door, who declared that an imitation was just as good as an +original, if you could not detect it. But Herbert said that the closer +an imitation is to an original, the more unendurable it is. But nobody +could tell exactly why. + +The Fire-Tender said that we are imposed on by forms. The nuggets of +wisdom that are dug out of the Oriental and remote literatures would +often prove to be only commonplace if stripped of their quaint setting. +If you gave an Oriental twist to some of our modern thought, its value +would be greatly enhanced for many people. + +I have seen those, said the Mistress, who seem to prefer dried fruit to +fresh; but I like the strawberry and the peach of each season, and for +me the last is always the best. + +Even the Parson admitted that there were no signs of fatigue or decay in +the creative energy of the world; and if it is a question of Pagans, he +preferred Mandeville to Saadi. + + + + + +ELEVENTH STUDY + + +It happened, or rather, to tell the truth, it was contrived,--for I have +waited too long for things to turn up to have much faith in "happen," +that we who have sat by this hearthstone before should all be together +on Christmas eve. There was a splendid backlog of hickory just beginning +to burn with a glow that promised to grow more fiery till long past +midnight, which would have needed no apology in a loggers' camp,--not so +much as the religion of which a lady (in a city which shall be nameless) +said, "If you must have a religion, this one will do nicely." + +There was not much conversation, as is apt to be the case when people +come together who have a great deal to say, and are intimate enough to +permit the freedom of silence. It was Mandeville who suggested that we +read something, and the Young Lady, who was in a mood to enjoy her own +thoughts, said, "Do." And finally it came about that the Fire Tender, +without more resistance to the urging than was becoming, went to his +library, and returned with a manuscript, from which he read the story of + + +MY UNCLE IN INDIA + +Not that it is my uncle, let me explain. It is Polly's uncle, as I +very well know, from the many times she has thrown him up to me, and +is liable so to do at any moment. Having small expectations myself, and +having wedded Polly when they were smaller, I have come to feel the full +force, the crushing weight, of her lightest remark about "My Uncle in +India." The words as I write them convey no idea of the tone in which +they fall upon my ears. I think it is the only fault of that estimable +woman, that she has an "uncle in India" and does not let him quietly +remain there. I feel quite sure that if I had an uncle in Botany Bay, I +should never, never throw him up to Polly in the way mentioned. If +there is any jar in our quiet life, he is the cause of it; all along of +possible "expectations" on the one side calculated to overawe the other +side not having expectations. And yet I know that if her uncle in India +were this night to roll a barrel of "India's golden sands," as I feel +that he any moment may do, into our sitting-room, at Polly's feet, that +charming wife, who is more generous than the month of May, and who has +no thought but for my comfort in two worlds, would straightway make +it over to me, to have and to hold, if I could lift it, forever and +forever. And that makes it more inexplicable that she, being a woman, +will continue to mention him in the way she does. + +In a large and general way I regard uncles as not out of place in this +transitory state of existence. They stand for a great many possible +advantages. They are liable to "tip" you at school, they are resources +in vacation, they come grandly in play about the holidays, at which +season mv heart always did warm towards them with lively expectations, +which were often turned into golden solidities; and then there is always +the prospect, sad to a sensitive mind, that uncles are mortal, and, in +their timely taking off, may prove as generous in the will as they +were in the deed. And there is always this redeeming possibility in a +niggardly uncle. Still there must be something wrong in the character of +the uncle per se, or all history would not agree that nepotism is such a +dreadful thing. + +But, to return from this unnecessary digression, I am reminded that the +charioteer of the patient year has brought round the holiday time. It +has been a growing year, as most years are. It is very pleasant to see +how the shrubs in our little patch of ground widen and thicken and bloom +at the right time, and to know that the great trees have added a laver +to their trunks. To be sure, our garden,--which I planted under Polly's +directions, with seeds that must have been patented, and I forgot to +buy the right of, for they are mostly still waiting the final +resurrection,--gave evidence that it shared in the misfortune of the +Fall, and was never an Eden from which one would have required to have +been driven. It was the easiest garden to keep the neighbor's pigs and +hens out of I ever saw. If its increase was small its temptations +were smaller, and that is no little recommendation in this world of +temptations. But, as a general thing, everything has grown, except our +house. That little cottage, over which Polly presides with grace enough +to adorn a palace, is still small outside and smaller inside; and if it +has an air of comfort and of neatness, and its rooms are cozy and sunny +by day and cheerful by night, and it is bursting with books, and not +unattractive with modest pictures on the walls, which we think do well +enough until my uncle--(but never mind my uncle, now),--and if, in the +long winter evenings, when the largest lamp is lit, and the chestnuts +glow in embers, and the kid turns on the spit, and the house-plants are +green and flowering, and the ivy glistens in the firelight, and Polly +sits with that contented, far-away look in her eyes that I like to see, +her fingers busy upon one of those cruel mysteries which have delighted +the sex since Penelope, and I read in one of my fascinating law-books, +or perhaps regale ourselves with a taste of Montaigne,--if all this is +true, there are times when the cottage seems small; though I can never +find that Polly thinks so, except when she sometimes says that she does +not know where she should bestow her uncle in it, if he should suddenly +come back from India. + +There it is, again. I sometimes think that my wife believes her uncle +in India to be as large as two ordinary men; and if her ideas of him are +any gauge of the reality, there is no place in the town large enough +for him except the Town Hall. She probably expects him to come with his +bungalow, and his sedan, and his palanquin, and his elephants, and his +retinue of servants, and his principalities, and his powers, and his +ha--(no, not that), and his chowchow, and his--I scarcely know what +besides. + +Christmas eve was a shiny cold night, a creaking cold night, a placid, +calm, swingeing cold night. + +Out-doors had gone into a general state of crystallization. The +snow-fields were like the vast Arctic ice-fields that Kane looked on, +and lay sparkling under the moonlight, crisp and Christmasy, and all +the crystals on the trees and bushes hung glistening, as if ready, at a +breath of air, to break out into metallic ringing, like a million silver +joy-bells. I mentioned the conceit to Polly, as we stood at the window, +and she said it reminded her of Jean Paul. She is a woman of most +remarkable discernment. + +Christmas is a great festival at our house in a small way. Among the +many delightful customs we did not inherit from our Pilgrim Fathers, +there is none so pleasant as that of giving presents at this season. +It is the most exciting time of the year. No one is too rich to receive +something, and no one too poor to give a trifle. And in the act of +giving and receiving these tokens of regard, all the world is kin for +once, and brighter for this transient glow of generosity. Delightful +custom! Hard is the lot of childhood that knows nothing of the visits +of Kriss Kringle, or the stockings hung by the chimney at night; and +cheerless is any age that is not brightened by some Christmas gift, +however humble. What a mystery of preparation there is in the preceding +days, what planning and plottings of surprises! Polly and I keep up the +custom in our simple way, and great is the perplexity to express the +greatest amount of affection with a limited outlay. For the excellence +of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather than in its value. As we +stood by the window that night, we wondered what we should receive this +year, and indulged in I know not what little hypocrisies and deceptions. + +I wish, said Polly, "that my uncle in India would send me a camel's-hair +shawl, or a string of pearls, each as big as the end of my thumb." + +"Or a white cow, which would give golden milk, that would make butter +worth seventy-five cents a pound," I added, as we drew the curtains, and +turned to our chairs before the open fire. + +It is our custom on every Christmas eve--as I believe I have somewhere +said, or if I have not, I say it again, as the member from Erin might +remark--to read one of Dickens's Christmas stories. And this night, +after punching the fire until it sent showers of sparks up the chimney, +I read the opening chapter of "Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings," in my best +manner, and handed the book to Polly to continue; for I do not so much +relish reading aloud the succeeding stories of Mr. Dickens's annual +budget, since he wrote them, as men go to war in these days, by +substitute. And Polly read on, in her melodious voice, which is almost +as pleasant to me as the Wasser-fluth of Schubert, which she often plays +at twilight; and I looked into the fire, unconsciously constructing +stories of my own out of the embers. And her voice still went on, in a +sort of running accompaniment to my airy or fiery fancies. + +"Sleep?" said Polly, stopping, with what seemed to me a sort of crash, +in which all the castles tumbled into ashes. + +"Not in the least," I answered brightly, "never heard anything more +agreeable." And the reading flowed on and on and on, and I looked +steadily into the fire, the fire, fire, fi.... + +Suddenly the door opened, and into our cozy parlor walked the most +venerable personage I ever laid eyes on, who saluted me with great +dignity. Summer seemed to have burst into the room, and I was conscious +of a puff of Oriental airs, and a delightful, languid tranquillity. I +was not surprised that the figure before me was clad in full turban, +baggy drawers, and a long loose robe, girt about the middle with a rich +shawl. Followed him a swart attendant, who hastened to spread a rug upon +which my visitor sat down, with great gravity, as I am informed they +do in farthest Ind. The slave then filled the bowl of a long-stemmed +chibouk, and, handing it to his master, retired behind him and began to +fan him with the most prodigious palm-leaf I ever saw. Soon the fumes of +the delicate tobacco of Persia pervaded the room, like some costly aroma +which you cannot buy, now the entertainment of the Arabian Nights is +discontinued. + +Looking through the window I saw, if I saw anything, a palanquin at our +door, and attendant on it four dusky, half-naked bearers, who did not +seem to fancy the splendor of the night, for they jumped about on the +snow crust, and I could see them shiver and shake in the keen air. Oho! +thought! this, then, is my uncle from India! + +"Yes, it is," now spoke my visitor extraordinary, in a gruff, harsh +voice. + +"I think I have heard Polly speak of you," I rejoined, in an attempt +to be civil, for I did n't like his face any better than I did his +voice,--a red, fiery, irascible kind of face. + +"Yes I've come over to O Lord,--quick, Jamsetzee, lift up that +foot,--take care. There, Mr. Trimings, if that's your name, get me a +glass of brandy, stiff." + +I got him our little apothecary-labeled bottle and poured out enough to +preserve a whole can of peaches. My uncle took it down without a wink, +as if it had been water, and seemed relieved. It was a very pleasant +uncle to have at our fireside on Christmas eve, I felt. + +At a motion from my uncle, Jamsetzee handed me a parcel which I saw +was directed to Polly, which I untied, and lo! the most wonderful +camel's-hair shawl that ever was, so fine that I immediately drew it +through my finger-ring, and so large that I saw it would entirely cover +our little room if I spread it out; a dingy red color, but splendid +in appearance from the little white hieroglyphic worked in one corner, +which is always worn outside, to show that it cost nobody knows how many +thousands of dollars. + +"A Christmas trifle for Polly. I have come home--as I was saying when +that confounded twinge took me--to settle down; and I intend to make +Polly my heir, and live at my ease and enjoy life. Move that leg a +little, Jamsetzee." + +I meekly replied that I had no doubt Polly would be delighted to see her +dear uncle, and as for inheriting, if it came to that, I did n't know +any one with a greater capacity for that than she. + +"That depends," said the gruff old smoker, "how I like ye. A fortune, +scraped up in forty years in Ingy, ain't to be thrown away in a minute. +But what a house this is to live in!"; the uncomfortable old relative +went on, throwing a contemptuous glance round the humble cottage. "Is +this all of it?" + +"In the winter it is all of it," I said, flushing up; "but in the +summer, when the doors and windows are open, it is as large as anybody's +house. And," I went on, with some warmth, "it was large enough just +before you came in, and pleasant enough. And besides," I said, rising +into indignation, "you can not get anything much better in this city +short of eight hundred dollars a year, payable first days of January, +April, July, and October, in advance, and my salary...." + +"Hang your salary, and confound your impudence and your seven-by-nine +hovel! Do you think you have anything to say about the use of my money, +scraped up in forty years in Ingy? THINGS HAVE GOT TO BE CHANGED!" he +burst out, in a voice that rattled the glasses on the sideboard. + +I should think they were. Even as I looked into the little fireplace it +enlarged, and there was an enormous grate, level with the floor, glowing +with seacoal; and a magnificent mantel carved in oak, old and brown; and +over it hung a landscape, wide, deep, summer in the foreground with all +the gorgeous coloring of the tropics, and beyond hills of blue and far +mountains lying in rosy light. I held my breath as I looked down the +marvelous perspective. Looking round for a second, I caught a glimpse of +a Hindoo at each window, who vanished as if they had been whisked off by +enchantment; and the close walls that shut us in fled away. Had cohesion +and gravitation given out? Was it the "Great Consummation" of the year +18-? It was all like the swift transformation of a dream, and I pinched +my arm to make sure that I was not the subject of some diablerie. + +The little house was gone; but that I scarcely minded, for I had +suddenly come into possession of my wife's castle in Spain. I sat in a +spacious, lofty apartment, furnished with a princely magnificence. Rare +pictures adorned the walls, statues looked down from deep niches, +and over both the dark ivy of England ran and drooped in graceful +luxuriance. Upon the heavy tables were costly, illuminated volumes; +luxurious chairs and ottomans invited to easy rest; and upon the ceiling +Aurora led forth all the flower-strewing daughters of the dawn in +brilliant frescoes. Through the open doors my eyes wandered into +magnificent apartment after apartment. There to the south, through +folding-doors, was the splendid library, with groined roof, colored +light streaming in through painted windows, high shelves stowed with +books, old armor hanging on the walls, great carved oaken chairs about a +solid oaken table, and beyond a conservatory of flowers and plants with +a fountain springing in the center, the splashing of whose waters I +could hear. Through the open windows I looked upon a lawn, green with +close-shaven turf, set with ancient trees, and variegated with parterres +of summer plants in bloom. It was the month of June, and the smell of +roses was in the air. + +I might have thought it only a freak of my fancy, but there by the +fireplace sat a stout, red-faced, puffy-looking man, in the ordinary +dress of an English gentleman, whom I had no difficulty in recognizing +as my uncle from India. + +"One wants a fire every day in the year in this confounded climate," +remarked that amiable old person, addressing no one in particular. + +I had it on my lips to suggest that I trusted the day would come when he +would have heat enough to satisfy him, in permanent supply. I wish now +that I had. + +I think things had changed. For now into this apartment, full of the +morning sunshine, came sweeping with the air of a countess born, and a +maid of honor bred, and a queen in expectancy, my Polly, stepping with +that lofty grace which I always knew she possessed, but which she never +had space to exhibit in our little cottage, dressed with that elegance +and richness that I should not have deemed possible to the most Dutch +duchess that ever lived, and, giving me a complacent nod of recognition, +approached her uncle, and said in her smiling, cheery way, "How is the +dear uncle this morning?" And, as she spoke, she actually bent down and +kissed his horrid old cheek, red-hot with currie and brandy and all the +biting pickles I can neither eat nor name, kissed him, and I did not +turn into stone. + +"Comfortable as the weather will permit, my darling!"--and again I did +not turn into stone. + +"Wouldn't uncle like to take a drive this charming morning?" Polly +asked. + +Uncle finally grunted out his willingness, and Polly swept away again to +prepare for the drive, taking no more notice of me than if I had been a +poor assistant office lawyer on a salary. And soon the carriage was at +the door, and my uncle, bundled up like a mummy, and the charming Polly +drove gayly away. + +How pleasant it is to be married rich, I thought, as I arose and +strolled into the library, where everything was elegant and prim and +neat, with no scraps of paper and piles of newspapers or evidences of +literary slovenness on the table, and no books in attractive disorder, +and where I seemed to see the legend staring at me from all the walls, +"No smoking." So I uneasily lounged out of the house. And a magnificent +house it was, a palace, rather, that seemed to frown upon and bully +insignificant me with its splendor, as I walked away from it towards +town. + +And why town? There was no use of doing anything at the dingy office. +Eight hundred dollars a year! It wouldn't keep Polly in gloves, let +alone dressing her for one of those fashionable entertainments to which +we went night after night. And so, after a weary day with nothing in +it, I went home to dinner, to find my uncle quite chirruped up with +his drive, and Polly regnant, sublimely engrossed in her new world of +splendor, a dazzling object of admiration to me, but attentive and even +tender to that hypochondriacal, gouty old subject from India. + +Yes, a magnificent dinner, with no end of servants, who seemed to +know that I couldn't have paid the wages of one of them, and plate and +courses endless. I say, a miserable dinner, on the edge of which seemed +to sit by permission of somebody, like an invited poor relation, who +wishes he had sent a regret, and longing for some of those nice little +dishes that Polly used to set before me with beaming face, in the dear +old days. + +And after dinner, and proper attention to the comfort for the night of +our benefactor, there was the Blibgims's party. No long, confidential +interviews, as heretofore, as to what she should wear and what I should +wear, and whether it would do to wear it again. And Polly went in one +coach, and I in another. No crowding into the hired hack, with all the +delightful care about tumbling dresses, and getting there in good order; +and no coming home together to our little cozy cottage, in a pleasant, +excited state of "flutteration," and sitting down to talk it all over, +and "Was n't it nice?" and "Did I look as well as anybody?" and "Of +course you did to me," and all that nonsense. We lived in a grand way +now, and had our separate establishments and separate plans, and I used +to think that a real separation couldn't make matters much different. +Not that Polly meant to be any different, or was, at heart; but, you +know, she was so much absorbed in her new life of splendor, and perhaps +I was a little old-fashioned. + +I don't wonder at it now, as I look back. There was an army of +dressmakers to see, and a world of shopping to do, and a houseful of +servants to manage, and all the afternoon for calls, and her dear, dear +friend, with the artless manners and merry heart of a girl, and the +dignity and grace of a noble woman, the dear friend who lived in the +house of the Seven Gables, to consult about all manner of important +things. I could not, upon my honor, see that there was any place for me, +and I went my own way, not that there was much comfort in it. + +And then I would rather have had charge of a hospital ward than take +care of that uncle. Such coddling as he needed, such humoring of whims. +And I am bound to say that Polly could n't have been more dutiful to him +if he had been a Hindoo idol. She read to him and talked to him, and +sat by him with her embroidery, and was patient with his crossness, and +wearied herself, that I could see, with her devoted ministrations. + +I fancied sometimes she was tired of it, and longed for the old homely +simplicity. I was. Nepotism had no charms for me. There was nothing that +I could get Polly that she had not. I could surprise her with no little +delicacies or trifles, delightedly bought with money saved for the +purpose. There was no more coming home weary with office work and being +met at the door with that warm, loving welcome which the King of England +could not buy. There was no long evening when we read alternately from +some favorite book, or laid our deep housekeeping plans, rejoiced in a +good bargain or made light of a poor one, and were contented and merry +with little. I recalled with longing my little den, where in the +midst of the literary disorder I love, I wrote those stories for the +"Antarctic" which Polly, if nobody else, liked to read. There was +no comfort for me in my magnificent library. We were all rich and in +splendor, and our uncle had come from India. I wished, saving his soul, +that the ship that brought him over had foundered off Barnegat Light. It +would always have been a tender and regretful memory to both of us. And +how sacred is the memory of such a loss! + +Christmas? What delight could I have in long solicitude and ingenious +devices touching a gift for Polly within my means, and hitting the +border line between her necessities and her extravagant fancy? A drove +of white elephants would n't have been good enough for her now, if each +one carried a castle on his back. + +"--and so they were married, and in their snug cottage lived happy ever +after."--It was Polly's voice, as she closed the book. + +"There, I don't believe you have heard a word of it," she said half +complainingly. + +"Oh, yes, I have," I cried, starting up and giving the fire a jab with +the poker; "I heard every word of it, except a few at the close I was +thinking"--I stopped, and looked round. + +"Why, Polly, where is the camel's-hair shawl?" + +"Camel's-hair fiddlestick! Now I know you have been asleep for an hour." + +And, sure enough, there was n't any camel's-hair shawl there, nor any +uncle, nor were there any Hindoos at our windows. + +And then I told Polly all about it; how her uncle came back, and we were +rich and lived in a palace and had no end of money, but she didn't seem +to have time to love me in it all, and all the comfort of the little +house was blown away as by the winter wind. And Polly vowed, half in +tears, that she hoped her uncle never would come back, and she wanted +nothing that we had not, and she wouldn't exchange our independent +comfort and snug house, no, not for anybody's mansion. And then and +there we made it all up, in a manner too particular for me to mention; +and I never, to this day, heard Polly allude to My Uncle in India. + +And then, as the clock struck eleven, we each produced from the place +where we had hidden them the modest Christmas gifts we had prepared for +each other, and what surprise there was! "Just the thing I needed." And, +"It's perfectly lovely." And, "You should n't have done it." And, then, +a question I never will answer, "Ten? fifteen? five? twelve?" "My dear, +it cost eight hundred dollars, for I have put my whole year into it, and +I wish it was a thousand times better." + +And so, when the great iron tongue of the city bell swept over the snow +the twelve strokes that announced Christmas day, if there was anywhere a +happier home than ours, I am glad of it! + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Backlog Studies, by Charles Dudley Warner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BACKLOG STUDIES *** + +***** This file should be named 3134-0.txt or 3134-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/3134/ + +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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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/3134-0.zip b/3134-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3947a92 --- /dev/null +++ b/3134-0.zip diff --git a/3134-h.zip b/3134-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..af10f93 --- /dev/null +++ b/3134-h.zip diff --git a/3134-h/3134-h.htm b/3134-h/3134-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3d5746d --- /dev/null +++ b/3134-h/3134-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6553 @@ +<?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> + Backlog Studies, by Charles Dudley Warner + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; 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; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Backlog Studies, by Charles Dudley Warner + +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: Backlog Studies + +Author: Charles Dudley Warner + +Release Date: August 22, 2006 [EBook #3134] +Last Updated: February 24, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BACKLOG STUDIES *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + BACKLOG STUDIES + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Charles Dudley Warner + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0008}.jpg" alt="{0008}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0008}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> FIRST STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> SECOND STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> THIRD STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> FOURTH STUDY + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> FIFTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0023"> SIXTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0024"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0025"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0026"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0027"> SEVENTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0028"> EIGHTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0029"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0030"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0031"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0032"> NINTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0033"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0035"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0036"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0037"> TENTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0038"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0039"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0040"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0041"> ELEVENTH STUDY </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + FIRST STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0013}.jpg" alt="{0013}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0013}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + The fire on the hearth has almost gone out in New England; the hearth has + gone out; the family has lost its center; age ceases to be respected; sex + is only distinguished by a difference between millinery bills and tailors' + bills; there is no more toast-and-cider; the young are not allowed to eat + mince-pies at ten o'clock at night; half a cheese is no longer set to + toast before the fire; you scarcely ever see in front of the coals a row + of roasting apples, which a bright little girl, with many a dive and + start, shielding her sunny face from the fire with one hand, turns from + time to time; scarce are the gray-haired sires who strop their razors on + the family Bible, and doze in the chimney-corner. A good many things have + gone out with the fire on the hearth. + </p> + <p> + I do not mean to say that public and private morality have vanished with + the hearth. A good degree of purity and considerable happiness are + possible with grates and blowers; it is a day of trial, when we are all + passing through a fiery furnace, and very likely we shall be purified as + we are dried up and wasted away. Of course the family is gone, as an + institution, though there still are attempts to bring up a family round a + “register.” But you might just as well try to bring it up by hand, as + without the rallying-point of a hearthstone. Are there any homesteads + nowadays? Do people hesitate to change houses any more than they do to + change their clothes? People hire houses as they would a masquerade + costume, liking, sometimes, to appear for a year in a little fictitious + stone-front splendor above their means. Thus it happens that so many + people live in houses that do not fit them. I should almost as soon think + of wearing another person's clothes as his house; unless I could let it + out and take it in until it fitted, and somehow expressed my own character + and taste. But we have fallen into the days of conformity. It is no wonder + that people constantly go into their neighbors' houses by mistake, just + as, in spite of the Maine law, they wear away each other's hats from an + evening party. It has almost come to this, that you might as well be + anybody else as yourself. + </p> + <p> + Am I mistaken in supposing that this is owing to the discontinuance of big + chimneys, with wide fireplaces in them? How can a person be attached to a + house that has no center of attraction, no soul in it, in the visible form + of a glowing fire, and a warm chimney, like the heart in the body? When + you think of the old homestead, if you ever do, your thoughts go straight + to the wide chimney and its burning logs. No wonder that you are ready to + move from one fireplaceless house into another. But you have something + just as good, you say. Yes, I have heard of it. This age, which imitates + everything, even to the virtues of our ancestors, has invented a + fireplace, with artificial, iron, or composition logs in it, hacked and + painted, in which gas is burned, so that it has the appearance of a + wood-fire. This seems to me blasphemy. Do you think a cat would lie down + before it? Can you poke it? If you can't poke it, it is a fraud. To poke a + wood-fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the world. + The crowning human virtue in a man is to let his wife poke the fire. I do + not know how any virtue whatever is possible over an imitation gas-log. + What a sense of insincerity the family must have, if they indulge in the + hypocrisy of gathering about it. With this center of untruthfulness, what + must the life in the family be? Perhaps the father will be living at the + rate of ten thousand a year on a salary of four thousand; perhaps the + mother, more beautiful and younger than her beautified daughters, will + rouge; perhaps the young ladies will make wax-work. A cynic might suggest + as the motto of modern life this simple legend,—“just as good as the + real.” But I am not a cynic, and I hope for the rekindling of wood-fires, + and a return of the beautiful home light from them. If a wood-fire is a + luxury, it is cheaper than many in which we indulge without thought, and + cheaper than the visits of a doctor, made necessary by the want of + ventilation of the house. Not that I have anything against doctors; I only + wish, after they have been to see us in a way that seems so friendly, they + had nothing against us. + </p> + <p> + My fireplace, which is deep, and nearly three feet wide, has a broad + hearthstone in front of it, where the live coals tumble down, and a pair + of gigantic brass andirons. The brasses are burnished, and shine + cheerfully in the firelight, and on either side stand tall shovel and + tongs, like sentries, mounted in brass. The tongs, like the two-handed + sword of Bruce, cannot be wielded by puny people. We burn in it hickory + wood, cut long. We like the smell of this aromatic forest timber, and its + clear flame. The birch is also a sweet wood for the hearth, with a sort of + spiritual flame and an even temper,—no snappishness. Some prefer the + elm, which holds fire so well; and I have a neighbor who uses nothing but + apple-tree wood,—a solid, family sort of wood, fragrant also, and + full of delightful suggestions. But few people can afford to burn up their + fruit trees. I should as soon think of lighting the fire with sweet-oil + that comes in those graceful wicker-bound flasks from Naples, or with + manuscript sermons, which, however, do not burn well, be they never so + dry, not half so well as printed editorials. + </p> + <p> + Few people know how to make a wood-fire, but everybody thinks he or she + does. You want, first, a large backlog, which does not rest on the + andirons. This will keep your fire forward, radiate heat all day, and late + in the evening fall into a ruin of glowing coals, like the last days of a + good man, whose life is the richest and most beneficent at the close, when + the flames of passion and the sap of youth are burned out, and there only + remain the solid, bright elements of character. Then you want a forestick + on the andirons; and upon these build the fire of lighter stuff. In this + way you have at once a cheerful blaze, and the fire gradually eats into + the solid mass, sinking down with increasing fervor; coals drop below, and + delicate tongues of flame sport along the beautiful grain of the + forestick. There are people who kindle a fire underneath. But these are + conceited people, who are wedded to their own way. I suppose an + accomplished incendiary always starts a fire in the attic, if he can. I am + not an incendiary, but I hate bigotry. I don't call those incendiaries + very good Christians who, when they set fire to the martyrs, touched off + the fagots at the bottom, so as to make them go slow. Besides, knowledge + works down easier than it does up. Education must proceed from the more + enlightened down to the more ignorant strata. If you want better common + schools, raise the standard of the colleges, and so on. Build your fire on + top. Let your light shine. I have seen people build a fire under a balky + horse; but he wouldn't go, he'd be a horse-martyr first. A fire kindled + under one never did him any good. Of course you can make a fire on the + hearth by kindling it underneath, but that does not make it right. I want + my hearthfire to be an emblem of the best things. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + It must be confessed that a wood-fire needs as much tending as a pair of + twins. To say nothing of fiery projectiles sent into the room, even by the + best wood, from the explosion of gases confined in its cells, the brands + are continually dropping down, and coals are being scattered over the + hearth. However much a careful housewife, who thinks more of neatness than + enjoyment, may dislike this, it is one of the chief delights of a + wood-fire. I would as soon have an Englishman without side-whiskers as a + fire without a big backlog; and I would rather have no fire than one that + required no tending,—one of dead wood that could not sing again the + imprisoned songs of the forest, or give out in brilliant scintillations + the sunshine it absorbed in its growth. Flame is an ethereal sprite, and + the spice of danger in it gives zest to the care of the hearth-fire. + Nothing is so beautiful as springing, changing flame,—it was the + last freak of the Gothic architecture men to represent the fronts of + elaborate edifices of stone as on fire, by the kindling flamboyant + devices. A fireplace is, besides, a private laboratory, where one can + witness the most brilliant chemical experiments, minor conflagrations only + wanting the grandeur of cities on fire. It is a vulgar notion that a fire + is only for heat. A chief value of it is, however, to look at. It is a + picture, framed between the jambs. You have nothing on your walls, by the + best masters (the poor masters are not, however, represented), that is + really so fascinating, so spiritual. Speaking like an upholsterer, it + furnishes the room. And it is never twice the same. In this respect it is + like the landscape-view through a window, always seen in a new light, + color, or condition. The fireplace is a window into the most charming + world I ever had a glimpse of. + </p> + <p> + Yet direct heat is an agreeable sensation. I am not scientific enough to + despise it, and have no taste for a winter residence on Mount Washington, + where the thermometer cannot be kept comfortable even by boiling. They say + that they say in Boston that there is a satisfaction in being well dressed + which religion cannot give. There is certainly a satisfaction in the + direct radiance of a hickory fire which is not to be found in the fieriest + blasts of a furnace. The hot air of a furnace is a sirocco; the heat of a + wood-fire is only intense sunshine, like that bottled in Lacrimae Christi. + Besides this, the eye is delighted, the sense of smell is regaled by the + fragrant decomposition, and the ear is pleased with the hissing, + crackling, and singing,—a liberation of so many out-door noises. + Some people like the sound of bubbling in a boiling pot, or the fizzing of + a frying-spider. But there is nothing gross in the animated crackling of + sticks of wood blazing on the earth, not even if chestnuts are roasting in + the ashes. All the senses are ministered to, and the imagination is left + as free as the leaping tongues of flame. + </p> + <p> + The attention which a wood-fire demands is one of its best + recommendations. We value little that which costs us no trouble to + maintain. If we had to keep the sun kindled up and going by private + corporate action, or act of Congress, and to be taxed for the support of + customs officers of solar heat, we should prize it more than we do. Not + that I should like to look upon the sun as a job, and have the proper + regulation of its temperature get into politics, where we already have so + much combustible stuff; but we take it quite too much as a matter of + course, and, having it free, do not reckon it among the reasons for + gratitude. Many people shut it out of their houses as if it were an enemy, + watch its descent upon the carpet as if it were only a thief of color, and + plant trees to shut it away from the mouldering house. All the animals + know better than this, as well as the more simple races of men; the old + women of the southern Italian coasts sit all day in the sun and ply the + distaff, as grateful as the sociable hens on the south side of a New + England barn; the slow tortoise likes to take the sun upon his sloping + back, soaking in color that shall make him immortal when the imperishable + part of him is cut up into shell ornaments. The capacity of a cat to + absorb sunshine is only equaled by that of an Arab or an Ethiopian. They + are not afraid of injuring their complexions. + </p> + <p> + White must be the color of civilization; it has so many natural + disadvantages. But this is politics. I was about to say that, however it + may be with sunshine, one is always grateful for his wood-fire, because he + does not maintain it without some cost. + </p> + <p> + Yet I cannot but confess to a difference between sunlight and the light of + a wood-fire. The sunshine is entirely untamed. Where it rages most freely + it tends to evoke the brilliancy rather than the harmonious satisfactions + of nature. The monstrous growths and the flaming colors of the tropics + contrast with our more subdued loveliness of foliage and bloom. The birds + of the middle region dazzle with their contrasts of plumage, and their + voices are for screaming rather than singing. I presume the new + experiments in sound would project a macaw's voice in very tangled and + inharmonious lines of light. I suspect that the fiercest sunlight puts + people, as well as animals and vegetables, on extremes in all ways. A + wood-fire on the hearth is a kindler of the domestic virtues. It brings in + cheerfulness, and a family center, and, besides, it is artistic. I should + like to know if an artist could ever represent on canvas a happy family + gathered round a hole in the floor called a register. Given a fireplace, + and a tolerable artist could almost create a pleasant family round it. But + what could he conjure out of a register? If there was any virtue among our + ancestors,—and they labored under a great many disadvantages, and + had few of the aids which we have to excellence of life,—I am + convinced they drew it mostly from the fireside. If it was difficult to + read the eleven commandments by the light of a pine-knot, it was not + difficult to get the sweet spirit of them from the countenance of the + serene mother knitting in the chimney-corner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + When the fire is made, you want to sit in front of it and grow genial in + its effulgence. I have never been upon a throne,—except in moments + of a traveler's curiosity, about as long as a South American dictator + remains on one,—but I have no idea that it compares, for + pleasantness, with a seat before a wood-fire. A whole leisure day before + you, a good novel in hand, and the backlog only just beginning to kindle, + with uncounted hours of comfort in it, has life anything more delicious? + For “novel” you can substitute “Calvin's Institutes,” if you wish to be + virtuous as well as happy. Even Calvin would melt before a wood-fire. A + great snowstorm, visible on three sides of your wide-windowed room, + loading the evergreens, blown in fine powder from the great chestnut-tops, + piled up in ever accumulating masses, covering the paths, the shrubbery, + the hedges, drifting and clinging in fantastic deposits, deepening your + sense of security, and taking away the sin of idleness by making it a + necessity, this is an excellent ground to your day by the fire. + </p> + <p> + To deliberately sit down in the morning to read a novel, to enjoy + yourself, is this not, in New England (I am told they don't read much in + other parts of the country), the sin of sins? Have you any right to read, + especially novels, until you have exhausted the best part of the day in + some employment that is called practical? Have you any right to enjoy + yourself at all until the fag-end of the day, when you are tired and + incapable of enjoying yourself? I am aware that this is the practice, if + not the theory, of our society,—to postpone the delights of social + intercourse until after dark, and rather late at night, when body and mind + are both weary with the exertions of business, and when we can give to + what is the most delightful and profitable thing in life, social and + intellectual society, only the weariness of dull brains and over-tired + muscles. No wonder we take our amusements sadly, and that so many people + find dinners heavy and parties stupid. Our economy leaves no place for + amusements; we merely add them to the burden of a life already full. The + world is still a little off the track as to what is really useful. + </p> + <p> + I confess that the morning is a very good time to read a novel, or + anything else which is good and requires a fresh mind; and I take it that + nothing is worth reading that does not require an alert mind. I suppose it + is necessary that business should be transacted; though the amount of + business that does not contribute to anybody's comfort or improvement + suggests the query whether it is not overdone. I know that unremitting + attention to business is the price of success, but I don't know what + success is. There is a man, whom we all know, who built a house that cost + a quarter of a million of dollars, and furnished it for another like sum, + who does not know anything more about architecture, or painting, or books, + or history, than he cares for the rights of those who have not so much + money as he has. I heard him once, in a foreign gallery, say to his wife, + as they stood in front of a famous picture by Rubens: “That is the Rape of + the Sardines!” What a cheerful world it would be if everybody was as + successful as that man! While I am reading my book by the fire, and taking + an active part in important transactions that may be a good deal better + than real, let me be thankful that a great many men are profitably + employed in offices and bureaus and country stores in keeping up the + gossip and endless exchange of opinions among mankind, so much of which is + made to appear to the women at home as “business.” I find that there is a + sort of busy idleness among men in this world that is not held in + disrepute. When the time comes that I have to prove my right to vote, with + women, I trust that it will be remembered in my favor that I made this + admission. If it is true, as a witty conservative once said to me, that we + never shall have peace in this country until we elect a colored woman + president, I desire to be rectus in curia early. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + The fireplace, as we said, is a window through which we look out upon + other scenes. We like to read of the small, bare room, with cobwebbed + ceiling and narrow window, in which the poor child of genius sits with his + magical pen, the master of a realm of beauty and enchantment. I think the + open fire does not kindle the imagination so much as it awakens the + memory; one sees the past in its crumbling embers and ashy grayness, + rather than the future. People become reminiscent and even sentimental in + front of it. They used to become something else in those good old days + when it was thought best to heat the poker red hot before plunging it into + the mugs of flip. This heating of the poker has been disapproved of late + years, but I do not know on what grounds; if one is to drink bitters and + gins and the like, such as I understand as good people as clergymen and + women take in private, and by advice, I do not know why one should not + make them palatable and heat them with his own poker. Cold whiskey out of + a bottle, taken as a prescription six times a day on the sly, is n't my + idea of virtue any more than the social ancestral glass, sizzling wickedly + with the hot iron. Names are so confusing in this world; but things are + apt to remain pretty much the same, whatever we call them. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps as you look into the fireplace it widens and grows deep and + cavernous. The back and the jambs are built up of great stones, not always + smoothly laid, with jutting ledges upon which ashes are apt to lie. The + hearthstone is an enormous block of trap rock, with a surface not + perfectly even, but a capital place to crack butternuts on. Over the fire + swings an iron crane, with a row of pot-hooks of all lengths hanging from + it. It swings out when the housewife wants to hang on the tea-kettle, and + it is strong enough to support a row of pots, or a mammoth caldron kettle + on occasion. What a jolly sight is this fireplace when the pots and + kettles in a row are all boiling and bubbling over the flame, and a + roasting spit is turning in front! It makes a person as hungry as one of + Scott's novels. But the brilliant sight is in the frosty morning, about + daylight, when the fire is made. The coals are raked open, the split + sticks are piled up in openwork criss-crossing, as high as the crane; and + when the flame catches hold and roars up through the interstices, it is + like an out-of-door bonfire. Wood enough is consumed in that morning + sacrifice to cook the food of a Parisian family for a year. How it roars + up the wide chimney, sending into the air the signal smoke and sparks + which announce to the farming neighbors another day cheerfully begun! The + sleepiest boy in the world would get up in his red flannel nightgown to + see such a fire lighted, even if he dropped to sleep again in his chair + before the ruddy blaze. Then it is that the house, which has shrunk and + creaked all night in the pinching cold of winter, begins to glow again and + come to life. The thick frost melts little by little on the small + window-panes, and it is seen that the gray dawn is breaking over the + leagues of pallid snow. It is time to blow out the candle, which has lost + all its cheerfulness in the light of day. The morning romance is over; the + family is astir; and member after member appears with the morning yawn, to + stand before the crackling, fierce conflagration. The daily round begins. + The most hateful employment ever invented for mortal man presents itself: + the “chores” are to be done. The boy who expects every morning to open + into a new world finds that to-day is like yesterday, but he believes + to-morrow will be different. And yet enough for him, for the day, is the + wading in the snowdrifts, or the sliding on the diamond-sparkling crust. + Happy, too, is he, when the storm rages, and the snow is piled high + against the windows, if he can sit in the warm chimney-corner and read + about Burgoyne, and General Fraser, and Miss McCrea, midwinter marches + through the wilderness, surprises of wigwams, and the stirring ballad, + say, of the Battle of the Kegs:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Come, gallants, attend and list a friend + Thrill forth harmonious ditty; + While I shall tell what late befell + At Philadelphia city.” + </pre> + <p> + I should like to know what heroism a boy in an old New England farmhouse—rough-nursed + by nature, and fed on the traditions of the old wars did not aspire to. + “John,” says the mother, “You'll burn your head to a crisp in that heat.” + But John does not hear; he is storming the Plains of Abraham just now. + “Johnny, dear, bring in a stick of wood.” How can Johnny bring in wood + when he is in that defile with Braddock, and the Indians are popping at + him from behind every tree? There is something about a boy that I like, + after all. + </p> + <p> + The fire rests upon the broad hearth; the hearth rests upon a great + substruction of stone, and the substruction rests upon the cellar. What + supports the cellar I never knew, but the cellar supports the family. The + cellar is the foundation of domestic comfort. Into its dark, cavernous + recesses the child's imagination fearfully goes. Bogies guard the bins of + choicest apples. I know not what comical sprites sit astride the + cider-barrels ranged along the walls. The feeble flicker of the + tallow-candle does not at all dispel, but creates, illusions, and + magnifies all the rich possibilities of this underground treasure-house. + When the cellar-door is opened, and the boy begins to descend into the + thick darkness, it is always with a heart-beat as of one started upon some + adventure. Who can forget the smell that comes through the opened door;—a + mingling of fresh earth, fruit exhaling delicious aroma, kitchen + vegetables, the mouldy odor of barrels, a sort of ancestral air,—as + if a door had been opened into an old romance. Do you like it? Not much. + But then I would not exchange the remembrance of it for a good many odors + and perfumes that I do like. + </p> + <p> + It is time to punch the backlog and put on a new forestick. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SECOND STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0035}.jpg" alt="{0035}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0035}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + The log was white birch. The beautiful satin bark at once kindled into a + soft, pure, but brilliant flame, something like that of naphtha. There is + no other wood flame so rich, and it leaps up in a joyous, spiritual way, + as if glad to burn for the sake of burning. Burning like a clear oil, it + has none of the heaviness and fatness of the pine and the balsam. Woodsmen + are at a loss to account for its intense and yet chaste flame, since the + bark has no oily appearance. The heat from it is fierce, and the light + dazzling. It flares up eagerly like young love, and then dies away; the + wood does not keep up the promise of the bark. The woodsmen, it is proper + to say, have not considered it in its relation to young love. In the + remote settlements the pine-knot is still the torch of courtship; it + endures to sit up by. The birch-bark has alliances with the world of + sentiment and of letters. The most poetical reputation of the North + American Indian floats in a canoe made of it; his picture-writing was + inscribed on it. It is the paper that nature furnishes for lovers in the + wilderness, who are enabled to convey a delicate sentiment by its use, + which is expressed neither in their ideas nor chirography. It is + inadequate for legal parchment, but does very well for deeds of love, + which are not meant usually to give a perfect title. With care, it may be + split into sheets as thin as the Chinese paper. It is so beautiful to + handle that it is a pity civilization cannot make more use of it. But + fancy articles manufactured from it are very much like all ornamental work + made of nature's perishable seeds, leaves, cones, and dry twigs,—exquisite + while the pretty fingers are fashioning it, but soon growing shabby and + cheap to the eye. And yet there is a pathos in “dried things,” whether + they are displayed as ornaments in some secluded home, or hidden + religiously in bureau drawers where profane eyes cannot see how white ties + are growing yellow and ink is fading from treasured letters, amid a faint + and discouraging perfume of ancient rose-leaves. + </p> + <p> + The birch log holds out very well while it is green, but has not substance + enough for a backlog when dry. Seasoning green timber or men is always an + experiment. A man may do very well in a simple, let us say, country or + backwoods line of life, who would come to nothing in a more complicated + civilization. City life is a severe trial. One man is struck with a + dry-rot; another develops season-cracks; another shrinks and swells with + every change of circumstance. Prosperity is said to be more trying than + adversity, a theory which most people are willing to accept without trial; + but few men stand the drying out of the natural sap of their greenness in + the artificial heat of city life. This, be it noticed, is nothing against + the drying and seasoning process; character must be put into the crucible + some time, and why not in this world? A man who cannot stand seasoning + will not have a high market value in any part of the universe. It is + creditable to the race, that so many men and women bravely jump into the + furnace of prosperity and expose themselves to the drying influences of + city life. + </p> + <p> + The first fire that is lighted on the hearth in the autumn seems to bring + out the cold weather. Deceived by the placid appearance of the dying year, + the softness of the sky, and the warm color of the foliage, we have been + shivering about for days without exactly comprehending what was the + matter. The open fire at once sets up a standard of comparison. We find + that the advance guards of winter are besieging the house. The cold rushes + in at every crack of door and window, apparently signaled by the flame to + invade the house and fill it with chilly drafts and sarcasms on what we + call the temperate zone. It needs a roaring fire to beat back the enemy; a + feeble one is only an invitation to the most insulting demonstrations. Our + pious New England ancestors were philosophers in their way. It was not + simply owing to grace that they sat for hours in their barnlike + meeting-houses during the winter Sundays, the thermometer many degrees + below freezing, with no fire, except the zeal in their own hearts,—a + congregation of red noses and bright eyes. It was no wonder that the + minister in the pulpit warmed up to his subject, cried aloud, used hot + words, spoke a good deal of the hot place and the Person whose presence + was a burning shame, hammered the desk as if he expected to drive his text + through a two-inch plank, and heated himself by all allowable + ecclesiastical gymnastics. A few of their followers in our day seem to + forget that our modern churches are heated by furnaces and supplied with + gas. In the old days it would have been thought unphilosophic as well as + effeminate to warm the meeting-houses artificially. In one house I knew, + at least, when it was proposed to introduce a stove to take a little of + the chill from the Sunday services, the deacons protested against the + innovation. They said that the stove might benefit those who sat close to + it, but it would drive all the cold air to the other parts of the church, + and freeze the people to death; it was cold enough now around the edges. + Blessed days of ignorance and upright living! Sturdy men who served God by + resolutely sitting out the icy hours of service, amid the rattling of + windows and the carousal of winter in the high, windswept galleries! + Patient women, waiting in the chilly house for consumption to pick out his + victims, and replace the color of youth and the flush of devotion with the + hectic of disease! At least, you did not doze and droop in our over-heated + edifices, and die of vitiated air and disregard of the simplest conditions + of organized life. It is fortunate that each generation does not + comprehend its own ignorance. We are thus enabled to call our ancestors + barbarous. It is something also that each age has its choice of the death + it will die. Our generation is most ingenious. From our public + assembly-rooms and houses we have almost succeeded in excluding pure air. + It took the race ages to build dwellings that would keep out rain; it has + taken longer to build houses air-tight, but we are on the eve of success. + We are only foiled by the ill-fitting, insincere work of the builders, who + build for a day, and charge for all time. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + When the fire on the hearth has blazed up and then settled into steady + radiance, talk begins. There is no place like the chimney-corner for + confidences; for picking up the clews of an old friendship; for taking + note where one's self has drifted, by comparing ideas and prejudices with + the intimate friend of years ago, whose course in life has lain apart from + yours. No stranger puzzles you so much as the once close friend, with + whose thinking and associates you have for years been unfamiliar. Life has + come to mean this and that to you; you have fallen into certain habits of + thought; for you the world has progressed in this or that direction; of + certain results you feel very sure; you have fallen into harmony with your + surroundings; you meet day after day people interested in the things that + interest you; you are not in the least opinionated, it is simply your good + fortune to look upon the affairs of the world from the right point of + view. When you last saw your friend,—less than a year after you left + college,—he was the most sensible and agreeable of men; he had no + heterodox notions; he agreed with you; you could even tell what sort of a + wife he would select, and if you could do that, you held the key to his + life. + </p> + <p> + Well, Herbert came to visit me the other day from the antipodes. And here + he sits by the fireplace. I cannot think of any one I would rather see + there, except perhaps Thackery; or, for entertainment, Boswell; or old, + Pepys; or one of the people who was left out of the Ark. They were talking + one foggy London night at Hazlitt's about whom they would most like to + have seen, when Charles Lamb startled the company by declaring that he + would rather have seen Judas Iscariot than any other person who had lived + on the earth. For myself, I would rather have seen Lamb himself once, than + to have lived with Judas. Herbert, to my great delight, has not changed; I + should know him anywhere,—the same serious, contemplative face, with + lurking humor at the corners of the mouth,—the same cheery laugh and + clear, distinct enunciation as of old. There is nothing so winning as a + good voice. To see Herbert again, unchanged in all outward essentials, is + not only gratifying, but valuable as a testimony to nature's success in + holding on to a personal identity, through the entire change of matter + that has been constantly taking place for so many years. I know very well + there is here no part of the Herbert whose hand I had shaken at the + Commencement parting; but it is an astonishing reproduction of him,—a + material likeness; and now for the spiritual. + </p> + <p> + Such a wide chance for divergence in the spiritual. It has been such a + busy world for twenty years. So many things have been torn up by the roots + again that were settled when we left college. There were to be no more + wars; democracy was democracy, and progress, the differentiation of the + individual, was a mere question of clothes; if you want to be different, + go to your tailor; nobody had demonstrated that there is a man-soul and a + woman-soul, and that each is in reality only a half-soul,—putting + the race, so to speak, upon the half-shell. The social oyster being + opened, there appears to be two shells and only one oyster; who shall have + it? So many new canons of taste, of criticism, of morality have been set + up; there has been such a resurrection of historical reputations for new + judgment, and there have been so many discoveries, geographical, + archaeological, geological, biological, that the earth is not at all what + it was supposed to be; and our philosophers are much more anxious to + ascertain where we came from than whither we are going. In this whirl and + turmoil of new ideas, nature, which has only the single end of maintaining + the physical identity in the body, works on undisturbed, replacing + particle for particle, and preserving the likeness more skillfully than a + mosaic artist in the Vatican; she has not even her materials sorted and + labeled, as the Roman artist has his thousands of bits of color; and man + is all the while doing his best to confuse the process, by changing his + climate, his diet, all his surroundings, without the least care to remain + himself. But the mind? + </p> + <p> + It is more difficult to get acquainted with Herbert than with an entire + stranger, for I have my prepossessions about him, and do not find him in + so many places where I expect to find him. He is full of criticism of the + authors I admire; he thinks stupid or improper the books I most read; he + is skeptical about the “movements” I am interested in; he has formed very + different opinions from mine concerning a hundred men and women of the + present day; we used to eat from one dish; we could n't now find anything + in common in a dozen; his prejudices (as we call our opinions) are most + extraordinary, and not half so reasonable as my prejudices; there are a + great many persons and things that I am accustomed to denounce, + uncontradicted by anybody, which he defends; his public opinion is not at + all my public opinion. I am sorry for him. He appears to have fallen into + influences and among a set of people foreign to me. I find that his church + has a different steeple on it from my church (which, to say the truth, + hasn't any). It is a pity that such a dear friend and a man of so much + promise should have drifted off into such general contrariness. I see + Herbert sitting here by the fire, with the old look in his face coming out + more and more, but I do not recognize any features of his mind,—except + perhaps his contrariness; yes, he was always a little contrary, I think. + And finally he surprises me with, “Well, my friend, you seem to have + drifted away from your old notions and opinions. We used to agree when we + were together, but I sometimes wondered where you would land; for, pardon + me, you showed signs of looking at things a little contrary.” + </p> + <p> + I am silent for a good while. I am trying to think who I am. There was a + person whom I thought I knew, very fond of Herbert, and agreeing with him + in most things. Where has he gone? and, if he is here, where is the + Herbert that I knew? + </p> + <p> + If his intellectual and moral sympathies have all changed, I wonder if his + physical tastes remain, like his appearance, the same. There has come over + this country within the last generation, as everybody knows, a great wave + of condemnation of pie. It has taken the character of a “movement!” though + we have had no conventions about it, nor is any one, of any of the several + sexes among us, running for president against it. It is safe almost + anywhere to denounce pie, yet nearly everybody eats it on occasion. A + great many people think it savors of a life abroad to speak with horror of + pie, although they were very likely the foremost of the Americans in Paris + who used to speak with more enthusiasm of the American pie at Madame + Busque's than of the Venus of Milo. To talk against pie and still eat it + is snobbish, of course; but snobbery, being an aspiring failing, is + sometimes the prophecy of better things. To affect dislike of pie is + something. We have no statistics on the subject, and cannot tell whether + it is gaining or losing in the country at large. Its disappearance in + select circles is no test. The amount of writing against it is no more + test of its desuetude, than the number of religious tracts distributed in + a given district is a criterion of its piety. We are apt to assume that + certain regions are substantially free of it. Herbert and I, traveling + north one summer, fancied that we could draw in New England a sort of diet + line, like the sweeping curves on the isothermal charts, which should show + at least the leading pie sections. Journeying towards the White Mountains, + we concluded that a line passing through Bellows Falls, and bending a + little south on either side, would mark northward the region of perpetual + pie. In this region pie is to be found at all hours and seasons, and at + every meal. I am not sure, however, that pie is not a matter of altitude + rather than latitude, as I find that all the hill and country towns of New + England are full of those excellent women, the very salt of the + housekeeping earth, who would feel ready to sink in mortification through + their scoured kitchen floors, if visitors should catch them without a pie + in the house. The absence of pie would be more noticed than a scarcity of + Bible even. Without it the housekeepers are as distracted as the + boarding-house keeper, who declared that if it were not for canned tomato, + she should have nothing to fly to. Well, in all this great agitation I + find Herbert unmoved, a conservative, even to the under-crust. I dare not + ask him if he eats pie at breakfast. There are some tests that the dearest + friendship may not apply. + </p> + <p> + “Will you smoke?” I ask. + </p> + <p> + “No, I have reformed.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, that when we consider the correlation of forces, the + apparent sympathy of spirit manifestations with electric conditions, the + almost revealed mysteries of what may be called the odic force, and the + relation of all these phenomena to the nervous system in man, it is not + safe to do anything to the nervous system that will—” + </p> + <p> + “Hang the nervous system! Herbert, we can agree in one thing: old + memories, reveries, friendships, center about that:—is n't an open + wood-fire good?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” says Herbert, combatively, “if you don't sit before it too long.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + The best talk is that which escapes up the open chimney and cannot be + repeated. The finest woods make the best fire and pass away with the least + residuum. I hope the next generation will not accept the reports of + “interviews” as specimens of the conversations of these years of grace. + </p> + <p> + But do we talk as well as our fathers and mothers did? We hear wonderful + stories of the bright generation that sat about the wide fireplaces of New + England. Good talk has so much short-hand that it cannot be reported,—the + inflection, the change of voice, the shrug, cannot be caught on paper. The + best of it is when the subject unexpectedly goes cross-lots, by a flash of + short-cut, to a conclusion so suddenly revealed that it has the effect of + wit. It needs the highest culture and the finest breeding to prevent the + conversation from running into mere persiflage on the one hand—its + common fate—or monologue on the other. Our conversation is largely + chaff. I am not sure but the former generation preached a good deal, but + it had great practice in fireside talk, and must have talked well. There + were narrators in those days who could charm a circle all the evening long + with stories. When each day brought comparatively little new to read, + there was leisure for talk, and the rare book and the in-frequent magazine + were thoroughly discussed. Families now are swamped by the printed matter + that comes daily upon the center-table. There must be a division of labor, + one reading this, and another that, to make any impression on it. The + telegraph brings the only common food, and works this daily miracle, that + every mind in Christendom is excited by one topic simultaneously with + every other mind; it enables a concurrent mental action, a burst of + sympathy, or a universal prayer to be made, which must be, if we have any + faith in the immaterial left, one of the chief forces in modern life. It + is fit that an agent so subtle as electricity should be the minister of + it. + </p> + <p> + When there is so much to read, there is little time for conversation; nor + is there leisure for another pastime of the ancient firesides, called + reading aloud. The listeners, who heard while they looked into the wide + chimney-place, saw there pass in stately procession the events and the + grand persons of history, were kindled with the delights of travel, + touched by the romance of true love, or made restless by tales of + adventure;—the hearth became a sort of magic stone that could + transport those who sat by it to the most distant places and times, as + soon as the book was opened and the reader began, of a winter's night. + Perhaps the Puritan reader read through his nose, and all the little + Puritans made the most dreadful nasal inquiries as the entertainment went + on. The prominent nose of the intellectual New-Englander is evidence of + the constant linguistic exercise of the organ for generations. It grew by + talking through. But I have no doubt that practice made good readers in + those days. Good reading aloud is almost a lost accomplishment now. It is + little thought of in the schools. It is disused at home. It is rare to + find any one who can read, even from the newspaper, well. Reading is so + universal, even with the uncultivated, that it is common to hear people + mispronounce words that you did not suppose they had ever seen. In reading + to themselves they glide over these words, in reading aloud they stumble + over them. Besides, our every-day books and newspapers are so larded with + French that the ordinary reader is obliged marcher a pas de loup,—for + instance. + </p> + <p> + The newspaper is probably responsible for making current many words with + which the general reader is familiar, but which he rises to in the flow of + conversation, and strikes at with a splash and an unsuccessful attempt at + appropriation; the word, which he perfectly knows, hooks him in the gills, + and he cannot master it. The newspaper is thus widening the language in + use, and vastly increasing the number of words which enter into common + talk. The Americans of the lowest intellectual class probably use more + words to express their ideas than the similar class of any other people; + but this prodigality is partially balanced by the parsimony of words in + some higher regions, in which a few phrases of current slang are made to + do the whole duty of exchange of ideas; if that can be called exchange of + ideas when one intellect flashes forth to another the remark, concerning + some report, that “you know how it is yourself,” and is met by the + response of “that's what's the matter,” and rejoins with the perfectly + conclusive “that's so.” It requires a high degree of culture to use slang + with elegance and effect; and we are yet very far from the Greek + attainment. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + The fireplace wants to be all aglow, the wind rising, the night heavy and + black above, but light with sifting snow on the earth, a background of + inclemency for the illumined room with its pictured walls, tables heaped + with books, capacious easy-chairs and their occupants,—it needs, I + say, to glow and throw its rays far through the crystal of the broad + windows, in order that we may rightly appreciate the relation of the + wide-jambed chimney to domestic architecture in our climate. We fell to + talking about it; and, as is usual when the conversation is professedly on + one subject, we wandered all around it. The young lady staying with us was + roasting chestnuts in the ashes, and the frequent explosions required + considerable attention. The mistress, too, sat somewhat alert, ready to + rise at any instant and minister to the fancied want of this or that + guest, forgetting the reposeful truth that people about a fireside will + not have any wants if they are not suggested. The worst of them, if they + desire anything, only want something hot, and that later in the evening. + And it is an open question whether you ought to associate with people who + want that. + </p> + <p> + I was saying that nothing had been so slow in its progress in the world as + domestic architecture. Temples, palaces, bridges, aqueducts, cathedrals, + towers of marvelous delicacy and strength, grew to perfection while the + common people lived in hovels, and the richest lodged in the most gloomy + and contracted quarters. The dwelling-house is a modern institution. It is + a curious fact that it has only improved with the social elevation of + women. Men were never more brilliant in arms and letters than in the age + of Elizabeth, and yet they had no homes. They made themselves thick-walled + castles, with slits in the masonry for windows, for defense, and + magnificent banquet-halls for pleasure; the stone rooms into which they + crawled for the night were often little better than dog-kennels. The + Pompeians had no comfortable night-quarters. The most singular thing to + me, however, is that, especially interested as woman is in the house, she + has never done anything for architecture. And yet woman is reputed to be + an ingenious creature. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I doubt if woman has real ingenuity; she has great adaptability. + I don't say that she will do the same thing twice alike, like a Chinaman, + but she is most cunning in suiting herself to circumstances. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, if you speak of constructive, creative ingenuity, + perhaps not; but in the higher ranges of achievement—that of + accomplishing any purpose dear to her heart, for instance—her + ingenuity is simply incomprehensible to me. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Yes, if you mean doing things by indirection. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. When you men assume all the direction, what else is left to + us? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see a woman refurnish a house? + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH US. I never saw a man do it, unless he was + burned out of his rookery. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. There is no comfort in new things. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER (not noticing the interruption). Having set her mind on a + total revolution of the house, she buys one new thing, not too obtrusive, + nor much out of harmony with the old. The husband scarcely notices it, + least of all does he suspect the revolution, which she already has + accomplished. Next, some article that does look a little shabby beside the + new piece of furniture is sent to the garret, and its place is supplied by + something that will match in color and effect. Even the man can see that + it ought to match, and so the process goes on, it may be for years, it may + be forever, until nothing of the old is left, and the house is transformed + as it was predetermined in the woman's mind. I doubt if the man ever + understands how or when it was done; his wife certainly never says + anything about the refurnishing, but quietly goes on to new conquests. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. And is n't it better to buy little by little, enjoying every + new object as you get it, and assimilating each article to your household + life, and making the home a harmonious expression of your own taste, + rather than to order things in sets, and turn your house, for the time + being, into a furniture ware-room? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, I only spoke of the ingenuity of it. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I never can get acquainted with more than one + piece of furniture at a time. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I suppose women are our superiors in artistic taste, and I fancy + that I can tell whether a house is furnished by a woman or a man; of + course, I mean the few houses that appear to be the result of individual + taste and refinement,—most of them look as if they had been + furnished on contract by the upholsterer. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Woman's province in this world is putting things to rights. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. With a vengeance, sometimes. In the study, for example. My chief + objection to woman is that she has no respect for the newspaper, or the + printed page, as such. She is Siva, the destroyer. I have noticed that a + great part of a married man's time at home is spent in trying to find the + things he has put on his study-table. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Herbert speaks with the bitterness of a bachelor shut out + of paradise. It is my experience that if women did not destroy the rubbish + that men bring into the house, it would become uninhabitable, and need to + be burned down every five years. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I confess women do a great deal for the appearance of + things. When the mistress is absent, this room, although everything is + here as it was before, does not look at all like the same place; it is + stiff, and seems to lack a soul. When she returns, I can see that her eye, + even while greeting me, takes in the situation at a glance. While she is + talking of the journey, and before she has removed her traveling-hat, she + turns this chair and moves that, sets one piece of furniture at a + different angle, rapidly, and apparently unconsciously, shifts a dozen + little knick-knacks and bits of color, and the room is transformed. I + couldn't do it in a week. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. That is the first time I ever knew a man admit he couldn't + do anything if he had time. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Yet with all their peculiar instinct for making a home, women + make themselves very little felt in our domestic architecture. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Men build most of the houses in what might be called the + ready-made-clothing style, and we have to do the best we can with them; + and hard enough it is to make cheerful homes in most of them. You will see + something different when the woman is constantly consulted in the plan of + the house. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. We might see more difference if women would give any attention to + architecture. Why are there no women architects? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Want of the ballot, doubtless. It seems to me that here + is a splendid opportunity for woman to come to the front. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. They have no desire to come to the front; they would + rather manage things where they are. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. If they would master the noble art, and put their + brooding taste upon it, we might very likely compass something in our + domestic architecture that we have not yet attained. The outside of our + houses needs attention as well as the inside. Most of them are as ugly as + money can build. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. What vexes me most is, that women, married women, have so + easily consented to give up open fires in their houses. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. They dislike the dust and the bother. I think that women rather + like the confined furnace heat. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Nonsense; it is their angelic virtue of submission. We + wouldn't be hired to stay all-day in the houses we build. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. That has a very chivalrous sound, but I know there will be + no reformation until women rebel and demand everywhere the open fire. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. They are just now rebelling about something else; it seems to me + yours is a sort of counter-movement, a fire in the rear. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I'll join that movement. The time has come when woman must + strike for her altars and her fires. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Hear, hear! + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Thank you, Herbert. I applauded you once, when you declaimed + that years ago in the old Academy. I remember how eloquently you did it. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Yes, I was once a spouting idiot. + </p> + <p> + Just then the door-bell rang, and company came in. And the company brought + in a new atmosphere, as company always does, something of the disturbance + of out-doors, and a good deal of its healthy cheer. The direct news that + the thermometer was approaching zero, with a hopeful prospect of going + below it, increased to liveliness our satisfaction in the fire. When the + cider was heated in the brown stone pitcher, there was difference of + opinion whether there should be toast in it; some were for toast, because + that was the old-fashioned way, and others were against it, “because it + does not taste good” in cider. Herbert said there, was very little respect + left for our forefathers. + </p> + <p> + More wood was put on, and the flame danced in a hundred fantastic shapes. + The snow had ceased to fall, and the moonlight lay in silvery patches + among the trees in the ravine. The conversation became worldly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THIRD STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0063}.jpg" alt="{0063}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0063}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + Herbert said, as we sat by the fire one night, that he wished he had + turned his attention to writing poetry like Tennyson's. + </p> + <p> + The remark was not whimsical, but satirical. Tennyson is a man of talent, + who happened to strike a lucky vein, which he has worked with cleverness. + The adventurer with a pickaxe in Washoe may happen upon like good fortune. + The world is full of poetry as the earth is of “pay-dirt;” one only needs + to know how to “strike” it. An able man can make himself almost anything + that he will. It is melancholy to think how many epic poets have been lost + in the tea-trade, how many dramatists (though the age of the drama has + passed) have wasted their genius in great mercantile and mechanical + enterprises. I know a man who might have been the poet, the essayist, + perhaps the critic, of this country, who chose to become a country judge, + to sit day after day upon a bench in an obscure corner of the world, + listening to wrangling lawyers and prevaricating witnesses, preferring to + judge his fellow-men rather than enlighten them. + </p> + <p> + It is fortunate for the vanity of the living and the reputation of the + dead, that men get almost as much credit for what they do not as for what + they do. It was the opinion of many that Burns might have excelled as a + statesman, or have been a great captain in war; and Mr. Carlyle says that + if he had been sent to a university, and become a trained intellectual + workman, it lay in him to have changed the whole course of British + literature! A large undertaking, as so vigorous and dazzling a writer as + Mr. Carlyle must know by this time, since British literature has swept by + him in a resistless and widening flood, mainly uncontaminated, and leaving + his grotesque contrivances wrecked on the shore with other curiosities of + letters, and yet among the richest of all the treasures lying there. + </p> + <p> + It is a temptation to a temperate man to become a sot, to hear what + talent, what versatility, what genius, is almost always attributed to a + moderately bright man who is habitually drunk. Such a mechanic, such a + mathematician, such a poet he would be, if he were only sober; and then he + is sure to be the most generous, magnanimous, friendly soul, + conscientiously honorable, if he were not so conscientiously drunk. I + suppose it is now notorious that the most brilliant and promising men have + been lost to the world in this way. It is sometimes almost painful to + think what a surplus of talent and genius there would be in the world if + the habit of intoxication should suddenly cease; and what a slim chance + there would be for the plodding people who have always had tolerably good + habits. The fear is only mitigated by the observation that the reputation + of a person for great talent sometimes ceases with his reformation. + </p> + <p> + It is believed by some that the maidens who would make the best wives + never marry, but remain free to bless the world with their impartial + sweetness, and make it generally habitable. This is one of the mysteries + of Providence and New England life. It seems a pity, at first sight, that + all those who become poor wives have the matrimonial chance, and that they + are deprived of the reputation of those who would be good wives were they + not set apart for the high and perpetual office of priestesses of society. + There is no beauty like that which was spoiled by an accident, no + accomplishments—and graces are so to be envied as those that + circumstances rudely hindered the development of. All of which shows what + a charitable and good-tempered world it is, notwithstanding its reputation + for cynicism and detraction. + </p> + <p> + Nothing is more beautiful than the belief of the faithful wife that her + husband has all the talents, and could, if he would, be distinguished in + any walk in life; and nothing will be more beautiful—unless this is + a very dry time for signs—than the husband's belief that his wife is + capable of taking charge of any of the affairs of this confused planet. + There is no woman but thinks that her husband, the green-grocer, could + write poetry if he had given his mind to it, or else she thinks small beer + of poetry in comparison with an occupation or accomplishment purely + vegetable. It is touching to see the look of pride with which the wife + turns to her husband from any more brilliant personal presence or display + of wit than his, in the perfect confidence that if the world knew what she + knows, there would be one more popular idol. How she magnifies his small + wit, and dotes upon the self-satisfied look in his face as if it were a + sign of wisdom! What a councilor that man would make! What a warrior he + would be! There are a great many corporals in their retired homes who did + more for the safety and success of our armies in critical moments, in the + late war, than any of the “high-cock-a-lorum” commanders. Mrs. Corporal + does not envy the reputation of General Sheridan; she knows very well who + really won Five Forks, for she has heard the story a hundred times, and + will hear it a hundred times more with apparently unabated interest. What + a general her husband would have made; and how his talking talent would + shine in Congress! + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Nonsense. There isn't a wife in the world who has not taken the + exact measure of her husband, weighed him and settled him in her own mind, + and knows him as well as if she had ordered him after designs and + specifications of her own. That knowledge, however, she ordinarily keeps + to herself, and she enters into a league with her husband, which he was + never admitted to the secret of, to impose upon the world. In nine out of + ten cases he more than half believes that he is what his wife tells him he + is. At any rate, she manages him as easily as the keeper does the + elephant, with only a bamboo wand and a sharp spike in the end. Usually + she flatters him, but she has the means of pricking clear through his hide + on occasion. It is the great secret of her power to have him think that + she thoroughly believes in him. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH Us. And you call this hypocrisy? I have heard + authors, who thought themselves sly observers of women, call it so. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Nothing of the sort. It is the basis on which society rests, the + conventional agreement. If society is about to be overturned, it is on + this point. Women are beginning to tell men what they really think of + them; and to insist that the same relations of downright sincerity and + independence that exist between men shall exist between women and men. + Absolute truth between souls, without regard to sex, has always been the + ideal life of the poets. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Yes; but there was never a poet yet who would bear to have + his wife say exactly what she thought of his poetry, any more than he + would keep his temper if his wife beat him at chess; and there is nothing + that disgusts a man like getting beaten at chess by a woman. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Well, women know how to win by losing. I think that the reason + why most women do not want to take the ballot and stand out in the open + for a free trial of power, is that they are reluctant to change the + certain domination of centuries, with weapons they are perfectly competent + to handle, for an experiment. I think we should be better off if women + were more transparent, and men were not so systematically puffed up by the + subtle flattery which is used to control them. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Deliver me from transparency. When a woman takes that guise, + and begins to convince me that I can see through her like a ray of light, + I must run or be lost. Transparent women are the truly dangerous. There + was one on ship-board [Mandeville likes to say that; he has just returned + from a little tour in Europe, and he quite often begins his remarks with + “on the ship going over;” the Young Lady declares that he has a sort of + roll in his chair, when he says it, that makes her sea-sick] who was the + most innocent, artless, guileless, natural bunch of lace and feathers you + ever saw; she was all candor and helplessness and dependence; she sang + like a nightingale, and talked like a nun. There never was such + simplicity. There was n't a sounding-line on board that would have gone to + the bottom of her soulful eyes. But she managed the captain and all the + officers, and controlled the ship as if she had been the helm. All the + passengers were waiting on her, fetching this and that for her comfort, + inquiring of her health, talking about her genuineness, and exhibiting as + much anxiety to get her ashore in safety, as if she had been about to + knight them all and give them a castle apiece when they came to land. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. What harm? It shows what I have always said, that the + service of a noble woman is the most ennobling influence for men. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. If she is noble, and not a mere manager. I watched this woman + to see if she would ever do anything for any one else. She never did. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see her again? I presume Mandeville has + introduced her here for some purpose. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. No purpose. But we did see her on the Rhine; she was the most + disgusted traveler, and seemed to be in very ill humor with her maid. I + judged that her happiness depended upon establishing controlling relations + with all about her. On this Rhine boat, to be sure, there was reason for + disgust. And that reminds me of a remark that was made. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Oh! + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. When we got aboard at Mayence we were conscious of a dreadful + odor somewhere; as it was a foggy morning, we could see no cause of it, + but concluded it was from something on the wharf. The fog lifted, and we + got under way, but the odor traveled with us, and increased. We went to + every part of the vessel to avoid it, but in vain. It occasionally reached + us in great waves of disagreeableness. We had heard of the odors of the + towns on the Rhine, but we had no idea that the entire stream was + infected. It was intolerable. + </p> + <p> + The day was lovely, and the passengers stood about on deck holding their + noses and admiring the scenery. You might see a row of them leaning over + the side, gazing up at some old ruin or ivied crag, entranced with the + romance of the situation, and all holding their noses with thumb and + finger. The sweet Rhine! By and by somebody discovered that the odor came + from a pile of cheese on the forward deck, covered with a canvas; it + seemed that the Rhinelanders are so fond of it that they take it with them + when they travel. If there should ever be war between us and Germany, the + borders of the Rhine would need no other defense from American soldiers + than a barricade of this cheese. I went to the stern of the steamboat to + tell a stout American traveler what was the origin of the odor he had been + trying to dodge all the morning. He looked more disgusted than before, + when he heard that it was cheese; but his only reply was: “It must be a + merciful God who can forgive a smell like that!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + The above is introduced here in order to illustrate the usual effect of an + anecdote on conversation. Commonly it kills it. That talk must be very + well in hand, and under great headway, that an anecdote thrown in front of + will not pitch off the track and wreck. And it makes little difference + what the anecdote is; a poor one depresses the spirits, and casts a gloom + over the company; a good one begets others, and the talkers go to telling + stories; which is very good entertainment in moderation, but is not to be + mistaken for that unwearying flow of argument, quaint remark, humorous + color, and sprightly interchange of sentiments and opinions, called + conversation. + </p> + <p> + The reader will perceive that all hope is gone here of deciding whether + Herbert could have written Tennyson's poems, or whether Tennyson could + have dug as much money out of the Heliogabalus Lode as Herbert did. The + more one sees of life, I think the impression deepens that men, after all, + play about the parts assigned them, according to their mental and moral + gifts, which are limited and preordained, and that their entrances and + exits are governed by a law no less certain because it is hidden. Perhaps + nobody ever accomplishes all that he feels lies in him to do; but nearly + every one who tries his powers touches the walls of his being + occasionally, and learns about how far to attempt to spring. There are no + impossibilities to youth and inexperience; but when a person has tried + several times to reach high C and been coughed down, he is quite content + to go down among the chorus. It is only the fools who keep straining at + high C all their lives. + </p> + <p> + Mandeville here began to say that that reminded him of something that + happened when he was on the— + </p> + <p> + But Herbert cut in with the observation that no matter what a man's single + and several capacities and talents might be, he is controlled by his own + mysterious individuality, which is what metaphysicians call the substance, + all else being the mere accidents of the man. And this is the reason that + we cannot with any certainty tell what any person will do or amount to, + for, while we know his talents and abilities, we do not know the resulting + whole, which is he himself. THE FIRE-TENDER. So if you could take all the + first-class qualities that we admire in men and women, and put them + together into one being, you wouldn't be sure of the result? + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Certainly not. You would probably have a monster. It takes a cook + of long experience, with the best materials, to make a dish “taste good;” + and the “taste good” is the indefinable essence, the resulting balance or + harmony which makes man or woman agreeable or beautiful or effective in + the world. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. That must be the reason why novelists fail so lamentably + in almost all cases in creating good characters. They put in real traits, + talents, dispositions, but the result of the synthesis is something that + never was seen on earth before. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, a good character in fiction is an inspiration. We + admit this in poetry. It is as true of such creations as Colonel Newcome, + and Ethel, and Beatrix Esmond. There is no patchwork about them. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Why was n't Thackeray ever inspired to create a noble + woman? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. That is the standing conundrum with all the women. They + will not accept Ethel Newcome even. Perhaps we shall have to admit that + Thackeray was a writer for men. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Scott and the rest had drawn so many perfect women that Thackeray + thought it was time for a real one. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. That's ill-natured. Thackeray did, however, make ladies. If + he had depicted, with his searching pen, any of us just as we are, I doubt + if we should have liked it much. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That's just it. Thackeray never pretended to make ideals, and + if the best novel is an idealization of human nature, then he was not the + best novelist. When I was crossing the Channel— + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Oh dear, if we are to go to sea again, Mandeville, I move we + have in the nuts and apples, and talk about our friends. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + There is this advantage in getting back to a wood-fire on the hearth, that + you return to a kind of simplicity; you can scarcely imagine any one being + stiffly conventional in front of it. It thaws out formality, and puts the + company who sit around it into easy attitudes of mind and body,—lounging + attitudes,—Herbert said. + </p> + <p> + And this brought up the subject of culture in America, especially as to + manner. The backlog period having passed, we are beginning to have in + society people of the cultured manner, as it is called, or polished + bearing, in which the polish is the most noticeable thing about the man. + Not the courtliness, the easy simplicity of the old-school gentleman, in + whose presence the milkmaid was as much at her ease as the countess, but + something far finer than this. These are the people of unruffled demeanor, + who never forget it for a moment, and never let you forget it. Their + presence is a constant rebuke to society. They are never “jolly;” their + laugh is never anything more than a well-bred smile; they are never + betrayed into any enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is a sign of inexperience, of + ignorance, of want of culture. They never lose themselves in any cause; + they never heartily praise any man or woman or book; they are superior to + all tides of feeling and all outbursts of passion. They are not even + shocked at vulgarity. They are simply indifferent. They are calm, visibly + calm, painfully calm; and it is not the eternal, majestic calmness of the + Sphinx either, but a rigid, self-conscious repression. You would like to + put a bent pin in their chair when they are about calmly to sit down. + </p> + <p> + A sitting hen on her nest is calm, but hopeful; she has faith that her + eggs are not china. These people appear to be sitting on china eggs. + Perfect culture has refined all blood, warmth, flavor, out of them. We + admire them without envy. They are too beautiful in their manners to be + either prigs or snobs. They are at once our models and our despair. They + are properly careful of themselves as models, for they know that if they + should break, society would become a scene of mere animal confusion. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I think that the best-bred people in the world are the + English. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. You mean at home. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That's where I saw them. There is no nonsense about a + cultivated English man or woman. They express themselves sturdily and + naturally, and with no subservience to the opinions of others. There's a + sort of hearty sincerity about them that I like. Ages of culture on the + island have gone deeper than the surface, and they have simpler and more + natural manners than we. There is something good in the full, round tones + of their voices. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Did you ever get into a diligence with a growling English-man who + had n't secured the place he wanted? + </p> + <p> + [Mandeville once spent a week in London, riding about on the tops of + omnibuses.] + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Did you ever see an English exquisite at the San Carlo, and + hear him cry “Bwavo”? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. At any rate, he acted out his nature, and was n't afraid to. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I think Mandeville is right, for once. The men of the + best culture in England, in the middle and higher social classes, are what + you would call good fellows,—easy and simple in manner, enthusiastic + on occasion, and decidedly not cultivated into the smooth calmness of + indifference which some Americans seem to regard as the sine qua non of + good breeding. Their position is so assured that they do not need that + lacquer of calmness of which we were speaking. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Which is different from the manner acquired by those who + live a great deal in American hotels? + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Or the Washington manner? + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. The last two are the same. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Not exactly. You think you can always tell if a man has + learned his society carriage of a dancing-master. Well, you cannot always + tell by a person's manner whether he is a habitui of hotels or of + Washington. But these are distinct from the perfect polish and politeness + of indifferentism. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Daylight disenchants. It draws one from the fireside, and dissipates the + idle illusions of conversation, except under certain conditions. Let us + say that the conditions are: a house in the country, with some forest + trees near, and a few evergreens, which are Christmas-trees all winter + long, fringed with snow, glistening with ice-pendants, cheerful by day and + grotesque by night; a snow-storm beginning out of a dark sky, falling in a + soft profusion that fills all the air, its dazzling whiteness making a + light near at hand, which is quite lost in the distant darkling spaces. + </p> + <p> + If one begins to watch the swirling flakes and crystals, he soon gets an + impression of infinity of resources that he can have from nothing else so + powerfully, except it be from Adirondack gnats. Nothing makes one feel at + home like a great snow-storm. Our intelligent cat will quit the fire and + sit for hours in the low window, watching the falling snow with a serious + and contented air. His thoughts are his own, but he is in accord with the + subtlest agencies of Nature; on such a day he is charged with enough + electricity to run a telegraphic battery, if it could be utilized. The + connection between thought and electricity has not been exactly + determined, but the cat is mentally very alert in certain conditions of + the atmosphere. Feasting his eyes on the beautiful out-doors does not + prevent his attention to the slightest noise in the wainscot. And the + snow-storm brings content, but not stupidity, to all the rest of the + household. + </p> + <p> + I can see Mandeville now, rising from his armchair and swinging his long + arms as he strides to the window, and looks out and up, with, “Well, I + declare!” Herbert is pretending to read Herbert Spencer's tract on the + philosophy of style but he loses much time in looking at the Young Lady, + who is writing a letter, holding her portfolio in her lap,—one of + her everlasting letters to one of her fifty everlasting friends. She is + one of the female patriots who save the post-office department from being + a disastrous loss to the treasury. Herbert is thinking of the great + radical difference in the two sexes, which legislation will probably never + change; that leads a woman always, to write letters on her lap and a man + on a table,—a distinction which is commended to the notice of the + anti-suffragists. + </p> + <p> + The Mistress, in a pretty little breakfast-cap, is moving about the room + with a feather-duster, whisking invisible dust from the picture-frames, + and talking with the Parson, who has just come in, and is thawing the snow + from his boots on the hearth. The Parson says the thermometer is 15 deg., + and going down; that there is a snowdrift across the main church entrance + three feet high, and that the house looks as if it had gone into winter + quarters, religion and all. There were only ten persons at the conference + meeting last night, and seven of those were women; he wonders how many + weather-proof Christians there are in the parish, anyhow. + </p> + <p> + The Fire-Tender is in the adjoining library, pretending to write; but it + is a poor day for ideas. He has written his wife's name about eleven + hundred times, and cannot get any farther. He hears the Mistress tell the + Parson that she believes he is trying to write a lecture on the Celtic + Influence in Literature. The Parson says that it is a first-rate subject, + if there were any such influence, and asks why he does n't take a shovel + and make a path to the gate. Mandeville says that, by George! he himself + should like no better fun, but it wouldn't look well for a visitor to do + it. The Fire-Tender, not to be disturbed by this sort of chaff, keeps on + writing his wife's name. + </p> + <p> + Then the Parson and the Mistress fall to talking about the soup-relief, + and about old Mrs. Grumples in Pig Alley, who had a present of one of + Stowe's Illustrated Self-Acting Bibles on Christmas, when she had n't coal + enough in the house to heat her gruel; and about a family behind the + church, a widow and six little children and three dogs; and he did n't + believe that any of them had known what it was to be warm in three weeks, + and as to food, the woman said, she could hardly beg cold victuals enough + to keep the dogs alive. + </p> + <p> + The Mistress slipped out into the kitchen to fill a basket with provisions + and send it somewhere; and when the Fire-Tender brought in a new + forestick, Mandeville, who always wants to talk, and had been sitting + drumming his feet and drawing deep sighs, attacked him. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Speaking about culture and manners, did you ever notice how + extremes meet, and that the savage bears himself very much like the sort + of cultured persons we were talking of last night? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. In what respect? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Well, you take the North American Indian. He is never + interested in anything, never surprised at anything. He has by nature that + calmness and indifference which your people of culture have acquired. If + he should go into literature as a critic, he would scalp and tomahawk with + the same emotionless composure, and he would do nothing else. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Then you think the red man is a born gentleman of the + highest breeding? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I think he is calm. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. How is it about the war-path and all that? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Oh, these studiously calm and cultured people may have malice + underneath. It takes them to give the most effective “little digs;” they + know how to stick in the pine-splinters and set fire to them. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. But there is more in Mandeville's idea. You bring a red man into + a picture-gallery, or a city full of fine architecture, or into a + drawing-room crowded with objects of art and beauty, and he is apparently + insensible to them all. Now I have seen country people,—and by + country people I don't mean people necessarily who live in the country, + for everything is mixed in these days,—some of the best people in + the world, intelligent, honest, sincere, who acted as the Indian would. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Herbert, if I did n't know you were cynical, I should say + you were snobbish. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Such people think it a point of breeding never to speak of + anything in your house, nor to appear to notice it, however beautiful it + may be; even to slyly glance around strains their notion of etiquette. + They are like the countryman who confessed afterwards that he could hardly + keep from laughing at one of Yankee Hill's entertainments. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Do you remember those English people at our house in + Flushing last summer, who pleased us all so much with their apparent + delight in everything that was artistic or tasteful, who explored the + rooms and looked at everything, and were so interested? I suppose that + Herbert's country relations, many of whom live in the city, would have + thought it very ill-bred. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. It's just as I said. The English, the best of them, have + become so civilized that they express themselves, in speech and action, + naturally, and are not afraid of their emotions. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. I wish Mandeville would travel more, or that he had stayed at + home. It's wonderful what a fit of Atlantic sea-sickness will do for a + man's judgment and cultivation. He is prepared to pronounce on art, + manners, all kinds of culture. There is more nonsense talked about culture + than about anything else. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. The Parson reminds me of an American country minister I once met + walking through the Vatican. You could n't impose upon him with any + rubbish; he tested everything by the standards of his native place, and + there was little that could bear the test. He had the sly air of a man who + could not be deceived, and he went about with his mouth in a pucker of + incredulity. There is nothing so placid as rustic conceit. There was + something very enjoyable about his calm superiority to all the treasures + of art. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. And the Parson reminds me of another American minister, a + consul in an Italian city, who said he was going up to Rome to have a + thorough talk with the Pope, and give him a piece of his mind. Ministers + seem to think that is their business. They serve it in such small pieces + in order to make it go round. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Mandeville is an infidel. Come, let's have some music; nothing + else will keep him in good humor till lunch-time. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. What shall it be? + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Give us the larghetto from Beethoven's second symphony. + </p> + <p> + The Young Lady puts aside her portfolio. Herbert looks at the young lady. + The Parson composes himself for critical purposes. Mandeville settles + himself in a chair and stretches his long legs nearly into the fire, + remarking that music takes the tangles out of him. + </p> + <p> + After the piece is finished, lunch is announced. It is still snowing. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0089}.jpg" alt="{0089}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0089}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FOURTH STUDY + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0090}.jpg" alt="{0090}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0090}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + It is difficult to explain the attraction which the uncanny and even the + horrible have for most minds. I have seen a delicate woman half + fascinated, but wholly disgusted, by one of the most unseemly of reptiles, + vulgarly known as the “blowing viper” of the Alleghanies. She would look + at it, and turn away with irresistible shuddering and the utmost loathing, + and yet turn to look at it again and again, only to experience the same + spasm of disgust. In spite of her aversion, she must have relished the + sort of electric mental shock that the sight gave her. + </p> + <p> + I can no more account for the fascination for us of the stories of ghosts + and “appearances,” and those weird tales in which the dead are the chief + characters; nor tell why we should fall into converse about them when the + winter evenings are far spent, the embers are glazing over on the hearth, + and the listener begins to hear the eerie noises in the house. At such + times one's dreams become of importance, and people like to tell them and + dwell upon them, as if they were a link between the known and unknown, and + could give us a clew to that ghostly region which in certain states of the + mind we feel to be more real than that we see. + </p> + <p> + Recently, when we were, so to say, sitting around the borders of the + supernatural late at night, MANDEVILLE related a dream of his which he + assured us was true in every particular, and it interested us so much that + we asked him to write it out. In doing so he has curtailed it, and to my + mind shorn it of some of its more vivid and picturesque features. He might + have worked it up with more art, and given it a finish which the narration + now lacks, but I think best to insert it in its simplicity. It seems to me + that it may properly be called, + </p> + <h3> + A NEW “VISION OF SIN” + </h3> + <p> + In the winter of 1850 I was a member of one of the leading colleges of + this country. I was in moderate circumstances pecuniarily, though I was + perhaps better furnished with less fleeting riches than many others. I was + an incessant and indiscriminate reader of books. For the solid sciences I + had no particular fancy, but with mental modes and habits, and especially + with the eccentric and fantastic in the intellectual and spiritual + operations, I was tolerably familiar. All the literature of the + supernatural was as real to me as the laboratory of the chemist, where I + saw the continual struggle of material substances to evolve themselves + into more volatile, less palpable and coarse forms. My imagination, + naturally vivid, stimulated by such repasts, nearly mastered me. At times + I could scarcely tell where the material ceased and the immaterial began + (if I may so express it); so that once and again I walked, as it seemed, + from the solid earth onward upon an impalpable plain, where I heard the + same voices, I think, that Joan of Arc heard call to her in the garden at + Domremy. She was inspired, however, while I only lacked exercise. I do not + mean this in any literal sense; I only describe a state of mind. I was at + this time of spare habit, and nervous, excitable temperament. I was + ambitious, proud, and extremely sensitive. I cannot deny that I had seen + something of the world, and had contracted about the average bad habits of + young men who have the sole care of themselves, and rather bungle the + matter. It is necessary to this relation to admit that I had seen a trifle + more of what is called life than a young man ought to see, but at this + period I was not only sick of my experience, but my habits were as correct + as those of any Pharisee in our college, and we had some very favorable + specimens of that ancient sect. + </p> + <p> + Nor can I deny that at this period of my life I was in a peculiar mental + condition. I well remember an illustration of it. I sat writing late one + night, copying a prize essay,—a merely manual task, leaving my + thoughts free. It was in June, a sultry night, and about midnight a wind + arose, pouring in through the open windows, full of mournful reminiscence, + not of this, but of other summers,—the same wind that De Quincey + heard at noonday in midsummer blowing through the room where he stood, a + mere boy, by the side of his dead sister,—a wind centuries old. As I + wrote on mechanically, I became conscious of a presence in the room, + though I did not lift my eyes from the paper on which I wrote. Gradually I + came to know that my grandmother—dead so long ago that I laughed at + the idea—was in the room. She stood beside her old-fashioned + spinning-wheel, and quite near me. She wore a plain muslin cap with a high + puff in the crown, a short woolen gown, a white and blue checked apron, + and shoes with heels. She did not regard me, but stood facing the wheel, + with the left hand near the spindle, holding lightly between the thumb and + forefinger the white roll of wool which was being spun and twisted on it. + In her right hand she held a small stick. I heard the sharp click of this + against the spokes of the wheel, then the hum of the wheel, the buzz of + the spindles as the twisting yarn was teased by the whirl of its point, + then a step backwards, a pause, a step forward and the running of the yarn + upon the spindle, and again a backward step, the drawing out of the roll + and the droning and hum of the wheel, most mournfully hopeless sound that + ever fell on mortal ear. Since childhood it has haunted me. All this time + I wrote, and I could hear distinctly the scratching of the pen upon the + paper. But she stood behind me (why I did not turn my head I never knew), + pacing backward and forward by the spinning-wheel, just as I had a hundred + times seen her in childhood in the old kitchen on drowsy summer + afternoons. And I heard the step, the buzz and whirl of the spindle, and + the monotonous and dreary hum of the mournful wheel. Whether her face was + ashy pale and looked as if it might crumble at the touch, and the border + of her white cap trembled in the June wind that blew, I cannot say, for I + tell you I did NOT see her. But I know she was there, spinning yarn that + had been knit into hose years and years ago by our fireside. For I was in + full possession of my faculties, and never copied more neatly and legibly + any manuscript than I did the one that night. And there the phantom (I use + the word out of deference to a public prejudice on this subject) most + persistently remained until my task was finished, and, closing the + portfolio, I abruptly rose. Did I see anything? That is a silly and + ignorant question. Could I see the wind which had now risen stronger, and + drove a few cloud-scuds across the sky, filling the night, somehow, with a + longing that was not altogether born of reminiscence? + </p> + <p> + In the winter following, in January, I made an effort to give up the use + of tobacco,—a habit in which I was confirmed, and of which I have + nothing more to say than this: that I should attribute to it almost all + the sin and misery in the world, did I not remember that the old Romans + attained a very considerable state of corruption without the assistance of + the Virginia plant. + </p> + <p> + On the night of the third day of my abstinence, rendered more nervous and + excitable than usual by the privation, I retired late, and later still I + fell into an uneasy sleep, and thus into a dream, vivid, illuminated, more + real than any event of my life. I was at home, and fell sick. The illness + developed into a fever, and then a delirium set in, not an intellectual + blank, but a misty and most delicious wandering in places of incomparable + beauty. I learned subsequently that our regular physician was not certain + to finish me, when a consultation was called, which did the business. I + have the satisfaction of knowing that they were of the proper school. I + lay sick for three days. + </p> + <p> + On the morning of the fourth, at sunrise, I died. The sensation was not + unpleasant. It was not a sudden shock. I passed out of my body as one + would walk from the door of his house. There the body lay,—a blank, + so far as I was concerned, and only interesting to me as I was rather + entertained with watching the respect paid to it. My friends stood about + the bedside, regarding me (as they seemed to suppose), while I, in a + different part of the room, could hardly repress a smile at their mistake, + solemnized as they were, and I too, for that matter, by my recent demise. + A sensation (the word you see is material and inappropriate) of + etherealization and imponderability pervaded me, and I was not sorry to + get rid of such a dull, slow mass as I now perceived myself to be, lying + there on the bed. When I speak of my death, let me be understood to say + that there was no change, except that I passed out of my body and floated + to the top of a bookcase in the corner of the room, from which I looked + down. For a moment I was interested to see my person from the outside, but + thereafter I was quite indifferent to the body. I was now simply soul. I + seemed to be a globe, impalpable, transparent, about six inches in + diameter. I saw and heard everything as before. Of course, matter was no + obstacle to me, and I went easily and quickly wherever I willed to go. + There was none of that tedious process of communicating my wishes to the + nerves, and from them to the muscles. I simply resolved to be at a + particular place, and I was there. It was better than the telegraph. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to have been intimated to me at my death (birth I half incline + to call it) that I could remain on this earth for four weeks after my + decease, during which time I could amuse myself as I chose. + </p> + <p> + I chose, in the first place, to see myself decently buried, to stay by + myself to the last, and attend my own funeral for once. As most of those + referred to in this true narrative are still living, I am forbidden to + indulge in personalities, nor shall I dare to say exactly how my death + affected my friends, even the home circle. Whatever others did, I sat up + with myself and kept awake. I saw the “pennies” used instead of the + “quarters” which I should have preferred. I saw myself “laid out,” a + phrase that has come to have such a slang meaning that I smile as I write + it. When the body was put into the coffin, I took my place on the lid. + </p> + <p> + I cannot recall all the details, and they are commonplace besides. The + funeral took place at the church. We all rode thither in carriages, and I, + not fancying my place in mine, rode on the outside with the undertaker, + whom I found to be a good deal more jolly than he looked to be. The coffin + was placed in front of the pulpit when we arrived. I took my station on + the pulpit cushion, from which elevation I had an admirable view of all + the ceremonies, and could hear the sermon. How distinctly I remember the + services. I think I could even at this distance write out the sermon. The + tune sung was of—the usual country selection,—Mount Vernon. I + recall the text. I was rather flattered by the tribute paid to me, and my + future was spoken of gravely and as kindly as possible,—indeed, with + remarkable charity, considering that the minister was not aware of my + presence. I used to beat him at chess, and I thought, even then, of the + last game; for, however solemn the occasion might be to others, it was not + so to me. With what interest I watched my kinsfolks, and neighbors as they + filed past for the last look! I saw, and I remember, who pulled a long + face for the occasion and who exhibited genuine sadness. I learned with + the most dreadful certainty what people really thought of me. It was a + revelation never forgotten. + </p> + <p> + Several particular acquaintances of mine were talking on the steps as we + passed out. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old Starr's gone up. Sudden, was n't it? He was a first-rate + fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, queer about some things; but he had some mighty good streaks,” said + another. And so they ran on. + </p> + <p> + Streaks! So that is the reputation one gets during twenty years of life in + this world. Streaks! + </p> + <p> + After the funeral I rode home with the family. It was pleasanter than the + ride down, though it seemed sad to my relations. They did not mention me, + however, and I may remark, that although I stayed about home for a week, I + never heard my name mentioned by any of the family. Arrived at home, the + tea-kettle was put on and supper got ready. This seemed to lift the gloom + a little, and under the influence of the tea they brightened up and + gradually got more cheerful. They discussed the sermon and the singing, + and the mistake of the sexton in digging the grave in the wrong place, and + the large congregation. From the mantel-piece I watched the group. They + had waffles for supper,—of which I had been exceedingly fond, but + now I saw them disappear without a sigh. + </p> + <p> + For the first day or two of my sojourn at home I was here and there at all + the neighbors, and heard a good deal about my life and character, some of + which was not very pleasant, but very wholesome, doubtless, for me to + hear. At the expiration of a week this amusement ceased to be such for I + ceased to be talked of. I realized the fact that I was dead and gone. + </p> + <p> + By an act of volition I found myself back at college. I floated into my + own room, which was empty. I went to the room of my two warmest friends, + whose friendship I was and am yet assured of. As usual, half a dozen of + our set were lounging there. A game of whist was just commencing. I + perched on a bust of Dante on the top of the book-shelves, where I could + see two of the hands and give a good guess at a third. My particular + friend Timmins was just shuffling the cards. + </p> + <p> + “Be hanged if it is n't lonesome without old Starr. Did you cut? I should + like to see him lounge in now with his pipe, and with feet on the + mantel-piece proceed to expound on the duplex functions of the soul.” + </p> + <p> + “There—misdeal,” said his vis-a-vis. “Hope there's been no misdeal + for old Starr.” + </p> + <p> + “Spades, did you say?” the talk ran on, “never knew Starr was sickly.” + </p> + <p> + “No more was he; stouter than you are, and as brave and plucky as he was + strong. By George, fellows,—how we do get cut down! Last term little + Stubbs, and now one of the best fellows in the class.” + </p> + <p> + “How suddenly he did pop off,—one for game, honors easy,—he + was good for the Spouts' Medal this year, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Remember the joke he played on Prof. A., freshman year?” asked another. + </p> + <p> + “Remember he borrowed ten dollars of me about that time,” said Timmins's + partner, gathering the cards for a new deal. + </p> + <p> + “Guess he is the only one who ever did,” retorted some one. + </p> + <p> + And so the talk went on, mingled with whist-talk, reminiscent of me, not + all exactly what I would have chosen to go into my biography, but on the + whole kind and tender, after the fashion of the boys. At least I was in + their thoughts, and I could see was a good deal regretted,—so I + passed a very pleasant evening. Most of those present were of my society, + and wore crape on their badges, and all wore the usual crape on the left + arm. I learned that the following afternoon a eulogy would be delivered on + me in the chapel. + </p> + <p> + The eulogy was delivered before members of our society and others, the + next afternoon, in the chapel. I need not say that I was present. Indeed, + I was perched on the desk within reach of the speaker's hand. The + apotheosis was pronounced by my most intimate friend, Timmins, and I must + say he did me ample justice. He never was accustomed to “draw it very + mild” (to use a vulgarism which I dislike) when he had his head, and on + this occasion he entered into the matter with the zeal of a true friend, + and a young man who never expected to have another occasion to sing a + public “In Memoriam.” It made my hair stand on end,—metaphorically, + of course. From my childhood I had been extremely precocious. There were + anecdotes of preternatural brightness, picked up, Heaven knows where, of + my eagerness to learn, of my adventurous, chivalrous young soul, and of my + arduous struggles with chill penury, which was not able (as it appeared) + to repress my rage, until I entered this institution, of which I had been + ornament, pride, cynosure, and fair promising bud blasted while yet its + fragrance was mingled with the dew of its youth. Once launched upon my + college days, Timmins went on with all sails spread. I had, as it were, to + hold on to the pulpit cushion. Latin, Greek, the old literatures, I was + perfect master of; all history was merely a light repast to me; + mathematics I glanced at, and it disappeared; in the clouds of modern + philosophy I was wrapped but not obscured; over the field of light + literature I familiarly roamed as the honey-bee over the wide fields of + clover which blossom white in the Junes of this world! My life was pure, + my character spotless, my name was inscribed among the names of those + deathless few who were not born to die! + </p> + <p> + It was a noble eulogy, and I felt before he finished, though I had + misgivings at the beginning, that I deserved it all. The effect on the + audience was a little different. They said it was a “strong” oration, and + I think Timmins got more credit by it than I did. After the performance + they stood about the chapel, talking in a subdued tone, and seemed to be a + good deal impressed by what they had heard, or perhaps by thoughts of the + departed. At least they all soon went over to Austin's and called for + beer. My particular friends called for it twice. Then they all lit pipes. + The old grocery keeper was good enough to say that I was no fool, if I did + go off owing him four dollars. To the credit of human nature, let me here + record that the fellows were touched by this remark reflecting upon my + memory, and immediately made up a purse and paid the bill,—that is, + they told the old man to charge it over to them. College boys are rich in + credit and the possibilities of life. + </p> + <p> + It is needless to dwell upon the days I passed at college during this + probation. So far as I could see, everything went on as if I were there, + or had never been there. I could not even see the place where I had + dropped out of the ranks. Occasionally I heard my name, but I must say + that four weeks was quite long enough to stay in a world that had pretty + much forgotten me. There is no great satisfaction in being dragged up to + light now and then, like an old letter. The case was somewhat different + with the people with whom I had boarded. They were relations of mine, and + I often saw them weep, and they talked of me a good deal at twilight and + Sunday nights, especially the youngest one, Carrie, who was handsomer than + any one I knew, and not much older than I. I never used to imagine that + she cared particularly for me, nor would she have done so, if I had lived, + but death brought with it a sort of sentimental regret, which, with the + help of a daguerreotype, she nursed into quite a little passion. I spent + most of my time there, for it was more congenial than the college. + </p> + <p> + But time hastened. The last sand of probation leaked out of the glass. One + day, while Carrie played (for me, though she knew it not) one of + Mendelssohn's “songs without words,” I suddenly, yet gently, without + self-effort or volition, moved from the house, floated in the air, rose + higher, higher, by an easy, delicious, exultant, yet inconceivably rapid + motion. The ecstasy of that triumphant flight! Groves, trees, houses, the + landscape, dimmed, faded, fled away beneath me. Upward mounting, as on + angels' wings, with no effort, till the earth hung beneath me a round + black ball swinging, remote, in the universal ether. Upward mounting, till + the earth, no longer bathed in the sun's rays, went out to my sight, + disappeared in the blank. Constellations, before seen from afar, I sailed + among stars, too remote for shining on earth, I neared, and found to be + round globes flying through space with a velocity only equaled by my own. + New worlds continually opened on my sight; newfields of everlasting space + opened and closed behind me. + </p> + <p> + For days and days—it seemed a mortal forever—I mounted up the + great heavens, whose everlasting doors swung wide. How the worlds and + systems, stars, constellations, neared me, blazed and flashed in splendor, + and fled away! At length,—was it not a thousand years?—I saw + before me, yet afar off, a wall, the rocky bourn of that country whence + travelers come not back, a battlement wider than I could guess, the height + of which I could not see, the depth of which was infinite. As I + approached, it shone with a splendor never yet beheld on earth. Its solid + substance was built of jewels the rarest, and stones of priceless value. + It seemed like one solid stone, and yet all the colors of the rainbow were + contained in it. The ruby, the diamond, the emerald, the carbuncle, the + topaz, the amethyst, the sapphire; of them the wall was built up in + harmonious combination. So brilliant was it that all the space I floated + in was full of the splendor. So mild was it and so translucent, that I + could look for miles into its clear depths. + </p> + <p> + Rapidly nearing this heavenly battlement, an immense niche was disclosed + in its solid face. The floor was one large ruby. Its sloping sides were of + pearl. Before I was aware I stood within the brilliant recess. I say I + stood there, for I was there bodily, in my habit as I lived; how, I cannot + explain. Was it the resurrection of the body? Before me rose, a thousand + feet in height, a wonderful gate of flashing diamond. Beside it sat a + venerable man, with long white beard, a robe of light gray, ancient + sandals, and a golden key hanging by a cord from his waist. In the serene + beauty of his noble features I saw justice and mercy had met and were + reconciled. I cannot describe the majesty of his bearing or the benignity + of his appearance. It is needless to say that I stood before St. Peter, + who sits at the Celestial Gate. + </p> + <p> + I humbly approached, and begged admission. St. Peter arose, and regarded + me kindly, yet inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” asked he, “and from what place do you come?” + </p> + <p> + I answered, and, wishing to give a name well known, said I was from + Washington, United States. He looked doubtful, as if he had never heard + the name before. + </p> + <p> + “Give me,” said he, “a full account of your whole life.” + </p> + <p> + I felt instantaneously that there was no concealment possible; all + disguise fell away, and an unknown power forced me to speak absolute and + exact truth. I detailed the events of my life as well as I could, and the + good man was not a little affected by the recital of my early trials, + poverty, and temptation. It did not seem a very good life when spread out + in that presence, and I trembled as I proceeded; but I plead youth, + inexperience, and bad examples. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been accustomed,” he said, after a time, rather sadly, “to break + the Sabbath?” + </p> + <p> + I told him frankly that I had been rather lax in that matter, especially + at college. I often went to sleep in the chapel on Sunday, when I was not + reading some entertaining book. He then asked who the preacher was, and + when I told him, he remarked that I was not so much to blame as he had + supposed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you,” he went on, “ever stolen, or told any lie?” + </p> + <p> + I was able to say no, except admitting as to the first, usual college + “conveyances,” and as to the last, an occasional “blinder” to the + professors. He was gracious enough to say that these could be overlooked + as incident to the occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever been dissipated, living riotously and keeping late hours?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + This also could be forgiven me as an incident of youth. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever,” he went on, “commit the crime of using intoxicating drinks + as a beverage?” + </p> + <p> + I answered that I had never been a habitual drinker, that I had never been + what was called a “moderate drinker,” that I had never gone to a bar and + drank alone; but that I had been accustomed, in company with other young + men, on convivial occasions to taste the pleasures of the flowing bowl, + sometimes to excess, but that I had also tasted the pains of it, and for + months before my demise had refrained from liquor altogether. The holy man + looked grave, but, after reflection, said this might also be overlooked in + a young man. + </p> + <p> + “What,” continued he, in tones still more serious, “has been your conduct + with regard to the other sex?” + </p> + <p> + I fell upon my knees in a tremor of fear. I pulled from my bosom a little + book like the one Leperello exhibits in the opera of “Don Giovanni.” + There, I said, was a record of my flirtation and inconstancy. I waited + long for the decision, but it came in mercy. + </p> + <p> + “Rise,” he cried; “young men will be young men, I suppose. We shall + forgive this also to your youth and penitence.” + </p> + <p> + “Your examination is satisfactory, he informed me,” after a pause; “you + can now enter the abodes of the happy.” + </p> + <p> + Joy leaped within me. We approached the gate. The key turned in the lock. + The gate swung noiselessly on its hinges a little open. Out flashed upon + me unknown splendors. What I saw in that momentary gleam I shall never + whisper in mortal ears. I stood upon the threshold, just about to enter. + </p> + <p> + “Stop! one moment,” exclaimed St. Peter, laying his hand on my shoulder; + “I have one more question to ask you.” + </p> + <p> + I turned toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Young man, did you ever use tobacco?” + </p> + <p> + “I both smoked and chewed in my lifetime,” I faltered, “but...” + </p> + <p> + “THEN TO HELL WITH YOU!” he shouted in a voice of thunder. + </p> + <p> + Instantly the gate closed without noise, and I was flung, hurled, from the + battlement, down! down! down! Faster and faster I sank in a dizzy, + sickening whirl into an unfathomable space of gloom. The light faded. + Dampness and darkness were round about me. As before, for days and days I + rose exultant in the light, so now forever I sank into thickening + darkness,—and yet not darkness, but a pale, ashy light more fearful. + </p> + <p> + In the dimness, I at length discovered a wall before me. It ran up and + down and on either hand endlessly into the night. It was solid, black, + terrible in its frowning massiveness. + </p> + <p> + Straightway I alighted at the gate,—a dismal crevice hewn into the + dripping rock. The gate was wide open, and there sat-I knew him at once; + who does not?—the Arch Enemy of mankind. He cocked his eye at me in + an impudent, low, familiar manner that disgusted me. I saw that I was not + to be treated like a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Well, young man,” said he, rising, with a queer grin on his face, “what + are you sent here for?” + </p> + <p> + “For using tobacco,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Ho!” shouted he in a jolly manner, peculiar to devils, “that's what most + of 'em are sent here for now.” + </p> + <p> + Without more ado, he called four lesser imps, who ushered me within. What + a dreadful plain lay before me! There was a vast city laid out in regular + streets, but there were no houses. Along the streets were places of + torment and torture exceedingly ingenious and disagreeable. For miles and + miles, it seemed, I followed my conductors through these horrors, Here was + a deep vat of burning tar. Here were rows of fiery ovens. I noticed + several immense caldron kettles of boiling oil, upon the rims of which + little devils sat, with pitchforks in hand, and poked down the helpless + victims who floundered in the liquid. But I forbear to go into unseemly + details. The whole scene is as vivid in my mind as any earthly landscape. + </p> + <p> + After an hour's walk my tormentors halted before the mouth of an oven,—a + furnace heated seven times, and now roaring with flames. They grasped me, + one hold of each hand and foot. Standing before the blazing mouth, they, + with a swing, and a “one, two, THREE....” + </p> + <p> + I again assure the reader that in this narrative I have set down nothing + that was not actually dreamed, and much, very much of this wonderful + vision I have been obliged to omit. + </p> + <p> + Haec fabula docet: It is dangerous for a young man to leave off the use of + tobacco. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0116}.jpg" alt="{0116}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0116}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + FIFTH STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0117}.jpg" alt="{0117}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0117}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + I wish I could fitly celebrate the joyousness of the New England winter. + Perhaps I could if I more thoroughly believed in it. But skepticism comes + in with the south wind. When that begins to blow, one feels the + foundations of his belief breaking up. This is only another way of saying + that it is more difficult, if it be not impossible, to freeze out + orthodoxy, or any fixed notion, than it is to thaw it out; though it is a + mere fancy to suppose that this is the reason why the martyrs, of all + creeds, were burned at the stake. There is said to be a great relaxation + in New England of the ancient strictness in the direction of toleration of + opinion, called by some a lowering of the standard, and by others a + raising of the banner of liberality; it might be an interesting inquiry + how much this change is due to another change,—the softening of the + New England winter and the shifting of the Gulf Stream. It is the fashion + nowadays to refer almost everything to physical causes, and this hint is a + gratuitous contribution to the science of metaphysical physics. + </p> + <p> + The hindrance to entering fully into the joyousness of a New England + winter, except far inland among the mountains, is the south wind. It is a + grateful wind, and has done more, I suspect, to demoralize society than + any other. It is not necessary to remember that it filled the silken sails + of Cleopatra's galley. It blows over New England every few days, and is in + some portions of it the prevailing wind. That it brings the soft clouds, + and sometimes continues long enough to almost deceive the expectant buds + of the fruit trees, and to tempt the robin from the secluded evergreen + copses, may be nothing; but it takes the tone out of the mind, and + engenders discontent, making one long for the tropics; it feeds the + weakened imagination on palm-leaves and the lotus. Before we know it we + become demoralized, and shrink from the tonic of the sudden change to + sharp weather, as the steamed hydropathic patient does from the plunge. It + is the insidious temptation that assails us when we are braced up to + profit by the invigorating rigor of winter. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the influence of the four great winds on character is only a + fancied one; but it is evident on temperament, which is not altogether a + matter of temperature, although the good old deacon used to say, in his + humble, simple way, that his third wife was a very good woman, but her + “temperature was very different from that of the other two.” The north + wind is full of courage, and puts the stamina of endurance into a man, and + it probably would into a woman too if there were a series of resolutions + passed to that effect. The west wind is hopeful; it has promise and + adventure in it, and is, except to Atlantic voyagers America-bound, the + best wind that ever blew. The east wind is peevishness; it is mental + rheumatism and grumbling, and curls one up in the chimney-corner like a + cat. And if the chimney ever smokes, it smokes when the wind sits in that + quarter. The south wind is full of longing and unrest, of effeminate + suggestions of luxurious ease, and perhaps we might say of modern poetry,—at + any rate, modern poetry needs a change of air. I am not sure but the south + is the most powerful of the winds, because of its sweet persuasiveness. + Nothing so stirs the blood in spring, when it comes up out of the tropical + latitude; it makes men “longen to gon on pilgrimages.” + </p> + <p> + I did intend to insert here a little poem (as it is quite proper to do in + an essay) on the south wind, composed by the Young Lady Staying With Us, + beginning,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Out of a drifting southern cloud + My soul heard the night-bird cry,” + </pre> + <p> + but it never got any farther than this. The Young Lady said it was + exceedingly difficult to write the next two lines, because not only rhyme + but meaning had to be procured. And this is true; anybody can write first + lines, and that is probably the reason we have so many poems which seem to + have been begun in just this way, that is, with a south-wind-longing + without any thought in it, and it is very fortunate when there is not wind + enough to finish them. This emotional poem, if I may so call it, was begun + after Herbert went away. I liked it, and thought it was what is called + “suggestive;” although I did not understand it, especially what the + night-bird was; and I am afraid I hurt the Young Lady's feelings by asking + her if she meant Herbert by the “night-bird,”—a very absurd + suggestion about two unsentimental people. She said, “Nonsense;” but she + afterwards told the Mistress that there were emotions that one could never + put into words without the danger of being ridiculous; a profound truth. + And yet I should not like to say that there is not a tender lonesomeness + in love that can get comfort out of a night-bird in a cloud, if there be + such a thing. Analysis is the death of sentiment. + </p> + <p> + But to return to the winds. Certain people impress us as the winds do. + Mandeville never comes in that I do not feel a north-wind vigor and + healthfulness in his cordial, sincere, hearty manner, and in his wholesome + way of looking at things. The Parson, you would say, was the east wind, + and only his intimates know that his peevishness is only a querulous + humor. In the fair west wind I know the Mistress herself, full of hope, + and always the first one to discover a bit of blue in a cloudy sky. It + would not be just to apply what I have said of the south wind to any of + our visitors, but it did blow a little while Herbert was here. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + In point of pure enjoyment, with an intellectual sparkle in it, I suppose + that no luxurious lounging on tropical isles set in tropical seas compares + with the positive happiness one may have before a great woodfire (not two + sticks laid crossways in a grate), with a veritable New England winter + raging outside. In order to get the highest enjoyment, the faculties must + be alert, and not be lulled into a mere recipient dullness. There are + those who prefer a warm bath to a brisk walk in the inspiring air, where + ten thousand keen influences minister to the sense of beauty and run along + the excited nerves. There are, for instance, a sharpness of horizon + outline and a delicacy of color on distant hills which are wanting in + summer, and which convey to one rightly organized the keenest delight, and + a refinement of enjoyment that is scarcely sensuous, not at all + sentimental, and almost passing the intellectual line into the spiritual. + </p> + <p> + I was speaking to Mandeville about this, and he said that I was drawing it + altogether too fine; that he experienced sensations of pleasure in being + out in almost all weathers; that he rather liked to breast a north wind, + and that there was a certain inspiration in sharp outlines and in a + landscape in trim winter-quarters, with stripped trees, and, as it were, + scudding through the season under bare poles; but that he must say that he + preferred the weather in which he could sit on the fence by the wood-lot, + with the spring sun on his back, and hear the stir of the leaves and the + birds beginning their housekeeping. + </p> + <p> + A very pretty idea for Mandeville; and I fear he is getting to have + private thoughts about the Young Lady. Mandeville naturally likes the + robustness and sparkle of winter, and it has been a little suspicious to + hear him express the hope that we shall have an early spring. + </p> + <p> + I wonder how many people there are in New England who know the glory and + inspiration of a winter walk just before sunset, and that, too, not only + on days of clear sky, when the west is aflame with a rosy color, which has + no suggestion of languor or unsatisfied longing in it, but on dull days, + when the sullen clouds hang about the horizon, full of threats of storm + and the terrors of the gathering night. We are very busy with our own + affairs, but there is always something going on out-doors worth looking + at; and there is seldom an hour before sunset that has not some special + attraction. And, besides, it puts one in the mood for the cheer and + comfort of the open fire at home. + </p> + <p> + Probably if the people of New England could have a plebiscitum on their + weather, they would vote against it, especially against winter. Almost no + one speaks well of winter. And this suggests the idea that most people + here were either born in the wrong place, or do not know what is best for + them. I doubt if these grumblers would be any better satisfied, or would + turn out as well, in the tropics. Everybody knows our virtues,—at + least if they believe half we tell them,—and for delicate beauty, + that rare plant, I should look among the girls of the New England hills as + confidently as anywhere, and I have traveled as far south as New Jersey, + and west of the Genesee Valley. Indeed, it would be easy to show that the + parents of the pretty girls in the West emigrated from New England. And + yet—such is the mystery of Providence—no one would expect that + one of the sweetest and most delicate flowers that blooms, the trailing + arbutus, would blossom in this inhospitable climate, and peep forth from + the edge of a snowbank at that. + </p> + <p> + It seems unaccountable to a superficial observer that the thousands of + people who are dissatisfied with their climate do not seek a more + congenial one—or stop grumbling. The world is so small, and all + parts of it are so accessible, it has so many varieties of climate, that + one could surely suit himself by searching; and, then, is it worth while + to waste our one short life in the midst of unpleasant surroundings and in + a constant friction with that which is disagreeable? One would suppose + that people set down on this little globe would seek places on it most + agreeable to themselves. It must be that they are much more content with + the climate and country upon which they happen, by the accident of their + birth, than they pretend to be. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Home sympathies and charities are most active in the winter. Coming in + from my late walk,—in fact driven in by a hurrying north wind that + would brook no delay,—a wind that brought snow that did not seem to + fall out of a bounteous sky, but to be blown from polar fields,—I + find the Mistress returned from town, all in a glow of philanthropic + excitement. + </p> + <p> + There has been a meeting of a woman's association for Ameliorating the + Condition of somebody here at home. Any one can belong to it by paying a + dollar, and for twenty dollars one can become a life Ameliorator,—a + sort of life assurance. The Mistress, at the meeting, I believe, “seconded + the motion” several times, and is one of the Vice-Presidents; and this + family honor makes me feel almost as if I were a president of something + myself. These little distinctions are among the sweetest things in life, + and to see one's name officially printed stimulates his charity, and is + almost as satisfactory as being the chairman of a committee or the mover + of a resolution. It is, I think, fortunate, and not at all discreditable, + that our little vanity, which is reckoned among our weaknesses, is thus + made to contribute to the activity of our nobler powers. Whatever we may + say, we all of us like distinction; and probably there is no more subtle + flattery than that conveyed in the whisper, “That's he,” “That's she.” + </p> + <p> + There used to be a society for ameliorating the condition of the Jews; but + they were found to be so much more adept than other people in ameliorating + their own condition that I suppose it was given up. Mandeville says that + to his knowledge there are a great many people who get up ameliorating + enterprises merely to be conspicuously busy in society, or to earn a + little something in a good cause. They seem to think that the world owes + them a living because they are philanthropists. In this Mandeville does + not speak with his usual charity. It is evident that there are Jews, and + some Gentiles, whose condition needs ameliorating, and if very little is + really accomplished in the effort for them, it always remains true that + the charitable reap a benefit to themselves. It is one of the beautiful + compensations of this life that no one can sincerely try to help another + without helping himself. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR. Why is it that almost all philanthropists and + reformers are disagreeable? + </p> + <p> + I ought to explain who our next-door neighbor is. He is the person who + comes in without knocking, drops in in the most natural way, as his wife + does also, and not seldom in time to take the after-dinner cup of tea + before the fire. Formal society begins as soon as you lock your doors, and + only admit visitors through the media of bells and servants. It is lucky + for us that our next-door neighbor is honest. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Why do you class reformers and philanthropists together? Those + usually called reformers are not philanthropists at all. They are + agitators. Finding the world disagreeable to themselves, they wish to make + it as unpleasant to others as possible. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That's a noble view of your fellow-men. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Well, granting the distinction, why are both apt to be + unpleasant people to live with? + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. As if the unpleasant people who won't mind their own business + were confined to the classes you mention! Some of the best people I know + are philanthropists,—I mean the genuine ones, and not the uneasy + busybodies seeking notoriety as a means of living. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. It is not altogether the not minding their own business. + Nobody does that. The usual explanation is, that people with one idea are + tedious. But that is not all of it. For few persons have more than one + idea,—ministers, doctors, lawyers, teachers, manufacturers, + merchants,—they all think the world they live in is the central one. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. And you might add authors. To them nearly all the life of the + world is in letters, and I suppose they would be astonished if they knew + how little the thoughts of the majority of people are occupied with books, + and with all that vast thought circulation which is the vital current of + the world to book-men. Newspapers have reached their present power by + becoming unliterary, and reflecting all the interests of the world. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I have noticed one thing, that the most popular persons in + society are those who take the world as it is, find the least fault, and + have no hobbies. They are always wanted to dinner. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. And the other kind always appear to me to want a dinner. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. It seems to me that the real reason why reformers and + some philanthropists are unpopular is, that they disturb our serenity and + make us conscious of our own shortcomings. It is only now and then that a + whole people get a spasm of reformatory fervor, of investigation and + regeneration. At other times they rather hate those who disturb their + quiet. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Professional reformers and philanthropists are insufferably + conceited and intolerant. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Everything depends upon the spirit in which a reform or a + scheme of philanthropy is conducted. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I attended a protracted convention of reformers of a certain + evil, once, and had the pleasure of taking dinner with a tableful of them. + It was one of those country dinners accompanied with green tea. Every one + disagreed with every one else, and you would n't wonder at it, if you had + seen them. They were people with whom good food wouldn't agree. George + Thompson was expected at the convention, and I remember that there was + almost a cordiality in the talk about him, until one sallow brother + casually mentioned that George took snuff,—when a chorus of + deprecatory groans went up from the table. One long-faced maiden in + spectacles, with purple ribbons in her hair, who drank five cups of tea by + my count, declared that she was perfectly disgusted, and did n't want to + hear him speak. In the course of the meal the talk ran upon the discipline + of children, and how to administer punishment. I was quite taken by the + remark of a thin, dyspeptic man who summed up the matter by growling out + in a harsh, deep bass voice, “Punish 'em in love!” It sounded as if he had + said, “Shoot 'em on the spot!” + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. I supposed you would say that he was a minister. There is + another thing about those people. I think they are working against the + course of nature. Nature is entirely indifferent to any reform. She + perpetuates a fault as persistently as a virtue. There's a split in my + thumb-nail that has been scrupulously continued for many years, not + withstanding all my efforts to make the nail resume its old regularity. + You see the same thing in trees whose bark is cut, and in melons that have + had only one summer's intimacy with squashes. The bad traits in character + are passed down from generation to generation with as much care as the + good ones. Nature, unaided, never reforms anything. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Is that the essence of Calvinism? + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Calvinism has n't any essence, it's a fact. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. When I was a boy, I always associated Calvinism and calomel + together. I thought that homeopathy—similia, etc.—had done + away with both of them. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR (rising). If you are going into theology, I'm off.. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + I fear we are not getting on much with the joyousness of winter. In order + to be exhilarating it must be real winter. I have noticed that the lower + the thermometer sinks the more fiercely the north wind rages, and the + deeper the snow is, the higher rise the spirits of the community. The + activity of the “elements” has a great effect upon country folk + especially; and it is a more wholesome excitement than that caused by a + great conflagration. The abatement of a snow-storm that grows to + exceptional magnitude is regretted, for there is always the half-hope that + this will be, since it has gone so far, the largest fall of snow ever + known in the region, burying out of sight the great fall of 1808, the + account of which is circumstantially and aggravatingly thrown in our way + annually upon the least provocation. We all know how it reads: “Some said + it began at daylight, others that it set in after sunrise; but all agree + that by eight o'clock Friday morning it was snowing in heavy masses that + darkened the air.” + </p> + <p> + The morning after we settled the five—or is it seven?—points + of Calvinism, there began a very hopeful snow-storm, one of those + wide-sweeping, careering storms that may not much affect the city, but + which strongly impress the country imagination with a sense of the + personal qualities of the weather,—power, persistency, fierceness, + and roaring exultation. Out-doors was terrible to those who looked out of + windows, and heard the raging wind, and saw the commotion in all the high + tree-tops and the writhing of the low evergreens, and could not summon + resolution to go forth and breast and conquer the bluster. The sky was + dark with snow, which was not permitted to fall peacefully like a blessed + mantle, as it sometimes does, but was blown and rent and tossed like the + split canvas of a ship in a gale. The world was taken possession of by the + demons of the air, who had their will of it. There is a sort of + fascination in such a scene, equal to that of a tempest at sea, and + without its attendant haunting sense of peril; there is no fear that the + house will founder or dash against your neighbor's cottage, which is dimly + seen anchored across the field; at every thundering onset there is no fear + that the cook's galley will upset, or the screw break loose and smash + through the side, and we are not in momently expectation of the tinkling + of the little bell to “stop her.” The snow rises in drifting waves, and + the naked trees bend like strained masts; but so long as the window-blinds + remain fast, and the chimney-tops do not go, we preserve an equal mind. + Nothing more serious can happen than the failure of the butcher's and the + grocer's carts, unless, indeed, the little news-carrier should fail to + board us with the world's daily bulletin, or our next-door neighbor should + be deterred from coming to sit by the blazing, excited fire, and + interchange the trifling, harmless gossip of the day. The feeling of + seclusion on such a day is sweet, but the true friend who does brave the + storm and come is welcomed with a sort of enthusiasm that his arrival in + pleasant weather would never excite. The snow-bound in their Arctic hulk + are glad to see even a wandering Esquimau. + </p> + <p> + On such a day I recall the great snow-storms on the northern New England + hills, which lasted for a week with no cessation, with no sunrise or + sunset, and no observation at noon; and the sky all the while dark with + the driving snow, and the whole world full of the noise of the rioting + Boreal forces; until the roads were obliterated, the fences covered, and + the snow was piled solidly above the first-story windows of the farmhouse + on one side, and drifted before the front door so high that egress could + only be had by tunneling the bank. + </p> + <p> + After such a battle and siege, when the wind fell and the sun struggled + out again, the pallid world lay subdued and tranquil, and the scattered + dwellings were not unlike wrecks stranded by the tempest and half buried + in sand. But when the blue sky again bent over all, the wide expanse of + snow sparkled like diamond-fields, and the chimney signal-smokes could be + seen, how beautiful was the picture! Then began the stir abroad, and the + efforts to open up communication through roads, or fields, or wherever + paths could be broken, and the ways to the meeting-house first of all. + Then from every house and hamlet the men turned out with shovels, with the + patient, lumbering oxen yoked to the sleds, to break the roads, driving + into the deepest drifts, shoveling and shouting as if the severe labor + were a holiday frolic, the courage and the hilarity rising with the + difficulties encountered; and relief parties, meeting at length in the + midst of the wide white desolation, hailed each other as chance explorers + in new lands, and made the whole country-side ring with the noise of their + congratulations. There was as much excitement and healthy stirring of the + blood in it as in the Fourth of July, and perhaps as much patriotism. The + boy saw it in dumb show from the distant, low farmhouse window, and wished + he were a man. At night there were great stories of achievement told by + the cavernous fireplace; great latitude was permitted in the estimation of + the size of particular drifts, but never any agreement was reached as to + the “depth on a level.” I have observed since that people are quite as apt + to agree upon the marvelous and the exceptional as upon simple facts. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + By the firelight and the twilight, the Young Lady is finishing a letter to + Herbert,—writing it, literally, on her knees, transforming thus the + simple deed into an act of devotion. Mandeville says that it is bad for + her eyes, but the sight of it is worse for his eyes. He begins to doubt + the wisdom of reliance upon that worn apothegm about absence conquering + love. + </p> + <p> + Memory has the singular characteristic of recalling in a friend absent, as + in a journey long past, only that which is agreeable. Mandeville begins to + wish he were in New South Wales. + </p> + <p> + I did intend to insert here a letter of Herbert's to the Young Lady,—obtained, + I need not say, honorably, as private letters which get into print always + are,—not to gratify a vulgar curiosity, but to show how the most + unsentimental and cynical people are affected by the master passion. But I + cannot bring myself to do it. Even in the interests of science one has no + right to make an autopsy of two loving hearts, especially when they are + suffering under a late attack of the one agreeable epidemic. + </p> + <p> + All the world loves a lover, but it laughs at him none the less in his + extravagances. He loses his accustomed reticence; he has something of the + martyr's willingness for publicity; he would even like to show the + sincerity of his devotion by some piece of open heroism. Why should he + conceal a discovery which has transformed the world to him, a secret which + explains all the mysteries of nature and humanity? He is in that ecstasy + of mind which prompts those who were never orators before to rise in an + experience-meeting and pour out a flood of feeling in the tritest language + and the most conventional terms. I am not sure that Herbert, while in this + glow, would be ashamed of his letter in print, but this is one of the + cases where chancery would step in and protect one from himself by his + next friend. This is really a delicate matter, and perhaps it is brutal to + allude to it at all. + </p> + <p> + In truth, the letter would hardly be interesting in print. Love has a + marvelous power of vivifying language and charging the simplest words with + the most tender meaning, of restoring to them the power they had when + first coined. They are words of fire to those two who know their secret, + but not to others. It is generally admitted that the best love-letters + would not make very good literature. “Dearest,” begins Herbert, in a burst + of originality, felicitously selecting a word whose exclusiveness shuts + out all the world but one, and which is a whole letter, poem, confession, + and creed in one breath. What a weight of meaning it has to carry! There + may be beauty and wit and grace and naturalness and even the splendor of + fortune elsewhere, but there is one woman in the world whose sweet + presence would be compensation for the loss of all else. It is not to be + reasoned about; he wants that one; it is her plume dancing down the sunny + street that sets his heart beating; he knows her form among a thousand, + and follows her; he longs to run after her carriage, which the cruel + coachman whirls out of his sight. It is marvelous to him that all the + world does not want her too, and he is in a panic when he thinks of it. + And what exquisite flattery is in that little word addressed to her, and + with what sweet and meek triumph she repeats it to herself, with a feeling + that is not altogether pity for those who still stand and wait. To be + chosen out of all the available world—it is almost as much bliss as + it is to choose. “All that long, long stage-ride from Blim's to Portage I + thought of you every moment, and wondered what you were doing and how you + were looking just that moment, and I found the occupation so charming that + I was almost sorry when the journey was ended.” Not much in that! But I + have no doubt the Young Lady read it over and over, and dwelt also upon + every moment, and found in it new proof of unshaken constancy, and had in + that and the like things in the letter a sense of the sweetest communion. + There is nothing in this letter that we need dwell on it, but I am + convinced that the mail does not carry any other letters so valuable as + this sort. + </p> + <p> + I suppose that the appearance of Herbert in this new light unconsciously + gave tone a little to the evening's talk; not that anybody mentioned him, + but Mandeville was evidently generalizing from the qualities that make one + person admired by another to those that win the love of mankind. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. There seems to be something in some persons that wins them + liking, special or general, independent almost of what they do or say. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Why, everybody is liked by some one. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I'm not sure of that. There are those who are friendless, and + would be if they had endless acquaintances. But, to take the case away + from ordinary examples, in which habit and a thousand circumstances + influence liking, what is it that determines the world upon a personal + regard for authors whom it has never seen? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Probably it is the spirit shown in their writings. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. More likely it is a sort of tradition; I don't believe that + the world has a feeling of personal regard for any author who was not + loved by those who knew him most intimately. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Which comes to the same thing. The qualities, the spirit, + that got him the love of his acquaintances he put into his books. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That does n't seem to me sufficient. Shakespeare has put + everything into his plays and poems, swept the whole range of human + sympathies and passions, and at times is inspired by the sweetest spirit + that ever man had. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. No one has better interpreted love. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Yet I apprehend that no person living has any personal regard + for Shakespeare, or that his personality affects many,—except they + stand in Stratford church and feel a sort of awe at the thought that the + bones of the greatest poet are so near them. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. I don't think the world cares personally for any mere man or + woman dead for centuries. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. But there is a difference. I think there is still rather a + warm feeling for Socrates the man, independent of what he said, which is + little known. Homer's works are certainly better known, but no one cares + personally for Homer any more than for any other shade. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Why not go back to Moses? We've got the evening before us + for digging up people. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Moses is a very good illustration. No name of antiquity is + better known, and yet I fancy he does not awaken the same kind of popular + liking that Socrates does. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Fudge! You just get up in any lecture assembly and propose + three cheers for Socrates, and see where you'll be. Mandeville ought to be + a missionary, and read Robert Browning to the Fijis. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. How do you account for the alleged personal regard for + Socrates? + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Because the world called Christian is still more than half + heathen. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. He was a plain man; his sympathies were with the people; he + had what is roughly known as “horse-sense,” and he was homely. Franklin + and Abraham Lincoln belong to his class. They were all philosophers of the + shrewd sort, and they all had humor. It was fortunate for Lincoln that, + with his other qualities, he was homely. That was the last touching + recommendation to the popular heart. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Do you remember that ugly brown-stone statue of St. Antonio + by the bridge in Sorrento? He must have been a coarse saint, patron of + pigs as he was, but I don't know any one anywhere, or the homely stone + image of one, so loved by the people. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Ugliness being trump, I wonder more people don't win. + Mandeville, why don't you get up a “centenary” of Socrates, and put up his + statue in the Central Park? It would make that one of Lincoln in Union + Square look beautiful. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Oh, you'll see that some day, when they have a museum there + illustrating the “Science of Religion.” + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Doubtless, to go back to what we were talking of, the + world has a fondness for some authors, and thinks of them with an + affectionate and half-pitying familiarity; and it may be that this grows + out of something in their lives quite as much as anything in their + writings. There seems to be more disposition of personal liking to + Thackeray than to Dickens, now both are dead,—a result that would + hardly have been predicted when the world was crying over Little Nell, or + agreeing to hate Becky Sharp. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. What was that you were telling about Charles Lamb, the + other day, Mandeville? Is not the popular liking for him somewhat + independent of his writings? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. He is a striking example of an author who is loved. Very + likely the remembrance of his tribulations has still something to do with + the tenderness felt for him. He supported no dignity and permitted a + familiarity which indicated no self-appreciation of his real rank in the + world of letters. I have heard that his acquaintances familiarly called + him “Charley.” + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a relief to know that! Do you happen to know what + Socrates was called? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I have seen people who knew Lamb very well. One of them told + me, as illustrating his want of dignity, that as he was going home late + one night through the nearly empty streets, he was met by a roystering + party who were making a night of it from tavern to tavern. They fell upon + Lamb, attracted by his odd figure and hesitating manner, and, hoisting him + on their shoulders, carried him off, singing as they went. Lamb enjoyed + the lark, and did not tell them who he was. When they were tired of + lugging him, they lifted him, with much effort and difficulty, to the top + of a high wall, and left him there amid the broken bottles, utterly unable + to get down. Lamb remained there philosophically in the enjoyment of his + novel adventure, until a passing watchman rescued him from his ridiculous + situation. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. How did the story get out? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Oh, Lamb told all about it next morning; and when asked + afterwards why he did so, he replied that there was no fun in it unless he + told it. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0148}.jpg" alt="{0148}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0148}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0023" id="link2H_4_0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SIXTH STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0024" id="link2H_4_0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0149}.jpg" alt="{0149}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0149}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + The King sat in the winter-house in the ninth month, and there was a fire + on the hearth burning before him.... When Jehudi had read three or four + leaves he cut it with the penknife. + </p> + <p> + That seems to be a pleasant and home-like picture from a not very remote + period,—less than twenty-five hundred years ago, and many centuries + after the fall of Troy. And that was not so very long ago, for Thebes, in + the splendid streets of which Homer wandered and sang to the kings when + Memphis, whose ruins are older than history, was its younger rival, was + twelve centuries old when Paris ran away with Helen. + </p> + <p> + I am sorry that the original—and you can usually do anything with + the “original”—does not bear me out in saying that it was a pleasant + picture. I should like to believe that Jehoiakim—for that was the + singular name of the gentleman who sat by his hearthstone—had just + received the Memphis “Palimpsest,” fifteen days in advance of the date of + its publication, and that his secretary was reading to him that monthly, + and cutting its leaves as he read. I should like to have seen it in that + year when Thales was learning astronomy in Memphis, and Necho was + organizing his campaign against Carchemish. If Jehoiakim took the “Attic + Quarterly,” he might have read its comments on the banishment of the + Alcmaeonida, and its gibes at Solon for his prohibitory laws, forbidding + the sale of unguents, limiting the luxury of dress, and interfering with + the sacred rights of mourners to passionately bewail the dead in the + Asiatic manner; the same number being enriched with contributions from two + rising poets,—a lyric of love by Sappho, and an ode sent by Anacreon + from Teos, with an editorial note explaining that the Maces was not + responsible for the sentiments of the poem. + </p> + <p> + But, in fact, the gentleman who sat before the backlog in his winter-house + had other things to think of. For Nebuchadnezzar was coming that way with + the chariots and horses of Babylon and a great crowd of marauders; and the + king had not even the poor choice whether he would be the vassal of the + Chaldean or of the Egyptian. To us, this is only a ghostly show of + monarchs and conquerors stalking across vast historic spaces. It was no + doubt a vulgar enough scene of war and plunder. The great captains of that + age went about to harry each other's territories and spoil each other's + cities very much as we do nowadays, and for similar reasons;—Napoleon + the Great in Moscow, Napoleon the Small in Italy, Kaiser William in Paris, + Great Scott in Mexico! Men have not changed much;—The Fire-Tender + sat in his winter-garden in the third month; there was a fire on the + hearth burning before him. He cut the leaves of “Scribner's Monthly” with + his penknife, and thought of Jehoiakim. + </p> + <p> + That seems as real as the other. In the garden, which is a room of the + house, the tall callas, rooted in the ground, stand about the fountain; + the sun, streaming through the glass, illumines the many-hued flowers. I + wonder what Jehoiakim did with the mealy-bug on his passion-vine, and if + he had any way of removing the scale-bug from his African acacia? One + would like to know, too, how he treated the red spider on the Le Marque + rose. The record is silent. I do not doubt he had all these insects in his + winter-garden, and the aphidae besides; and he could not smoke them out + with tobacco, for the world had not yet fallen into its second stage of + the knowledge of good and evil by eating the forbidden tobacco-plant. + </p> + <p> + I confess that this little picture of a fire on the hearth so many + centuries ago helps to make real and interesting to me that somewhat misty + past. No doubt the lotus and the acanthus from the Nile grew in that + winter-house, and perhaps Jehoiakim attempted—the most difficult + thing in the world the cultivation of the wild flowers from Lebanon. + Perhaps Jehoiakim was interested also, as I am through this ancient + fireplace,—which is a sort of domestic window into the ancient + world,—in the loves of Bernice and Abaces at the court of the + Pharaohs. I see that it is the same thing as the sentiment—perhaps + it is the shrinking which every soul that is a soul has, sooner or later, + from isolation—which grew up between Herbert and the Young Lady + Staying With Us. Jeremiah used to come in to that fireside very much as + the Parson does to ours. The Parson, to be sure, never prophesies, but he + grumbles, and is the chorus in the play that sings the everlasting ai ai + of “I told you so!” Yet we like the Parson. He is the sprig of bitter herb + that makes the pottage wholesome. I should rather, ten times over, + dispense with the flatterers and the smooth-sayers than the grumblers. But + the grumblers are of two sorts,—the healthful-toned and the whiners. + There are makers of beer who substitute for the clean bitter of the hops + some deleterious drug, and then seek to hide the fraud by some cloying + sweet. There is nothing of this sickish drug in the Parson's talk, nor was + there in that of Jeremiah, I sometimes think there is scarcely enough of + this wholesome tonic in modern society. The Parson says he never would + give a child sugar-coated pills. Mandeville says he never would give them + any. After all, you cannot help liking Mandeville. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0025" id="link2H_4_0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + We were talking of this late news from Jerusalem. The Fire-Tender was + saying that it is astonishing how much is telegraphed us from the East + that is not half so interesting. He was at a loss philosophically to + account for the fact that the world is so eager to know the news of + yesterday which is unimportant, and so indifferent to that of the day + before which is of some moment. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I suspect that it arises from the want of imagination. People + need to touch the facts, and nearness in time is contiguity. It would + excite no interest to bulletin the last siege of Jerusalem in a village + where the event was unknown, if the date was appended; and yet the account + of it is incomparably more exciting than that of the siege of Metz. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. The daily news is a necessity. I cannot get along without + my morning paper. The other morning I took it up, and was absorbed in the + telegraphic columns for an hour nearly. I thoroughly enjoyed the feeling + of immediate contact with all the world of yesterday, until I read among + the minor items that Patrick Donahue, of the city of New York, died of a + sunstroke. If he had frozen to death, I should have enjoyed that; but to + die of sunstroke in February seemed inappropriate, and I turned to the + date of the paper. When I found it was printed in July, I need not say + that I lost all interest in it, though why the trivialities and crimes and + accidents, relating to people I never knew, were not as good six months + after date as twelve hours, I cannot say. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. You know that in Concord the latest news, except a remark + or two by Thoreau or Emerson, is the Vedas. I believe the Rig-Veda is read + at the breakfast-table instead of the Boston journals. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. I know it is read afterward instead of the Bible. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That is only because it is supposed to be older. I have + understood that the Bible is very well spoken of there, but it is not + antiquated enough to be an authority. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. There was a project on foot to put it into the circulating + library, but the title New in the second part was considered + objectionable. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Well, I have a good deal of sympathy with Concord as to the news. + We are fed on a daily diet of trivial events and gossip, of the unfruitful + sayings of thoughtless men and women, until our mental digestion is + seriously impaired; the day will come when no one will be able to sit down + to a thoughtful, well-wrought book and assimilate its contents. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I doubt if a daily newspaper is a necessity, in the higher + sense of the word. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Nobody supposes it is to women,—that is, if they can see + each other. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Don't interrupt, unless you have something to say; though I + should like to know how much gossip there is afloat that the minister does + not know. The newspaper may be needed in society, but how quickly it drops + out of mind when one goes beyond the bounds of what is called + civilization. You remember when we were in the depths of the woods last + summer how difficult it was to get up any interest in the files of late + papers that reached us, and how unreal all the struggle and turmoil of the + world seemed. We stood apart, and could estimate things at their true + value. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Yes, that was real life. I never tired of the guide's + stories; there was some interest in the intelligence that a deer had been + down to eat the lily-pads at the foot of the lake the night before; that a + bear's track was seen on the trail we crossed that day; even Mandeville's + fish-stories had a certain air of probability; and how to roast a trout in + the ashes and serve him hot and juicy and clean, and how to cook soup and + prepare coffee and heat dish-water in one tin-pail, were vital problems. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. You would have had no such problems at home. Why will people + go so far to put themselves to such inconvenience? I hate the woods. + Isolation breeds conceit; there are no people so conceited as those who + dwell in remote wildernesses and live mostly alone. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I feel humble in the presence of mountains, + and in the vast stretches of the wilderness. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. I'll be bound a woman would feel just as nobody would expect + her to feel, under given circumstances. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I think the reason why the newspaper and the world it carries + take no hold of us in the wilderness is that we become a kind of vegetable + ourselves when we go there. I have often attempted to improve my mind in + the woods with good solid books. You might as well offer a bunch of celery + to an oyster. The mind goes to sleep: the senses and the instincts wake + up. The best I can do when it rains, or the trout won't bite, is to read + Dumas's novels. Their ingenuity will almost keep a man awake after supper, + by the camp-fire. And there is a kind of unity about them that I like; the + history is as good as the morality. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I always wondered where Mandeville got his historical + facts. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Mandeville misrepresents himself in the woods. I heard him + one night repeat “The Vision of Sir Launfal”—(THE FIRE-TENDER. Which + comes very near being our best poem.)—as we were crossing the lake, + and the guides became so absorbed in it that they forgot to paddle, and + sat listening with open mouths, as if it had been a panther story. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Mandeville likes to show off well enough. I heard that he + related to a woods' boy up there the whole of the Siege of Troy. The boy + was very much interested, and said “there'd been a man up there that + spring from Troy, looking up timber.” Mandeville always carries the news + when he goes into the country. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I'm going to take the Parson's sermon on Jonah next summer; + it's the nearest to anything like news we've had from his pulpit in ten + years. But, seriously, the boy was very well informed. He'd heard of + Albany; his father took in the “Weekly Tribune,” and he had a partial + conception of Horace Greeley. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I never went so far out of the world in America yet that + the name of Horace Greeley did n't rise up before me. One of the first + questions asked by any camp-fire is, “Did ye ever see Horace?” + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Which shows the power of the press again. But I have often + remarked how little real conception of the moving world, as it is, people + in remote regions get from the newspaper. It needs to be read in the midst + of events. A chip cast ashore in a refluent eddy tells no tale of the + force and swiftness of the current. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I don't exactly get the drift of that last remark; but I + rather like a remark that I can't understand; like the landlady's + indigestible bread, it stays by you. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I see that I must talk in words of one syllable. The newspaper + has little effect upon the remote country mind, because the remote country + mind is interested in a very limited number of things. Besides, as the + Parson says, it is conceited. The most accomplished scholar will be the + butt of all the guides in the woods, because he cannot follow a trail that + would puzzle a sable (saple the trappers call it). + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. It's enough to read the summer letters that people write to + the newspapers from the country and the woods. Isolated from the activity + of the world, they come to think that the little adventures of their + stupid days and nights are important. Talk about that being real life! + Compare the letters such people write with the other contents of the + newspaper, and you will see which life is real. That's one reason I hate + to have summer come, the country letters set in. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I should like to see something the Parson does n't hate to + have come. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Except his quarter's salary; and the meeting of the American + Board. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I don't see that we are getting any nearer the solution + of the original question. The world is evidently interested in events + simply because they are recent. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I have a theory that a newspaper might be published at + little cost, merely by reprinting the numbers of years before, only + altering the dates; just as the Parson preaches over his sermons. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. It's evident we must have a higher order of + news-gatherers. It has come to this, that the newspaper furnishes + thought-material for all the world, actually prescribes from day to day + the themes the world shall think on and talk about. The occupation of + news-gathering becomes, therefore, the most important. When you think of + it, it is astonishing that this department should not be in the hands of + the ablest men, accomplished scholars, philosophical observers, + discriminating selectors of the news of the world that is worth thinking + over and talking about. The editorial comments frequently are able enough, + but is it worth while keeping an expensive mill going to grind chaff? I + sometimes wonder, as I open my morning paper, if nothing did happen in the + twenty-four hours except crimes, accidents, defalcations, deaths of + unknown loafers, robberies, monstrous births,—say about the level of + police-court news. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I have even noticed that murders have deteriorated; they + are not so high-toned and mysterious as they used to be. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. It is true that the newspapers have improved vastly + within the last decade. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I think, for one, that they are very much above the level of the + ordinary gossip of the country. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. But I am tired of having the under-world still occupy so + much room in the newspapers. The reporters are rather more alert for a + dog-fight than a philological convention. It must be that the good deeds + of the world outnumber the bad in any given day; and what a good reflex + action it would have on society if they could be more fully reported than + the bad! I suppose the Parson would call this the Enthusiasm of Humanity. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. You'll see how far you can lift yourself up by your + boot-straps. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I wonder what influence on the quality (I say nothing of + quantity) of news the coming of women into the reporter's and editor's + work will have. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. There are the baby-shows; they make cheerful reading. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. All of them got up by speculating men, who impose upon the + vanity of weak women. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I think women reporters are more given to personal details and + gossip than the men. When I read the Washington correspondence I am proud + of my country, to see how many Apollo Belvederes, Adonises, how much + marble brow and piercing eye and hyacinthine locks, we have in the two + houses of Congress. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. That's simply because women understand the personal + weakness of men; they have a long score of personal flattery to pay off + too. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I think women will bring in elements of brightness, + picturesqueness, and purity very much needed. Women have a power of + investing simple ordinary things with a charm; men are bungling narrators + compared with them. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. The mistake they make is in trying to write, and especially to + “stump-speak,” like men; next to an effeminate man there is nothing so + disagreeable as a mannish woman. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I heard one once address a legislative committee. The knowing + air, the familiar, jocular, smart manner, the nodding and winking + innuendoes, supposed to be those of a man “up to snuff,” and au fait in + political wiles, were inexpressibly comical. And yet the exhibition was + pathetic, for it had the suggestive vulgarity of a woman in man's clothes. + The imitation is always a dreary failure. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Such women are the rare exceptions. I am ready to defend my + sex; but I won't attempt to defend both sexes in one. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I have great hope that women will bring into the + newspaper an elevating influence; the common and sweet life of society is + much better fitted to entertain and instruct us than the exceptional and + extravagant. I confess (saving the Mistress's presence) that the evening + talk over the dessert at dinner is much more entertaining and piquant than + the morning paper, and often as important. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I think the subject had better be changed. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. The person, not the subject. There is no entertainment so full + of quiet pleasure as the hearing a lady of cultivation and refinement + relate her day's experience in her daily rounds of calls, charitable + visits, shopping, errands of relief and condolence. The evening budget is + better than the finance minister's. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. That's even so. My wife will pick up more news in six hours + than I can get in a week, and I'm fond of news. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I don't mean gossip, by any means, or scandal. A woman of + culture skims over that like a bird, never touching it with the tip of a + wing. What she brings home is the freshness and brightness of life. She + touches everything so daintily, she hits off a character in a sentence, + she gives the pith of a dialogue without tediousness, she mimics without + vulgarity; her narration sparkles, but it does n't sting. The picture of + her day is full of vivacity, and it gives new value and freshness to + common things. If we could only have on the stage such actresses as we + have in the drawing-room! + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. We want something more of this grace, sprightliness, and + harmless play of the finer life of society in the newspaper. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder Mandeville does n't marry, and become a permanent + subscriber to his embodied idea of a newspaper. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. Perhaps he does not relish the idea of being unable to + stop his subscription. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Parson, won't you please punch that fire, and give us more + blaze? we are getting into the darkness of socialism. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0026" id="link2H_4_0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Herbert returned to us in March. The Young Lady was spending the winter + with us, and March, in spite of the calendar, turned out to be a winter + month. It usually is in New England, and April too, for that matter. And I + cannot say it is unfortunate for us. There are so many topics to be turned + over and settled at our fireside that a winter of ordinary length would + make little impression on the list. The fireside is, after all, a sort of + private court of chancery, where nothing ever does come to a final + decision. The chief effect of talk on any subject is to strengthen one's + own opinions, and, in fact, one never knows exactly what he does believe + until he is warmed into conviction by the heat of attack and defence. A + man left to himself drifts about like a boat on a calm lake; it is only + when the wind blows that the boat goes anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Herbert said he had been dipping into the recent novels written by women, + here and there, with a view to noting the effect upon literature of this + sudden and rather overwhelming accession to it. There was a good deal of + talk about it evening after evening, off and on, and I can only undertake + to set down fragments of it. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I should say that the distinguishing feature of the literature of + this day is the prominence women have in its production. They figure in + most of the magazines, though very rarely in the scholarly and critical + reviews, and in thousands of newspapers; to them we are indebted for the + oceans of Sunday-school books, and they write the majority of the novels, + the serial stories, and they mainly pour out the watery flood of tales in + the weekly papers. Whether this is to result in more good than evil it is + impossible yet to say, and perhaps it would be unjust to say, until this + generation has worked off its froth, and women settle down to artistic, + conscientious labor in literature. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. You don't mean to say that George Eliot, and Mrs. Gaskell, + and George Sand, and Mrs. Browning, before her marriage and severe attack + of spiritism, are less true to art than contemporary men novelists and + poets. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. You name some exceptions that show the bright side of the + picture, not only for the present, but for the future. Perhaps genius has + no sex; but ordinary talent has. I refer to the great body of novels, + which you would know by internal evidence were written by women. They are + of two sorts: the domestic story, entirely unidealized, and as flavorless + as water-gruel; and the spiced novel, generally immoral in tendency, in + which the social problems are handled, unhappy marriages, affinity and + passional attraction, bigamy, and the violation of the seventh + commandment. These subjects are treated in the rawest manner, without any + settled ethics, with little discrimination of eternal right and wrong, and + with very little sense of responsibility for what is set forth. Many of + these novels are merely the blind outbursts of a nature impatient of + restraint and the conventionalities of society, and are as chaotic as the + untrained minds that produce them. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Don't you think these novels fairly represent a social + condition of unrest and upheaval? + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Very likely; and they help to create and spread abroad the + discontent they describe. Stories of bigamy (sometimes disguised by + divorce), of unhappy marriages, where the injured wife, through an entire + volume, is on the brink of falling into the arms of a sneaking lover, + until death kindly removes the obstacle, and the two souls, who were born + for each other, but got separated in the cradle, melt and mingle into one + in the last chapter, are not healthful reading for maids or mothers. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Or men. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. The most disagreeable object to me in modern literature + is the man the women novelists have introduced as the leading character; + the women who come in contact with him seem to be fascinated by his + disdainful mien, his giant strength, and his brutal manner. He is broad + across the shoulders, heavily moulded, yet as lithe as a cat; has an ugly + scar across his right cheek; has been in the four quarters of the globe; + knows seventeen languages; had a harem in Turkey and a Fayaway in the + Marquesas; can be as polished as Bayard in the drawing-room, but is as + gloomy as Conrad in the library; has a terrible eye and a withering + glance, but can be instantly subdued by a woman's hand, if it is not his + wife's; and through all his morose and vicious career has carried a heart + as pure as a violet. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Don't you think the Count of Monte Cristo is the elder + brother of Rochester? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. One is a mere hero of romance; the other is meant for a + real man. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I don't see that the men novel-writers are better than the + women. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. That's not the question; but what are women who write so large a + proportion of the current stories bringing into literature? Aside from the + question of morals, and the absolutely demoralizing manner of treating + social questions, most of their stories are vapid and weak beyond + expression, and are slovenly in composition, showing neither study, + training, nor mental discipline. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Considering that women have been shut out from the training + of the universities, and have few opportunities for the wide observation + that men enjoy, isn't it pretty well that the foremost living writers of + fiction are women? + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. You can say that for the moment, since Thackeray and Dickens have + just died. But it does not affect the general estimate. We are inundated + with a flood of weak writing. Take the Sunday-school literature, largely + the product of women; it has n't as much character as a dried apple pie. I + don't know what we are coming to if the presses keep on running. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. We are living, we are dwelling, in a grand and awful time; + I'm glad I don't write novels. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. So am I. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I tried a Sunday-school book once; but I made the good boy + end in the poorhouse, and the bad boy go to Congress; and the publisher + said it wouldn't do, the public wouldn't stand that sort of thing. Nobody + but the good go to Congress. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Herbert, what do you think women are good for? + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. That's a poser. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Well, I think they are in a tentative state as to literature, and + we cannot yet tell what they will do. Some of our most brilliant books of + travel, correspondence, and writing on topics in which their sympathies + have warmly interested them, are by women. Some of them are also strong + writers in the daily journals. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I 'm not sure there's anything a woman cannot do as well as a + man, if she sets her heart on it. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. That's because she's no conscience. + </p> + <p> + CHORUS. O Parson! + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Well, it does n't trouble her, if she wants to do anything. + She looks at the end, not the means. A woman, set on anything, will walk + right through the moral crockery without wincing. She'd be a great deal + more unscrupulous in politics than the average man. Did you ever see a + female lobbyist? Or a criminal? It is Lady Macbeth who does not falter. + Don't raise your hands at me! The sweetest angel or the coolest devil is a + woman. I see in some of the modern novels we have been talking of the same + unscrupulous daring, a blindness to moral distinctions, a constant + exaltation of a passion into a virtue, an entire disregard of the + immutable laws on which the family and society rest. And you ask lawyers + and trustees how scrupulous women are in business transactions! + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Women are often ignorant of affairs, and, besides, they + may have a notion often that a woman ought to be privileged more than a + man in business matters; but I tell you, as a rule, that if men would + consult their wives, they would go a deal straighter in business + operations than they do go. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. We are all poor sinners. But I've another indictment against + the women writers. We get no good old-fashioned love-stories from them. + It's either a quarrel of discordant natures one a panther, and the other a + polar bear—for courtship, until one of them is crippled by a railway + accident; or a long wrangle of married life between two unpleasant people, + who can neither live comfortably together nor apart. I suppose, by what I + see, that sweet wooing, with all its torturing and delightful uncertainty, + still goes on in the world; and I have no doubt that the majority of + married people live more happily than the unmarried. But it's easier to + find a dodo than a new and good love-story. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I suppose the old style of plot is exhausted. Everything in + man and outside of him has been turned over so often that I should think + the novelists would cease simply from want of material. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Plots are no more exhausted than men are. Every man is a new + creation, and combinations are simply endless. Even if we did not have new + material in the daily change of society, and there were only a fixed + number of incidents and characters in life, invention could not be + exhausted on them. I amuse myself sometimes with my kaleidoscope, but I + can never reproduce a figure. No, no. I cannot say that you may not + exhaust everything else: we may get all the secrets of a nature into a + book by and by, but the novel is immortal, for it deals with men. + </p> + <p> + The Parson's vehemence came very near carrying him into a sermon; and as + nobody has the privilege of replying to his sermons, so none of the circle + made any reply now. + </p> + <p> + Our Next Door mumbled something about his hair standing on end, to hear a + minister defending the novel; but it did not interrupt the general + silence. Silence is unnoticed when people sit before a fire; it would be + intolerable if they sat and looked at each other. + </p> + <p> + The wind had risen during the evening, and Mandeville remarked, as they + rose to go, that it had a spring sound in it, but it was as cold as + winter. The Mistress said she heard a bird that morning singing in the sun + a spring song, it was a winter bird, but it sang. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0177}.jpg" alt="{0177}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0177}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0027" id="link2H_4_0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + SEVENTH STUDY + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0178}.jpg" alt="{0178}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0178}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + We have been much interested in what is called the Gothic revival. We have + spent I don't know how many evenings in looking over Herbert's plans for a + cottage, and have been amused with his vain efforts to cover with Gothic + roofs the vast number of large rooms which the Young Lady draws in her + sketch of a small house. + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt that the Gothic, which is capable of infinite + modification, so that every house built in that style may be as different + from every other house as one tree is from every other, can be adapted to + our modern uses, and will be, when artists catch its spirit instead of + merely copying its old forms. But just now we are taking the Gothic very + literally, as we took the Greek at one time, or as we should probably have + taken the Saracenic, if the Moors had not been colored. Not even the + cholera is so contagious in this country as a style of architecture which + we happen to catch; the country is just now broken out all over with the + Mansard-roof epidemic. + </p> + <p> + And in secular architecture we do not study what is adapted to our climate + any more than in ecclesiastic architecture we adopt that which is suited + to our religion. + </p> + <p> + We are building a great many costly churches here and there, we + Protestants, and as the most of them are ill adapted to our forms of + worship, it may be necessary and best for us to change our religion in + order to save our investments. I am aware that this would be a grave step, + and we should not hasten to throw overboard Luther and the right of + private judgment without reflection. And yet, if it is necessary to revive + the ecclesiastical Gothic architecture, not in its spirit (that we nowhere + do), but in the form which served another age and another faith, and if, + as it appears, we have already a great deal of money invested in this + reproduction, it may be more prudent to go forward than to go back. The + question is, “Cannot one easier change his creed than his pew?” + </p> + <p> + I occupy a seat in church which is an admirable one for reflection, but I + cannot see or hear much that is going on in what we like to call the apse. + There is a splendid stone pillar, a clustered column, right in front of + me, and I am as much protected from the minister as Old Put's troops were + from the British, behind the stone wall at Bunker's Hill. I can hear his + voice occasionally wandering round in the arches overhead, and I recognize + the tone, because he is a friend of mine and an excellent man, but what he + is saying I can very seldom make out. If there was any incense burning, I + could smell it, and that would be something. I rather like the smell of + incense, and it has its holy associations. But there is no smell in our + church, except of bad air,—for there is no provision for ventilation + in the splendid and costly edifice. The reproduction of the old Gothic is + so complete that the builders even seem to have brought over the ancient + air from one of the churches of the Middle Ages,—you would declare + it had n't been changed in two centuries. + </p> + <p> + I am expected to fix my attention during the service upon one man, who + stands in the centre of the apse and has a sounding-board behind him in + order to throw his voice out of the sacred semicircular space (where the + altar used to stand, but now the sounding-board takes the place of the + altar) and scatter it over the congregation at large, and send it echoing + up in the groined roof I always like to hear a minister who is unfamiliar + with the house, and who has a loud voice, try to fill the edifice. The + more he roars and gives himself with vehemence to the effort, the more the + building roars in indistinguishable noise and hubbub. By the time he has + said (to suppose a case), “The Lord is in his holy temple,” and has passed + on to say, “let all the earth keep silence,” the building is repeating + “The Lord is in his holy temple” from half a dozen different angles and + altitudes, rolling it and growling it, and is not keeping silence at all. + A man who understands it waits until the house has had its say, and has + digested one passage, before he launches another into the vast, echoing + spaces. I am expected, as I said, to fix my eye and mind on the minister, + the central point of the service. But the pillar hides him. Now if there + were several ministers in the church, dressed in such gorgeous colors that + I could see them at the distance from the apse at which my limited income + compels me to sit, and candles were burning, and censers were swinging, + and the platform was full of the sacred bustle of a gorgeous ritual + worship, and a bell rang to tell me the holy moments, I should not mind + the pillar at all. I should sit there, like any other Goth, and enjoy it. + But, as I have said, the pastor is a friend of mine, and I like to look at + him on Sunday, and hear what he says, for he always says something worth + hearing. I am on such terms with him, indeed we all are, that it would be + pleasant to have the service of a little more social nature, and more + human. When we put him away off in the apse, and set him up for a Goth, + and then seat ourselves at a distance, scattered about among the pillars, + the whole thing seems to me a trifle unnatural. Though I do not mean to + say that the congregations do not “enjoy their religion” in their splendid + edifices which cost so much money and are really so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + A good many people have the idea, so it seems, that Gothic architecture + and Christianity are essentially one and the same thing. Just as many + regard it as an act of piety to work an altar cloth or to cushion a + pulpit. It may be, and it may not be. + </p> + <p> + Our Gothic church is likely to prove to us a valuable religious + experience, bringing out many of the Christian virtues. It may have had + its origin in pride, but it is all being overruled for our good. Of course + I need n't explain that it is the thirteenth century ecclesiastic Gothic + that is epidemic in this country; and I think it has attacked the + Congregational and the other non-ritual churches more violently than any + others. We have had it here in its most beautiful and dangerous forms. I + believe we are pretty much all of us supplied with a Gothic church now. + Such has been the enthusiasm in this devout direction, that I should not + be surprised to see our rich private citizens putting up Gothic churches + for their individual amusement and sanctification. As the day will + probably come when every man in Hartford will live in his own mammoth, + five-story granite insurance building, it may not be unreasonable to + expect that every man will sport his own Gothic church. It is beginning to + be discovered that the Gothic sort of church edifice is fatal to the + Congregational style of worship that has been prevalent here in New + England; but it will do nicely (as they say in Boston) for private + devotion. + </p> + <p> + There isn't a finer or purer church than ours any where, inside and + outside Gothic to the last. The elevation of the nave gives it even that + “high-shouldered” appearance which seemed more than anything else to + impress Mr. Hawthorne in the cathedral at Amiens. I fancy that for genuine + high-shoulderness we are not exceeded by any church in the city. Our + chapel in the rear is as Gothic as the rest of it,—a beautiful + little edifice. The committee forgot to make any more provision for + ventilating that than the church, and it takes a pretty well-seasoned + Christian to stay in it long at a time. The Sunday-school is held there, + and it is thought to be best to accustom the children to bad air before + they go into the church. The poor little dears shouldn't have the + wickedness and impurity of this world break on them too suddenly. If the + stranger noticed any lack about our church, it would be that of a spire. + There is a place for one; indeed, it was begun, and then the builders seem + to have stopped, with the notion that it would grow itself from such a + good root. It is a mistake however, to suppose that we do not know that + the church has what the profane here call a “stump-tail” appearance. But + the profane are as ignorant of history as they are of true Gothic. All the + Old World cathedrals were the work of centuries. That at Milan is scarcely + finished yet; the unfinished spires of the Cologne cathedral are one of + the best-known features of it. I doubt if it would be in the Gothic spirit + to finish a church at once. We can tell cavilers that we shall have a + spire at the proper time, and not a minute before. It may depend a little + upon what the Baptists do, who are to build near us. I, for one, think we + had better wait and see how high the Baptist spire is before we run ours + up. The church is everything that could be desired inside. There is the + nave, with its lofty and beautiful arched ceiling; there are the side + aisles, and two elegant rows of stone pillars, stained so as to be a + perfect imitation of stucco; there is the apse, with its stained glass and + exquisite lines; and there is an organ-loft over the front entrance, with + a rose window. Nothing was wanting, so far as we could see, except that we + should adapt ourselves to the circumstances; and that we have been trying + to do ever since. It may be well to relate how we do it, for the benefit + of other inchoate Goths. + </p> + <p> + It was found that if we put up the organ in the loft, it would hide the + beautiful rose window. Besides, we wanted congregational singing, and if + we hired a choir, and hung it up there under the roof, like a cage of + birds, we should not have congregational singing. We therefore left the + organ-loft vacant, making no further use of it than to satisfy our Gothic + cravings. As for choir,—several of the singers of the church + volunteered to sit together in the front side-seats, and as there was no + place for an organ, they gallantly rallied round a melodeon,—or + perhaps it is a cabinet organ,—a charming instrument, and, as + everybody knows, entirely in keeping with the pillars, arches, and great + spaces of a real Gothic edifice. It is the union of simplicity with + grandeur, for which we have all been looking. I need not say to those who + have ever heard a melodeon, that there is nothing like it. It is rare, + even in the finest churches on the Continent. And we had congregational + singing. And it went very well indeed. One of the advantages of pure + congregational singing, is that you can join in the singing whether you + have a voice or not. The disadvantage is, that your neighbor can do the + same. It is strange what an uncommonly poor lot of voices there is, even + among good people. But we enjoy it. If you do not enjoy it, you can change + your seat until you get among a good lot. + </p> + <p> + So far, everything went well. But it was next discovered that it was + difficult to hear the minister, who had a very handsome little desk in the + apse, somewhat distant from the bulk of the congregation; still, we could + most of us see him on a clear day. The church was admirably built for + echoes, and the centre of the house was very favorable to them. When you + sat in the centre of the house, it sometimes seemed as if three or four + ministers were speaking. + </p> + <p> + It is usually so in cathedrals; the Right Reverend So-and-So is assisted + by the very Reverend Such-and-Such, and the good deal Reverend + Thus-and-Thus, and so on. But a good deal of the minister's voice appeared + to go up into the groined arches, and, as there was no one up there, some + of his best things were lost. We also had a notion that some of it went + into the cavernous organ-loft. It would have been all right if there had + been a choir there, for choirs usually need more preaching, and pay less + heed to it, than any other part of the congregation. Well, we drew a sort + of screen over the organ-loft; but the result was not as marked as we had + hoped. We next devised a sounding-board,—a sort of mammoth + clamshell, painted white,—and erected it behind the minister. It had + a good effect on the minister. It kept him up straight to his work. So + long as he kept his head exactly in the focus, his voice went out and did + not return to him; but if he moved either way, he was assailed by a Babel + of clamoring echoes. There was no opportunity for him to splurge about + from side to side of the pulpit, as some do. And if he raised his voice + much, or attempted any extra flights, he was liable to be drowned in a + refluent sea of his own eloquence. And he could hear the congregation as + well as they could hear him. All the coughs, whispers, noises, were + gathered in the wooden tympanum behind him, and poured into his ears. + </p> + <p> + But the sounding-board was an improvement, and we advanced to bolder + measures; having heard a little, we wanted to hear more. Besides, those + who sat in front began to be discontented with the melodeon. There are + depths in music which the melodeon, even when it is called a cabinet + organ, with a colored boy at the bellows, cannot sound. The melodeon was + not, originally, designed for the Gothic worship. We determined to have an + organ, and we speculated whether, by erecting it in the apse, we could not + fill up that elegant portion of the church, and compel the preacher's + voice to leave it, and go out over the pews. It would of course do + something to efface the main beauty of a Gothic church; but something must + be done, and we began a series of experiments to test the probable effects + of putting the organ and choir behind the minister. We moved the desk to + the very front of the platform, and erected behind it a high, square board + screen, like a section of tight fence round the fair-grounds. This did + help matters. The minister spoke with more ease, and we could hear him + better. If the screen had been intended to stay there, we should have + agitated the subject of painting it. But this was only an experiment. + </p> + <p> + Our next move was to shove the screen back and mount the volunteer + singers, melodeon and all, upon the platform,—some twenty of them + crowded together behind the minister. The effect was beautiful. It seemed + as if we had taken care to select the finest-looking people in the + congregation,—much to the injury of the congregation, of course, as + seen from the platform. There are few congregations that can stand this + sort of culling, though ours can endure it as well as any; yet it devolves + upon those of us who remain the responsibility of looking as well as we + can. + </p> + <p> + The experiment was a success, so far as appearances went, but when the + screen went back, the minister's voice went back with it. We could not + hear him very well, though we could hear the choir as plain as day. We + have thought of remedying this last defect by putting the high screen in + front of the singers, and close to the minister, as it was before. This + would make the singers invisible,—“though lost to sight, to memory + dear,”—what is sometimes called an “angel choir,” when the singers + (and the melodeon) are concealed, with the most subdued and religious + effect. It is often so in cathedrals. + </p> + <p> + This plan would have another advantage. The singers on the platform, all + handsome and well dressed, distract our attention from the minister, and + what he is saying. We cannot help looking at them, studying all the faces + and all the dresses. If one of them sits up very straight, he is a rebuke + to us; if he “lops” over, we wonder why he does n't sit up; if his hair is + white, we wonder whether it is age or family peculiarity; if he yawns, we + want to yawn; if he takes up a hymn-book, we wonder if he is uninterested + in the sermon; we look at the bonnets, and query if that is the latest + spring style, or whether we are to look for another; if he shaves close, + we wonder why he doesn't let his beard grow; if he has long whiskers, we + wonder why he does n't trim 'em; if she sighs, we feel sorry; if she + smiles, we would like to know what it is about. And, then, suppose any of + the singers should ever want to eat fennel, or peppermints, or Brown's + troches, and pass them round! Suppose the singers, more or less of them, + should sneeze! + </p> + <p> + Suppose one or two of them, as the handsomest people sometimes will, + should go to sleep! In short, the singers there take away all our + attention from the minister, and would do so if they were the homeliest + people in the world. We must try something else. + </p> + <p> + It is needless to explain that a Gothic religious life is not an idle one. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0192}.jpg" alt="{0192}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0192}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0028" id="link2H_4_0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + EIGHTH STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0029" id="link2H_4_0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0193}.jpg" alt="{0193}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0193}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + Perhaps the clothes question is exhausted, philosophically. I cannot but + regret that the Poet of the Breakfast-Table, who appears to have an + uncontrollable penchant for saying the things you would like to say + yourself, has alluded to the anachronism of “Sir Coeur de Lion Plantagenet + in the mutton-chop whiskers and the plain gray suit.” + </p> + <p> + A great many scribblers have felt the disadvantage of writing after + Montaigne; and it is impossible to tell how much originality in others Dr. + Holmes has destroyed in this country. In whist there are some men you + always prefer to have on your left hand, and I take it that this intuitive + essayist, who is so alert to seize the few remaining unappropriated ideas + and analogies in the world, is one of them. + </p> + <p> + No doubt if the Plantagenets of this day were required to dress in a suit + of chain-armor and wear iron pots on their heads, they would be as + ridiculous as most tragedy actors on the stage. The pit which recognizes + Snooks in his tin breastplate and helmet laughs at him, and Snooks himself + feels like a sheep; and when the great tragedian comes on, shining in + mail, dragging a two-handed sword, and mouths the grandiloquence which + poets have put into the speech of heroes, the dress-circle requires all + its good-breeding and its feigned love of the traditionary drama not to + titter. + </p> + <p> + If this sort of acting, which is supposed to have come down to us from the + Elizabethan age, and which culminated in the school of the Keans, Kembles, + and Siddonses, ever had any fidelity to life, it must have been in a + society as artificial as the prose of Sir Philip Sidney. That anybody ever + believed in it is difficult to think, especially when we read what + privileges the fine beaux and gallants of the town took behind the scenes + and on the stage in the golden days of the drama. When a part of the + audience sat on the stage, and gentlemen lounged or reeled across it in + the midst of a play, to speak to acquaintances in the audience, the + illusion could not have been very strong. + </p> + <p> + Now and then a genius, like Rachel as Horatia, or Hackett as Falstaff, may + actually seem to be the character assumed by virtue of a transforming + imagination, but I suppose the fact to be that getting into a costume, + absurdly antiquated and remote from all the habits and associations of the + actor, largely accounts for the incongruity and ridiculousness of most of + our modern acting. Whether what is called the “legitimate drama” ever was + legitimate we do not know, but the advocates of it appear to think that + the theatre was some time cast in a mould, once for all, and is good for + all times and peoples, like the propositions of Euclid. To our eyes the + legitimate drama of to-day is the one in which the day is reflected, both + in costume and speech, and which touches the affections, the passions, the + humor, of the present time. The brilliant success of the few good plays + that have been written out of the rich life which we now live—the + most varied, fruitful, and dramatically suggestive—ought to rid us + forever of the buskin-fustian, except as a pantomimic or spectacular + curiosity. + </p> + <p> + We have no objection to Julius Caesar or Richard III. stalking about in + impossible clothes, and stepping four feet at a stride, if they want to, + but let them not claim to be more “legitimate” than “Ours” or “Rip Van + Winkle.” There will probably be some orator for years and years to come, + at every Fourth of July, who will go on asking, Where is Thebes? but he + does not care anything about it, and he does not really expect an answer. + I have sometimes wished I knew the exact site of Thebes, so that I could + rise in the audience, and stop that question, at any rate. It is + legitimate, but it is tiresome. + </p> + <p> + If we went to the bottom of this subject, I think we should find that the + putting upon actors clothes to which they are unaccustomed makes them act + and talk artificially, and often in a manner intolerable. + </p> + <p> + An actor who has not the habits or instincts of a gentleman cannot be made + to appear like one on the stage by dress; he only caricatures and + discredits what he tries to represent; and the unaccustomed clothes and + situation make him much more unnatural and insufferable than he would + otherwise be. Dressed appropriately for parts for which he is fitted, he + will act well enough, probably. What I mean is, that the clothes + inappropriate to the man make the incongruity of him and his part more + apparent. Vulgarity is never so conspicuous as in fine apparel, on or off + the stage, and never so self-conscious. Shall we have, then, no refined + characters on the stage? Yes; but let them be taken by men and women of + taste and refinement and let us have done with this masquerading in false + raiment, ancient and modern, which makes nearly every stage a travesty of + nature and the whole theatre a painful pretension. We do not expect the + modern theatre to be a place of instruction (that business is now turned + over to the telegraphic operator, who is making a new language), but it + may give amusement instead of torture, and do a little in satirizing folly + and kindling love of home and country by the way. + </p> + <p> + This is a sort of summary of what we all said, and no one in particular is + responsible for it; and in this it is like public opinion. The Parson, + however, whose only experience of the theatre was the endurance of an + oratorio once, was very cordial in his denunciation of the stage + altogether. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Yet, acting itself is delightful; nothing so entertains us as + mimicry, the personation of character. We enjoy it in private. I confess + that I am always pleased with the Parson in the character of grumbler. He + would be an immense success on the stage. I don't know but the theatre + will have to go back into the hands of the priests, who once controlled + it. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Scoffer! + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I can imagine how enjoyable the stage might be, cleared of all + its traditionary nonsense, stilted language, stilted behavior, all the + rubbish of false sentiment, false dress, and the manners of times that + were both artificial and immoral, and filled with living characters, who + speak the thought of to-day, with the wit and culture that are current + to-day. I've seen private theatricals, where all the performers were + persons of cultivation, that.... + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. So have I. For something particularly cheerful, commend me + to amateur theatricals. I have passed some melancholy hours at them. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That's because the performers acted the worn stage plays, and + attempted to do them in the manner they had seen on the stage. It is not + always so. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I suppose Mandeville would say that acting has got into a + mannerism which is well described as stagey, and is supposed to be natural + to the stage; just as half the modern poets write in a recognized form of + literary manufacture, without the least impulse from within, and not with + the purpose of saying anything, but of turning out a piece of literary + work. That's the reason we have so much poetry that impresses one like + sets of faultless cabinet-furniture made by machinery. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. But you need n't talk of nature or naturalness in acting or in + anything. I tell you nature is poor stuff. It can't go alone. Amateur + acting—they get it up at church sociables nowadays—is apt to + be as near nature as a school-boy's declamation. Acting is the Devil's + art. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Do you object to such innocent amusement? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. What the Parson objects to is, that he isn't amused. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. What's the use of objecting? It's the fashion of the day to + amuse people into the kingdom of heaven. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. The Parson has got us off the track. My notion about the stage + is, that it keeps along pretty evenly with the rest of the world; the + stage is usually quite up to the level of the audience. Assumed dress on + the stage, since you were speaking of that, makes people no more + constrained and self-conscious than it does off the stage. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. What sarcasm is coming now? + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Well, you may laugh, but the world has n't got used to good + clothes yet. The majority do not wear them with ease. People who only put + on their best on rare and stated occasions step into an artificial + feeling. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder if that's the reason the Parson finds it so + difficult to get hold of his congregation. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I don't know how else to account for the formality and vapidity + of a set “party,” where all the guests are clothed in a manner to which + they are unaccustomed, dressed into a condition of vivid + self-consciousness. The same people, who know each other perfectly well, + will enjoy themselves together without restraint in their ordinary + apparel. But nothing can be more artificial than the behavior of people + together who rarely “dress up.” It seems impossible to make the + conversation as fine as the clothes, and so it dies in a kind of inane + helplessness. Especially is this true in the country, where people have + not obtained the mastery of their clothes that those who live in the city + have. It is really absurd, at this stage of our civilization, that we + should be so affected by such an insignificant accident as dress. Perhaps + Mandeville can tell us whether this clothes panic prevails in the older + societies. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Don't. We've heard it; about its being one of the Englishman's + thirty-nine articles that he never shall sit down to dinner without a + dress-coat, and all that. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I wish, for my part, that everybody who has time to eat a + dinner would dress for that, the principal event of the day, and do + respectful and leisurely justice to it. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. It has always seemed singular to me that men who work so + hard to build elegant houses, and have good dinners, should take so little + leisure to enjoy either. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. If the Parson will permit me, I should say that the chief + clothes question abroad just now is, how to get any; and it is the same + with the dinners. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0030" id="link2H_4_0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + It is quite unnecessary to say that the talk about clothes ran into the + question of dress-reform, and ran out, of course. You cannot converse on + anything nowadays that you do not run into some reform. The Parson says + that everybody is intent on reforming everything but himself. We are all + trying to associate ourselves to make everybody else behave as we do. Said— + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Dress reform! As if people couldn't change their clothes + without concert of action. Resolved, that nobody should put on a clean + collar oftener than his neighbor does. I'm sick of every sort of reform. I + should like to retrograde awhile. Let a dyspeptic ascertain that he can + eat porridge three times a day and live, and straightway he insists that + everybody ought to eat porridge and nothing else. I mean to get up a + society every member of which shall be pledged to do just as he pleases. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. That would be the most radical reform of the day. That would + be independence. If people dressed according to their means, acted + according to their convictions, and avowed their opinions, it would + revolutionize society. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. I should like to walk into your church some Sunday and see + the changes under such conditions. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. It might give you a novel sensation to walk in at any time. + And I'm not sure but the church would suit your retrograde ideas. It's so + Gothic that a Christian of the Middle Ages, if he were alive, couldn't see + or hear in it. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I don't know whether these reformers who carry the world on their + shoulders in such serious fashion, especially the little fussy fellows, + who are themselves the standard of the regeneration they seek, are more + ludicrous than pathetic. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. Pathetic, by all means. But I don't know that they would + be pathetic if they were not ludicrous. There are those reform singers who + have been piping away so sweetly now for thirty years, with never any + diminution of cheerful, patient enthusiasm; their hair growing longer and + longer, their eyes brighter and brighter, and their faces, I do believe, + sweeter and sweeter; singing always with the same constancy for the slave, + for the drunkard, for the snufftaker, for the suffragist,—“There'sa-good-time-com-ing-boys + (nothing offensive is intended by 'boys,' it is put in for euphony, and + sung pianissimo, not to offend the suffragists), it's-almost-here.” And + what a brightening up of their faces there is when they say, + “it's-al-most-here,” not doubting for a moment that “it's” coming + tomorrow; and the accompanying melodeon also wails its wheezy suggestion + that “it's-al-most-here,” that “good-time” (delayed so long, waiting + perhaps for the invention of the melodeon) when we shall all sing and all + play that cheerful instrument, and all vote, and none shall smoke, or + drink, or eat meat, “boys.” I declare it almost makes me cry to hear them, + so touching is their faith in the midst of a jeer-ing world. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I suspect that no one can be a genuine reformer and not be + ridiculous. I mean those who give themselves up to the unction of the + reform. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Does n't that depend upon whether the reform is large or + petty? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I should say rather that the reforms attracted to them + all the ridiculous people, who almost always manage to become the most + conspicuous. I suppose that nobody dare write out all that was ludicrous + in the great abolition movement. But it was not at all comical to those + most zealous in it; they never could see—more's the pity, for + thereby they lose much—the humorous side of their performances, and + that is why the pathos overcomes one's sense of the absurdity of such + people. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. It is lucky for the world that so many are willing to be + absurd. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Well, I think that, in the main, the reformers manage to look out + for themselves tolerably well. I knew once a lean and faithful agent of a + great philanthropic scheme, who contrived to collect every year for the + cause just enough to support him at a good hotel comfortably. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. That's identifying one's self with the cause. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. You remember the great free-soil convention at Buffalo, in + 1848, when Van Buren was nominated. All the world of hope and discontent + went there, with its projects of reform. There seemed to be no doubt, + among hundreds that attended it, that if they could get a resolution + passed that bread should be buttered on both sides, it would be so + buttered. The platform provided for every want and every woe. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I remember. If you could get the millennium by political + action, we should have had it then. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. We went there on the Erie Canal, the exciting and fashionable + mode of travel in those days. I was a boy when we began the voyage. The + boat was full of conventionists; all the talk was of what must be done + there. I got the impression that as that boat-load went so would go the + convention; and I was not alone in that feeling. I can never be grateful + enough for one little scrubby fanatic who was on board, who spent most of + his time in drafting resolutions and reading them privately to the + passengers. He was a very enthusiastic, nervous, and somewhat dirty little + man, who wore a woolen muffler about his throat, although it was summer; + he had nearly lost his voice, and could only speak in a hoarse, + disagreeable whisper, and he always carried a teacup about, containing + some sticky compound which he stirred frequently with a spoon, and took, + whenever he talked, in order to improve his voice. If he was separated + from his cup for ten minutes, his whisper became inaudible. I greatly + delighted in him, for I never saw any one who had so much enjoyment of his + own importance. He was fond of telling what he would do if the convention + rejected such and such resolutions. He'd make it hot for them. I did n't + know but he'd make them take his mixture. The convention had got to take a + stand on tobacco, for one thing. He'd heard Gid-dings took snuff; he'd + see. When we at length reached Buffalo he took his teacup and carpet-bag + of resolutions and went ashore in a great hurry. I saw him once again in a + cheap restaurant, whispering a resolution to another delegate, but he did + n't appear in the convention. I have often wondered what became of him. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably he's consul somewhere. They mostly are. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. After all, it's the easiest thing in the world to sit and + sneer at eccentricities. But what a dead and uninteresting world it would + be if we were all proper, and kept within the lines! Affairs would soon be + reduced to mere machinery. There are moments, even days, when all + interests and movements appear to be settled upon some universal plan of + equilibrium; but just then some restless and absurd person is inspired to + throw the machine out of gear. These individual eccentricities seem to be + the special providences in the general human scheme. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. They make it very hard work for the rest of us, who are disposed + to go along peaceably and smoothly. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. And stagnate. I 'm not sure but the natural condition of this + planet is war, and that when it is finally towed to its anchorage—if + the universe has any harbor for worlds out of commission—it will + look like the Fighting Temeraire in Turner's picture. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. There is another thing I should like to understand: the tendency + of people who take up one reform, perhaps a personal regeneration in + regard to some bad habit, to run into a dozen other isms, and get all at + sea in several vague and pernicious theories and practices. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. Herbert seems to think there is safety in a man's being + anchored, even if it is to a bad habit. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Thank you. But what is it in human nature that is apt to carry a + man who may take a step in personal reform into so many extremes? + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably it's human nature. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Why, for instance, should a reformed drunkard (one of the noblest + examples of victory over self) incline, as I have known the reformed to + do, to spiritism, or a woman suffragist to “pantarchism” (whatever that + is), and want to pull up all the roots of society, and expect them to grow + in the air, like orchids; or a Graham-bread disciple become enamored of + Communism? + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I know an excellent Conservative who would, I think, suit you; + he says that he does not see how a man who indulges in the theory and + practice of total abstinence can be a consistent believer in the Christian + religion. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Well, I can understand what he means: that a person is bound to + hold himself in conditions of moderation and control, using and not + abusing the things of this world, practicing temperance, not retiring into + a convent of artificial restrictions in order to escape the full + responsibility of self-control. And yet his theory would certainly wreck + most men and women. What does the Parson say? + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. That the world is going crazy on the notion of individual + ability. Whenever a man attempts to reform himself, or anybody else, + without the aid of the Christian religion, he is sure to go adrift, and is + pretty certain to be blown about by absurd theories, and shipwrecked on + some pernicious ism. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I think the discussion has touched bottom. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0031" id="link2H_4_0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + I never felt so much the value of a house with a backlog in it as during + the late spring; for its lateness was its main feature. Everybody was + grumbling about it, as if it were something ordered from the tailor, and + not ready on the day. Day after day it snowed, night after night it blew a + gale from the northwest; the frost sunk deeper and deeper into the ground; + there was a popular longing for spring that was almost a prayer; the + weather bureau was active; Easter was set a week earlier than the year + before, but nothing seemed to do any good. The robins sat under the + evergreens, and piped in a disconsolate mood, and at last the bluejays + came and scolded in the midst of the snow-storm, as they always do scold + in any weather. The crocuses could n't be coaxed to come up, even with a + pickaxe. I'm almost ashamed now to recall what we said of the weather only + I think that people are no more accountable for what they say of the + weather than for their remarks when their corns are stepped on. + </p> + <p> + We agreed, however, that, but for disappointed expectations and the + prospect of late lettuce and peas, we were gaining by the fire as much as + we were losing by the frost. And the Mistress fell to chanting the + comforts of modern civilization. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER said he should like to know, by the way, if our + civilization differed essentially from any other in anything but its + comforts. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. We are no nearer religious unity. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. We have as much war as ever. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. There was never such a social turmoil. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. The artistic part of our nature does not appear to have + grown. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. We are quarreling as to whether we are in fact radically + different from the brutes. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Scarcely two people think alike about the proper kind of human + government. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Our poetry is made out of words, for the most part, and not + drawn from the living sources. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. And Mr. Cumming is uncorking his seventh phial. I never + felt before what barbarians we are. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Yet you won't deny that the life of the average man is safer + and every way more comfortable than it was even a century ago. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. But what I want to know is, whether what we call our + civilization has done any thing more for mankind at large than to increase + the ease and pleasure of living? Science has multiplied wealth, and + facilitated intercourse, and the result is refinement of manners and a + diffusion of education and information. Are men and women essentially + changed, however? I suppose the Parson would say we have lost faith, for + one thing. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. And superstition; and gained toleration. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. The question is, whether toleration is anything but indifference. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Everything is tolerated now but Christian orthodoxy. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. It's easy enough to make a brilliant catalogue of + external achievements, but I take it that real progress ought to be in man + himself. It is not a question of what a man enjoys, but what he can + produce. The best sculpture was executed two thousand years ago. The best + paintings are several centuries old. We study the finest architecture in + its ruins. The standards of poetry are Shakespeare, Homer, Isaiah, and + David. The latest of the arts, music, culminated in composition, though + not in execution, a century ago. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. Yet culture in music certainly distinguishes the + civilization of this age. It has taken eighteen hundred years for the + principles of the Christian religion to begin to be practically + incorporated in government and in ordinary business, and it will take a + long time for Beethoven to be popularly recognized; but there is growth + toward him, and not away from him, and when the average culture has + reached his height, some other genius will still more profoundly and + delicately express the highest thoughts. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. I wish I could believe it. The spirit of this age is expressed by + the Calliope. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. Yes, it remained for us to add church-bells and cannon to the + orchestra. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a melancholy thought to me that we can no longer + express ourselves with the bass-drum; there used to be the whole of the + Fourth of July in its patriotic throbs. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. We certainly have made great progress in one art,—that + of war. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. And in the humane alleviations of the miseries of war. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. The most discouraging symptom to me in our undoubted + advance in the comforts and refinements of society is the facility with + which men slip back into barbarism, if the artificial and external + accidents of their lives are changed. We have always kept a fringe of + barbarism on our shifting western frontier; and I think there never was a + worse society than that in California and Nevada in their early days. + </p> + <p> + THE YOUNG LADY. That is because women were absent. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. But women are not absent in London and New York, and they + are conspicuous in the most exceptionable demonstrations of social + anarchy. Certainly they were not wanting in Paris. Yes, there was a city + widely accepted as the summit of our material civilization. No city was so + beautiful, so luxurious, so safe, so well ordered for the comfort of + living, and yet it needed only a month or two to make it a kind of + pandemonium of savagery. Its citizens were the barbarians who destroyed + its own monuments of civilization. I don't mean to say that there was no + apology for what was done there in the deceit and fraud that preceded it, + but I simply notice how ready the tiger was to appear, and how little + restraint all the material civilization was to the beast. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I can't deny your instances, and yet I somehow feel that + pretty much all you have been saying is in effect untrue. Not one of you + would be willing to change our civilization for any other. In your + estimate you take no account, it seems to me, of the growth of charity. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. And you might add a recognition of the value of human life. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. I don't believe there was ever before diffused everywhere + such an element of good-will, and never before were women so much engaged + in philanthropic work. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. It must be confessed that one of the best signs of the times + is woman's charity for woman. That certainly never existed to the same + extent in any other civilization. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. And there is another thing that distinguishes us, or is + beginning to. That is, the notion that you can do something more with a + criminal than punish him; and that society has not done its duty when it + has built a sufficient number of schools for one class, or of decent jails + for another. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. It will be a long time before we get decent jails. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. But when we do they will begin to be places of education and + training as much as of punishment and disgrace. The public will provide + teachers in the prisons as it now does in the common schools. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. The imperfections of our methods and means of selecting + those in the community who ought to be in prison are so great, that extra + care in dealing with them becomes us. We are beginning to learn that we + cannot draw arbitrary lines with infallible justice. Perhaps half those + who are convicted of crimes are as capable of reformation as half those + transgressors who are not convicted, or who keep inside the statutory law. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Would you remove the odium of prison? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. No; but I would have criminals believe, and society + believe, that in going to prison a man or woman does not pass an absolute + line and go into a fixed state. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. That is, you would not have judgment and retribution begin in + this world. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Don't switch us off into theology. I hate to go up in a + balloon, or see any one else go. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Don't you think there is too much leniency toward crime and + criminals, taking the place of justice, in these days? + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. There may be too much disposition to condone the crimes + of those who have been considered respectable. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. That is, scarcely anybody wants to see his friend hung. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. I think a large part of the bitterness of the condemned arises + from a sense of the inequality with which justice is administered. I am + surprised, in visiting jails, to find so few respectable-looking convicts. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. Nobody will go to jail nowadays who thinks anything of + himself. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. When society seriously takes hold of the reformation of + criminals (say with as much determination as it does to carry an election) + this false leniency will disappear; for it partly springs from a feeling + that punishment is unequal, and does not discriminate enough in + individuals, and that society itself has no right to turn a man over to + the Devil, simply because he shows a strong leaning that way. A part of + the scheme of those who work for the reformation of criminals is to render + punishment more certain, and to let its extent depend upon reformation. + There is no reason why a professional criminal, who won't change his trade + for an honest one, should have intervals of freedom in his prison life in + which he is let loose to prey upon society. Criminals ought to be + discharged, like insane patients, when they are cured. + </p> + <p> + OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a wonder to me, what with our multitudes of statutes + and hosts of detectives, that we are any of us out of jail. I never come + away from a visit to a State-prison without a new spasm of fear and + virtue. The faculties for getting into jail seem to be ample. We want more + organizations for keeping people out. + </p> + <p> + MANDEVILLE. That is the sort of enterprise the women are engaged in, the + frustration of the criminal tendencies of those born in vice. I believe + women have it in their power to regenerate the world morally. + </p> + <p> + THE PARSON. It's time they began to undo the mischief of their mother. + </p> + <p> + THE MISTRESS. The reason they have not made more progress is that they + have usually confined their individual efforts to one man; they are now + organizing for a general campaign. + </p> + <p> + THE FIRE-TENDER. I'm not sure but here is where the ameliorations of the + conditions of life, which are called the comforts of this civilization, + come in, after all, and distinguish the age above all others. They have + enabled the finer powers of women to have play as they could not in a + ruder age. I should like to live a hundred years and see what they will + do. + </p> + <p> + HERBERT. Not much but change the fashions, unless they submit themselves + to the same training and discipline that men do. + </p> + <p> + I have no doubt that Herbert had to apologize for this remark afterwards + in private, as men are quite willing to do in particular cases; it is only + in general they are unjust. The talk drifted off into general and + particular depreciation of other times. Mandeville described a picture, in + which he appeared to have confidence, of a fight between an Iguanodon and + a Megalosaurus, where these huge iron-clad brutes were represented chewing + up different portions of each other's bodies in a forest of the lower + cretaceous period. So far as he could learn, that sort of thing went on + unchecked for hundreds of thousands of years, and was typical of the + intercourse of the races of man till a comparatively recent period. There + was also that gigantic swan, the Plesiosaurus; in fact, all the early + brutes were disgusting. He delighted to think that even the lower animals + had improved, both in appearance and disposition. + </p> + <p> + The conversation ended, therefore, in a very amicable manner, having been + taken to a ground that nobody knew anything about. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0223}.jpg" alt="{0223}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0223}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0032" id="link2H_4_0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + NINTH STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0033" id="link2H_4_0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0224}.jpg" alt="{0224}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0224}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + Can you have a backlog in July? That depends upon circumstances. + </p> + <p> + In northern New England it is considered a sign of summer when the + housewives fill the fireplaces with branches of mountain laurel, and, + later, with the feathery stalks of the asparagus. This is often, too, the + timid expression of a tender feeling, under Puritanic repression, which + has not sufficient vent in the sweet-william and hollyhock at the front + door. This is a yearning after beauty and ornamentation which has no other + means of gratifying itself. + </p> + <p> + In the most rigid circumstances, the graceful nature of woman thus + discloses itself in these mute expressions of an undeveloped taste. You + may never doubt what the common flowers growing along the pathway to the + front door mean to the maiden of many summers who tends them;—love + and religion, and the weariness of an uneventful life. The sacredness of + the Sabbath, the hidden memory of an unrevealed and unrequited affection, + the slow years of gathering and wasting sweetness, are in the smell of the + pink and the sweet-clover. These sentimental plants breathe something of + the longing of the maiden who sits in the Sunday evenings of summer on the + lonesome front doorstone, singing the hymns of the saints, and perennial + as the myrtle that grows thereby. + </p> + <p> + Yet not always in summer, even with the aid of unrequited love and + devotional feeling, is it safe to let the fire go out on the hearth, in + our latitude. I remember when the last almost total eclipse of the sun + happened in August, what a bone-piercing chill came over the world. + Perhaps the imagination had something to do with causing the chill from + that temporary hiding of the sun to feel so much more penetrating than + that from the coming on of night, which shortly followed. It was + impossible not to experience a shudder as of the approach of the Judgment + Day, when the shadows were flung upon the green lawn, and we all stood in + the wan light, looking unfamiliar to each other. The birds in the trees + felt the spell. We could in fancy see those spectral camp-fires which men + would build on the earth, if the sun should slow its fires down to about + the brilliancy of the moon. It was a great relief to all of us to go into + the house, and, before a blazing wood-fire, talk of the end of the world. + </p> + <p> + In New England it is scarcely ever safe to let the fire go out; it is best + to bank it, for it needs but the turn of a weather-vane at any hour to + sweep the Atlantic rains over us, or to bring down the chill of Hudson's + Bay. There are days when the steam ship on the Atlantic glides calmly + along under a full canvas, but its central fires must always be ready to + make steam against head-winds and antagonistic waves. Even in our most + smiling summer days one needs to have the materials of a cheerful fire at + hand. It is only by this readiness for a change that one can preserve an + equal mind. We are made provident and sagacious by the fickleness of our + climate. We should be another sort of people if we could have that serene, + unclouded trust in nature which the Egyptian has. The gravity and repose + of the Eastern peoples is due to the unchanging aspect of the sky, and the + deliberation and regularity of the great climatic processes. Our + literature, politics, religion, show the effect of unsettled weather. But + they compare favorably with the Egyptian, for all that. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + You cannot know, the Young Lady wrote, with what longing I look back to + those winter days by the fire; though all the windows are open to this May + morning, and the brown thrush is singing in the chestnut-tree, and I see + everywhere that first delicate flush of spring, which seems too evanescent + to be color even, and amounts to little more than a suffusion of the + atmosphere. I doubt, indeed, if the spring is exactly what it used to be, + or if, as we get on in years [no one ever speaks of “getting on in years” + till she is virtually settled in life], its promises and suggestions do + not seem empty in comparison with the sympathies and responses of human + friendship, and the stimulation of society. Sometimes nothing is so + tiresome as a perfect day in a perfect season. + </p> + <p> + I only imperfectly understand this. The Parson says that woman is always + most restless under the most favorable conditions, and that there is no + state in which she is really happy except that of change. I suppose this + is the truth taught in what has been called the “Myth of the Garden.” + Woman is perpetual revolution, and is that element in the world which + continually destroys and re-creates. She is the experimenter and the + suggester of new combinations. She has no belief in any law of eternal + fitness of things. She is never even content with any arrangement of her + own house. The only reason the Mistress could give, when she rearranged + her apartment, for hanging a picture in what seemed the most inappropriate + place, was that it had never been there before. Woman has no respect for + tradition, and because a thing is as it is is sufficient reason for + changing it. When she gets into law, as she has come into literature, we + shall gain something in the destruction of all our vast and musty + libraries of precedents, which now fetter our administration of individual + justice. It is Mandeville's opinion that women are not so sentimental as + men, and are not so easily touched with the unspoken poetry of nature; + being less poetical, and having less imagination, they are more fitted for + practical affairs, and would make less failures in business. I have + noticed the almost selfish passion for their flowers which old gardeners + have, and their reluctance to part with a leaf or a blossom from their + family. They love the flowers for themselves. A woman raises flowers for + their use. She is destruct-ion in a conservatory. She wants the flowers + for her lover, for the sick, for the poor, for the Lord on Easter day, for + the ornamentation of her house. She delights in the costly pleasure of + sacrificing them. She never sees a flower but she has an intense but + probably sinless desire to pick it. + </p> + <p> + It has been so from the first, though from the first she has been thwarted + by the accidental superior strength of man. Whatever she has obtained has + been by craft, and by the same coaxing which the sun uses to draw the + blossoms out of the apple-trees. I am not surprised to learn that she has + become tired of indulgences, and wants some of the original rights. We are + just beginning to find out the extent to which she has been denied and + subjected, and especially her condition among the primitive and barbarous + races. I have never seen it in a platform of grievances, but it is true + that among the Fijians she is not, unless a better civilization has + wrought a change in her behalf, permitted to eat people, even her own sex, + at the feasts of the men; the dainty enjoyed by the men being considered + too good to be wasted on women. Is anything wanting to this picture of the + degradation of woman? By a refinement of cruelty she receives no benefit + whatever from the missionaries who are sent out by—what to her must + seem a new name for Tantalus—the American Board. + </p> + <p> + I suppose the Young Lady expressed a nearly universal feeling in her + regret at the breaking up of the winter-fireside company. Society needs a + certain seclusion and the sense of security. Spring opens the doors and + the windows, and the noise and unrest of the world are let in. Even a + winter thaw begets a desire to travel, and summer brings longings + innumerable, and disturbs the most tranquil souls. Nature is, in fact, a + suggester of uneasiness, a promoter of pilgrimages and of excursions of + the fancy which never come to any satisfactory haven. The summer in these + latitudes is a campaign of sentiment and a season, for the most part, of + restlessness and discontent. We grow now in hot-houses roses which, in + form and color, are magnificent, and appear to be full of passion; yet one + simple June rose of the open air has for the Young Lady, I doubt not, more + sentiment and suggestion of love than a conservatory full of them in + January. And this suggestion, leavened as it is with the inconstancy of + nature, stimulated by the promises which are so often like the + peach-blossom of the Judas-tree, unsatisfying by reason of its vague + possibilities, differs so essentially from the more limited and attainable + and home-like emotion born of quiet intercourse by the winter fireside, + that I do not wonder the Young Lady feels as if some spell had been broken + by the transition of her life from in-doors to out-doors. Her secret, if + secret she has, which I do not at all know, is shared by the birds and the + new leaves and the blossoms on the fruit trees. If we lived elsewhere, in + that zone where the poets pretend always to dwell, we might be content, + perhaps I should say drugged, by the sweet influences of an unchanging + summer; but not living elsewhere, we can understand why the Young Lady + probably now looks forward to the hearthstone as the most assured center + of enduring attachment. + </p> + <p> + If it should ever become the sad duty of this biographer to write of + disappointed love, I am sure he would not have any sensational story to + tell of the Young Lady. She is one of those women whose unostentatious + lives are the chief blessing of humanity; who, with a sigh heard only by + herself and no change in her sunny face, would put behind her all the + memories of winter evenings and the promises of May mornings, and give her + life to some ministration of human kindness with an assiduity that would + make her occupation appear like an election and a first choice. The + disappointed man scowls, and hates his race, and threatens + self-destruction, choosing oftener the flowing bowl than the dagger, and + becoming a reeling nuisance in the world. It would be much more manly in + him to become the secretary of a Dorcas society. + </p> + <p> + I suppose it is true that women work for others with less expectation of + reward than men, and give themselves to labors of self-sacrifice with much + less thought of self. At least, this is true unless woman goes into some + public performance, where notoriety has its attractions, and mounts some + cause, to ride it man-fashion, when I think she becomes just as eager for + applause and just as willing that self-sacrifice should result in + self-elevation as man. For her, usually, are not those unbought—presentations + which are forced upon firemen, philanthropists, legislators, railroad-men, + and the superintendents of the moral instruction of the young. These are + almost always pleasing and unexpected tributes to worth and modesty, and + must be received with satisfaction when the public service rendered has + not been with a view to procuring them. We should say that one ought to be + most liable to receive a “testimonial” who, being a superintendent of any + sort, did not superintend with a view to getting it. But “testimonials” + have become so common that a modest man ought really to be afraid to do + his simple duty, for fear his motives will be misconstrued. Yet there are + instances of very worthy men who have had things publicly presented to + them. It is the blessed age of gifts and the reward of private virtue. And + the presentations have become so frequent that we wish there were a little + more variety in them. There never was much sense in giving a gallant + fellow a big speaking-trumpet to carry home to aid him in his intercourse + with his family; and the festive ice-pitcher has become a too universal + sign of absolute devotion to the public interest. The lack of one will + soon be proof that a man is a knave. The legislative cane with the gold + head, also, is getting to be recognized as the sign of the immaculate + public servant, as the inscription on it testifies, and the steps of + suspicion must ere-long dog him who does not carry one. The “testimonial” + business is, in truth, a little demoralizing, almost as much so as the + “donation;” and the demoralization has extended even to our language, so + that a perfectly respectable man is often obliged to see himself “made the + recipient of” this and that. It would be much better, if testimonials must + be, to give a man a barrel of flour or a keg of oysters, and let him eat + himself at once back into the ranks of ordinary men. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0035" id="link2H_4_0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + We may have a testimonial class in time, a sort of nobility here in + America, made so by popular gift, the members of which will all be able to + show some stick or piece of plated ware or massive chain, “of which they + have been the recipients.” In time it may be a distinction not to belong + to it, and it may come to be thought more blessed to give than to receive. + For it must have been remarked that it is not always to the cleverest and + the most amiable and modest man that the deputation comes with the + inevitable ice-pitcher (and “salver to match”), which has in it the magic + and subtle quality of making the hour in which it is received the proudest + of one's life. There has not been discovered any method of rewarding all + the deserving people and bringing their virtues into the prominence of + notoriety. And, indeed, it would be an unreasonable world if there had, + for its chief charm and sweetness lie in the excellences in it which are + reluctantly disclosed; one of the chief pleasures of living is in the + daily discovery of good traits, nobilities, and kindliness both in those + we have long known and in the chance passenger whose way happens for a day + to lie with ours. The longer I live the more I am impressed with the + excess of human kindness over human hatred, and the greater willingness to + oblige than to disoblige that one meets at every turn. The selfishness in + politics, the jealousy in letters, the bickering in art, the bitterness in + theology, are all as nothing compared to the sweet charities, sacrifices, + and deferences of private life. The people are few whom to know intimately + is to dislike. Of course you want to hate somebody, if you can, just to + keep your powers of discrimination bright, and to save yourself from + becoming a mere mush of good-nature; but perhaps it is well to hate some + historical person who has been dead so long as to be indifferent to it. It + is more comfortable to hate people we have never seen. I cannot but think + that Judas Iscariot has been of great service to the world as a sort of + buffer for moral indignation which might have made a collision nearer home + but for his utilized treachery. I used to know a venerable and most + amiable gentleman and scholar, whose hospitable house was always overrun + with wayside ministers, agents, and philanthropists, who loved their + fellow-men better than they loved to work for their living; and he, I + suspect, kept his moral balance even by indulgence in violent but most + distant dislikes. When I met him casually in the street, his first + salutation was likely to be such as this: “What a liar that Alison was! + Don't you hate him?” And then would follow specifications of historical + inveracity enough to make one's blood run cold. When he was thus + discharged of his hatred by such a conductor, I presume he had not a spark + left for those whose mission was partly to live upon him and other + generous souls. + </p> + <p> + Mandeville and I were talking of the unknown people, one rainy night by + the fire, while the Mistress was fitfully and interjectionally playing + with the piano-keys in an improvising mood. Mandeville has a good deal of + sentiment about him, and without any effort talks so beautifully sometimes + that I constantly regret I cannot report his language. He has, besides, + that sympathy of presence—I believe it is called magnetism by those + who regard the brain as only a sort of galvanic battery—which makes + it a greater pleasure to see him think, if I may say so, than to hear some + people talk. + </p> + <p> + It makes one homesick in this world to think that there are so many rare + people he can never know; and so many excellent people that scarcely any + one will know, in fact. One discovers a friend by chance, and cannot but + feel regret that twenty or thirty years of life maybe have been spent + without the least knowledge of him. When he is once known, through him + opening is made into another little world, into a circle of culture and + loving hearts and enthusiasm in a dozen congenial pursuits, and prejudices + perhaps. How instantly and easily the bachelor doubles his world when he + marries, and enters into the unknown fellowship of the to him continually + increasing company which is known in popular language as “all his wife's + relations.” + </p> + <p> + Near at hand daily, no doubt, are those worth knowing intimately, if one + had the time and the opportunity. And when one travels he sees what a vast + material there is for society and friendship, of which he can never avail + himself. Car-load after car-load of summer travel goes by one at any + railway-station, out of which he is sure he could choose a score of + life-long friends, if the conductor would introduce him. There are faces + of refinement, of quick wit, of sympathetic kindness,—interesting + people, traveled people, entertaining people,—as you would say in + Boston, “nice people you would admire to know,” whom you constantly meet + and pass without a sign of recognition, many of whom are no doubt your + long-lost brothers and sisters. You can see that they also have their + worlds and their interests, and they probably know a great many “nice” + people. The matter of personal liking and attachment is a good deal due to + the mere fortune of association. More fast friendships and pleasant + acquaintanceships are formed on the Atlantic steamships between those who + would have been only indifferent acquaintances elsewhere, than one would + think possible on a voyage which naturally makes one as selfish as he is + indifferent to his personal appearance. The Atlantic is the only power on + earth I know that can make a woman indifferent to her personal appearance. + </p> + <p> + Mandeville remembers, and I think without detriment to himself, the + glimpses he had in the White Mountains once of a young lady of whom his + utmost efforts could give him no further information than her name. Chance + sight of her on a passing stage or amid a group on some mountain lookout + was all he ever had, and he did not even know certainly whether she was + the perfect beauty and the lovely character he thought her. He said he + would have known her, however, at a great distance; there was to her form + that command of which we hear so much and which turns out to be nearly all + command after the “ceremony;” or perhaps it was something in the glance of + her eye or the turn of her head, or very likely it was a sweet inherited + reserve or hauteur that captivated him, that filled his days with the + expectation of seeing her, and made him hasten to the hotel-registers in + the hope that her name was there recorded. Whatever it was, she interested + him as one of the people he would like to know; and it piqued him that + there was a life, rich in friendships, no doubt, in tastes, in many + noblenesses, one of thousands of such, that must be absolutely nothing to + him,—nothing but a window into heaven momentarily opened and then + closed. I have myself no idea that she was a countess incognito, or that + she had descended from any greater heights than those where Mandeville saw + her, but I have always regretted that she went her way so mysteriously and + left no glow, and that we shall wear out the remainder of our days without + her society. I have looked for her name, but always in vain, among the + attendants at the rights-conventions, in the list of those good Americans + presented at court, among those skeleton names that appear as the remains + of beauty in the morning journals after a ball to the wandering prince, in + the reports of railway collisions and steamboat explosions. No news comes + of her. And so imperfect are our means of communication in this world + that, for anything we know, she may have left it long ago by some private + way. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0036" id="link2H_4_0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + The lasting regret that we cannot know more of the bright, sincere, and + genuine people of the world is increased by the fact that they are all + different from each other. Was it not Madame de Sevigne who said she had + loved several different women for several different qualities? Every real + person—for there are persons as there are fruits that have no + distinguishing flavor, mere gooseberries—has a distinct quality, and + the finding it is always like the discovery of a new island to the + voyager. The physical world we shall exhaust some day, having a written + description of every foot of it to which we can turn; but we shall never + get the different qualities of people into a biographical dictionary, and + the making acquaintance with a human being will never cease to be an + exciting experiment. We cannot even classify men so as to aid us much in + our estimate of them. The efforts in this direction are ingenious, but + unsatisfactory. If I hear that a man is lymphatic or nervous-sanguine, I + cannot tell therefrom whether I shall like and trust him. He may produce a + phrenological chart showing that his knobby head is the home of all the + virtues, and that the vicious tendencies are represented by holes in his + cranium, and yet I cannot be sure that he will not be as disagreeable as + if phrenology had not been invented. I feel sometimes that phrenology is + the refuge of mediocrity. Its charts are almost as misleading concerning + character as photographs. And photography may be described as the art + which enables commonplace mediocrity to look like genius. The heavy-jowled + man with shallow cerebrum has only to incline his head so that the lying + instrument can select a favorable focus, to appear in the picture with the + brow of a sage and the chin of a poet. Of all the arts for ministering to + human vanity the photographic is the most useful, but it is a poor aid in + the revelation of character. You shall learn more of a man's real nature + by seeing him walk once up the broad aisle of his church to his pew on + Sunday, than by studying his photograph for a month. + </p> + <p> + No, we do not get any certain standard of men by a chart of their + temperaments; it will hardly answer to select a wife by the color of her + hair; though it be by nature as red as a cardinal's hat, she may be no + more constant than if it were dyed. The farmer who shuns all the lymphatic + beauties in his neighborhood, and selects to wife the most + nervous-sanguine, may find that she is unwilling to get up in the winter + mornings and make the kitchen fire. Many a man, even in this scientific + age which professes to label us all, has been cruelly deceived in this + way. Neither the blondes nor the brunettes act according to the + advertisement of their temperaments. The truth is that men refuse to come + under the classifications of the pseudo-scientists, and all our new + nomenclatures do not add much to our knowledge. You know what to expect—if + the comparison will be pardoned—of a horse with certain points; but + you wouldn't dare go on a journey with a man merely upon the strength of + knowing that his temperament was the proper mixture of the sanguine and + the phlegmatic. Science is not able to teach us concerning men as it + teaches us of horses, though I am very far from saying that there are not + traits of nobleness and of meanness that run through families and can be + calculated to appear in individuals with absolute certainty; one family + will be trusty and another tricky through all its members for generations; + noble strains and ignoble strains are perpetuated. When we hear that she + has eloped with the stable-boy and married him, we are apt to remark, + “Well, she was a Bogardus.” And when we read that she has gone on a + mission and has died, distinguishing herself by some extraordinary + devotion to the heathen at Ujiji, we think it sufficient to say, “Yes, her + mother married into the Smiths.” But this knowledge comes of our + experience of special families, and stands us in stead no further. + </p> + <p> + If we cannot classify men scientifically and reduce them under a kind of + botanical order, as if they had a calculable vegetable development, + neither can we gain much knowledge of them by comparison. It does not help + me at all in my estimate of their characters to compare Mandeville with + the Young Lady, or Our Next Door with the Parson. The wise man does not + permit himself to set up even in his own mind any comparison of his + friends. His friendship is capable of going to extremes with many people, + evoked as it is by many qualities. When Mandeville goes into my garden in + June I can usually find him in a particular bed of strawberries, but he + does not speak disrespectfully of the others. When Nature, says + Mandeville, consents to put herself into any sort of strawberry, I have no + criticisms to make, I am only glad that I have been created into the same + world with such a delicious manifestation of the Divine favor. If I left + Mandeville alone in the garden long enough, I have no doubt he would + impartially make an end of the fruit of all the beds, for his capacity in + this direction is as all-embracing as it is in the matter of friendships. + The Young Lady has also her favorite patch of berries. And the Parson, I + am sorry to say, prefers to have them picked for him the elect of the + garden—and served in an orthodox manner. The straw-berry has a sort + of poetical precedence, and I presume that no fruit is jealous of it any + more than any flower is jealous of the rose; but I remark the facility + with which liking for it is transferred to the raspberry, and from the + raspberry (not to make a tedious enumeration) to the melon, and from the + melon to the grape, and the grape to the pear, and the pear to the apple. + And we do not mar our enjoyment of each by comparisons. + </p> + <p> + Of course it would be a dull world if we could not criticise our friends, + but the most unprofitable and unsatisfactory criticism is that by + comparison. Criticism is not necessarily uncharitableness, but a wholesome + exercise of our powers of analysis and discrimination. It is, however, a + very idle exercise, leading to no results when we set the qualities of one + over against the qualities of another, and disparage by contrast and not + by independent judgment. And this method of procedure creates jealousies + and heart-burnings innumerable. + </p> + <p> + Criticism by comparison is the refuge of incapables, and especially is + this true in literature. It is a lazy way of disposing of a young poet to + bluntly declare, without any sort of discrimination of his defects or his + excellences, that he equals Tennyson, and that Scott never wrote anything + finer. What is the justice of damning a meritorious novelist by comparing + him with Dickens, and smothering him with thoughtless and good-natured + eulogy? The poet and the novelist may be well enough, and probably have + qualities and gifts of their own which are worth the critic's attention, + if he has any time to bestow on them; and it is certainly unjust to + subject them to a comparison with somebody else, merely because the critic + will not take the trouble to ascertain what they are. If, indeed, the poet + and novelist are mere imitators of a model and copyists of a style, they + may be dismissed with such commendation as we bestow upon the machines who + pass their lives in making bad copies of the pictures of the great + painters. But the critics of whom we speak do not intend depreciation, but + eulogy, when they say that the author they have in hand has the wit of + Sydney Smith and the brilliancy of Macaulay. Probably he is not like + either of them, and may have a genuine though modest virtue of his own; + but these names will certainly kill him, and he will never be anybody in + the popular estimation. The public finds out speedily that he is not + Sydney Smith, and it resents the extravagant claim for him as if he were + an impudent pretender. How many authors of fair ability to interest the + world have we known in our own day who have been thus sky-rocketed into + notoriety by the lazy indiscrimination of the critic-by-comparison, and + then have sunk into a popular contempt as undeserved! I never see a young + aspirant injudiciously compared to a great and resplendent name in + literature, but I feel like saying, My poor fellow, your days are few and + full of trouble; you begin life handicapped, and you cannot possibly run a + creditable race. + </p> + <p> + I think this sort of critical eulogy is more damaging even than that which + kills by a different assumption, and one which is equally common, namely, + that the author has not done what he probably never intended to do. It is + well known that most of the trouble in life comes from our inability to + compel other people to do what we think they ought, and it is true in + criticism that we are unwilling to take a book for what it is, and credit + the author with that. When the solemn critic, like a mastiff with a + ladies' bonnet in his mouth, gets hold of a light piece of verse, or a + graceful sketch which catches the humor of an hour for the entertainment + of an hour, he tears it into a thousand shreds. It adds nothing to human + knowledge, it solves none of the problems of life, it touches none of the + questions of social science, it is not a philosophical treatise, and it is + not a dozen things that it might have been. The critic cannot forgive the + author for this disrespect to him. This isn't a rose, says the critic, + taking up a pansy and rending it; it is not at all like a rose, and the + author is either a pretentious idiot or an idiotic pretender. What + business, indeed, has the author to send the critic a bunch of sweet-peas, + when he knows that a cabbage would be preferred,—something not + showy, but useful? + </p> + <p> + A good deal of this is what Mandeville said and I am not sure that it is + devoid of personal feeling. He published, some years ago, a little volume + giving an account of a trip through the Great West, and a very + entertaining book it was. But one of the heavy critics got hold of it, and + made Mandeville appear, even to himself, he confessed, like an ass, + because there was nothing in the volume about geology or mining prospects, + and very little to instruct the student of physical geography. With + alternate sarcasm and ridicule, he literally basted the author, till + Mandeville said that he felt almost like a depraved scoundrel, and thought + he should be held up to less execration if he had committed a neat and + scientific murder. + </p> + <p> + But I confess that I have a good deal of sympathy with the critics. + Consider what these public tasters have to endure! None of us, I fancy, + would like to be compelled to read all that they read, or to take into our + mouths, even with the privilege of speedily ejecting it with a grimace, + all that they sip. The critics of the vintage, who pursue their calling in + the dark vaults and amid mouldy casks, give their opinion, for the most + part, only upon wine, upon juice that has matured and ripened into + development of quality. But what crude, unrestrained, unfermented—even + raw and drugged liquor, must the literary taster put to his unwilling lips + day after day! + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0252}.jpg" alt="{0252}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0252}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0037" id="link2H_4_0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TENTH STUDY + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0038" id="link2H_4_0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0253}.jpg" alt="{0253}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0253}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + It was my good fortune once to visit a man who remembered the rebellion of + 1745. Lest this confession should make me seem very aged, I will add that + the visit took place in 1851, and that the man was then one hundred and + thirteen years old. He was quite a lad before Dr. Johnson drank Mrs. + Thrale's tea. That he was as old as he had the credit of being, I have the + evidence of my own senses (and I am seldom mistaken in a person's age), of + his own family, and his own word; and it is incredible that so old a + person, and one so apparently near the grave, would deceive about his age. + </p> + <p> + The testimony of the very aged is always to be received without question, + as Alexander Hamilton once learned. He was trying a land-title with Aaron + Burr, and two of the witnesses upon whom Burr relied were venerable + Dutchmen, who had, in their youth, carried the surveying chains over the + land in dispute, and who were now aged respectively one hundred and four + years and one hundred and six years. Hamilton gently attempted to + undervalue their testimony, but he was instantly put down by the Dutch + justice, who suggested that Mr. Hamilton could not be aware of the age of + the witnesses. + </p> + <p> + My old man (the expression seems familiar and inelegant) had indeed an + exaggerated idea of his own age, and sometimes said that he supposed he + was going on four hundred, which was true enough, in fact; but for the + exact date, he referred to his youngest son,—a frisky and humorsome + lad of eighty years, who had received us at the gate, and whom we had at + first mistaken for the veteran, his father. But when we beheld the old + man, we saw the difference between age and age. The latter had settled + into a grizzliness and grimness which belong to a very aged and stunted + but sturdy oak-tree, upon the bark of which the gray moss is thick and + heavy. The old man appeared hale enough, he could walk about, his sight + and hearing were not seriously impaired, he ate with relish, and his teeth + were so sound that he would not need a dentist for at least another + century; but the moss was growing on him. His boy of eighty seemed a green + sapling beside him. + </p> + <p> + He remembered absolutely nothing that had taken place within thirty years, + but otherwise his mind was perhaps as good as it ever was, for he must + always have been an ignoramus, and would never know anything if he lived + to be as old as he said he was going on to be. Why he was interested in + the rebellion of 1745 I could not discover, for he of course did not go + over to Scotland to carry a pike in it, and he only remembered to have + heard it talked about as a great event in the Irish market-town near which + he lived, and to which he had ridden when a boy. And he knew much more + about the horse that drew him, and the cart in which he rode, than he did + about the rebellion of the Pretender. + </p> + <p> + I hope I do not appear to speak harshly of this amiable old man, and if he + is still living I wish him well, although his example was bad in some + respects. He had used tobacco for nearly a century, and the habit has very + likely been the death of him. If so, it is to be regretted. For it would + have been interesting to watch the process of his gradual disintegration + and return to the ground: the loss of sense after sense, as decaying limbs + fall from the oak; the failure of discrimination, of the power of choice, + and finally of memory itself; the peaceful wearing out and passing away of + body and mind without disease, the natural running down of a man. The + interesting fact about him at that time was that his bodily powers seemed + in sufficient vigor, but that the mind had not force enough to manifest + itself through his organs. The complete battery was there, the appetite + was there, the acid was eating the zinc; but the electric current was too + weak to flash from the brain. And yet he appeared so sound throughout, + that it was difficult to say that his mind was not as good as it ever had + been. He had stored in it very little to feed on, and any mind would get + enfeebled by a century's rumination on a hearsay idea of the rebellion of + '45. + </p> + <p> + It was possible with this man to fully test one's respect for age, which + is in all civilized nations a duty. And I found that my feelings were + mixed about him. I discovered in him a conceit in regard to his long + sojourn on this earth, as if it were somehow a credit to him. In the + presence of his good opinion of himself, I could but question the real + value of his continued life, to himself or to others. If he ever had any + friends he had outlived them, except his boy; his wives—a century of + them—were all dead; the world had actually passed away for him. He + hung on the tree like a frost-nipped apple, which the farmer has neglected + to gather. The world always renews itself, and remains young. What + relation had he to it? + </p> + <p> + I was delighted to find that this old man had never voted for George + Washington. I do not know that he had ever heard of him. Washington may be + said to have played his part since his time. I am not sure that he + perfectly remembered anything so recent as the American Revolution. He was + living quietly in Ireland during our French and Indian wars, and he did + not emigrate to this country till long after our revolutionary and our + constitutional struggles were over. The Rebellion Of '45 was the great + event of the world for him, and of that he knew nothing. + </p> + <p> + I intend no disrespect to this man,—a cheerful and pleasant enough + old person,—but he had evidently lived himself out of the world, as + completely as people usually die out of it. His only remaining value was + to the moralist, who might perchance make something out of him. I suppose + if he had died young, he would have been regretted, and his friends would + have lamented that he did not fill out his days in the world, and would + very likely have called him back, if tears and prayers could have done so. + They can see now what his prolonged life amounted to, and how the world + has closed up the gap he once filled while he still lives in it. + </p> + <p> + A great part of the unhappiness of this world consists in regret for those + who depart, as it seems to us, prematurely. We imagine that if they would + return, the old conditions would be restored. But would it be so? If they, + in any case, came back, would there be any place for them? The world so + quickly readjusts itself after any loss, that the return of the departed + would nearly always throw it, even the circle most interested, into + confusion. Are the Enoch Ardens ever wanted? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0039" id="link2H_4_0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + A popular notion akin to this, that the world would have any room for the + departed if they should now and then return, is the constant regret that + people will not learn by the experience of others, that one generation + learns little from the preceding, and that youth never will adopt the + experience of age. But if experience went for anything, we should all come + to a standstill; for there is nothing so discouraging to effort. Disbelief + in Ecclesiastes is the mainspring of action. In that lies the freshness + and the interest of life, and it is the source of every endeavor. + </p> + <p> + If the boy believed that the accumulation of wealth and the acquisition of + power were what the old man says they are, the world would very soon be + stagnant. If he believed that his chances of obtaining either were as poor + as the majority of men find them to be, ambition would die within him. It + is because he rejects the experience of those who have preceded him, that + the world is kept in the topsy-turvy condition which we all rejoice in, + and which we call progress. + </p> + <p> + And yet I confess I have a soft place in my heart for that rare character + in our New England life who is content with the world as he finds it, and + who does not attempt to appropriate any more of it to himself than he + absolutely needs from day to day. He knows from the beginning that the + world could get on without him, and he has never had any anxiety to leave + any result behind him, any legacy for the world to quarrel over. + </p> + <p> + He is really an exotic in our New England climate and society, and his + life is perpetually misunderstood by his neighbors, because he shares none + of their uneasiness about getting on in life. He is even called lazy, + good-for-nothing, and “shiftless,”—the final stigma that we put upon + a person who has learned to wait without the exhausting process of + laboring. + </p> + <p> + I made his acquaintance last summer in the country, and I have not in a + long time been so well pleased with any of our species. He was a man past + middle life, with a large family. He had always been from boyhood of a + contented and placid mind, slow in his movements, slow in his speech. I + think he never cherished a hard feeling toward anybody, nor envied any + one, least of all the rich and prosperous about whom he liked to talk. + Indeed, his talk was a good deal about wealth, especially about his cousin + who had been down South and “got fore-handed” within a few years. He was + genuinely pleased at his relation's good luck, and pointed him out to me + with some pride. But he had no envy of him, and he evinced no desire to + imitate him. I inferred from all his conversation about “piling it up” (of + which he spoke with a gleam of enthusiasm in his eye), that there were + moments when he would like to be rich himself; but it was evident that he + would never make the least effort to be so, and I doubt if he could even + overcome that delicious inertia of mind and body called laziness, + sufficiently to inherit. + </p> + <p> + Wealth seemed to have a far and peculiar fascination for him, and I + suspect he was a visionary in the midst of his poverty. Yet I suppose he + had—hardly the personal property which the law exempts from + execution. He had lived in a great many towns, moving from one to another + with his growing family, by easy stages, and was always the poorest man in + the town, and lived on the most niggardly of its rocky and bramble-grown + farms, the productiveness of which he reduced to zero in a couple of + seasons by his careful neglect of culture. The fences of his hired domain + always fell into ruins under him, perhaps because he sat on them so much, + and the hovels he occupied rotted down during his placid residence in + them. He moved from desolation to desolation, but carried always with him + the equal mind of a philosopher. Not even the occasional tart remarks of + his wife, about their nomadic life and his serenity in the midst of + discomfort, could ruffle his smooth spirit. + </p> + <p> + He was, in every respect, a most worthy man, truthful, honest, temperate, + and, I need not say, frugal; and he had no bad habits,—perhaps he + never had energy enough to acquire any. Nor did he lack the knack of the + Yankee race. He could make a shoe, or build a house, or doctor a cow; but + it never seemed to him, in this brief existence, worth while to do any of + these things. He was an excellent angler, but he rarely fished; partly + because of the shortness of days, partly on account of the uncertainty of + bites, but principally because the trout brooks were all arranged + lengthwise and ran over so much ground. But no man liked to look at a + string of trout better than he did, and he was willing to sit down in a + sunny place and talk about trout-fishing half a day at a time, and he + would talk pleasantly and well too, though his wife might be continually + interrupting him by a call for firewood. + </p> + <p> + I should not do justice to his own idea of himself if I did not add that + he was most respectably connected, and that he had a justifiable though + feeble pride in his family. It helped his self-respect, which no ignoble + circumstances could destroy. He was, as must appear by this time, a most + intelligent man, and he was a well-informed man; that is to say, he read + the weekly newspapers when he could get them, and he had the average + country information about Beecher and Greeley and the Prussian war + (“Napoleon is gettin' on't, ain't he?”), and the general prospect of the + election campaigns. Indeed, he was warmly, or rather luke-warmly, + interested in politics. He liked to talk about the inflated currency, and + it seemed plain to him that his condition would somehow be improved if we + could get to a specie basis. He was, in fact, a little troubled by the + national debt; it seemed to press on him somehow, while his own never did. + He exhibited more animation over the affairs of the government than he did + over his own,—an evidence at once of his disinterestedness and his + patriotism. He had been an old abolitionist, and was strong on the rights + of free labor, though he did not care to exercise his privilege much. Of + course he had the proper contempt for the poor whites down South. I never + saw a person with more correct notions on such a variety of subjects. He + was perfectly willing that churches (being himself a member), and + Sunday-schools, and missionary enterprises should go on; in fact, I do not + believe he ever opposed anything in his life. No one was more willing to + vote town taxes and road-repairs and schoolhouses than he. If you could + call him spirited at all, he was public-spirited. + </p> + <p> + And with all this he was never very well; he had, from boyhood, “enjoyed + poor health.” You would say he was not a man who would ever catch + anything, not even an epidemic; but he was a person whom diseases would be + likely to overtake, even the slowest of slow fevers. And he was n't a man + to shake off anything. And yet sickness seemed to trouble him no more than + poverty. He was not discontented; he never grumbled. I am not sure but he + relished a “spell of sickness” in haying-time. + </p> + <p> + An admirably balanced man, who accepts the world as it is, and evidently + lives on the experience of others. I have never seen a man with less envy, + or more cheerfulness, or so contented with as little reason for being so. + The only drawback to his future is that rest beyond the grave will not be + much change for him, and he has no works to follow him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0040" id="link2H_4_0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + This Yankee philosopher, who, without being a Brahmin, had, in an + uncongenial atmosphere, reached the perfect condition of Nirvina, reminded + us all of the ancient sages; and we queried whether a world that could + produce such as he, and could, beside, lengthen a man's years to one + hundred and thirteen, could fairly be called an old and worn-out world, + having long passed the stage of its primeval poetry and simplicity. Many + an Eastern dervish has, I think, got immortality upon less laziness and + resignation than this temporary sojourner in Massachusetts. It is a common + notion that the world (meaning the people in it) has become tame and + commonplace, lost its primeval freshness and epigrammatic point. + Mandeville, in his argumentative way, dissents from this entirely. He says + that the world is more complex, varied, and a thousand times as + interesting as it was in what we call its youth, and that it is as fresh, + as individual and capable of producing odd and eccentric characters as + ever. He thought the creative vim had not in any degree abated, that both + the types of men and of nations are as sharply stamped and defined as ever + they were. + </p> + <p> + Was there ever, he said, in the past, any figure more clearly cut and + freshly minted than the Yankee? Had the Old World anything to show more + positive and uncompromising in all the elements of character than the + Englishman? And if the edges of these were being rounded off, was there + not developing in the extreme West a type of men different from all + preceding, which the world could not yet define? He believed that the + production of original types was simply infinite. + </p> + <p> + Herbert urged that he must at least admit that there was a freshness of + legend and poetry in what we call the primeval peoples that is wanting + now; the mythic period is gone, at any rate. + </p> + <p> + Mandeville could not say about the myths. We couldn't tell what + interpretation succeeding ages would put upon our lives and history and + literature when they have become remote and shadowy. But we need not go to + antiquity for epigrammatic wisdom, or for characters as racy of the fresh + earth as those handed down to us from the dawn of history. He would put + Benjamin Franklin against any of the sages of the mythic or the classic + period. He would have been perfectly at home in ancient Athens, as + Socrates would have been in modern Boston. There might have been more + heroic characters at the siege of Troy than Abraham Lincoln, but there was + not one more strongly marked individually; not one his superior in what we + call primeval craft and humor. He was just the man, if he could not have + dislodged Priam by a writ of ejectment, to have invented the wooden horse, + and then to have made Paris the hero of some ridiculous story that would + have set all Asia in a roar. + </p> + <p> + Mandeville said further, that as to poetry, he did not know much about + that, and there was not much he cared to read except parts of Shakespeare + and Homer, and passages of Milton. But it did seem to him that we had men + nowadays, who could, if they would give their minds to it, manufacture in + quantity the same sort of epigrammatic sayings and legends that our + scholars were digging out of the Orient. He did not know why Emerson in + antique setting was not as good as Saadi. Take for instance, said + Mandeville, such a legend as this, and how easy it would be to make others + like it: + </p> + <p> + The son of an Emir had red hair, of which he was ashamed, and wished to + dye it. But his father said: “Nay, my son, rather behave in such a manner + that all fathers shall wish their sons had red hair.” + </p> + <p> + This was too absurd. Mandeville had gone too far, except in the opinion of + Our Next Door, who declared that an imitation was just as good as an + original, if you could not detect it. But Herbert said that the closer an + imitation is to an original, the more unendurable it is. But nobody could + tell exactly why. + </p> + <p> + The Fire-Tender said that we are imposed on by forms. The nuggets of + wisdom that are dug out of the Oriental and remote literatures would often + prove to be only commonplace if stripped of their quaint setting. If you + gave an Oriental twist to some of our modern thought, its value would be + greatly enhanced for many people. + </p> + <p> + I have seen those, said the Mistress, who seem to prefer dried fruit to + fresh; but I like the strawberry and the peach of each season, and for me + the last is always the best. + </p> + <p> + Even the Parson admitted that there were no signs of fatigue or decay in + the creative energy of the world; and if it is a question of Pagans, he + preferred Mandeville to Saadi. + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0270}.jpg" alt="{0270}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0270}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0041" id="link2H_4_0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ELEVENTH STUDY + </h2> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0271}.jpg" alt="{0271}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0271}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + + <p> + It happened, or rather, to tell the truth, it was contrived,—for I + have waited too long for things to turn up to have much faith in “happen,” + that we who have sat by this hearthstone before should all be together on + Christmas eve. There was a splendid backlog of hickory just beginning to + burn with a glow that promised to grow more fiery till long past midnight, + which would have needed no apology in a loggers' camp,—not so much + as the religion of which a lady (in a city which shall be nameless) said, + “If you must have a religion, this one will do nicely.” + </p> + <p> + There was not much conversation, as is apt to be the case when people come + together who have a great deal to say, and are intimate enough to permit + the freedom of silence. It was Mandeville who suggested that we read + something, and the Young Lady, who was in a mood to enjoy her own + thoughts, said, “Do.” And finally it came about that the Fire Tender, + without more resistance to the urging than was becoming, went to his + library, and returned with a manuscript, from which he read the story of + </p> + <h3> + MY UNCLE IN INDIA + </h3> + <p> + Not that it is my uncle, let me explain. It is Polly's uncle, as I very + well know, from the many times she has thrown him up to me, and is liable + so to do at any moment. Having small expectations myself, and having + wedded Polly when they were smaller, I have come to feel the full force, + the crushing weight, of her lightest remark about “My Uncle in India.” The + words as I write them convey no idea of the tone in which they fall upon + my ears. I think it is the only fault of that estimable woman, that she + has an “uncle in India” and does not let him quietly remain there. I feel + quite sure that if I had an uncle in Botany Bay, I should never, never + throw him up to Polly in the way mentioned. If there is any jar in our + quiet life, he is the cause of it; all along of possible “expectations” on + the one side calculated to overawe the other side not having expectations. + And yet I know that if her uncle in India were this night to roll a barrel + of “India's golden sands,” as I feel that he any moment may do, into our + sitting-room, at Polly's feet, that charming wife, who is more generous + than the month of May, and who has no thought but for my comfort in two + worlds, would straightway make it over to me, to have and to hold, if I + could lift it, forever and forever. And that makes it more inexplicable + that she, being a woman, will continue to mention him in the way she does. + </p> + <p> + In a large and general way I regard uncles as not out of place in this + transitory state of existence. They stand for a great many possible + advantages. They are liable to “tip” you at school, they are resources in + vacation, they come grandly in play about the holidays, at which season mv + heart always did warm towards them with lively expectations, which were + often turned into golden solidities; and then there is always the + prospect, sad to a sensitive mind, that uncles are mortal, and, in their + timely taking off, may prove as generous in the will as they were in the + deed. And there is always this redeeming possibility in a niggardly uncle. + Still there must be something wrong in the character of the uncle per se, + or all history would not agree that nepotism is such a dreadful thing. + </p> + <p> + But, to return from this unnecessary digression, I am reminded that the + charioteer of the patient year has brought round the holiday time. It has + been a growing year, as most years are. It is very pleasant to see how the + shrubs in our little patch of ground widen and thicken and bloom at the + right time, and to know that the great trees have added a laver to their + trunks. To be sure, our garden,—which I planted under Polly's + directions, with seeds that must have been patented, and I forgot to buy + the right of, for they are mostly still waiting the final resurrection,—gave + evidence that it shared in the misfortune of the Fall, and was never an + Eden from which one would have required to have been driven. It was the + easiest garden to keep the neighbor's pigs and hens out of I ever saw. If + its increase was small its temptations were smaller, and that is no little + recommendation in this world of temptations. But, as a general thing, + everything has grown, except our house. That little cottage, over which + Polly presides with grace enough to adorn a palace, is still small outside + and smaller inside; and if it has an air of comfort and of neatness, and + its rooms are cozy and sunny by day and cheerful by night, and it is + bursting with books, and not unattractive with modest pictures on the + walls, which we think do well enough until my uncle—(but never mind + my uncle, now),—and if, in the long winter evenings, when the + largest lamp is lit, and the chestnuts glow in embers, and the kid turns + on the spit, and the house-plants are green and flowering, and the ivy + glistens in the firelight, and Polly sits with that contented, far-away + look in her eyes that I like to see, her fingers busy upon one of those + cruel mysteries which have delighted the sex since Penelope, and I read in + one of my fascinating law-books, or perhaps regale ourselves with a taste + of Montaigne,—if all this is true, there are times when the cottage + seems small; though I can never find that Polly thinks so, except when she + sometimes says that she does not know where she should bestow her uncle in + it, if he should suddenly come back from India. + </p> + <p> + There it is, again. I sometimes think that my wife believes her uncle in + India to be as large as two ordinary men; and if her ideas of him are any + gauge of the reality, there is no place in the town large enough for him + except the Town Hall. She probably expects him to come with his bungalow, + and his sedan, and his palanquin, and his elephants, and his retinue of + servants, and his principalities, and his powers, and his ha—(no, + not that), and his chowchow, and his—I scarcely know what besides. + </p> + <p> + Christmas eve was a shiny cold night, a creaking cold night, a placid, + calm, swingeing cold night. + </p> + <p> + Out-doors had gone into a general state of crystallization. The + snow-fields were like the vast Arctic ice-fields that Kane looked on, and + lay sparkling under the moonlight, crisp and Christmasy, and all the + crystals on the trees and bushes hung glistening, as if ready, at a breath + of air, to break out into metallic ringing, like a million silver + joy-bells. I mentioned the conceit to Polly, as we stood at the window, + and she said it reminded her of Jean Paul. She is a woman of most + remarkable discernment. + </p> + <p> + Christmas is a great festival at our house in a small way. Among the many + delightful customs we did not inherit from our Pilgrim Fathers, there is + none so pleasant as that of giving presents at this season. It is the most + exciting time of the year. No one is too rich to receive something, and no + one too poor to give a trifle. And in the act of giving and receiving + these tokens of regard, all the world is kin for once, and brighter for + this transient glow of generosity. Delightful custom! Hard is the lot of + childhood that knows nothing of the visits of Kriss Kringle, or the + stockings hung by the chimney at night; and cheerless is any age that is + not brightened by some Christmas gift, however humble. What a mystery of + preparation there is in the preceding days, what planning and plottings of + surprises! Polly and I keep up the custom in our simple way, and great is + the perplexity to express the greatest amount of affection with a limited + outlay. For the excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness rather + than in its value. As we stood by the window that night, we wondered what + we should receive this year, and indulged in I know not what little + hypocrisies and deceptions. + </p> + <p> + I wish, said Polly, “that my uncle in India would send me a camel's-hair + shawl, or a string of pearls, each as big as the end of my thumb.” + </p> + <p> + “Or a white cow, which would give golden milk, that would make butter + worth seventy-five cents a pound,” I added, as we drew the curtains, and + turned to our chairs before the open fire. + </p> + <p> + It is our custom on every Christmas eve—as I believe I have + somewhere said, or if I have not, I say it again, as the member from Erin + might remark—to read one of Dickens's Christmas stories. And this + night, after punching the fire until it sent showers of sparks up the + chimney, I read the opening chapter of “Mrs. Lirriper's Lodgings,” in my + best manner, and handed the book to Polly to continue; for I do not so + much relish reading aloud the succeeding stories of Mr. Dickens's annual + budget, since he wrote them, as men go to war in these days, by + substitute. And Polly read on, in her melodious voice, which is almost as + pleasant to me as the Wasser-fluth of Schubert, which she often plays at + twilight; and I looked into the fire, unconsciously constructing stories + of my own out of the embers. And her voice still went on, in a sort of + running accompaniment to my airy or fiery fancies. + </p> + <p> + “Sleep?” said Polly, stopping, with what seemed to me a sort of crash, in + which all the castles tumbled into ashes. + </p> + <p> + “Not in the least,” I answered brightly, “never heard anything more + agreeable.” And the reading flowed on and on and on, and I looked steadily + into the fire, the fire, fire, fi.... + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the door opened, and into our cozy parlor walked the most + venerable personage I ever laid eyes on, who saluted me with great + dignity. Summer seemed to have burst into the room, and I was conscious of + a puff of Oriental airs, and a delightful, languid tranquillity. I was not + surprised that the figure before me was clad in full turban, baggy + drawers, and a long loose robe, girt about the middle with a rich shawl. + Followed him a swart attendant, who hastened to spread a rug upon which my + visitor sat down, with great gravity, as I am informed they do in farthest + Ind. The slave then filled the bowl of a long-stemmed chibouk, and, + handing it to his master, retired behind him and began to fan him with the + most prodigious palm-leaf I ever saw. Soon the fumes of the delicate + tobacco of Persia pervaded the room, like some costly aroma which you + cannot buy, now the entertainment of the Arabian Nights is discontinued. + </p> + <p> + Looking through the window I saw, if I saw anything, a palanquin at our + door, and attendant on it four dusky, half-naked bearers, who did not seem + to fancy the splendor of the night, for they jumped about on the snow + crust, and I could see them shiver and shake in the keen air. Oho! + thought! this, then, is my uncle from India! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is,” now spoke my visitor extraordinary, in a gruff, harsh voice. + </p> + <p> + “I think I have heard Polly speak of you,” I rejoined, in an attempt to be + civil, for I did n't like his face any better than I did his voice,—a + red, fiery, irascible kind of face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes I've come over to O Lord,—quick, Jamsetzee, lift up that foot,—take + care. There, Mr. Trimings, if that's your name, get me a glass of brandy, + stiff.” + </p> + <p> + I got him our little apothecary-labeled bottle and poured out enough to + preserve a whole can of peaches. My uncle took it down without a wink, as + if it had been water, and seemed relieved. It was a very pleasant uncle to + have at our fireside on Christmas eve, I felt. + </p> + <p> + At a motion from my uncle, Jamsetzee handed me a parcel which I saw was + directed to Polly, which I untied, and lo! the most wonderful camel's-hair + shawl that ever was, so fine that I immediately drew it through my + finger-ring, and so large that I saw it would entirely cover our little + room if I spread it out; a dingy red color, but splendid in appearance + from the little white hieroglyphic worked in one corner, which is always + worn outside, to show that it cost nobody knows how many thousands of + dollars. + </p> + <p> + “A Christmas trifle for Polly. I have come home—as I was saying when + that confounded twinge took me—to settle down; and I intend to make + Polly my heir, and live at my ease and enjoy life. Move that leg a little, + Jamsetzee.” + </p> + <p> + I meekly replied that I had no doubt Polly would be delighted to see her + dear uncle, and as for inheriting, if it came to that, I did n't know any + one with a greater capacity for that than she. + </p> + <p> + “That depends,” said the gruff old smoker, “how I like ye. A fortune, + scraped up in forty years in Ingy, ain't to be thrown away in a minute. + But what a house this is to live in!”; the uncomfortable old relative went + on, throwing a contemptuous glance round the humble cottage. “Is this all + of it?” + </p> + <p> + “In the winter it is all of it,” I said, flushing up; “but in the summer, + when the doors and windows are open, it is as large as anybody's house. + And,” I went on, with some warmth, “it was large enough just before you + came in, and pleasant enough. And besides,” I said, rising into + indignation, “you can not get anything much better in this city short of + eight hundred dollars a year, payable first days of January, April, July, + and October, in advance, and my salary....” + </p> + <p> + “Hang your salary, and confound your impudence and your seven-by-nine + hovel! Do you think you have anything to say about the use of my money, + scraped up in forty years in Ingy? THINGS HAVE GOT TO BE CHANGED!” he + burst out, in a voice that rattled the glasses on the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + I should think they were. Even as I looked into the little fireplace it + enlarged, and there was an enormous grate, level with the floor, glowing + with seacoal; and a magnificent mantel carved in oak, old and brown; and + over it hung a landscape, wide, deep, summer in the foreground with all + the gorgeous coloring of the tropics, and beyond hills of blue and far + mountains lying in rosy light. I held my breath as I looked down the + marvelous perspective. Looking round for a second, I caught a glimpse of a + Hindoo at each window, who vanished as if they had been whisked off by + enchantment; and the close walls that shut us in fled away. Had cohesion + and gravitation given out? Was it the “Great Consummation” of the year + 18-? It was all like the swift transformation of a dream, and I pinched my + arm to make sure that I was not the subject of some diablerie. + </p> + <p> + The little house was gone; but that I scarcely minded, for I had suddenly + come into possession of my wife's castle in Spain. I sat in a spacious, + lofty apartment, furnished with a princely magnificence. Rare pictures + adorned the walls, statues looked down from deep niches, and over both the + dark ivy of England ran and drooped in graceful luxuriance. Upon the heavy + tables were costly, illuminated volumes; luxurious chairs and ottomans + invited to easy rest; and upon the ceiling Aurora led forth all the + flower-strewing daughters of the dawn in brilliant frescoes. Through the + open doors my eyes wandered into magnificent apartment after apartment. + There to the south, through folding-doors, was the splendid library, with + groined roof, colored light streaming in through painted windows, high + shelves stowed with books, old armor hanging on the walls, great carved + oaken chairs about a solid oaken table, and beyond a conservatory of + flowers and plants with a fountain springing in the center, the splashing + of whose waters I could hear. Through the open windows I looked upon a + lawn, green with close-shaven turf, set with ancient trees, and variegated + with parterres of summer plants in bloom. It was the month of June, and + the smell of roses was in the air. + </p> + <p> + I might have thought it only a freak of my fancy, but there by the + fireplace sat a stout, red-faced, puffy-looking man, in the ordinary dress + of an English gentleman, whom I had no difficulty in recognizing as my + uncle from India. + </p> + <p> + “One wants a fire every day in the year in this confounded climate,” + remarked that amiable old person, addressing no one in particular. + </p> + <p> + I had it on my lips to suggest that I trusted the day would come when he + would have heat enough to satisfy him, in permanent supply. I wish now + that I had. + </p> + <p> + I think things had changed. For now into this apartment, full of the + morning sunshine, came sweeping with the air of a countess born, and a + maid of honor bred, and a queen in expectancy, my Polly, stepping with + that lofty grace which I always knew she possessed, but which she never + had space to exhibit in our little cottage, dressed with that elegance and + richness that I should not have deemed possible to the most Dutch duchess + that ever lived, and, giving me a complacent nod of recognition, + approached her uncle, and said in her smiling, cheery way, “How is the + dear uncle this morning?” And, as she spoke, she actually bent down and + kissed his horrid old cheek, red-hot with currie and brandy and all the + biting pickles I can neither eat nor name, kissed him, and I did not turn + into stone. + </p> + <p> + “Comfortable as the weather will permit, my darling!”—and again I + did not turn into stone. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't uncle like to take a drive this charming morning?” Polly asked. + </p> + <p> + Uncle finally grunted out his willingness, and Polly swept away again to + prepare for the drive, taking no more notice of me than if I had been a + poor assistant office lawyer on a salary. And soon the carriage was at the + door, and my uncle, bundled up like a mummy, and the charming Polly drove + gayly away. + </p> + <p> + How pleasant it is to be married rich, I thought, as I arose and strolled + into the library, where everything was elegant and prim and neat, with no + scraps of paper and piles of newspapers or evidences of literary + slovenness on the table, and no books in attractive disorder, and where I + seemed to see the legend staring at me from all the walls, “No smoking.” + So I uneasily lounged out of the house. And a magnificent house it was, a + palace, rather, that seemed to frown upon and bully insignificant me with + its splendor, as I walked away from it towards town. + </p> + <p> + And why town? There was no use of doing anything at the dingy office. + Eight hundred dollars a year! It wouldn't keep Polly in gloves, let alone + dressing her for one of those fashionable entertainments to which we went + night after night. And so, after a weary day with nothing in it, I went + home to dinner, to find my uncle quite chirruped up with his drive, and + Polly regnant, sublimely engrossed in her new world of splendor, a + dazzling object of admiration to me, but attentive and even tender to that + hypochondriacal, gouty old subject from India. + </p> + <p> + Yes, a magnificent dinner, with no end of servants, who seemed to know + that I couldn't have paid the wages of one of them, and plate and courses + endless. I say, a miserable dinner, on the edge of which seemed to sit by + permission of somebody, like an invited poor relation, who wishes he had + sent a regret, and longing for some of those nice little dishes that Polly + used to set before me with beaming face, in the dear old days. + </p> + <p> + And after dinner, and proper attention to the comfort for the night of our + benefactor, there was the Blibgims's party. No long, confidential + interviews, as heretofore, as to what she should wear and what I should + wear, and whether it would do to wear it again. And Polly went in one + coach, and I in another. No crowding into the hired hack, with all the + delightful care about tumbling dresses, and getting there in good order; + and no coming home together to our little cozy cottage, in a pleasant, + excited state of “flutteration,” and sitting down to talk it all over, and + “Was n't it nice?” and “Did I look as well as anybody?” and “Of course you + did to me,” and all that nonsense. We lived in a grand way now, and had + our separate establishments and separate plans, and I used to think that a + real separation couldn't make matters much different. Not that Polly meant + to be any different, or was, at heart; but, you know, she was so much + absorbed in her new life of splendor, and perhaps I was a little + old-fashioned. + </p> + <p> + I don't wonder at it now, as I look back. There was an army of dressmakers + to see, and a world of shopping to do, and a houseful of servants to + manage, and all the afternoon for calls, and her dear, dear friend, with + the artless manners and merry heart of a girl, and the dignity and grace + of a noble woman, the dear friend who lived in the house of the Seven + Gables, to consult about all manner of important things. I could not, upon + my honor, see that there was any place for me, and I went my own way, not + that there was much comfort in it. + </p> + <p> + And then I would rather have had charge of a hospital ward than take care + of that uncle. Such coddling as he needed, such humoring of whims. And I + am bound to say that Polly could n't have been more dutiful to him if he + had been a Hindoo idol. She read to him and talked to him, and sat by him + with her embroidery, and was patient with his crossness, and wearied + herself, that I could see, with her devoted ministrations. + </p> + <p> + I fancied sometimes she was tired of it, and longed for the old homely + simplicity. I was. Nepotism had no charms for me. There was nothing that I + could get Polly that she had not. I could surprise her with no little + delicacies or trifles, delightedly bought with money saved for the + purpose. There was no more coming home weary with office work and being + met at the door with that warm, loving welcome which the King of England + could not buy. There was no long evening when we read alternately from + some favorite book, or laid our deep housekeeping plans, rejoiced in a + good bargain or made light of a poor one, and were contented and merry + with little. I recalled with longing my little den, where in the midst of + the literary disorder I love, I wrote those stories for the “Antarctic” + which Polly, if nobody else, liked to read. There was no comfort for me in + my magnificent library. We were all rich and in splendor, and our uncle + had come from India. I wished, saving his soul, that the ship that brought + him over had foundered off Barnegat Light. It would always have been a + tender and regretful memory to both of us. And how sacred is the memory of + such a loss! + </p> + <p> + Christmas? What delight could I have in long solicitude and ingenious + devices touching a gift for Polly within my means, and hitting the border + line between her necessities and her extravagant fancy? A drove of white + elephants would n't have been good enough for her now, if each one carried + a castle on his back. + </p> + <p> + “—and so they were married, and in their snug cottage lived happy + ever after.”—It was Polly's voice, as she closed the book. + </p> + <p> + “There, I don't believe you have heard a word of it,” she said half + complainingly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I have,” I cried, starting up and giving the fire a jab with the + poker; “I heard every word of it, except a few at the close I was + thinking”—I stopped, and looked round. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Polly, where is the camel's-hair shawl?” + </p> + <p> + “Camel's-hair fiddlestick! Now I know you have been asleep for an hour.” + </p> + <p> + And, sure enough, there was n't any camel's-hair shawl there, nor any + uncle, nor were there any Hindoos at our windows. + </p> + <p> + And then I told Polly all about it; how her uncle came back, and we were + rich and lived in a palace and had no end of money, but she didn't seem to + have time to love me in it all, and all the comfort of the little house + was blown away as by the winter wind. And Polly vowed, half in tears, that + she hoped her uncle never would come back, and she wanted nothing that we + had not, and she wouldn't exchange our independent comfort and snug house, + no, not for anybody's mansion. And then and there we made it all up, in a + manner too particular for me to mention; and I never, to this day, heard + Polly allude to My Uncle in India. + </p> + <p> + And then, as the clock struck eleven, we each produced from the place + where we had hidden them the modest Christmas gifts we had prepared for + each other, and what surprise there was! “Just the thing I needed.” And, + “It's perfectly lovely.” And, “You should n't have done it.” And, then, a + question I never will answer, “Ten? fifteen? five? twelve?” “My dear, it + cost eight hundred dollars, for I have put my whole year into it, and I + wish it was a thousand times better.” + </p> + <p> + And so, when the great iron tongue of the city bell swept over the snow + the twelve strokes that announced Christmas day, if there was anywhere a + happier home than ours, I am glad of it! + </p> +<div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> <img src="images/{0293}.jpg" alt="{0293}" width="100%" /><br /> </div> <h5> <a href="images/{0293}.jpg"> <img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> </h5> + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Backlog Studies, by Charles Dudley Warner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BACKLOG STUDIES *** + +***** This file should be named 3134-h.htm or 3134-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/3/3134/ + +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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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +Backlog Studies + +By Charles Dudley Warner + + + + +NOTE: This work was previously published in [Etext #2671] +The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner Volume 1., +Project Gutenberg The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner +1warn10.txt or 1warn10.zip + + + + +BACKLOG STUDIES + + + +FIRST STUDY + +I + +The fire on the hearth has almost gone out in New England; the hearth +has gone out; the family has lost its center; age ceases to be +respected; sex is only distinguished by a difference between +millinery bills and tailors' bills; there is no more toast-and-cider; +the young are not allowed to eat mince-pies at ten o'clock at night; +half a cheese is no longer set to toast before the fire; you scarcely +ever see in front of the coals a row of roasting apples, which a +bright little girl, with many a dive and start, shielding her sunny +face from the fire with one hand, turns from time to time; scarce are +the gray-haired sires who strop their razors on the family Bible, and +doze in the chimney-corner. A good many things have gone out with +the fire on the hearth. + +I do not mean to say that public and private morality have vanished +with the hearth. A good degree of purity and considerable happiness +are possible with grates and blowers; it is a day of trial, when we +are all passing through a fiery furnace, and very likely we shall be +purified as we are dried up and wasted away. Of course the family is +gone, as an institution, though there still are attempts to bring up +a family round a "register." But you might just as well try to bring +it up by hand, as without the rallying-point of a hearthstone. Are +there any homesteads nowadays? Do people hesitate to change houses +any more than they do to change their clothes? People hire houses as +they would a masquerade costume, liking, sometimes, to appear for a +year in a little fictitious stone-front splendor above their means. +Thus it happens that so many people live in houses that do not fit +them. I should almost as soon think of wearing another person's +clothes as his house; unless I could let it out and take it in until +it fitted, and somehow expressed my own character and taste. But we +have fallen into the days of conformity. It is no wonder that people +constantly go into their neighbors' houses by mistake, just as, in +spite of the Maine law, they wear away each other's hats from an +evening party. It has almost come to this, that you might as well be +anybody else as yourself. + +Am I mistaken in supposing that this is owing to the discontinuance +of big chimneys, with wide fireplaces in them? How can a person be +attached to a house that has no center of attraction, no soul in it, +in the visible form of a glowing fire, and a warm chimney, like the +heart in the body? When you think of the old homestead, if you ever +do, your thoughts go straight to the wide chimney and its burning +logs. No wonder that you are ready to move from one fireplaceless +house into another. But you have something just as good, you say. +Yes, I have heard of it. This age, which imitates everything, even +to the virtues of our ancestors, has invented a fireplace, with +artificial, iron, or composition logs in it, hacked and painted, in +which gas is burned, so that it has the appearance of a wood-fire. +This seems to me blasphemy. Do you think a cat would lie down before +it? Can you poke it? If you can't poke it, it is a fraud. To poke +a wood-fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the +world. The crowning human virtue in a man is to let his wife poke +the fire. I do not know how any virtue whatever is possible over an +imitation gas-log. What a sense of insincerity the family must have, +if they indulge in the hypocrisy of gathering about it. With this +center of untruthfulness, what must the life in the family be? +Perhaps the father will be living at the rate of ten thousand a year +on a salary of four thousand; perhaps the mother, more beautiful and +younger than her beautified daughters, will rouge; perhaps the young +ladies will make wax-work. A cynic might suggest as the motto of +modern life this simple legend,--"just as good as the real." But I am +not a cynic, and I hope for the rekindling of wood-fires, and a +return of the beautiful home light from them. If a wood-fire is a +luxury, it is cheaper than many in which we indulge without thought, +and cheaper than the visits of a doctor, made necessary by the want +of ventilation of the house. Not that I have anything against +doctors; I only wish, after they have been to see us in a way that +seems so friendly, they had nothing against us. + +My fireplace, which is deep, and nearly three feet wide, has a broad +hearthstone in front of it, where the live coals tumble down, and a +pair of gigantic brass andirons. The brasses are burnished, and +shine cheerfully in the firelight, and on either side stand tall +shovel and tongs, like sentries, mounted in brass. The tongs, like +the two-handed sword of Bruce, cannot be wielded by puny people. We +burn in it hickory wood, cut long. We like the smell of this +aromatic forest timber, and its clear flame. The birch is also a +sweet wood for the hearth, with a sort of spiritual flame and an even +temper,--no snappishness. Some prefer the elm, which holds fire so +well; and I have a neighbor who uses nothing but apple-tree wood,--a +solid, family sort of wood, fragrant also, and full of delightful +suggestions. But few people can afford to burn up their fruit trees. +I should as soon think of lighting the fire with sweet-oil that comes +in those graceful wicker-bound flasks from Naples, or with manuscript +sermons, which, however, do not burn well, be they never so dry, not +half so well as printed editorials. + +Few people know how to make a wood-fire, but everybody thinks he or +she does. You want, first, a large backlog, which does not rest on +the andirons. This will keep your fire forward, radiate heat all +day, and late in the evening fall into a ruin of glowing coals, like +the last days of a good man, whose life is the richest and most +beneficent at the close, when the flames of passion and the sap of +youth are burned out, and there only remain the solid, bright +elements of character. Then you want a forestick on the andirons; +and upon these build the fire of lighter stuff. In this way you have +at once a cheerful blaze, and the fire gradually eats into the solid +mass, sinking down with increasing fervor; coals drop below, and +delicate tongues of flame sport along the beautiful grain of the +forestick. There are people who kindle a fire underneath. But these +are conceited people, who are wedded to their own way. I suppose an +accomplished incendiary always starts a fire in the attic, if he can. +I am not an incendiary, but I hate bigotry. I don't call those +incendiaries very good Christians who, when they set fire to the +martyrs, touched off the fagots at the bottom, so as to make them go +slow. Besides, knowledge works down easier than it does up. +Education must proceed from the more enlightened down to the more +ignorant strata. If you want better common schools, raise the +standard of the colleges, and so on. Build your fire on top. Let +your light shine. I have seen people build a fire under a balky +horse; but he wouldn't go, he'd be a horse-martyr first. A fire +kindled under one never did him any good. Of course you can make a +fire on the hearth by kindling it underneath, but that does not make +it right. I want my hearthfire to be an emblem of the best things. + + + +II + +It must be confessed that a wood-fire needs as much tending as a pair +of twins. To say nothing of fiery projectiles sent into the room, +even by the best wood, from the explosion of gases confined in its +cells, the brands are continually dropping down, and coals are being +scattered over the hearth. However much a careful housewife, who +thinks more of neatness than enjoyment, may dislike this, it is one +of the chief delights of a wood-fire. I would as soon have an +Englishman without side-whiskers as a fire without a big backlog; and +I would rather have no fire than one that required no tending,--one +of dead wood that could not sing again the imprisoned songs of the +forest, or give out in brilliant scintillations the sunshine it +absorbed in its growth. Flame is an ethereal sprite, and the spice +of danger in it gives zest to the care of the hearth-fire. Nothing +is so beautiful as springing, changing flame,--it was the last freak +of the Gothic architecture men to represent the fronts of elaborate +edifices of stone as on fire, by the kindling flamboyant devices. A +fireplace is, besides, a private laboratory, where one can witness +the most brilliant chemical experiments, minor conflagrations only +wanting the grandeur of cities on fire. It is a vulgar notion that a +fire is only for heat. A chief value of it is, however, to look at. +It is a picture, framed between the jambs. You have nothing on your +walls, by the best masters (the poor masters are not, however, +represented), that is really so fascinating, so spiritual. Speaking +like an upholsterer, it furnishes the room. And it is never twice +the same. In this respect it is like the landscape-view through a +window, always seen in a new light, color, or condition. The +fireplace is a window into the most charming world I ever had a +glimpse of. + +Yet direct heat is an agreeable sensation. I am not scientific +enough to despise it, and have no taste for a winter residence on +Mount Washington, where the thermometer cannot be kept comfortable +even by boiling. They say that they say in Boston that there is a +satisfaction in being well dressed which religion cannot give. There +is certainly a satisfaction in the direct radiance of a hickory fire +which is not to be found in the fieriest blasts of a furnace. The +hot air of a furnace is a sirocco; the heat of a wood-fire is only +intense sunshine, like that bottled in Lacrimae Christi. Besides +this, the eye is delighted, the sense of smell is regaled by the +fragrant decomposition, and the ear is pleased with the hissing, +crackling, and singing,--a liberation of so many out-door noises. +Some people like the sound of bubbling in a boiling pot, or the +fizzing of a frying-spider. But there is nothing gross in the +animated crackling of sticks of wood blazing on the earth, not even +if chestnuts are roasting in the ashes. All the senses are +ministered to, and the imagination is left as free as the leaping +tongues of flame. + +The attention which a wood-fire demands is one of its best +recommendations. We value little that which costs us no trouble to +maintain. If we had to keep the sun kindled up and going by private +corporate action, or act of Congress, and to be taxed for the support +of customs officers of solar heat, we should prize it more than we +do. Not that I should like to look upon the sun as a job, and have +the proper regulation of its temperature get into politics, where we +already have so much combustible stuff; but we take it quite too much +as a matter of course, and, having it free, do not reckon it among +the reasons for gratitude. Many people shut it out of their houses +as if it were an enemy, watch its descent upon the carpet as if it +were only a thief of color, and plant trees to shut it away from the +mouldering house. All the animals know better than this, as well as +the more simple races of men; the old women of the southern Italian +coasts sit all day in the sun and ply the distaff, as grateful as the +sociable hens on the south side of a New England barn; the slow +tortoise likes to take the sun upon his sloping back, soaking in +color that shall make him immortal when the imperishable part of him +is cut up into shell ornaments. The capacity of a cat to absorb +sunshine is only equaled by that of an Arab or an Ethiopian. They +are not afraid of injuring their complexions. + +White must be the color of civilization; it has so many natural +disadvantages. But this is politics. I was about to say that, +however it may be with sunshine, one is always grateful for his +wood-fire, because he does not maintain it without some cost. + +Yet I cannot but confess to a difference between sunlight and the +light of a wood-fire. The sunshine is entirely untamed. Where it +rages most freely it tends to evoke the brilliancy rather than the +harmonious satisfactions of nature. The monstrous growths and the +flaming colors of the tropics contrast with our more subdued +loveliness of foliage and bloom. The birds of the middle region +dazzle with their contrasts of plumage, and their voices are for +screaming rather than singing. I presume the new experiments in +sound would project a macaw's voice in very tangled and inharmonious +lines of light. I suspect that the fiercest sunlight puts people, as +well as animals and vegetables, on extremes in all ways. A wood-fire +on the hearth is a kindler of the domestic virtues. It brings in +cheerfulness, and a family center, and, besides, it is artistic. +I should like to know if an artist could ever represent on canvas a +happy family gathered round a hole in the floor called a register. +Given a fireplace, and a tolerable artist could almost create a +pleasant family round it. But what could he conjure out of a +register? If there was any virtue among our ancestors,--and they +labored under a great many disadvantages, and had few of the aids +which we have to excellence of life,--I am convinced they drew it +mostly from the fireside. If it was difficult to read the eleven +commandments by the light of a pine-knot, it was not difficult to get +the sweet spirit of them from the countenance of the serene mother +knitting in the chimney-corner. + + + +III + +When the fire is made, you want to sit in front of it and grow genial +in its effulgence. I have never been upon a throne,--except in +moments of a traveler's curiosity, about as long as a South American +dictator remains on one,--but I have no idea that it compares, for +pleasantness, with a seat before a wood-fire. A whole leisure day +before you, a good novel in hand, and the backlog only just beginning +to kindle, with uncounted hours of comfort in it, has life anything +more delicious? For "novel" you can substitute "Calvin's +Institutes," if you wish to be virtuous as well as happy. Even +Calvin would melt before a wood-fire. A great snowstorm, visible on +three sides of your wide-windowed room, loading the evergreens, blown +in fine powder from the great chestnut-tops, piled up in ever +accumulating masses, covering the paths, the shrubbery, the hedges, +drifting and clinging in fantastic deposits, deepening your sense of +security, and taking away the sin of idleness by making it a +necessity, this is an excellent ground to your day by the fire. + +To deliberately sit down in the morning to read a novel, to enjoy +yourself, is this not, in New England (I am told they don't read much +in other parts of the country), the sin of sins? Have you any right +to read, especially novels, until you have exhausted the best part of +the day in some employment that is called practical? Have you any +right to enjoy yourself at all until the fag-end of the day, when you +are tired and incapable of enjoying yourself? I am aware that this +is the practice, if not the theory, of our society,--to postpone the +delights of social intercourse until after dark, and rather late at +night, when body and mind are both weary with the exertions of +business, and when we can give to what is the most delightful and +profitable thing in life, social and intellectual society, only the +weariness of dull brains and over-tired muscles. No wonder we take +our amusements sadly, and that so many people find dinners heavy and +parties stupid. Our economy leaves no place for amusements; we +merely add them to the burden of a life already full. The world is +still a little off the track as to what is really useful. + +I confess that the morning is a very good time to read a novel, or +anything else which is good and requires a fresh mind; and I take it +that nothing is worth reading that does not require an alert mind. +I suppose it is necessary that business should be transacted; though +the amount of business that does not contribute to anybody's comfort +or improvement suggests the query whether it is not overdone. I know +that unremitting attention to business is the price of success, but +I don't know what success is. There is a man, whom we all know, who +built a house that cost a quarter of a million of dollars, and +furnished it for another like sum, who does not know anything more +about architecture, or painting, or books, or history, than he cares +for the rights of those who have not so much money as he has. I +heard him once, in a foreign gallery, say to his wife, as they stood +in front of a famous picture by Rubens: "That is the Rape of the +Sardines!" What a cheerful world it would be if everybody was as +successful as that man! While I am reading my book by the fire, and +taking an active part in important transactions that may be a good +deal better than real, let me be thankful that a great many men are +profitably employed in offices and bureaus and country stores in +keeping up the gossip and endless exchange of opinions among mankind, +so much of which is made to appear to the women at home as +"business." I find that there is a sort of busy idleness among men in +this world that is not held in disrepute. When the time comes that I +have to prove my right to vote, with women, I trust that it will be +remembered in my favor that I made this admission. If it is true, as +a witty conservative once said to me, that we never shall have peace +in this country until we elect a colored woman president, I desire to +be rectus in curia early. + + + +IV + +The fireplace, as we said, is a window through which we look out upon +other scenes. We like to read of the small, bare room, with +cobwebbed ceiling and narrow window, in which the poor child of +genius sits with his magical pen, the master of a realm of beauty and +enchantment. I think the open fire does not kindle the imagination +so much as it awakens the memory; one sees the past in its crumbling +embers and ashy grayness, rather than the future. People become +reminiscent and even sentimental in front of it. They used to become +something else in those good old days when it was thought best to +heat the poker red hot before plunging it into the mugs of flip. +This heating of the poker has been disapproved of late years, but I +do not know on what grounds; if one is to drink bitters and gins and +the like, such as I understand as good people as clergymen and women +take in private, and by advice, I do not know why one should not make +them palatable and heat them with his own poker. Cold whiskey out of +a bottle, taken as a prescription six times a day on the sly, is n't +my idea of virtue any more than the social ancestral glass, sizzling +wickedly with the hot iron. Names are so confusing in this world; +but things are apt to remain pretty much the same, whatever we call +them. + +Perhaps as you look into the fireplace it widens and grows deep and +cavernous. The back and the jambs are built up of great stones, not +always smoothly laid, with jutting ledges upon which ashes are apt to +lie. The hearthstone is an enormous block of trap rock, with a +surface not perfectly even, but a capital place to crack butternuts +on. Over the fire swings an iron crane, with a row of pot-hooks of +all lengths hanging from it. It swings out when the housewife wants +to hang on the tea-kettle, and it is strong enough to support a row +of pots, or a mammoth caldron kettle on occasion. What a jolly sight +is this fireplace when the pots and kettles in a row are all boiling +and bubbling over the flame, and a roasting spit is turning in front! +It makes a person as hungry as one of Scott's novels. But the +brilliant sight is in the frosty morning, about daylight, when the +fire is made. The coals are raked open, the split sticks are piled +up in openwork criss-crossing, as high as the crane; and when the +flame catches hold and roars up through the interstices, it is like +an out-of-door bonfire. Wood enough is consumed in that morning +sacrifice to cook the food of a Parisian family for a year. How it +roars up the wide chimney, sending into the air the signal smoke and +sparks which announce to the farming neighbors another day cheerfully +begun! The sleepiest boy in the world would get up in his red +flannel nightgown to see such a fire lighted, even if he dropped to +sleep again in his chair before the ruddy blaze. Then it is that the +house, which has shrunk and creaked all night in the pinching cold of +winter, begins to glow again and come to life. The thick frost melts +little by little on the small window-panes, and it is seen that the +gray dawn is breaking over the leagues of pallid snow. It is time to +blow out the candle, which has lost all its cheerfulness in the light +of day. The morning romance is over; the family is astir; and member +after member appears with the morning yawn, to stand before the +crackling, fierce conflagration. The daily round begins. The most +hateful employment ever invented for mortal man presents itself: the +"chores" are to be done. The boy who expects every morning to open +into a new world finds that to-day is like yesterday, but he believes +to-morrow will be different. And yet enough for him, for the day, is +the wading in the snowdrifts, or the sliding on the diamond-sparkling +crust. Happy, too, is he, when the storm rages, and the snow is +piled high against the windows, if he can sit in the warm chimney- +corner and read about Burgoyne, and General Fraser, and Miss McCrea, +midwinter marches through the wilderness, surprises of wigwams, and +the stirring ballad, say, of the Battle of the Kegs:-- + + +"Come, gallants, attend and list a friend +Thrill forth harmonious ditty; +While I shall tell what late befell +At Philadelphia city." + + +I should like to know what heroism a boy in an old New England +farmhouse--rough-nursed by nature, and fed on the traditions of the +old wars did not aspire to. "John," says the mother, "You'll burn +your head to a crisp in that heat." But John does not hear; he is +storming the Plains of Abraham just now. "Johnny, dear, bring in a +stick of wood." How can Johnny bring in wood when he is in that +defile with Braddock, and the Indians are popping at him from behind +every tree? There is something about a boy that I like, after all. + +The fire rests upon the broad hearth; the hearth rests upon a great +substruction of stone, and the substruction rests upon the cellar. +What supports the cellar I never knew, but the cellar supports the +family. The cellar is the foundation of domestic comfort. Into its +dark, cavernous recesses the child's imagination fearfully goes. +Bogies guard the bins of choicest apples. I know not what comical +sprites sit astride the cider-barrels ranged along the walls. The +feeble flicker of the tallow-candle does not at all dispel, but +creates, illusions, and magnifies all the rich possibilities of this +underground treasure-house. When the cellar-door is opened, and the +boy begins to descend into the thick darkness, it is always with a +heart-beat as of one started upon some adventure. Who can forget the +smell that comes through the opened door;--a mingling of fresh earth, +fruit exhaling delicious aroma, kitchen vegetables, the mouldy odor +of barrels, a sort of ancestral air,--as if a door had been opened +into an old romance. Do you like it? Not much. But then I would +not exchange the remembrance of it for a good many odors and perfumes +that I do like. + +It is time to punch the backlog and put on a new forestick. + + + + +SECOND STUDY + +I + +The log was white birch. The beautiful satin bark at once kindled +into a soft, pure, but brilliant flame, something like that of +naphtha. There is no other wood flame so rich, and it leaps up in a +joyous, spiritual way, as if glad to burn for the sake of burning. +Burning like a clear oil, it has none of the heaviness and fatness of +the pine and the balsam. Woodsmen are at a loss to account for its +intense and yet chaste flame, since the bark has no oily appearance. +The heat from it is fierce, and the light dazzling. It flares up +eagerly like young love, and then dies away; the wood does not keep +up the promise of the bark. The woodsmen, it is proper to say, have +not considered it in its relation to young love. In the remote +settlements the pine-knot is still the torch of courtship; it endures +to sit up by. The birch-bark has alliances with the world of +sentiment and of letters. The most poetical reputation of the North +American Indian floats in a canoe made of it; his picture-writing was +inscribed on it. It is the paper that nature furnishes for lovers in +the wilderness, who are enabled to convey a delicate sentiment by its +use, which is expressed neither in their ideas nor chirography. It +is inadequate for legal parchment, but does very well for deeds of +love, which are not meant usually to give a perfect title. With +care, it may be split into sheets as thin as the Chinese paper. It +is so beautiful to handle that it is a pity civilization cannot make +more use of it. But fancy articles manufactured from it are very +much like all ornamental work made of nature's perishable seeds, +leaves, cones, and dry twigs,--exquisite while the pretty fingers are +fashioning it, but soon growing shabby and cheap to the eye. And yet +there is a pathos in "dried things," whether they are displayed as +ornaments in some secluded home, or hidden religiously in bureau +drawers where profane eyes cannot see how white ties are growing +yellow and ink is fading from treasured letters, amid a faint and +discouraging perfume of ancient rose-leaves. + +The birch log holds out very well while it is green, but has not +substance enough for a backlog when dry. Seasoning green timber or +men is always an experiment. A man may do very well in a simple, let +us say, country or backwoods line of life, who would come to nothing +in a more complicated civilization. City life is a severe trial. +One man is struck with a dry-rot; another develops season-cracks; +another shrinks and swells with every change of circumstance. +Prosperity is said to be more trying than adversity, a theory which +most people are willing to accept without trial; but few men stand +the drying out of the natural sap of their greenness in the +artificial heat of city life. This, be it noticed, is nothing +against the drying and seasoning process; character must be put into +the crucible some time, and why not in this world? A man who cannot +stand seasoning will not have a high market value in any part of the +universe. It is creditable to the race, that so many men and women +bravely jump into the furnace of prosperity and expose themselves to +the drying influences of city life. + +The first fire that is lighted on the hearth in the autumn seems to +bring out the cold weather. Deceived by the placid appearance of the +dying year, the softness of the sky, and the warm color of the +foliage, we have been shivering about for days without exactly +comprehending what was the matter. The open fire at once sets up a +standard of comparison. We find that the advance guards of winter +are besieging the house. The cold rushes in at every crack of door +and window, apparently signaled by the flame to invade the house and +fill it with chilly drafts and sarcasms on what we call the temperate +zone. It needs a roaring fire to beat back the enemy; a feeble one +is only an invitation to the most insulting demonstrations. Our +pious New England ancestors were philosophers in their way. It was +not simply owing to grace that they sat for hours in their barnlike +meeting-houses during the winter Sundays, the thermometer many +degrees below freezing, with no fire, except the zeal in their own +hearts,--a congregation of red noses and bright eyes. It was no +wonder that the minister in the pulpit warmed up to his subject, +cried aloud, used hot words, spoke a good deal of the hot place and +the Person whose presence was a burning shame, hammered the desk as +if he expected to drive his text through a two-inch plank, and heated +himself by all allowable ecclesiastical gymnastics. A few of their +followers in our day seem to forget that our modern churches are +heated by furnaces and supplied with gas. In the old days it would +have been thought unphilosophic as well as effeminate to warm the +meeting-houses artificially. In one house I knew, at least, when it +was proposed to introduce a stove to take a little of the chill from +the Sunday services, the deacons protested against the innovation. +They said that the stove might benefit those who sat close to it, but +it would drive all the cold air to the other parts of the church, and +freeze the people to death; it was cold enough now around the edges. +Blessed days of ignorance and upright living! Sturdy men who served +God by resolutely sitting out the icy hours of service, amid the +rattling of windows and the carousal of winter in the high, windswept +galleries! Patient women, waiting in the chilly house for +consumption to pick out his victims, and replace the color of youth +and the flush of devotion with the hectic of disease! At least, you +did not doze and droop in our over-heated edifices, and die of +vitiated air and disregard of the simplest conditions of organized +life. It is fortunate that each generation does not comprehend its +own ignorance. We are thus enabled to call our ancestors barbarous. +It is something also that each age has its choice of the death it +will die. Our generation is most ingenious. From our public +assembly-rooms and houses we have almost succeeded in excluding pure +air. It took the race ages to build dwellings that would keep out +rain; it has taken longer to build houses air-tight, but we are on +the eve of success. We are only foiled by the ill-fitting, insincere +work of the builders, who build for a day, and charge for all time. + + + +II + +When the fire on the hearth has blazed up and then settled into +steady radiance, talk begins. There is no place like the chimney- +corner for confidences; for picking up the clews of an old +friendship; for taking note where one's self has drifted, by +comparing ideas and prejudices with the intimate friend of years ago, +whose course in life has lain apart from yours. No stranger puzzles +you so much as the once close friend, with whose thinking and +associates you have for years been unfamiliar. Life has come to mean +this and that to you; you have fallen into certain habits of thought; +for you the world has progressed in this or that direction; of +certain results you feel very sure; you have fallen into harmony with +your surroundings; you meet day after day people interested in the +things that interest you; you are not in the least opinionated, it is +simply your good fortune to look upon the affairs of the world from +the right point of view. When you last saw your friend,--less than a +year after you left college,--he was the most sensible and agreeable +of men; he had no heterodox notions; he agreed with you; you could +even tell what sort of a wife he would select, and if you could do +that, you held the key to his life. + +Well, Herbert came to visit me the other day from the antipodes. And +here he sits by the fireplace. I cannot think of any one I would +rather see there, except perhaps Thackery; or, for entertainment, +Boswell; or old, Pepys; or one of the people who was left out of the +Ark. They were talking one foggy London night at Hazlitt's about +whom they would most like to have seen, when Charles Lamb startled +the company by declaring that he would rather have seen Judas +Iscariot than any other person who had lived on the earth. For +myself, I would rather have seen Lamb himself once, than to have +lived with Judas. Herbert, to my great delight, has not changed; I +should know him anywhere,--the same serious, contemplative face, with +lurking humor at the corners of the mouth,--the same cheery laugh and +clear, distinct enunciation as of old. There is nothing so winning +as a good voice. To see Herbert again, unchanged in all outward +essentials, is not only gratifying, but valuable as a testimony to +nature's success in holding on to a personal identity, through the +entire change of matter that has been constantly taking place for so +many years. I know very well there is here no part of the Herbert +whose hand I had shaken at the Commencement parting; but it is an +astonishing reproduction of him,--a material likeness; and now for +the spiritual. + +Such a wide chance for divergence in the spiritual. It has been such +a busy world for twenty years. So many things have been torn up by +the roots again that were settled when we left college. There were +to be no more wars; democracy was democracy, and progress, the +differentiation of the individual, was a mere question of clothes; if +you want to be different, go to your tailor; nobody had demonstrated +that there is a man-soul and a woman-soul, and that each is in +reality only a half-soul,--putting the race, so to speak, upon the +half-shell. The social oyster being opened, there appears to be two +shells and only one oyster; who shall have it? So many new canons of +taste, of criticism, of morality have been set up; there has been +such a resurrection of historical reputations for new judgment, and +there have been so many discoveries, geographical, archaeological, +geological, biological, that the earth is not at all what it was +supposed to be; and our philosophers are much more anxious to +ascertain where we came from than whither we are going. In this +whirl and turmoil of new ideas, nature, which has only the single end +of maintaining the physical identity in the body, works on +undisturbed, replacing particle for particle, and preserving the +likeness more skillfully than a mosaic artist in the Vatican; she has +not even her materials sorted and labeled, as the Roman artist has +his thousands of bits of color; and man is all the while doing his +best to confuse the process, by changing his climate, his diet, all +his surroundings, without the least care to remain himself. But the +mind? + +It is more difficult to get acquainted with Herbert than with an +entire stranger, for I have my prepossessions about him, and do not +find him in so many places where I expect to find him. He is full of +criticism of the authors I admire; he thinks stupid or improper the +books I most read; he is skeptical about the "movements" I am +interested in; he has formed very different opinions from mine +concerning a hundred men and women of the present day; we used to eat +from one dish; we could n't now find anything in common in a dozen; +his prejudices (as we call our opinions) are most extraordinary, and +not half so reasonable as my prejudices; there are a great many +persons and things that I am accustomed to denounce, uncontradicted +by anybody, which he defends; his public opinion is not at all my +public opinion. I am sorry for him. He appears to have fallen into +influences and among a set of people foreign to me. I find that his +church has a different steeple on it from my church (which, to say +the truth, hasn't any). It is a pity that such a dear friend and a +man of so much promise should have drifted off into such general +contrariness. I see Herbert sitting here by the fire, with the old +look in his face coming out more and more, but I do not recognize any +features of his mind,--except perhaps his contrariness; yes, he was +always a little contrary, I think. And finally he surprises me with, +"Well, my friend, you seem to have drifted away from your old notions +and opinions. We used to agree when we were together, but I +sometimes wondered where you would land; for, pardon me, you showed +signs of looking at things a little contrary." + +I am silent for a good while. I am trying to think who I am. There +was a person whom I thought I knew, very fond of Herbert, and +agreeing with him in most things. Where has he gone? and, if he is +here, where is the Herbert that I knew? + +If his intellectual and moral sympathies have all changed, I wonder +if his physical tastes remain, like his appearance, the same. There +has come over this country within the last generation, as everybody +knows, a great wave of condemnation of pie. It has taken the +character of a "movement!" though we have had no conventions about +it, nor is any one, of any of the several sexes among us, running for +president against it. It is safe almost anywhere to denounce pie, +yet nearly everybody eats it on occasion. A great many people think +it savors of a life abroad to speak with horror of pie, although they +were very likely the foremost of the Americans in Paris who used to +speak with more enthusiasm of the American pie at Madame Busque's +than of the Venus of Milo. To talk against pie and still eat it is +snobbish, of course; but snobbery, being an aspiring failing, is +sometimes the prophecy of better things. To affect dislike of pie is +something. We have no statistics on the subject, and cannot tell +whether it is gaining or losing in the country at large. Its +disappearance in select circles is no test. The amount of writing +against it is no more test of its desuetude, than the number of +religious tracts distributed in a given district is a criterion of +its piety. We are apt to assume that certain regions are +substantially free of it. Herbert and I, traveling north one summer, +fancied that we could draw in New England a sort of diet line, like +the sweeping curves on the isothermal charts, which should show at +least the leading pie sections. Journeying towards the White +Mountains, we concluded that a line passing through Bellows Falls, +and bending a little south on either side, would mark northward the +region of perpetual pie. In this region pie is to be found at all +hours and seasons, and at every meal. I am not sure, however, that +pie is not a matter of altitude rather than latitude, as I find that +all the hill and country towns of New England are full of those +excellent women, the very salt of the housekeeping earth, who would +feel ready to sink in mortification through their scoured kitchen +floors, if visitors should catch them without a pie in the house. +The absence of pie would be more noticed than a scarcity of Bible +even. Without it the housekeepers are as distracted as the +boarding-house keeper, who declared that if it were not for canned +tomato, she should have nothing to fly to. Well, in all this great +agitation I find Herbert unmoved, a conservative, even to the +under-crust. I dare not ask him if he eats pie at breakfast. There +are some tests that the dearest friendship may not apply. + +"Will you smoke?" I ask. + +"No, I have reformed." + +"Yes, of course." + +"The fact is, that when we consider the correlation of forces, the +apparent sympathy of spirit manifestations with electric conditions, +the almost revealed mysteries of what may be called the odic force, +and the relation of all these phenomena to the nervous system in man, +it is not safe to do anything to the nervous system that will--" + +"Hang the nervous system! Herbert, we can agree in one thing: old +memories, reveries, friendships, center about that:--is n't an open +wood-fire good?" + +"Yes," says Herbert, combatively, "if you don't sit before it too +long." + + + + +III + +The best talk is that which escapes up the open chimney and cannot be +repeated. The finest woods make the best fire and pass away with the +least residuum. I hope the next generation will not accept the +reports of "interviews" as specimens of the conversations of these +years of grace. + +But do we talk as well as our fathers and mothers did? We hear +wonderful stories of the bright generation that sat about the wide +fireplaces of New England. Good talk has so much short-hand that it +cannot be reported,--the inflection, the change of voice, the shrug, +cannot be caught on paper. The best of it is when the subject +unexpectedly goes cross-lots, by a flash of short-cut, to a +conclusion so suddenly revealed that it has the effect of wit. It +needs the highest culture and the finest breeding to prevent the +conversation from running into mere persiflage on the one hand--its +common fate--or monologue on the other. Our conversation is largely +chaff. I am not sure but the former generation preached a good deal, +but it had great practice in fireside talk, and must have talked +well. There were narrators in those days who could charm a circle +all the evening long with stories. When each day brought +comparatively little new to read, there was leisure for talk, and the +rare book and the in-frequent magazine were thoroughly discussed. +Families now are swamped by the printed matter that comes daily upon +the center-table. There must be a division of labor, one reading +this, and another that, to make any impression on it. The telegraph +brings the only common food, and works this daily miracle, that every +mind in Christendom is excited by one topic simultaneously with every +other mind; it enables a concurrent mental action, a burst of +sympathy, or a universal prayer to be made, which must be, if we have +any faith in the immaterial left, one of the chief forces in modern +life. It is fit that an agent so subtle as electricity should be the +minister of it. + +When there is so much to read, there is little time for conversation; +nor is there leisure for another pastime of the ancient firesides, +called reading aloud. The listeners, who heard while they looked +into the wide chimney-place, saw there pass in stately procession the +events and the grand persons of history, were kindled with the +delights of travel, touched by the romance of true love, or made +restless by tales of adventure;--the hearth became a sort of magic +stone that could transport those who sat by it to the most distant +places and times, as soon as the book was opened and the reader +began, of a winter's night. Perhaps the Puritan reader read through +his nose, and all the little Puritans made the most dreadful nasal +inquiries as the entertainment went on. The prominent nose of the +intellectual New-Englander is evidence of the constant linguistic +exercise of the organ for generations. It grew by talking through. +But I have no doubt that practice made good readers in those days. +Good reading aloud is almost a lost accomplishment now. It is little +thought of in the schools. It is disused at home. It is rare to +find any one who can read, even from the newspaper, well. Reading is +so universal, even with the uncultivated, that it is common to hear +people mispronounce words that you did not suppose they had ever +seen. In reading to themselves they glide over these words, in +reading aloud they stumble over them. Besides, our every-day books +and newspapers are so larded with French that the ordinary reader is +obliged marcher a pas de loup,--for instance. + +The newspaper is probably responsible for making current many words +with which the general reader is familiar, but which he rises to in +the flow of conversation, and strikes at with a splash and an +unsuccessful attempt at appropriation; the word, which he perfectly +knows, hooks him in the gills, and he cannot master it. The +newspaper is thus widening the language in use, and vastly increasing +the number of words which enter into common talk. The Americans of +the lowest intellectual class probably use more words to express +their ideas than the similar class of any other people; but this +prodigality is partially balanced by the parsimony of words in some +higher regions, in which a few phrases of current slang are made to +do the whole duty of exchange of ideas; if that can be called +exchange of ideas when one intellect flashes forth to another the +remark, concerning some report, that "you know how it is yourself," +and is met by the response of "that's what's the matter," and rejoins +with the perfectly conclusive "that's so." It requires a high degree +of culture to use slang with elegance and effect; and we are yet very +far from the Greek attainment. + + + + +IV + +The fireplace wants to be all aglow, the wind rising, the night heavy +and black above, but light with sifting snow on the earth, a +background of inclemency for the illumined room with its pictured +walls, tables heaped with books, capacious easy-chairs and their +occupants,--it needs, I say, to glow and throw its rays far through +the crystal of the broad windows, in order that we may rightly +appreciate the relation of the wide-jambed chimney to domestic +architecture in our climate. We fell to talking about it; and, as is +usual when the conversation is professedly on one subject, we +wandered all around it. The young lady staying with us was roasting +chestnuts in the ashes, and the frequent explosions required +considerable attention. The mistress, too, sat somewhat alert, ready +to rise at any instant and minister to the fancied want of this or +that guest, forgetting the reposeful truth that people about a +fireside will not have any wants if they are not suggested. The +worst of them, if they desire anything, only want something hot, and +that later in the evening. And it is an open question whether you +ought to associate with people who want that. + +I was saying that nothing had been so slow in its progress in the +world as domestic architecture. Temples, palaces, bridges, +aqueducts, cathedrals, towers of marvelous delicacy and strength, +grew to perfection while the common people lived in hovels, and the +richest lodged in the most gloomy and contracted quarters. The +dwelling-house is a modern institution. It is a curious fact that it +has only improved with the social elevation of women. Men were never +more brilliant in arms and letters than in the age of Elizabeth, and +yet they had no homes. They made themselves thick-walled castles, +with slits in the masonry for windows, for defense, and magnificent +banquet-halls for pleasure; the stone rooms into which they crawled +for the night were often little better than dog-kennels. The +Pompeians had no comfortable night-quarters. The most singular thing +to me, however, is that, especially interested as woman is in the +house, she has never done anything for architecture. And yet woman +is reputed to be an ingenious creature. + +HERBERT. I doubt if woman has real ingenuity; she has great +adaptability. I don't say that she will do the same thing twice +alike, like a Chinaman, but she is most cunning in suiting herself to +circumstances. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, if you speak of constructive, creative +ingenuity, perhaps not; but in the higher ranges of achievement--that +of accomplishing any purpose dear to her heart, for instance--her +ingenuity is simply incomprehensible to me. + +HERBERT. Yes, if you mean doing things by indirection. + +THE MISTRESS. When you men assume all the direction, what else is +left to us? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see a woman refurnish a house? + +THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH US. I never saw a man do it, unless he +was burned out of his rookery. + +HERBERT. There is no comfort in new things. + +THE FIRE-TENDER (not noticing the interruption). Having set her mind +on a total revolution of the house, she buys one new thing, not too +obtrusive, nor much out of harmony with the old. The husband +scarcely notices it, least of all does he suspect the revolution, +which she already has accomplished. Next, some article that does +look a little shabby beside the new piece of furniture is sent to the +garret, and its place is supplied by something that will match in +color and effect. Even the man can see that it ought to match, and +so the process goes on, it may be for years, it may be forever, until +nothing of the old is left, and the house is transformed as it was +predetermined in the woman's mind. I doubt if the man ever +understands how or when it was done; his wife certainly never says +anything about the refurnishing, but quietly goes on to new +conquests. + +THE MISTRESS. And is n't it better to buy little by little, enjoying +every new object as you get it, and assimilating each article to your +household life, and making the home a harmonious expression of your +own taste, rather than to order things in sets, and turn your house, +for the time being, into a furniture ware-room? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, I only spoke of the ingenuity of it. + +THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I never can get acquainted with more +than one piece of furniture at a time. + +HERBERT. I suppose women are our superiors in artistic taste, and I +fancy that I can tell whether a house is furnished by a woman or a +man; of course, I mean the few houses that appear to be the result of +individual taste and refinement,--most of them look as if they had +been furnished on contract by the upholsterer. + +THE MISTRESS. Woman's province in this world is putting things to +rights. + +HERBERT. With a vengeance, sometimes. In the study, for example. +My chief objection to woman is that she has no respect for the +newspaper, or the printed page, as such. She is Siva, the destroyer. +I have noticed that a great part of a married man's time at home is +spent in trying to find the things he has put on his study-table. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Herbert speaks with the bitterness of a bachelor +shut out of paradise. It is my experience that if women did not +destroy the rubbish that men bring into the house, it would become +uninhabitable, and need to be burned down every five years. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I confess women do a great deal for the appearance +of things. When the mistress is absent, this room, although +everything is here as it was before, does not look at all like the +same place; it is stiff, and seems to lack a soul. When she returns, +I can see that her eye, even while greeting me, takes in the +situation at a glance. While she is talking of the journey, and +before she has removed her traveling-hat, she turns this chair and +moves that, sets one piece of furniture at a different angle, +rapidly, and apparently unconsciously, shifts a dozen little +knick-knacks and bits of color, and the room is transformed. I +couldn't do it in a week. + +THE MISTRESS. That is the first time I ever knew a man admit he +couldn't do anything if he had time. + +HERBERT. Yet with all their peculiar instinct for making a home, +women make themselves very little felt in our domestic architecture. + +THE MISTRESS. Men build most of the houses in what might be called +the ready-made-clothing style, and we have to do the best we can with +them; and hard enough it is to make cheerful homes in most of them. +You will see something different when the woman is constantly +consulted in the plan of the house. + +HERBERT. We might see more difference if women would give any +attention to architecture. Why are there no women architects? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Want of the ballot, doubtless. It seems to me that +here is a splendid opportunity for woman to come to the front. + +THE YOUNG LADY. They have no desire to come to the front; they would +rather manage things where they are. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. If they would master the noble art, and put their +brooding taste upon it, we might very likely compass something in our +domestic architecture that we have not yet attained. The outside of +our houses needs attention as well as the inside. Most of them are +as ugly as money can build. + +THE YOUNG LADY. What vexes me most is, that women, married women, +have so easily consented to give up open fires in their houses. + +HERBERT. They dislike the dust and the bother. I think that women +rather like the confined furnace heat. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Nonsense; it is their angelic virtue of submission. +We wouldn't be hired to stay all-day in the houses we build. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That has a very chivalrous sound, but I know there +will be no reformation until women rebel and demand everywhere the +open fire. + +HERBERT. They are just now rebelling about something else; it seems +to me yours is a sort of counter-movement, a fire in the rear. + +THE MISTRESS. I'll join that movement. The time has come when woman +must strike for her altars and her fires. + +HERBERT. Hear, hear! + +THE MISTRESS. Thank you, Herbert. I applauded you once, when you +declaimed that years ago in the old Academy. I remember how +eloquently you did it. + +HERBERT. Yes, I was once a spouting idiot. + +Just then the door-bell rang, and company came in. And the company +brought in a new atmosphere, as company always does, something of the +disturbance of out-doors, and a good deal of its healthy cheer. The +direct news that the thermometer was approaching zero, with a hopeful +prospect of going below it, increased to liveliness our satisfaction +in the fire. When the cider was heated in the brown stone pitcher, +there was difference of opinion whether there should be toast in it; +some were for toast, because that was the old-fashioned way, and +others were against it, "because it does not taste good" in cider. +Herbert said there, was very little respect left for our forefathers. + +More wood was put on, and the flame danced in a hundred fantastic +shapes. The snow had ceased to fall, and the moonlight lay in +silvery patches among the trees in the ravine. The conversation +became worldly. + + + + +THIRD STUDY + + +I + +Herbert said, as we sat by the fire one night, that he wished he had +turned his attention to writing poetry like Tennyson's. + +The remark was not whimsical, but satirical. Tennyson is a man of +talent, who happened to strike a lucky vein, which he has worked with +cleverness. The adventurer with a pickaxe in Washoe may happen upon +like good fortune. The world is full of poetry as the earth is of +"pay-dirt;" one only needs to know how to "strike" it. An able man +can make himself almost anything that he will. It is melancholy to +think how many epic poets have been lost in the tea-trade, how many +dramatists (though the age of the drama has passed) have wasted their +genius in great mercantile and mechanical enterprises. I know a man +who might have been the poet, the essayist, perhaps the critic, of +this country, who chose to become a country judge, to sit day after +day upon a bench in an obscure corner of the world, listening to +wrangling lawyers and prevaricating witnesses, preferring to judge +his fellow-men rather than enlighten them. + +It is fortunate for the vanity of the living and the reputation of +the dead, that men get almost as much credit for what they do not as +for what they do. It was the opinion of many that Burns might have +excelled as a statesman, or have been a great captain in war; and Mr. +Carlyle says that if he had been sent to a university, and become a +trained intellectual workman, it lay in him to have changed the whole +course of British literature! A large undertaking, as so vigorous +and dazzling a writer as Mr. Carlyle must know by this time, since +British literature has swept by him in a resistless and widening +flood, mainly uncontaminated, and leaving his grotesque contrivances +wrecked on the shore with other curiosities of letters, and yet among +the richest of all the treasures lying there. + +It is a temptation to a temperate man to become a sot, to hear what +talent, what versatility, what genius, is almost always attributed to +a moderately bright man who is habitually drunk. Such a mechanic, +such a mathematician, such a poet he would be, if he were only sober; +and then he is sure to be the most generous, magnanimous, friendly +soul, conscientiously honorable, if he were not so conscientiously +drunk. I suppose it is now notorious that the most brilliant and +promising men have been lost to the world in this way. It is +sometimes almost painful to think what a surplus of talent and genius +there would be in the world if the habit of intoxication should +suddenly cease; and what a slim chance there would be for the +plodding people who have always had tolerably good habits. The fear +is only mitigated by the observation that the reputation of a person +for great talent sometimes ceases with his reformation. + +It is believed by some that the maidens who would make the best wives +never marry, but remain free to bless the world with their impartial +sweetness, and make it generally habitable. This is one of the +mysteries of Providence and New England life. It seems a pity, at +first sight, that all those who become poor wives have the +matrimonial chance, and that they are deprived of the reputation of +those who would be good wives were they not set apart for the high +and perpetual office of priestesses of society. There is no beauty +like that which was spoiled by an accident, no accomplishments--and +graces are so to be envied as those that circumstances rudely +hindered the development of. All of which shows what a charitable +and good-tempered world it is, notwithstanding its reputation for +cynicism and detraction. + +Nothing is more beautiful than the belief of the faithful wife that +her husband has all the talents, and could , if he would, be +distinguished in any walk in life; and nothing will be more +beautiful--unless this is a very dry time for signs--than the +husband's belief that his wife is capable of taking charge of any of +the affairs of this confused planet. There is no woman but thinks +that her husband, the green-grocer, could write poetry if he had +given his mind to it, or else she thinks small beer of poetry in +comparison with an occupation or accomplishment purely vegetable. It +is touching to see the look of pride with which the wife turns to her +husband from any more brilliant personal presence or display of wit +than his, in the perfect confidence that if the world knew what she +knows, there would be one more popular idol. How she magnifies his +small wit, and dotes upon the self-satisfied look in his face as if +it were a sign of wisdom! What a councilor that man would make! +What a warrior he would be! There are a great many corporals in +their retired homes who did more for the safety and success of our +armies in critical moments, in the late war, than any of the "high- +cock-a-lorum" commanders. Mrs. Corporal does not envy the +reputation of General Sheridan; she knows very well who really won +Five Forks, for she has heard the story a hundred times, and will +hear it a hundred times more with apparently unabated interest. What +a general her husband would have made; and how his talking talent +would shine in Congress! + +HERBERT. Nonsense. There isn't a wife in the world who has not +taken the exact measure of her husband, weighed him and settled him +in her own mind, and knows him as well as if she had ordered him +after designs and specifications of her own. That knowledge, +however, she ordinarily keeps to herself, and she enters into a +league with her husband, which he was never admitted to the secret +of, to impose upon the world. In nine out of ten cases he more than +half believes that he is what his wife tells him he is. At any rate, +she manages him as easily as the keeper does the elephant, with only +a bamboo wand and a sharp spike in the end. Usually she flatters +him, but she has the means of pricking clear through his hide on +occasion. It is the great secret of her power to have him think that +she thoroughly believes in him. + +THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH Us. And you call this hypocrisy? I have +heard authors, who thought themselves sly observers of women, call it +so. + +HERBERT. Nothing of the sort. It is the basis on which society +rests, the conventional agreement. If society is about to be +overturned, it is on this point. Women are beginning to tell men +what they really think of them; and to insist that the same relations +of downright sincerity and independence that exist between men shall +exist between women and men. Absolute truth between souls, without +regard to sex, has always been the ideal life of the poets. + +THE MISTRESS. Yes; but there was never a poet yet who would bear to +have his wife say exactly what she thought of his poetry, any more +than be would keep his temper if his wife beat him at chess; and +there is nothing that disgusts a man like getting beaten at chess by +a woman. + +HERBERT. Well, women know how to win by losing. I think that the +reason why most women do not want to take the ballot and stand out in +the open for a free trial of power, is that they are reluctant to +change the certain domination of centuries, with weapons they are +perfectly competent to handle, for an experiment. I think we should +be better off if women were more transparent, and men were not so +systematically puffed up by the subtle flattery which is used to +control them. + +MANDEVILLE. Deliver me from transparency. When a woman takes that +guise, and begins to convince me that I can see through her like a +ray of light, I must run or be lost. Transparent women are the truly +dangerous. There was one on ship-board [Mandeville likes to say +that; he has just returned from a little tour in Europe, and he quite +often begins his remarks with "on the ship going over; "the Young +Lady declares that he has a sort of roll in his chair, when he says +it, that makes her sea-sick] who was the most innocent, artless, +guileless, natural bunch of lace and feathers you ever saw; she was +all candor and helplessness and dependence; she sang like a +nightingale, and talked like a nun. There never was such simplicity. +There was n't a sounding-line on board that would have gone to the +bottom of her soulful eyes. But she managed the captain and all the +officers, and controlled the ship as if she had been the helm. All +the passengers were waiting on her, fetching this and that for her +comfort, inquiring of her health, talking about her genuineness, and +exhibiting as much anxiety to get her ashore in safety, as if she had +been about to knight them all and give them a castle apiece when they +came to land. + +THE MISTRESS. What harm? It shows what I have always said, that the +service of a noble woman is the most ennobling influence for men. + +MANDEVILLE. If she is noble, and not a mere manager. I watched this +woman to see if she would ever do anything for any one else. She +never did. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see her again? I presume Mandeville +has introduced her here for some purpose. + +MANDEVILLE. No purpose. But we did see her on the Rhine; she was +the most disgusted traveler, and seemed to be in very ill humor with +her maid. I judged that her happiness depended upon establishing +controlling relations with all about her. On this Rhine boat, to be +sure, there was reason for disgust. And that reminds me of a remark +that was made. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Oh! + +MANDEVILLE. When we got aboard at Mayence we were conscious of a +dreadful odor somewhere; as it was a foggy morning, we could see no +cause of it, but concluded it was from something on the wharf. The +fog lifted, and we got under way, but the odor traveled with us, and +increased. We went to every part of the vessel to avoid it, but in +vain. It occasionally reached us in great waves of disagreeableness. +We had heard of the odors of the towns on the Rhine, but we had no +idea that the entire stream was infected. It was intolerable. + +The day was lovely, and the passengers stood about on deck holding +their noses and admiring the scenery. You might see a row of them +leaning over the side, gazing up at some old ruin or ivied crag, +entranced with the romance of the situation, and all holding their +noses with thumb and finger. The sweet Rhine! By and by somebody +discovered that the odor came from a pile of cheese on the forward +deck, covered with a canvas; it seemed that the Rhinelanders are so +fond of it that they take it with them when they travel. If there +should ever be war between us and Germany, the borders of the Rhine +would need no other defense from American soldiers than a barricade +of this cheese. I went to the stern of the steamboat to tell a stout +American traveler what was the origin of the odor he had been trying +to dodge all the morning. He looked more disgusted than before, when +he heard that it was cheese; but his only reply was: "It must be a +merciful God who can forgive a smell like that!" + + + + +II + +The above is introduced here in order to illustrate the usual effect +of an anecdote on conversation. Commonly it kills it. That talk +must be very well in hand, and under great headway, that an anecdote +thrown in front of will not pitch off the track and wreck. And it +makes little difference what the anecdote is; a poor one depresses +the spirits, and casts a gloom over the company; a good one begets +others, and the talkers go to telling stories; which is very good +entertainment in moderation, but is not to be mistaken for that +unwearying flow of argument, quaint remark, humorous color, and +sprightly interchange of sentiments and opinions, called +conversation. + +The reader will perceive that all hope is gone here of deciding +whether Herbert could have written Tennyson's poems, or whether +Tennyson could have dug as much money out of the Heliogabalus Lode as +Herbert did. The more one sees of life, I think the impression +deepens that men, after all, play about the parts assigned them, +according to their mental and moral gifts, which are limited and +preordained, and that their entrances and exits are governed by a law +no less certain because it is hidden. Perhaps nobody ever +accomplishes all that he feels lies in him to do; but nearly every +one who tries his powers touches the walls of his being occasionally, +and learns about how far to attempt to spring. There are no +impossibilities to youth and inexperience; but when a person has +tried several times to reach high C and been coughed down, he is +quite content to go down among the chorus. It is only the fools who +keep straining at high C all their lives. + +Mandeville here began to say that that reminded him of something that +happened when he was on the + +But Herbert cut in with the observation that no matter what a man's +single and several capacities and talents might be, he is controlled +by his own mysterious individuality, which is what metaphysicians +call the substance, all else being the mere accidents of the man. +And this is the reason that we cannot with any certainty tell what +any person will do or amount to, for, while we know his talents and +abilities, we do not know the resulting whole, which is he himself. +THE FIRE-TENDER. So if you could take all the first-class qualities +that we admire in men and women, and put them together into one +being, you wouldn't be sure of the result? + +HERBERT. Certainly not. You would probably have a monster. It +takes a cook of long experience, with the best materials, to make a +dish " taste good;" and the "taste good" is the indefinable essence, +the resulting balance or harmony which makes man or woman agreeable +or beautiful or effective in the world. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That must be the reason why novelists fail so +lamentably in almost all cases in creating good characters. They put +in real traits, talents, dispositions, but the result of the +synthesis is something that never was seen on earth before. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, a good character in fiction is an inspiration. +We admit this in poetry. It is as true of such creations as Colonel +Newcome, and Ethel, and Beatrix Esmond. There is no patchwork about +them. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Why was n't Thackeray ever inspired to create a +noble woman? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. That is the standing conundrum with all the women. +They will not accept Ethel Newcome even. Perhaps we shall have to +admit that Thackeray was a writer for men. + +HERBERT. Scott and the rest had drawn so many perfect women that +Thackeray thought it was time for a real one. + +THE MISTRESS. That's ill-natured. Thackeray did, however, make +ladies. If he had depicted, with his searching pen, any of us just +as we are, I doubt if we should have liked it much. + +MANDEVILLE. That's just it. Thackeray never pretended to make +ideals, and if the best novel is an idealization of human nature, +then he was not the best novelist. When I was crossing the Channel + +THE MISTRESS. Oh dear, if we are to go to sea again, Mandeville, I +move we have in the nuts and apples, and talk about our friends. + + + + +III + +There is this advantage in getting back to a wood-fire on the hearth, +that you return to a kind of simplicity; you can scarcely imagine any +one being stiffly conventional in front of it. It thaws out +formality, and puts the company who sit around it into easy attitudes +of mind and body,--lounging attitudes,--Herbert said. + +And this brought up the subject of culture in America, especially as +to manner. The backlog period having passed, we are beginning to +have in society people of the cultured manner, as it is called, or +polished bearing, in which the polish is the most noticeable thing +about the man. Not the courtliness, the easy simplicity of the +old-school gentleman, in whose presence the milkmaid was as much at +her ease as the countess, but something far finer than this. These +are the people of unruffled demeanor, who never forget it for a +moment, and never let you forget it. Their presence is a constant +rebuke to society. They are never "jolly;" their laugh is never +anything more than a well-bred smile; they are never betrayed into +any enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is a sign of inexperience, of ignorance, +of want of culture. They never lose themselves in any cause; they +never heartily praise any man or woman or book; they are superior to +all tides of feeling and all outbursts of passion. They are not even +shocked at vulgarity. They are simply indifferent. They are calm, +visibly calm, painfully calm; and it is not the eternal, majestic +calmness of the Sphinx either, but a rigid, self-conscious +repression. You would like to put a bent pin in their chair when +they are about calmly to sit down. + +A sitting hen on her nest is calm, but hopeful; she has faith that +her eggs are not china. These people appear to be sitting on china +eggs. Perfect culture has refined all blood, warmth, flavor, out of +them. We admire them without envy. They are too beautiful in their +manners to be either prigs or snobs. They are at once our models and +our despair. They are properly careful of themselves as models, for +they know that if they should break, society would become a scene of +mere animal confusion. + +MANDEVILLE. I think that the best-bred people in the world are the +English. + +THE YOUNG LADY. You mean at home. + +MANDEVILLE. That's where I saw them. There is no nonsense about a +cultivated English man or woman. They express themselves sturdily +and naturally, and with no subservience to the opinions of others. +There's a sort of hearty sincerity about them that I like. Ages of +culture on the island have gone deeper than the surface, and they +have simpler and more natural manners than we. There is something +good in the full, round tones of their voices. + +HERBERT. Did you ever get into a diligence with a growling English- +man who had n't secured the place he wanted? + +[Mandeville once spent a week in London, riding about on the tops of +omnibuses.] + +THE MISTRESS. Did you ever see an English exquisite at the San +Carlo, and hear him cry "Bwavo"? + +MANDEVILLE. At any rate, he acted out his nature, and was n't afraid +to. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I think Mandeville is right, for once. The men of +the best culture in England, in the middle and higher social classes, +are what you would call good fellows,--easy and simple in manner, +enthusiastic on occasion, and decidedly not cultivated into the +smooth calmness of indifference which some Americans seem to regard +as the sine qua non of good breeding. Their position is so assured +that they do not need that lacquer of calmness of which we were +speaking. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Which is different from the manner acquired by those +who live a great deal in American hotels? + +THE MISTRESS. Or the Washington manner? + +HERBERT. The last two are the same. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Not exactly. You think you can always tell if a +man has learned his society carriage of a dancing-master. Well, you +cannot always tell by a person's manner whether he is a habitui of +hotels or of Washington. But these are distinct from the perfect +polish and politeness of indifferentism. + + + + +IV + +Daylight disenchants. It draws one from the fireside, and dissipates +the idle illusions of conversation, except under certain conditions. +Let us say that the conditions are: a house in the country, with some +forest trees near, and a few evergreens, which are Christmas-trees +all winter long, fringed with snow, glistening with ice-pendants, +cheerful by day and grotesque by night; a snow-storm beginning out of +a dark sky, falling in a soft profusion that fills all the air, its +dazzling whiteness making a light near at hand, which is quite lost +in the distant darkling spaces. + +If one begins to watch the swirling flakes and crystals, he soon gets +an impression of infinity of resources that he can have from nothing +else so powerfully, except it be from Adirondack gnats. Nothing +makes one feel at home like a great snow-storm. Our intelligent cat +will quit the fire and sit for hours in the low window, watching the +falling snow with a serious and contented air. His thoughts are his +own, but he is in accord with the subtlest agencies of Nature; on +such a day he is charged with enough electricity to run a telegraphic +battery, if it could be utilized. The connection between thought and +electricity has not been exactly determined, but the cat is mentally +very alert in certain conditions of the atmosphere. Feasting his +eyes on the beautiful out-doors does not prevent his attention to the +slightest noise in the wainscot. And the snow-storm brings content, +but not stupidity, to all the rest of the household. + +I can see Mandeville now, rising from his armchair and swinging his +long arms as he strides to the window, and looks out and up, with, +"Well, I declare!" Herbert is pretending to read Herbert Spencer's +tract on the philosophy of style but he loses much time in looking at +the Young Lady, who is writing a letter, holding her portfolio in her +lap,--one of her everlasting letters to one of her fifty everlasting +friends. She is one of the female patriots who save the post-office +department from being a disastrous loss to the treasury. Herbert is +thinking of the great radical difference in the two sexes, which +legislation will probably never change; that leads a woman always, to +write letters on her lap and a man on a table,--a distinction which +is commended to the notice of the anti-suffragists. + +The Mistress, in a pretty little breakfast-cap, is moving about the +room with a feather-duster, whisking invisible dust from the picture- +frames, and talking with the Parson, who has just come in, and is +thawing the snow from his boots on the hearth. The Parson says the +thermometer is 15deg., and going down; that there is a snowdrift +across the main church entrance three feet high, and that the house +looks as if it had gone into winter quarters, religion and all. +There were only ten persons at the conference meeting last night, and +seven of those were women; he wonders how many weather-proof +Christians there are in the parish, anyhow. + +The Fire-Tender is in the adjoining library, pretending to write; but +it is a poor day for ideas. He has written his wife's name about +eleven hundred times, and cannot get any farther. He hears the +Mistress tell the Parson that she believes he is trying to write a +lecture on the Celtic Influence in Literature. The Parson says that +it is a first-rate subject, if there were any such influence, and +asks why he does n't take a shovel and make a path to the gate. +Mandeville says that, by George! he himself should like no better +fun, but it wouldn't look well for a visitor to do it. The +Fire-Tender, not to be disturbed by this sort of chaff, keeps on +writing his wife's name. + +Then the Parson and the Mistress fall to talking about the +soup-relief, and about old Mrs. Grumples in Pig Alley, who had a +present of one of Stowe's Illustrated Self-Acting Bibles on +Christmas, when she had n't coal enough in the house to heat her +gruel; and about a family behind the church, a widow and six little +children and three dogs; and he did n't believe that any of them had +known what it was to be warm in three weeks, and as to food, the +woman said, she could hardly beg cold victuals enough to keep the +dogs alive. + +The Mistress slipped out into the kitchen to fill a basket with +provisions and send it somewhere; and when the Fire-Tender brought in +a new forestick, Mandeville, who always wants to talk, and had been +sitting drumming his feet and drawing deep sighs, attacked him. + +MANDEVILLE. Speaking about culture and manners, did you ever notice +how extremes meet, and that the savage bears himself very much like +the sort of cultured persons we were talking of last night? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. In what respect? + +MANDEVILLE. Well, you take the North American Indian. He is never +interested in anything, never surprised at anything. He has by +nature that calmness and indifference which your people of culture +have acquired. If he should go into literature as a critic, he would +scalp and tomahawk with the same emotionless composure, and he would +do nothing else. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Then you think the red man is a born gentleman of +the highest breeding? + +MANDEVILLE. I think he is calm. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How is it about the war-path and all that? + +MANDEVILLE. Oh, these studiously calm and cultured people may have +malice underneath. It takes them to give the most effective "little +digs;" they know how to stick in the pine-splinters and set fire to +them. + +HERBERT. But there is more in Mandeville's idea. You bring a red +man into a picture-gallery, or a city full of fine architecture, or +into a drawing-room crowded with objects of art and beauty, and he is +apparently insensible to them all. Now I have seen country people,-- +and by country people I don't mean people necessarily who live in the +country, for everything is mixed in these days,--some of the best +people in the world, intelligent, honest, sincere, who acted as the +Indian would. + +THE MISTRESS. Herbert, if I did n't know you were cynical, I should +say you were snobbish. + +HERBERT. Such people think it a point of breeding never to speak of +anything in your house, nor to appear to notice it, however beautiful +it may be; even to slyly glance around strains their notion of +etiquette. They are like the countryman who confessed afterwards +that he could hardly keep from laughing at one of Yankee Hill's +entertainments, + +THE YOUNG LADY. Do you remember those English people at our house in +Flushing last summer, who pleased us all so much with their apparent +delight in everything that was artistic or tasteful, who explored the +rooms and looked at everything, and were so interested? I suppose +that Herbert's country relations, many of whom live in the city, +would have thought it very ill-bred. + +MANDEVILLE. It's just as I said. The English, the best of them, +have become so civilized that they express themselves, in speech and +action, naturally, and are not afraid of their emotions. + +THE PARSON. I wish Mandeville would travel more, or that he had +stayed at home. It's wonderful what a fit of Atlantic sea-sickness +will do for a man's judgment and cultivation. He is prepared to +pronounce on art, manners, all kinds of culture. There is more +nonsense talked about culture than about anything else. + +HERBERT. The Parson reminds me of an American country minister I +once met walking through the Vatican. You could n't impose upon him +with any rubbish; he tested everything by the standards of his native +place, and there was little that could bear the test. He had the sly +air of a man who could not be deceived, and he went about with his +mouth in a pucker of incredulity. There is nothing so placid as +rustic conceit. There was something very enjoyable about his calm +superiority to all the treasures of art. + +MANDEVILLE. And the Parson reminds me of another American minister, +a consul in an Italian city, who said he was going up to Rome to have +a thorough talk with the Pope, and give him a piece of his mind. +Ministers seem to think that is their business. They serve it in +such small pieces in order to make it go round. + +THE PARSON. Mandeville is an infidel. Come, let's have some music; +nothing else will keep him in good humor till lunch-time. + +THE MISTRESS. What shall it be? + +THE PARSON. Give us the larghetto from Beethoven's second symphony. + +The Young Lady puts aside her portfolio. Herbert looks at the young +lady. The Parson composes himself for critical purposes. Mandeville +settles himself in a chair and stretches his long legs nearly into +the fire, remarking that music takes the tangles out of him. + +After the piece is finished, lunch is announced. It is still +snowing. + + + + +FOURTH STUDY + +It is difficult to explain the attraction which the uncanny and even +the horrible have for most minds. I have seen a delicate woman half +fascinated, but wholly disgusted, by one of the most unseemly of +reptiles, vulgarly known as the "blowing viper" of the Alleghanies. +She would look at it, and turn away with irresistible shuddering and +the utmost loathing, and yet turn to look at it again and again, only +to experience the same spasm of disgust. In spite of her aversion, +she must have relished the sort of electric mental shock that the +sight gave her. + +I can no more account for the fascination for us of the stories of +ghosts and "appearances," and those weird tales in which the dead are +the chief characters; nor tell why we should fall into converse about +them when the winter evenings are far spent, the embers are glazing +over on the hearth, and the listener begins to hear the eerie noises +in the house. At such times one's dreams become of importance, and +people like to tell them and dwell upon them, as if they were a link +between the known and unknown, and could give us a clew to that +ghostly region which in certain states of the mind we feel to be more +real than that we see. + +Recently, when we were, so to say, sitting around the borders of the +supernatural late at night, MANDEVILLE related a dream of his which +he assured us was true in every particular, and it interested us so +much that we asked him to write it out. In doing so he has curtailed +it, and to my mind shorn it of some of its more vivid and picturesque +features. He might have worked it up with more art, and given it a +finish which the narration now lacks, but I think best to insert it +in its simplicity. It seems to me that it may properly be called, + + +A NEW "VISION OF SIN" + +In the winter of 1850 I was a member of one of the leading colleges +of this country. I was in moderate circumstances pecuniarily, +though I was perhaps better furnished with less fleeting riches than +many others. I was an incessant and indiscriminate reader of books. +For the solid sciences I had no particular fancy, but with mental +modes and habits, and especially with the eccentric and fantastic in +the intellectual and spiritual operations, I was tolerably familiar. +All the literature of the supernatural was as real to me as the +laboratory of the chemist, where I saw the continual struggle of +material substances to evolve themselves into more volatile, less +palpable and coarse forms. My imagination, naturally vivid, +stimulated by such repasts, nearly mastered me. At times I could +scarcely tell where the material ceased and the immaterial began (if +I may so express it); so that once and again I walked, as it seemed, +from the solid earth onward upon an impalpable plain, where I heard +the same voices, I think, that Joan of Arc heard call to her in the +garden at Domremy. She was inspired, however, while I only lacked +exercise. I do not mean this in any literal sense; I only describe a +state of mind. I was at this time of spare habit, and nervous, +excitable temperament. I was ambitious, proud, and extremely +sensitive. I cannot deny that I had seen something of the world, and +had contracted about the average bad habits of young men who have the +sole care of themselves, and rather bungle the matter. It is +necessary to this relation to admit that I had seen a trifle more of +what is called life than a young man ought to see, but at this period +I was not only sick of my experience, but my habits were as correct +as those of any Pharisee in our college, and we had some very +favorable specimens of that ancient sect. + +Nor can I deny that at this period of my life I was in a peculiar +mental condition. I well remember an illustration of it. I sat +writing late one night, copying a prize essay,--a merely manual task, +leaving my thoughts free. It was in June, a sultry night, and about +midnight a wind arose, pouring in through the open windows, full of +mournful reminiscence, not of this, but of other summers, --the same +wind that De Quincey heard at noonday in midsummer blowing through +the room where he stood, a mere boy, by the side of his dead sister,- +-a wind centuries old. As I wrote on mechanically, I became conscious +of a presence in the room, though I did not lift my eyes from the +paper on which I wrote. Gradually I came to know that my +grandmother--dead so long ago that I laughed at the idea--was in the +room. She stood beside her old-fashioned spinning-wheel, and quite +near me. She wore a plain muslin cap with a high puff in the crown, +a short woolen gown, a white and blue checked apron, and shoes with +heels. She did not regard me, but stood facing the wheel, with the +left hand near the spindle, holding lightly between the thumb and +forefinger the white roll of wool which was being spun and twisted on +it. In her right hand she held a small stick. I heard the sharp +click of this against the spokes of the wheel, then the hum of the +wheel, the buzz of the spindles as the twisting yarn was teased by +the whirl of its point, then a step backwards, a pause, a step +forward and the running of the yarn upon the spindle, and again a +backward step, the drawing out of the roll and the droning and hum of +the wheel, most mournfully hopeless sound that ever fell on mortal +ear. Since childhood it has haunted me. All this time I wrote, and +I could hear distinctly the scratching of the pen upon the paper. +But she stood behind me (why I did not turn my head I never knew), +pacing backward and forward by the spinning-wheel, just as I had a +hundred times seen her in childhood in the old kitchen on drowsy +summer afternoons. And I heard the step, the buzz and whirl of the +spindle, and the monotonous and dreary hum of the mournful wheel. +Whether her face was ashy pale and looked as if it might crumble at +the touch, and the border of her white cap trembled in the June wind +that blew, I cannot say, for I tell you I did NOT see her. But I +know she was there, spinning yarn that had been knit into hose years +and years ago by our fireside. For I was in full possession of my +faculties, and never copied more neatly and legibly any manuscript +than I did the one that night. And there the phantom (I use the word +out of deference to a public prejudice on this subject) most +persistently remained until my task was finished, and, closing the +portfolio, I abruptly rose. Did I see anything? That is a silly and +ignorant question. Could I see the wind which had now risen +stronger, and drove a few cloud-scuds across the sky, filling the +night, somehow, with a longing that was not altogether born of +reminiscence? + +In the winter following, in January, I made an effort to give up the +use of tobacco,--a habit in which I was confirmed, and of which I +have nothing more to say than this: that I should attribute to it +almost all the sin and misery in the world, did I not remember that +the old Romans attained a very considerable state of corruption +without the assistance of the Virginia plant. + +On the night of the third day of my abstinence, rendered more nervous +and excitable than usual by the privation, I retired late, and later +still I fell into an uneasy sleep, and thus into a dream, vivid, +illuminated, more real than any event of my life. I was at home, and +fell sick. The illness developed into a fever, and then a delirium +set in, not an intellectual blank, but a misty and most delicious +wandering in places of incomparable beauty. I learned subsequently +that our regular physician was not certain to finish me, when a +consultation was called, which did the business. I have the +satisfaction of knowing that they were of the proper school. I lay +sick for three days. + +On the morning of the fourth, at sunrise, I died. The sensation was +not unpleasant. It was not a sudden shock. I passed out of my body +as one would walk from the door of his house. There the body lay,--a +blank, so far as I was concerned, and only interesting to me as I was +rather entertained with watching the respect paid to it. My friends +stood about the bedside, regarding me (as they seemed to suppose), +while I, in a different part of the room, could hardly repress a +smile at their mistake, solemnized as they were, and I too, for that +matter, by my recent demise. A sensation (the word you see is +material and inappropriate) of etherealization and imponderability +pervaded me, and I was not sorry to get rid of such a dull, slow mass +as I now perceived myself to be, lying there on the bed. When I +speak of my death, let me be understood to say that there was no +change, except that I passed out of my body and floated to the top of +a bookcase in the corner of the room, from which I looked down. For +a moment I was interested to see my person from the outside, but +thereafter I was quite indifferent to the body. I was now simply +soul. I seemed to be a globe, impalpable, transparent, about six +inches in diameter. I saw and heard everything as before. Of +course, matter was no obstacle to me, and I went easily and quickly +wherever I willed to go. There was none of that tedious process of +communicating my wishes to the nerves, and from them to the muscles. +I simply resolved to be at a particular place, and I was there. It +was better than the telegraph. + +It seemed to have been intimated to me at my death (birth I half +incline to call it) that I could remain on this earth for four weeks +after my decease, during which time I could amuse myself as I chose. + +I chose, in the first place, to see myself decently buried, to stay +by myself to the last, and attend my own funeral for once. As most +of those referred to in this true narrative are still living, I am +forbidden to indulge in personalities, nor shall I dare to say +exactly how my death affected my friends, even the home circle. +Whatever others did, I sat up with myself and kept awake. I saw the +"pennies" used instead of the "quarters" which I should have +preferred. I saw myself "laid out," a phrase that has come to have +such a slang meaning that I smile as I write it. When the body was +put into the coffin, I took my place on the lid. + +I cannot recall all the details, and they are commonplace besides. +The funeral took place at the church. We all rode thither in +carriages, and I, not fancying my place in mine, rode on the outside +with the undertaker, whom I found to be a good deal more jolly than +he looked to be. The coffin was placed in front of the pulpit when +we arrived. I took my station on the pulpit cushion, from which +elevation I had an admirable view of all the ceremonies, and could +hear the sermon. How distinctly I remember the services. I think I +could even at this distance write out the sermon. The tune sung was +of--the usual country selection,--Mount Vernon. I recall the text. +I was rather flattered by the tribute paid to me, and my future was +spoken of gravely and as kindly as possible,--indeed, with remarkable +charity, considering that the minister was not aware of my presence. +I used to beat him at chess, and I thought, even then, of the last +game; for, however solemn the occasion might be to others, it was not +so to me. With what interest I watched my kinsfolks, and neighbors +as they filed past for the last look! I saw, and I remember, who +pulled a long face for the occasion and who exhibited genuine +sadness. I learned with the most dreadful certainty what people +really thought of me. It was a revelation never forgotten. + +Several particular acquaintances of mine were talking on the steps as +we passed out. + +"Well, old Starr's gone up. Sudden, was n't it? He was a first-rate +fellow." + +"Yes, queer about some things; but he had some mighty good streaks," +said another. And so they ran on. + +Streaks! So that is the reputation one gets during twenty years of +life in this world. Streaks! + +After the funeral I rode home with the family. It was pleasanter +than the ride down, though it seemed sad to my relations. They did +not mention me, however, and I may remark, that although I stayed +about home for a week, I never heard my name mentioned by any of the +family. Arrived at home, the tea-kettle was put on and supper got +ready. This seemed to lift the gloom a little, and under the +influence of the tea they brightened up and gradually got more +cheerful. They discussed the sermon and the singing, and the mistake +of the sexton in digging the grave in the wrong place, and the large +congregation. From the mantel-piece I watched the group. They had +waffles for supper,--of which I had been exceedingly fond, but now I +saw them disappear without a sigh. + +For the first day or two of my sojourn at home I was here and there +at all the neighbors, and heard a good deal about my life and +character, some of which was not very pleasant, but very wholesome, +doubtless, for me to hear. At the expiration of a week this +amusement ceased to be such for I ceased to be talked of. I realized +the fact that I was dead and gone. + +By an act of volition I found myself back at college. I floated into +my own room, which was empty. I went to the room of my two warmest +friends, whose friendship I was and am yet assured of. As usual, +half a dozen of our set were lounging there. A game of whist was +just commencing. I perched on a bust of Dante on the top of the +book-shelves, where I could see two of the hands and give a good +guess at a third. My particular friend Timmins was just shuffling +the cards. + +"Be hanged if it is n't lonesome without old Starr. Did you cut? I +should like to see him lounge in now with his pipe, and with feet on +the mantel-piece proceed to expound on the duplex functions of the +soul." + +"There--misdeal," said his vis-,a-vis. "Hope there's been no misdeal +for old Starr." + +"Spades, did you say?" the talk ran on, "never knew Starr was +sickly." + +"No more was he; stouter than you are, and as brave and plucky as he +was strong. By George, fellows,--how we do get cut down! Last term +little Stubbs, and now one of the best fellows in the class." + +"How suddenly he did pop off,--one for game, honors easy,--he was +good for the Spouts' Medal this year, too." + +"Remember the joke he played on Prof. A., freshman year? "asked +another. + +"Remember he borrowed ten dollars of me about that time," said +Timmins's partner, gathering the cards for a new deal. + +"Guess he is the only one who ever did," retorted some one. + +And so the talk went on, mingled with whist-talk, reminiscent of me, +not all exactly what I would have chosen to go into my biography, but +on the whole kind and tender, after the fashion of the boys. At +least I was in their thoughts, and I could see was a good deal +regretted,--so I passed a very pleasant evening. Most of those +present were of my society, and wore crape on their badges, and all +wore the usual crape on the left arm. I learned that the following +afternoon a eulogy would be delivered on me in the chapel. + +The eulogy was delivered before members of our society and others, +the next afternoon, in the chapel. I need not say that I was +present. Indeed, I was perched on the desk within reach of the +speaker's hand. The apotheosis was pronounced by my most intimate +friend, Timmins, and I must say he did me ample justice. He never +was accustomed to "draw it very mild" (to use a vulgarism which I +dislike) when he had his head, and on this occasion he entered into +the matter with the zeal of a true friend, and a young man who never +expected to have another occasion to sing a public "In Memoriam." It +made my hair stand on end,--metaphorically, of course. From my +childhood I had been extremely precocious. There were anecdotes of +preternatural brightness, picked up, Heaven knows where, of my +eagerness to learn, of my adventurous, chivalrous young soul, and of +my arduous struggles with chill penury, which was not able (as it +appeared) to repress my rage, until I entered this institution, of +which I had been ornament, pride, cynosure, and fair promising bud +blasted while yet its fragrance was mingled with the dew of its +youth. Once launched upon my college days, Timmins went on with all +sails spread. I had, as it were, to hold on to the pulpit cushion. +Latin, Greek, the old literatures, I was perfect master of; all +history was merely a light repast to me; mathematics I glanced at, +and it disappeared; in the clouds of modern philosophy I was wrapped +but not obscured; over the field of light literature I familiarly +roamed as the honey-bee over the wide fields of clover which blossom +white in the Junes of this world! My life was pure, my character +spotless, my name was inscribed among the names of those deathless +few who were not born to die! + +It was a noble eulogy, and I felt before he finished, though I had +misgivings at the beginning, that I deserved it all. The effect on +the audience was a little different. They said it was a "strong" +oration, and I think Timmins got more credit by it than I did. After +the performance they stood about the chapel, talking in a subdued +tone, and seemed to be a good deal impressed by what they had heard, +or perhaps by thoughts of the departed. At least they all soon went +over to Austin's and called for beer. My particular friends called +for it twice. Then they all lit pipes. The old grocery keeper was +good enough to say that I was no fool, if I did go off owing him four +dollars. To the credit of human nature, let me here record that the +fellows were touched by this remark reflecting upon my memory, and +immediately made up a purse and paid the bill,--that is, they told +the old man to charge it over to them. College boys are rich in +credit and the possibilities of life. + +It is needless to dwell upon the days I passed at college during this +probation. So far as I could see, everything went on as if I were +there, or had never been there. I could not even see the place where +I had dropped out of the ranks. Occasionally I heard my name, but I +must say that four weeks was quite long enough to stay in a world +that had pretty much forgotten me. There is no great satisfaction in +being dragged up to light now and then, like an old letter. The case +was somewhat different with the people with whom I had boarded. They +were relations of mine, and I often saw them weep, and they talked of +me a good deal at twilight and Sunday nights, especially the youngest +one, Carrie, who was handsomer than any one I knew, and not much +older than I. I never used to imagine that she cared particularly +for me, nor would she have done so, if I had lived, but death brought +with it a sort of sentimental regret, which, with the help of a +daguerreotype, she nursed into quite a little passion. I spent most +of my time there, for it was more congenial than the college. + +But time hastened. The last sand of probation leaked out of the +glass. One day, while Carrie played (for me, though she knew it not) +one of Mendelssohn's "songs without words," I suddenly, yet gently, +without self-effort or volition, moved from the house, floated in the +air, rose higher, higher, by an easy, delicious, exultant, yet +inconceivably rapid motion. The ecstasy of that triumphant flight! +Groves, trees, houses, the landscape, dimmed, faded, fled away +beneath me. Upward mounting, as on angels' wings, with no effort, +till the earth hung beneath me a round black ball swinging, remote, +in the universal ether. Upward mounting, till the earth, no longer +bathed in the sun's rays, went out to my sight, disappeared in the +blank. Constellations, before seen from afar, I sailed among. +Stars, too remote for shining on earth, I neared, and found to be +round globes flying through space with a velocity only equaled by my +own. New worlds continually opened on my sight; newfields of +everlasting space opened and closed behind me. + +For days and days--it seemed a mortal forever--I mounted up the great +heavens, whose everlasting doors swung wide. How the worlds and +systems, stars, constellations, neared me, blazed and flashed in +splendor, and fled away! At length,--was it not a thousand years?--I +saw before me, yet afar off, a wall, the rocky bourn of that country +whence travelers come not back, a battlement wider than I could +guess, the height of which I could not see, the depth of which was +infinite. As I approached, it shone with a splendor never yet beheld +on earth. Its solid substance was built of jewels the rarest, and +stones of priceless value. It seemed like one solid stone, and yet +all the colors of the rainbow were contained in it. The ruby, the +diamond, the emerald, the carbuncle, the topaz, the amethyst, the +sapphire; of them the wall was built up in harmonious combination. +So brilliant was it that all the space I floated in was full of the +splendor. So mild was it and so translucent, that I could look for +miles into its clear depths. + +Rapidly nearing this heavenly battlement, an immense niche was +disclosed in its solid face. The floor was one large ruby. Its +sloping sides were of pearl. Before I was aware I stood within the +brilliant recess. I say I stood there, for I was there bodily, in my +habit as I lived; how, I cannot explain. Was it the resurrection of +the body? Before me rose, a thousand feet in height, a wonderful +gate of flashing diamond. Beside it sat a venerable man, with long +white beard, a robe of light gray, ancient sandals, and a golden key +hanging by a cord from his waist. In the serene beauty of his noble +features I saw justice and mercy had met and were reconciled. I +cannot describe the majesty of his bearing or the benignity of his +appearance. It is needless to say that I stood before St. Peter, who +sits at the Celestial Gate. + +I humbly approached, and begged admission. St. Peter arose, and +regarded me kindly, yet inquiringly. + +"What is your name? " asked he, "and from what place do you come?" + +I answered, and, wishing to give a name well known, said I was from +Washington, United States. He looked doubtful, as if he had never +heard the name before. + +"Give me," said he, "a full account of your whole life." + +I felt instantaneously that there was no concealment possible; all +disguise fell away, and an unknown power forced me to speak absolute +and exact truth. I detailed the events of my life as well as I +could, and the good man was not a little affected by the recital of +my early trials, poverty, and temptation. It did not seem a very +good life when spread out in that presence, and I trembled as I +proceeded; but I plead youth, inexperience, and bad examples. + +Have you been accustomed," he said, after a time, rather sadly, "to +break the Sabbath?" + +I told him frankly that I had been rather lax in that matter, +especially at college. I often went to sleep in the chapel on +Sunday, when I was not reading some entertaining book. He then asked +who the preacher was, and when I told him, he remarked that I was not +so much to blame as he had supposed. + +"Have you," he went on, "ever stolen, or told any lie?" + +I was able to say no, except admitting as to the first, usual college +"conveyances," and as to the last, an occasional "blinder" to the +professors. He was gracious enough to say that these could be +overlooked as incident to the occasion. + +"Have you ever been dissipated, living riotously and keeping late +hours?" + +"Yes." + +This also could be forgiven me as an incident of youth. + +"Did you ever," he went on, "commit the crime of using intoxicating +drinks as a beverage?" + +I answered that I had never been a habitual drinker, that I had never +been what was called a "moderate drinker," that I had never gone to a +bar and drank alone; but that I had been accustomed, in company with +other young men, on convivial occasions to taste the pleasures of the +flowing bowl, sometimes to excess, but that I had also tasted the +pains of it, and for months before my demise had refrained from +liquor altogether. The holy man looked grave, but, after reflection, +said this might also be overlooked in a young man. + +"What," continued he, in tones still more serious, "has been your +conduct with regard to the other sex?" + +I fell upon my knees in a tremor of fear. I pulled from my bosom a +little book like the one Leperello exhibits in the opera of "Don +Giovanni." There, I said, was a record of my flirtation and +inconstancy. I waited long for the decision, but it came in mercy. + +"Rise," he cried; "young men will be young men, I suppose. We shall +forgive this also to your youth and penitence." + +"Your examination is satisfactory, he informed me," after a pause; +"you can now enter the abodes of the happy." + +Joy leaped within me. We approached the gate. The key turned in the +lock. The gate swung noiselessly on its hinges a little open. Out +flashed upon me unknown splendors. What I saw in that momentary +gleam I shall never whisper in mortal ears. I stood upon the +threshold, just about to enter. + +"Stop! one moment," exclaimed St. Peter, laying his hand on my +shoulder; "I have one more question to ask you." + +I turned toward him. + +"Young man, did you ever use tobacco?" + +"I both smoked and chewed in my lifetime," I faltered, "but..." + +"THEN TO HELL WITH YOU!" he shouted in a voice of thunder. + +Instantly the gate closed without noise, and I was flung, hurled, +from the battlement, down! down! down! Faster and faster I sank in +a dizzy, sickening whirl into an unfathomable space of gloom. The +light faded. Dampness and darkness were round about me. As before, +for days and days I rose exultant in the light, so now forever I sank +into thickening darkness,--and yet not darkness, but a pale, ashy +light more fearful. + +In the dimness, I at length discovered a wall before me. It ran up +and down and on either hand endlessly into the night. It was solid, +black, terrible in its frowning massiveness. + +Straightway I alighted at the gate,--a dismal crevice hewn into the +dripping rock. The gate was wide open, and there sat-I knew him at +once; who does not?--the Arch Enemy of mankind. He cocked his eye at +me in an impudent, low, familiar manner that disgusted me. I saw +that I was not to be treated like a gentleman. + +"Well, young man," said he, rising, with a queer grin on his face," +what are you sent here for? + +"For using tobacco," I replied. + +"Ho!" shouted he in a jolly manner, peculiar to devils, "that's what +most of 'em are sent here for now." + +Without more ado, he called four lesser imps, who ushered me within. +What a dreadful plain lay before me! There was a vast city laid out +in regular streets, but there were no houses. Along the streets were +places of torment and torture exceedingly ingenious and disagreeable. +For miles and miles, it seemed, I followed my conductors through +these horrors, Here was a deep vat of burning tar. Here were rows of +fiery ovens. I noticed several immense caldron kettles of boiling +oil, upon the rims of which little devils sat, with pitchforks in +hand, and poked down the helpless victims who floundered in the +liquid. But I forbear to go into unseemly details. The whole scene +is as vivid in my mind as any earthly landscape. + +After an hour's walk my tormentors halted before the mouth of an +oven,--a furnace heated seven times, and now roaring with flames. +They grasped me, one hold of each hand and foot. Standing before the +blazing mouth, they, with a swing, and a "one, two, THREE...." + +I again assure the reader that in this narrative I have set down +nothing that was not actually dreamed, and much, very much of this +wonderful vision I have been obliged to omit. + +Haec fabula docet: It is dangerous for a young man to leave off the +use of tobacco. + + + + +FIFTH STUDY + + +I + +I wish I could fitly celebrate the joyousness of the New England +winter. Perhaps I could if I more thoroughly believed in it. But +skepticism comes in with the south wind. When that begins to blow, +one feels the foundations of his belief breaking up. This is only +another way of saying that it is more difficult, if it be not +impossible, to freeze out orthodoxy, or any fixed notion, than it is +to thaw it out; though it is a mere fancy to suppose that this is the +reason why the martyrs, of all creeds, were burned at the stake. +There is said to be a great relaxation in New England of the ancient +strictness in the direction of toleration of opinion, called by some +a lowering of the standard, and by others a raising of the banner of +liberality; it might be an interesting inquiry how much this change +is due to another change,--the softening of the New England winter +and the shifting of the Gulf Stream. It is the fashion nowadays to +refer almost everything to physical causes, and this hint is a +gratuitous contribution to the science of metaphysical physics. + +The hindrance to entering fully into the joyousness of a New England +winter, except far inland among the mountains, is the south wind. It +is a grateful wind, and has done more, I suspect, to demoralize +society than any other. It is not necessary to remember that it +filled the silken sails of Cleopatra's galley. It blows over New +England every few days, and is in some portions of it the prevailing +wind. That it brings the soft clouds, and sometimes continues long +enough to almost deceive the expectant buds of the fruit trees, and +to tempt the robin from the secluded evergreen copses, may be +nothing; but it takes the tone out of the mind, and engenders +discontent, making one long for the tropics; it feeds the weakened +imagination on palm-leaves and the lotus. Before we know it we +become demoralized, and shrink from the tonic of the sudden change to +sharp weather, as the steamed hydropathic patient does from the +plunge. It is the insidious temptation that assails us when we are +braced up to profit by the invigorating rigor of winter. + +Perhaps the influence of the four great winds on character is only a +fancied one; but it is evident on temperament, which is not +altogether a matter of temperature, although the good old deacon used +to say, in his humble, simple way, that his third wife was a very +good woman, but her "temperature was very different from that of the +other two." The north wind is full of courage, and puts the stamina +of endurance into a man, and it probably would into a woman too if +there were a series of resolutions passed to that effect. The west +wind is hopeful; it has promise and adventure in it, and is, except +to Atlantic voyagers America-bound, the best wind that ever blew. +The east wind is peevishness; it is mental rheumatism and grumbling, +and curls one up in the chimney-corner like a cat. And if the +chimney ever smokes, it smokes when the wind sits in that quarter. +The south wind is full of longing and unrest, of effeminate +suggestions of luxurious ease, and perhaps we might say of modern +poetry,--at any rate, modern poetry needs a change of air. I am not +sure but the south is the most powerful of the winds, because of its +sweet persuasiveness. Nothing so stirs the blood in spring, when it +comes up out of the tropical latitude; it makes men "longen to gon on +pilgrimages." + +I did intend to insert here a little poem (as it is quite proper to +do in an essay) on the south wind, composed by the Young Lady Staying +With Us, beginning,-- + +"Out of a drifting southern cloud +My soul heard the night-bird cry," + +but it never got any farther than this. The Young Lady said it was +exceedingly difficult to write the next two lines, because not only +rhyme but meaning had to be procured. And this is true; anybody can +write first lines, and that is probably the reason we have so many +poems which seem to have been begun in just this way, that is, with a +south-wind-longing without any thought in it, and it is very +fortunate when there is not wind enough to finish them. This +emotional poem, if I may so call it, was begun after Herbert went +away. I liked it, and thought it was what is called "suggestive;" +although I did not understand it, especially what the night-bird was; +and I am afraid I hurt the Young Lady's feelings by asking her if she +meant Herbert by the "night-bird,"--a very absurd suggestion about +two unsentimental people. She said, "Nonsense;" but she afterwards +told the Mistress that there were emotions that one could never put +into words without the danger of being ridiculous; a profound truth. +And yet I should not like to say that there is not a tender +lonesomeness in love that can get comfort out of a night-bird in a +cloud, if there be such a thing. Analysis is the death of sentiment. + +But to return to the winds. Certain people impress us as the winds +do. Mandeville never comes in that I do not feel a north-wind vigor +and healthfulness in his cordial, sincere, hearty manner, and in his +wholesome way of looking at things. The Parson, you would say, was +the east wind, and only his intimates know that his peevishness is +only a querulous humor. In the fair west wind I know the Mistress +herself, full of hope, and always the first one to discover a bit of +blue in a cloudy sky. It would not be just to apply what I have said +of the south wind to any of our visitors, but it did blow a little +while Herbert was here. + + + + +II + +In point of pure enjoyment, with an intellectual sparkle in it, I +suppose that no luxurious lounging on tropical isles set in tropical +seas compares with the positive happiness one may have before a great +woodfire (not two sticks laid crossways in a grate), with a veritable +New England winter raging outside. In order to get the highest +enjoyment, the faculties must be alert, and not be lulled into a mere +recipient dullness. There are those who prefer a warm bath to a +brisk walk in the inspiring air, where ten thousand keen influences +minister to the sense of beauty and run along the excited nerves. +There are, for instance, a sharpness of horizon outline and a +delicacy of color on distant hills which are wanting in summer, and +which convey to one rightly organized the keenest delight, and a +refinement of enjoyment that is scarcely sensuous, not at all +sentimental, and almost passing the intellectual line into the +spiritual. + +I was speaking to Mandeville about this, and he said that I was +drawing it altogether too fine; that he experienced sensations of +pleasure in being out in almost all weathers; that he rather liked to +breast a north wind, and that there was a certain inspiration in +sharp outlines and in a landscape in trim winter-quarters, with +stripped trees, and, as it were, scudding through the season under +bare poles; but that he must say that he preferred the weather in +which he could sit on the fence by the wood-lot, with the spring sun +on his back, and hear the stir of the leaves and the birds beginning +their housekeeping. + +A very pretty idea for Mandeville; and I fear he is getting to have +private thoughts about the Young Lady. Mandeville naturally likes +the robustness and sparkle of winter, and it has been a little +suspicious to hear him express the hope that we shall have an early +spring. + +I wonder how many people there are in New England who know the glory +and inspiration of a winter walk just before sunset, and that, too, +not only on days of clear sky, when the west is aflame with a rosy +color, which has no suggestion of languor or unsatisfied longing in +it, but on dull days, when the sullen clouds hang about the horizon, +full of threats of storm and the terrors of the gathering night. We +are very busy with our own affairs, but there is always something +going on out-doors worth looking at; and there is seldom an hour +before sunset that has not some special attraction. And, besides, it +puts one in the mood for the cheer and comfort of the open fire at +home. + +Probably if the people of New England could have a plebiscitum on +their weather, they would vote against it, especially against winter. +Almost no one speaks well of winter. And this suggests the idea that +most people here were either born in the wrong place, or do not know +what is best for them. I doubt if these grumblers would be any +better satisfied, or would turn out as well, in the tropics. +Everybody knows our virtues,--at least if they believe half we tell +them,--and for delicate beauty, that rare plant, I should look among +the girls of the New England hills as confidently as anywhere, and I +have traveled as far south as New Jersey, and west of the Genesee +Valley. Indeed, it would be easy to show that the parents of the +pretty girls in the West emigrated from New England. And yet--such +is the mystery of Providence--no one would expect that one of the +sweetest and most delicate flowers that blooms, the trailing. +arbutus, would blossom in this inhospitable climate, and peep forth +from the edge of a snowbank at that. + +It seems unaccountable to a superficial observer that the thousands +of people who are dissatisfied with their climate do not seek a more +congenial one--or stop grumbling. The world is so small, and all +parts of it are so accessible, it has so many varieties of climate, +that one could surely suit himself by searching; and, then, is it +worth while to waste our one short life in the midst of unpleasant +surroundings and in a constant friction with that which is +disagreeable? One would suppose that people set down on this little +globe would seek places on it most agreeable to themselves. It must +be that they are much more content with the climate and country upon +which they happen, by the accident of their birth, than they pretend +to be. + + + + +III + +Home sympathies and charities are most active in the winter. Coming +in from my late walk,--in fact driven in by a hurrying north wind +that would brook no delay,--a wind that brought snow that did not +seem to fall out of a bounteous sky, but to be blown from polar +fields,--I find the Mistress returned from town, all in a glow of +philanthropic excitement. + +There has been a meeting of a woman's association for Ameliorating +the Condition of somebody here at home. Any one can belong to it by +paying a dollar, and for twenty dollars one can become a life +Ameliorator,--a sort of life assurance. The Mistress, at the +meeting, I believe, "seconded the motion" several times, and is one +of the Vice-Presidents; and this family honor makes me feel almost as +if I were a president of something myself. These little distinctions +are among the sweetest things in life, and to see one's name +officially printed stimulates his charity, and is almost as +satisfactory as being the chairman of a committee or the mover of a +resolution. It is, I think, fortunate, and not at all discreditable, +that our little vanity, which is reckoned among our weaknesses, is +thus made to contribute to the activity of our nobler powers. +Whatever we may say, we all of us like distinction; and probably +there is no more subtle flattery than that conveyed in the whisper, +"That's he," "That's she." + +There used to be a society for ameliorating the condition of the +Jews; but they were found to be so much more adept than other people +in ameliorating their own condition that I suppose it was given up. +Mandeville says that to his knowledge there are a great many people +who get up ameliorating enterprises merely to be conspicuously busy +in society, or to earn a little something in a good cause. They seem +to think that the world owes them a living because they are +philanthropists. In this Mandeville does not speak with his usual +charity. It is evident that there are Jews, and some Gentiles, whose +condition needs ameliorating, and if very little is really +accomplished in the effort for them, it always remains true that the +charitable reap a benefit to themselves. It is one of the beautiful +compensations of this life that no one can sincerely try to help +another without helping himself + +OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR. Why is it that almost all philanthropists +and reformers are disagreeable? + +I ought to explain who our next-door neighbor is. He is the person +who comes in without knocking, drops in in the most natural way, as +his wife does also, and not seldom in time to take the after-dinner +cup of tea before the fire. Formal society begins as soon as you +lock your doors, and only admit visitors through the media of bells +and servants. It is lucky for us that our next-door neighbor is +honest. + +THE PARSON. Why do you class reformers and philanthropists together? +Those usually called reformers are not philanthropists at all. They +are agitators. Finding the world disagreeable to themselves, they +wish to make it as unpleasant to others as possible. + +MANDEVILLE. That's a noble view of your fellow-men. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Well, granting the distinction, why are both apt to +be unpleasant people to live with? + +THE PARSON. As if the unpleasant people who won't mind their own +business were confined to the classes you mention! Some of the best +people I know are philanthropists,--I mean the genuine ones, and not +the uneasy busybodies seeking notoriety as a means of living. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It is not altogether the not minding their own +business. Nobody does that. The usual explanation is, that people +with one idea are tedious. But that is not all of it. For few +persons have more than one idea,--ministers, doctors, lawyers, +teachers, manufacturers, merchants,--they all think the world they +live in is the central one. + +MANDEVILLE. And you might add authors. To them nearly all the life +of the world is in letters, and I suppose they would be astonished if +they knew how little the thoughts of the majority of people are +occupied with books, and with all that vast thought circulation which +is the vital current of the world to book-men. Newspapers have +reached their present power by becoming unliterary, and reflecting +all the interests of the world. + +THE MISTRESS. I have noticed one thing, that the most popular +persons in society are those who take the world as it is, find the +least fault, and have no hobbies. They are always wanted to dinner. + +THE YOUNG LADY. And the other kind always appear to me to want a +dinner. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It seems to me that the real reason why reformers +and some philanthropists are unpopular is, that they disturb our +serenity and make us conscious of our own shortcomings. It is only +now and then that a whole people get a spasm of reformatory fervor, +of investigation and regeneration. At other times they rather hate +those who disturb their quiet. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Professional reformers and philanthropists are +insufferably conceited and intolerant. + +THE MISTRESS. Everything depends upon the spirit in which a reform +or a scheme of philanthropy is conducted. + +MANDEVILLE. I attended a protracted convention of reformers of a +certain evil, once, and had the pleasure of taking dinner with a +tableful of them. It was one of those country dinners accompanied +with green tea. Every one disagreed with every one else, and you +would n't wonder at it, if you had seen them. They were people with +whom good food wouldn't agree. George Thompson was expected at the +convention, and I remember that there was almost a cordiality in the +talk about him, until one sallow brother casually mentioned that +George took snuff,--when a chorus of deprecatory groans went up from +the table. One long-faced maiden in spectacles, with purple ribbons +in her hair, who drank five cups of tea by my count, declared that +she was perfectly disgusted, and did n't want to hear him speak. In +the course of the meal the talk ran upon the discipline of children, +and how to administer punishment. I was quite taken by the remark of +a thin, dyspeptic man who summed up the matter by growling out in a +harsh, deep bass voice, "Punish 'em in love!" It sounded as if he had +said, "Shoot 'em on the spot!" + +THE PARSON. I supposed you would say that he was a minister. There +is another thing about those people. I think they are working +against the course of nature. Nature is entirely indifferent to any +reform. She perpetuates a fault as persistently as a virtue. +There's a split in my thumb-nail that has been scrupulously continued +for many years, not withstanding all my efforts to make the nail +resume its old regularity. You see the same thing in trees whose +bark is cut, and in melons that have had only one summer's intimacy +with squashes. The bad traits in character are passed down from +generation to generation with as much care as the good ones. Nature, +unaided, never reforms anything. + +MANDEVILLE. Is that the essence of Calvinism? + +THE PARSON. Calvinism has n't any essence, it's a fact. + +MANDEVILLE. When I was a boy, I always associated Calvinism and +calomel together. I thought that homeopathy--similia, etc.--had done +away with both of them. + +OUR NEXT DOOR (rising). If you are going into theology, I'm off.. + + + + +IV + +I fear we are not getting on much with the joyousness of winter. In +order to be exhilarating it must be real winter. I have noticed that +the lower the thermometer sinks the more fiercely the north wind +rages, and the deeper the snow is, the higher rise the spirits of the +community. The activity of the "elements" has a great effect upon +country folk especially; and it is a more wholesome excitement than +that caused by a great conflagration. The abatement of a snow-storm +that grows to exceptional magnitude is regretted, for there is always +the half-hope that this will be, since it has gone so far, the +largest fall of snow ever known in the region, burying out of sight +the great fall of 1808, the account of which is circumstantially and +aggravatingly thrown in our way annually upon the least provocation. +We all know how it reads: "Some said it began at daylight, others +that it set in after sunrise; but all agree that by eight o'clock +Friday morning it was snowing in heavy masses that darkened the air." + +The morning after we settled the five--or is it seven?--points of +Calvinism, there began a very hopeful snow-storm, one of those +wide-sweeping, careering storms that may not much affect the city, +but which strongly impress the country imagination with a sense of +the personal qualities of the weather,--power, persistency, +fierceness, and roaring exultation. Out-doors was terrible to those +who looked out of windows, and heard the raging wind, and saw the +commotion in all the high tree-tops and the writhing of the low +evergreens, and could not summon resolution to go forth and breast +and conquer the bluster. The sky was dark with snow, which was not +permitted to fall peacefully like a blessed mantle, as it sometimes +does, but was blown and rent and tossed like the split canvas of a +ship in a gale. The world was taken possession of by the demons of +the air, who had their will of it. There is a sort of fascination in +such a scene, equal to that of a tempest at sea, and without its +attendant haunting sense of peril; there is no fear that the house +will founder or dash against your neighbor's cottage, which is dimly +seen anchored across the field; at every thundering onset there is no +fear that the cook's galley will upset, or the screw break loose and +smash through the side, and we are not in momently expectation of the +tinkling of the little bell to "stop her." The snow rises in +drifting waves, and the naked trees bend like strained masts; but so +long as the window-blinds remain fast, and the chimney-tops do not +go, we preserve an equal mind. Nothing more serious can happen than +the failure of the butcher's and the grocer's carts, unless, indeed, +the little news-carrier should fail to board us with the world's +daily bulletin, or our next-door neighbor should be deterred from +coming to sit by the blazing, excited fire, and interchange the +trifling, harmless gossip of the day. The feeling of seclusion on +such a day is sweet, but the true friend who does brave the storm and +come is welcomed with a sort of enthusiasm that his arrival in +pleasant weather would never excite. The snow-bound in their Arctic +hulk are glad to see even a wandering Esquimau. + +On such a day I recall the great snow-storms on the northern New +England hills, which lasted for a week with no cessation, with no +sunrise or sunset, and no observation at noon; and the sky all the +while dark with the driving snow, and the whole world full of the +noise of the rioting Boreal forces; until the roads were obliterated, +the fences covered, and the snow was piled solidly above the first- +story windows of the farmhouse on one side, and drifted before the +front door so high that egress could only be had by tunneling the +bank. + +After such a battle and siege, when the wind fell and the sun +struggled out again, the pallid world lay subdued and tranquil, and +the scattered dwellings were not unlike wrecks stranded by the +tempest and half buried in sand. But when the blue sky again bent +over all, the wide expanse of snow sparkled like diamond-fields, and +the chimney signal-smokes could be seen, how beautiful was the +picture! Then began the stir abroad, and the efforts to open up +communication through roads, or fields, or wherever paths could be +broken, and the ways to the meeting-house first of all. Then from +every house and hamlet the men turned out with shovels, with the +patient, lumbering oxen yoked to the sleds, to break the roads, +driving into the deepest drifts, shoveling and shouting as if the +severe labor were a holiday frolic, the courage and the hilarity +rising with the difficulties encountered; and relief parties, meeting +at length in the midst of the wide white desolation, hailed each +other as chance explorers in new lands, and made the whole +country-side ring with the noise of their congratulations. There was +as much excitement and healthy stirring of the blood in it as in the +Fourth of July, and perhaps as much patriotism. The boy saw it in +dumb show from the distant, low farmhouse window, and wished he were +a man. At night there were great stories of achievement told by the +cavernous fireplace; great latitude was permitted in the estimation +of the size of particular drifts, but never any agreement was reached +as to the "depth on a level." I have observed since that people are +quite as apt to agree upon the marvelous and the exceptional as upon +simple facts. + + + + +V + +By the firelight and the twilight, the Young Lady is finishing a +letter to Herbert,--writing it, literally, on her knees, transforming +thus the simple deed into an act of devotion. Mandeville says that +it is bad for her eyes, but the sight of it is worse for his eyes. +He begins to doubt the wisdom of reliance upon that worn apothegm +about absence conquering love. + +Memory has the singular characteristic of recalling in a friend +absent, as in a journey long past, only that which is agreeable. +Mandeville begins to wish he were in New South Wales. + +I did intend to insert here a letter of Herbert's to the Young Lady, +--obtained, I need not say, honorably, as private letters which get +into print always are,--not to gratify a vulgar curiosity, but + +to show how the most unsentimental and cynical people are affected by +the master passion. But I cannot bring myself to do it. Even in the +interests of science one has no right to make an autopsy of two +loving hearts, especially when they are suffering under a late attack +of the one agreeable epidemic. + +All the world loves a lover, but it laughs at him none the less in +his extravagances. He loses his accustomed reticence; he has +something of the martyr's willingness for publicity; he would even +like to show the sincerity of his devotion by some piece of open +heroism. Why should he conceal a discovery which has transformed the +world to him, a secret which explains all the mysteries of nature and +human-ity? He is in that ecstasy of mind which prompts those who +were never orators before to rise in an experience-meeting and pour +out a flood of feeling in the tritest language and the most +conventional terms. I am not sure that Herbert, while in this glow, +would be ashamed of his letter in print, but this is one of the cases +where chancery would step in and protect one from himself by his next +friend. This is really a delicate matter, and perhaps it is brutal +to allude to it at all. + +In truth, the letter would hardly be interesting in print. Love has +a marvelous power of vivifying language and charging the simplest +words with the most tender meaning, of restoring to them the power +they had when first coined. They are words of fire to those two who +know their secret, but not to others. It is generally admitted that +the best love-letters would not make very good literature. +"Dearest," begins Herbert, in a burst of originality, felicitously +selecting a word whose exclusiveness shuts out all the world but one, +and which is a whole letter, poem, confession, and creed in one +breath. What a weight of meaning it has to carry! There may be +beauty and wit and grace and naturalness and even the splendor of +fortune elsewhere, but there is one woman in the world whose sweet +presence would be compensation for the loss of all else. It is not +to be reasoned about; he wants that one; it is her plume dancing down +the sunny street that sets his heart beating; he knows her form among +a thousand, and follows her; he longs to run after her carriage, +which the cruel coachman whirls out of his sight. It is marvelous to +him that all the world does not want her too, and he is in a panic +when he thinks of it. And what exquisite flattery is in that little +word addressed to her, and with what sweet and meek triumph she +repeats it to herself, with a feeling that is not altogether pity for +those who still stand and wait. To be chosen out of all the +available world--it is almost as much bliss as it is to choose. "All +that long, long stage-ride from Blim's to Portage I thought of you +every moment, and wondered what you were doing and how you were +looking just that moment, and I found the occupation so charming that +I was almost sorry when the journey was ended." Not much in that! +But I have no doubt the Young Lady read it over and over, and dwelt +also upon every moment, and found in it new proof of unshaken +constancy, and had in that and the like things in the letter a sense +of the sweetest communion. There is nothing in this letter that we +need dwell on it, but I am convinced that the mail does not carry any +other letters so valuable as this sort. + +I suppose that the appearance of Herbert in this new light +unconsciously gave tone a little to the evening's talk; not that +anybody mentioned him, but Mandeville was evidently generalizing from +the qualities that make one person admired by another to those that +win the love of mankind. + +MANDEVILLE. There seems to be something in some persons that wins +them liking, special or general, independent almost of what they do +or say. + +THE MISTRESS. Why, everybody is liked by some one. + +MANDEVILLE. I'm not sure of that. There are those who are +friendless, and would be if they had endless acquaintances. But, to +take the case away from ordinary examples, in which habit and a +thousand circumstances influence liking, what is it that determines +the world upon a personal regard for authors whom it has never seen? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Probably it is the spirit shown in their writings. + +THE MISTRESS. More likely it is a sort of tradition; I don't believe +that the world has a feeling of personal regard for any author who +was not loved by those who knew him most intimately. + +THE FIRE-TENDFR. Which comes to the same thing. The qualities, the +spirit, that got him the love of his acquaintances he put into his +books. + +MANDEVILLE. That does n't seem to me sufficient. Shakespeare has +put everything into his plays and poems, swept the whole range of +human sympathies and passions, and at times is inspired by the +sweetest spirit that ever man had. + +THE YOUNG LADY. No one has better interpreted love. + +MANDEVILLE. Yet I apprehend that no person living has any personal +regard for Shakespeare, or that his personality affects many,--except +they stand in Stratford church and feel a sort of awe at the thought +that the bones of the greatest poet are so near them. + +THE PARSON. I don't think the world cares personally for any mere +man or woman dead for centuries. + +MANDEVILLE. But there is a difference. I think there is still +rather a warm feeling for Socrates the man, independent of what he +said, which is little known. Homer's works are certainly better +known, but no one cares personally for Homer any more than for any +other shade. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Why not go back to Moses? We've got the evening +before us for digging up people. + +MANDEVILLE. Moses is a very good illustration. No name of antiquity +is better known, and yet I fancy he does not awaken the same kind of +popular liking that Socrates does. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Fudge! You just get up in any lecture assembly and +propose three cheers for Socrates, and see where you'll be. +Mandeville ought to be a missionary, and read Robert Browning to the +Fijis. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How do you account for the alleged personal regard +for Socrates? + +THE PARSON. Because the world called Christian is still more than +half heathen. + +MANDEVILLE. He was a plain man; his sympathies were with the people; +he had what is roughly known as "horse-sense," and he was homely. +Franklin and Abraham Lincoln belong to his class. They were all +philosophers of the shrewd sort, and they all had humor. It was +fortunate for Lincoln that, with his other qualities, he was homely. +That was the last touching recommendation to the popular heart. + +THE MISTRESS. Do you remember that ugly brown-stone statue of St. +Antonio by the bridge in Sorrento? He must have been a coarse saint, +patron of pigs as he was, but I don't know any one anywhere, or the +homely stone image of one, so loved by the people. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Ugliness being trump, I wonder more people don't win. +Mandeville, why don't you get up a "centenary" of Socrates, and put +up his statue in the Central Park? It would make that one of Lincoln +in Union Square look beautiful. + +THE PARSON. Oh, you'll see that some day, when they have a museum +there illustrating the "Science of Religion." + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Doubtless, to go back to what we were talking of, +the world has a fondness for some authors, and thinks of them with an +affectionate and half-pitying familiarity; and it may be that this +grows out of something in their lives quite as much as anything in +their writings. There seems to be more disposition of personal +liking to Thackeray than to Dickens, now both are dead,--a result +that would hardly have been predicted when the world was crying over +Little Nell, or agreeing to hate Becky Sharp. + +THE YOUNG LADY. What was that you were telling about Charles Lamb, +the other day, Mandeville? Is not the popular liking for him +somewhat independent of his writings? + +MANDEVILLE. He is a striking example of an author who is loved. +Very likely the remembrance of his tribulations has still something +to do with the tenderness felt for him. He supported no dignity and +permitted a familiarity which indicated no self-appreciation of his +real rank in the world of letters. I have heard that his +acquaintances familiarly called him "Charley." + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a relief to know that! Do you happen to know +what Socrates was called? + +MANDEVILLE. I have seen people who knew Lamb very well. One of them +told me, as illustrating his want of dignity, that as he was going +home late one night through the nearly empty streets, he was met by a +roystering party who were making a night of it from tavern to tavern. +They fell upon Lamb, attracted by his odd figure and hesitating +manner, and, hoisting him on their shoulders, carried him off, +singing as they went. Lamb enjoyed the lark, and did not tell them +who he was. When they were tired of lugging him, they lifted him, +with much effort and difficulty, to the top of a high wall, and left +him there amid the broken bottles, utterly unable to get down. Lamb +remained there philosophically in the enjoyment of his novel +adventure, until a passing watchman rescued him from his ridiculous +situation. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How did the story get out? + +MANDEVILLE. Oh, Lamb told all about it next morning; and when asked +afterwards why he did so, he replied that there was no fun in it +unless he told it. + + + + +SIXTH STUDY + + +I + +The King sat in the winter-house in the ninth month, and there was a +fire on the hearth burning before him . . . . When Jehudi had +read three or four leaves he cut it with the penknife. + +That seems to be a pleasant and home-like picture from a not very +remote period,--less than twenty-five hundred years ago, and many +centuries after the fall of Troy. And that was not so very long ago, +for Thebes, in the splendid streets of which Homer wandered and sang +to the kings when Memphis, whose ruins are older than history, was +its younger rival, was twelve centuries old when Paris ran away with +Helen. + +I am sorry that the original--and you can usually do anything with +the "original"--does not bear me out in saying that it was a pleasant +picture. I should like to believe that Jehoiakiin--for that was the +singular name of the gentleman who sat by his hearthstone--had just +received the Memphis "Palimpsest," fifteen days in advance of the +date of its publication, and that his secretary was reading to him +that monthly, and cutting its leaves as he read. I should like to +have seen it in that year when Thales was learning astronomy in +Memphis, and Necho was organizing his campaign against Carchemish. +If Jehoiakim took the "Attic Quarterly," he might have read its +comments on the banishment of the Alcmaeonida:, and its gibes at +Solon for his prohibitory laws, forbidding the sale of unguents, +limiting the luxury of dress, and interfering with the sacred rights +of mourners to passionately bewail the dead in the Asiatic manner; +the same number being enriched with contributions from two rising +poets,--a lyric of love by Sappho, and an ode sent by Anacreon from +Teos, with an editorial note explaining that the Maces was not +responsible for the sentiments of the poem. + +But, in fact, the gentleman who sat before the backlog in his +winter-house had other things to think of. For Nebuchadnezzar was +coming that way with the chariots and horses of Babylon and a great +crowd of marauders; and the king had not even the poor choice whether +he would be the vassal of the Chaldean or of the Egyptian. To us, +this is only a ghostly show of monarchs and conquerors stalking +across vast historic spaces. It was no doubt a vulgar enough scene +of war and plunder. The great captains of that age went about to +harry each other's territories and spoil each other's cities very +much as we do nowadays, and for similar reasons;--Napoleon the Great +in Moscow, Napoleon the Small in Italy, Kaiser William in Paris, +Great Scott in Mexico! Men have not changed much. + +--The Fire-Tender sat in his winter-garden in the third month; there +was a fire on the hearth burning before him. He cut the leaves of +"Scribner's Monthly" with his penknife, and thought of Jehoiakim. + +That seems as real as the other. In the garden, which is a room of +the house, the tall callas, rooted in the ground, stand about the +fountain; the sun, streaming through the glass, illumines the +many-hued flowers. I wonder what Jehoiakim did with the mealy-bug on +his passion-vine, and if he had any way of removing the scale-bug +from his African acacia? One would like to know, too, how he treated +the red spider on the Le Marque rose. The record is silent. I do +not doubt he had all these insects in his winter-garden, and the +aphidae besides; and he could not smoke them out with tobacco, for +the world had not yet fallen into its second stage of the knowledge +of good and evil by eating the forbidden tobacco-plant. + +I confess that this little picture of a fire on the hearth so many +centuries ago helps to make real and interesting to me that somewhat +misty past. No doubt the lotus and the acanthus from the Nile grew +in that winter-house, and perhaps Jehoiakim attempted--the most +difficult thing in the world the cultivation of the wild flowers from +Lebanon. Perhaps Jehoiakim was interested also, as I am through this +ancient fireplace,--which is a sort of domestic window into the +ancient world,--in the loves of Bernice and Abaces at the court of +the Pharaohs. I see that it is the same thing as the sentiment-- +perhaps it is the shrinking which every soul that is a soul has, +sooner or later, from isolation--which grew up between Herbert and +the Young Lady Staying With Us. Jeremiah used to come in to that +fireside very much as the Parson does to ours. The Parson, to be +sure, never prophesies, but he grumbles, and is the chorus in the +play that sings the everlasting ai ai of "I told you so!" Yet we +like the Parson. He is the sprig of bitter herb that makes the +pottage wholesome. I should rather, ten times over, dispense with +the flatterers and the smooth-sayers than the grumblers. But the +grumblers are of two sorts,--the healthful-toned and the whiners. +There are makers of beer who substitute for the clean bitter of the +hops some deleterious drug, and then seek to hide the fraud by some +cloying sweet. There is nothing of this sickish drug in the Parson's +talk, nor was there in that of Jeremiah, I sometimes think there is +scarcely enough of this wholesome tonic in modern society. The +Parson says he never would give a child sugar-coated pills. +Mandeville says he never would give them any. After all, you cannot +help liking Mandeville. + + + + +II + +We were talking of this late news from Jerusalem. The Fire-Tender +was saying that it is astonishing how much is telegraphed us from the +East that is not half so interesting. He was at a loss +philosophically to account for the fact that the world is so eager to +know the news of yesterday which is unimportant, and so indifferent +to that of the day before which is of some moment. + +MANDEVILLE. I suspect that it arises from the want of imagination. +People need to touch the facts, and nearness in time is contiguity. +It would excite no interest to bulletin the last siege of Jerusalem +in a village where the event was unknown, if the date was appended; +and yet the account of it is incomparably more exciting than that of +the siege of Metz. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. The daily news is a necessity. I cannot get along +without my morning paper. The other morning I took it up, and was +absorbed in the telegraphic columns for an hour nearly. I thoroughly +enjoyed the feeling of immediate contact with all the world of +yesterday, until I read among the minor items that Patrick Donahue, +of the city of New York, died of a sunstroke. If he had frozen to +death, I should have enjoyed that; but to die of sunstroke in +February seemed inappropriate, and I turned to the date of the paper. +When I found it was printed in July, I need not say that I lost all +interest in it, though why the trivialities and crimes and accidents, +relating to people I never knew, were not as good six months after +date as twelve hours, I cannot say. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. You know that in Concord the latest news, except a +remark or two by Thoreau or Emerson, is the Vedas. I believe the +Rig-Veda is read at the breakfast-table instead of the Boston +journals. + +THE PARSON. I know it is read afterward instead of the Bible. + +MANDEVILLE. That is only because it is supposed to be older. I have +understood that the Bible is very well spoken of there, but it is not +antiquated enough to be an authority. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. There was a project on foot to put it into the +circulating library, but the title New in the second part was +considered objectionable. + +HERBERT. Well, I have a good deal of sympathy with Concord as to the +news. We are fed on a daily diet of trivial events and gossip, of +the unfruitful sayings of thoughtless men and women, until our mental +digestion is seriously impaired; the day will come when no one will +be able to sit down to a thoughtful, well-wrought book and assimilate +its contents. + +THE MISTRESS. I doubt if a daily newspaper is a necessity, in the +higher sense of the word. + +THE PARSON. Nobody supposes it is to women,--that is, if they can +see each other. + +THE MISTRESS. Don't interrupt, unless you have something to say; +though I should like to know how much gossip there is afloat that the +minister does not know. The newspaper may be needed in society, but +how quickly it drops out of mind when one goes beyond the bounds of +what is called civilization. You remember when we were in the depths +of the woods last summer how difficult it was to get up any interest +in the files of late papers that reached us, and how unreal all the +struggle and turmoil of the world seemed. We stood apart, and could +estimate things at their true value. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Yes, that was real life. I never tired of the +guide's stories; there was some interest in the intelligence that a +deer had been down to eat the lily-pads at the foot of the lake the +night before; that a bear's track was seen on the trail we crossed +that day; even Mandeville's fish-stories had a certain air of +probability; and how to roast a trout in the ashes and serve him hot +and juicy and clean, and how to cook soup and prepare coffee and heat +dish-water in one tin-pail, were vital problems. + +THE PARSON. You would have had no such problems at home. Why will +people go so far to put themselves to such inconvenience? I hate the +woods. Isolation breeds conceit; there are no people so conceited as +those who dwell in remote wildernesses and live mostly alone. + +THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I feel humble in the presence of +mountains, and in the vast stretches of the wilderness. + +THE PARSON. I'll be bound a woman would feel just as nobody would +expect her to feel, under given circumstances. + +MANDEVILLE. I think the reason why the newspaper and the world it +carries take no hold of us in the wilderness is that we become a kind +of vegetable ourselves when we go there. I have often attempted to +improve my mind in the woods with good solid books. You might as +well offer a bunch of celery to an oyster. The mind goes to sleep: +the senses and the instincts wake up. The best I can do when it +rains, or the trout won't bite, is to read Dumas's novels. Their +ingenuity will almost keep a man awake after supper, by the +camp-fire. And there is a kind of unity about them that I like; the +history is as good as the morality. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I always wondered where Mandeville got his historical +facts. + +THE MISTRESS. Mandeville misrepresents himself in the woods. I +heard him one night repeat "The Vision of Sir Launfal"--(THE +FIRE-TENDER. Which comes very near being our best poem.)--as we were +crossing the lake, and the guides became so absorbed in it that they +forgot to paddle, and sat listening with open mouths, as if it had +been a panther story. + +THE PARSON. Mandeville likes to show off well enough. I heard that +he related to a woods' boy up there the whole of the Siege of Troy. +The boy was very much interested, and said "there'd been a man up +there that spring from Troy, looking up timber." Mandeville always +carries the news when he goes into the country. + +MANDEVILLE. I'm going to take the Parson's sermon on Jonah next +summer; it's the nearest to anything like news we've had from his +pulpit in ten years. But, seriously, the boy was very well informed. +He'd heard of Albany; his father took in the "Weekly Tribune," and he +had a partial conception of Horace Greeley. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I never went so far out of the world in America yet +that the name of Horace Greeley did n't rise up before me. One of +the first questions asked by any camp-fire is, "Did ye ever see +Horace?" + +HERBERT. Which shows the power of the press again. But I have often +remarked how little real conception of the moving world, as it is, +people in remote regions get from the newspaper. It needs to be read +in the midst of events. A chip cast ashore in a refluent eddy tells +no tale of the force and swiftness of the current. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I don't exactly get the drift of that last remark; +but I rather like a remark that I can't understand; like the +landlady's indigestible bread, it stays by you. + +HERBERT. I see that I must talk in words of one syllable. The +newspaper has little effect upon the remote country mind, because the +remote country mind is interested in a very limited number of things. +Besides, as the Parson says, it is conceited. The most accomplished +scholar will be the butt of all the guides in the woods, because he +cannot follow a trail that would puzzle a sable (saple the trappers +call it). + +THE PARSON. It's enough to read the summer letters that people write +to the newspapers from the country and the woods. Isolated from the +activity of the world, they come to think that the little adventures +of their stupid days and nights are important. Talk about that being +real life! Compare the letters such people write with the other +contents of the newspaper, and you will see which life is real. +That's one reason I hate to have summer come, the country letters set +in. + +THE MISTRESS. I should like to see something the Parson does n't +hate to have come. + +MANDEVILLE. Except his quarter's salary; and the meeting of the +American Board. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I don't see that we are getting any nearer the +solution of the original question. The world is evidently interested +in events simply because they are recent. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I have a theory that a newspaper might be published +at little cost, merely by reprinting the numbers of years before, +only altering the dates; just as the Parson preaches over his +sermons. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It's evident we must have a higher order of +news-gatherers. It has come to this, that the newspaper furnishes +thought-material for all the world, actually prescribes from day to +day the themes the world shall think on and talk about. The +occupation of news-gathering becomes, therefore, the most important. +When you think of it, it is astonishing that this department should +not be in the hands of the ablest men, accomplished scholars, +philosophical observers, discriminating selectors of the news of the +world that is worth thinking over and talking about. The editorial +comments frequently are able enough, but is it worth while keeping an +expensive mill going to grind chaff? I sometimes wonder, as I open +my morning paper, if nothing did happen in the twenty-four hours +except crimes, accidents, defalcations, deaths of unknown loafers, +robberies, monstrous births,--say about the level of police-court +news. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I have even noticed that murders have deteriorated; +they are not so high-toned and mysterious as they used to be. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It is true that the newspapers have improved vastly +within the last decade. + +HERBERT. I think, for one, that they are very much above the level +of the ordinary gossip of the country. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But I am tired of having the under-world still +occupy so much room in the newspapers. The reporters are rather more +alert for a dog-fight than a philological convention. It must be +that the good deeds of the world outnumber the bad in any given day; +and what a good reflex action it would have on society if they could +be more fully reported than the bad! I suppose the Parson would call +this the Enthusiasm of Humanity. + +THE PARSON. You'll see how far you can lift yourself up by your +boot-straps. + +HERBERT. I wonder what influence on the quality (I say nothing of +quantity) of news the coming of women into the reporter's and +editor's work will have. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. There are the baby-shows; they make cheerful reading. + +THE MISTRESS. All of them got up by speculating men, who impose upon +the vanity of weak women. + +HERBERT. I think women reporters are more given to personal details +and gossip than the men. When I read the Washington correspondence I +am proud of my country, to see how many Apollo Belvederes, Adonises, +how much marble brow and piercing eye and hyacinthine locks, we have +in the two houses of Congress. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That's simply because women understand the personal +weakness of men; they have a long score of personal flattery to pay +off too. + +MANDEVILLE. I think women will bring in elements of brightness, +picturesqueness, and purity very much needed. Women have a power of +investing simple ordinary things with a charm; men are bungling +narrators compared with them. + +THE PARSON. The mistake they make is in trying to write, and +especially to "stump-speak," like men; next to an effeminate man +there is nothing so disagreeable as a mannish woman. + +HERBERT. I heard one once address a legislative committee. The +knowing air, the familiar, jocular, smart manner, the nodding and +winking innuendoes, supposed to be those of a man "up to snuff," and +au fait in political wiles, were inexpressibly comical. And yet the +exhibition was pathetic, for it had the suggestive vulgarity of a +woman in man's clothes. The imitation is always a dreary failure. + +THE MISTRESS. Such women are the rare exceptions. I am ready to +defend my sex; but I won't attempt to defend both sexes in one. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I have great hope that women will bring into the +newspaper an elevating influence; the common and sweet life of +society is much better fitted to entertain and instruct us than the +exceptional and extravagant. I confess (saving the Mistress's +presence) that the evening talk over the dessert at dinner is much +more entertaining and piquant than the morning paper, and often as +important. + +THE MISTRESS. I think the subject had better be changed. + +MANDEVILLE. The person, not the subject. There is no entertainment +so full of quiet pleasure as the hearing a lady of cultivation and +refinement relate her day's experience in her daily rounds of calls, +charitable visits, shopping, errands of relief and condolence. The +evening budget is better than the finance minister's. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That's even so. My wife will pick up more news in +six hours than I can get in a week, and I'm fond of news. + +MANDEVILLE. I don't mean gossip, by any means, or scandal. A woman +of culture skims over that like a bird, never touching it with the +tip of a wing. What she brings home is the freshness and brightness +of life. She touches everything so daintily, she hits off a +character in a sentence, she gives the pith of a dialogue without +tediousness, she mimics without vulgarity; her narration sparkles, +but it does n't sting. The picture of her day is full of vivacity, +and it gives new value and freshness to common things. If we could +only have on the stage such actresses as we have in the drawing-room! + +THE FIRE-TENDER. We want something more of this grace, +sprightliness, and harmless play of the finer life of society in the +newspaper. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder Mandeville does n't marry, and become a +permanent subscriber to his embodied idea of a newspaper. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Perhaps he does not relish the idea of being unable +to stop his subscription. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Parson, won't you please punch that fire, and give us +more blaze? we are getting into the darkness of socialism. + + + + +III + +Herbert returned to us in March. The Young Lady was spending the +winter with us, and March, in spite of the calendar, turned out to be +a winter month. It usually is in New England, and April too, for +that matter. And I cannot say it is unfortunate for us. There are +so many topics to be turned over and settled at our fireside that a +winter of ordinary length would make little impression on the list. +The fireside is, after all, a sort of private court of chancery, +where nothing ever does come to a final decision. The chief effect +of talk on any subject is to strengthen one's own opinions, and, in +fact, one never knows exactly what he does believe until he is warmed +into conviction by the heat of attack and defence. A man left to +himself drifts about like a boat on a calm lake; it is only when the +wind blows that the boat goes anywhere. + +Herbert said he had been dipping into the recent novels written by +women, here and there, with a view to noting the effect upon +literature of this sudden and rather overwhelming accession to it. +There was a good deal of talk about it evening after evening, off and +on, and I can only undertake to set down fragments of it. + +HERBERT. I should say that the distinguishing feature of the +literature of this day is the prominence women have in its +production. They figure in most of the magazines, though very rarely +in the scholarly and critical reviews, and in thousands of +newspapers; to them we are indebted for the oceans of Sunday-school +books, and they write the majority of the novels, the serial stories, +and they mainly pour out the watery flood of tales in the weekly +papers. Whether this is to result in more good than evil it is +impossible yet to say, and perhaps it would be unjust to say, until +this generation has worked off its froth, and women settle down to +artistic, conscien-tious labor in literature. + +THE MISTRESS. You don't mean to say that George Eliot, and Mrs. +Gaskell, and George Sand, and Mrs. Browning, before her marriage and +severe attack of spiritism, are less true to art than contemporary +men novelists and poets. + +HERBERT. You name some exceptions that show the bright side of the +picture, not only for the present, but for the future. Perhaps +genius has no sex; but ordinary talent has. I refer to the great +body of novels, which you would know by internal evidence were +written by women. They are of two sorts: the domestic story, +entirely unidealized, and as flavorless as water-gruel; and the +spiced novel, generally immoral in tendency, in which the social +problems are handled, unhappy marriages, affinity and passional +attraction, bigamy, and the violation of the seventh commandment. +These subjects are treated in the rawest manner, without any settled +ethics, with little discrimination of eternal right and wrong, and +with very little sense of responsibility for what is set forth. Many +of these novels are merely the blind outbursts of a nature impatient +of restraint and the conventionalities of society, and are as chaotic +as the untrained minds that produce them. + +MANDEVILLE. Don't you think these novels fairly represent a social +condition of unrest and upheaval? + +HERBERT. Very likely; and they help to create and spread abroad the +discontent they describe. Stories of bigamy (sometimes disguised by +divorce), of unhappy marriages, where the injured wife, through an +entire volume, is on the brink of falling into the arms of a sneaking +lover, until death kindly removes the obstacle, and the two souls, +who were born for each other, but got separated in the cradle, melt +and mingle into one in the last chapter, are not healthful reading +for maids or mothers. + +THE MISTRESS. Or men. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The most disagreeable object to me in modern +literature is the man the women novelists have introduced as the +leading character; the women who come in contact with him seem to be +fascinated by his disdainful mien, his giant strength, and his brutal +manner. He is broad across the shoulders, heavily moulded, yet as +lithe as a cat; has an ugly scar across his right cheek; has been in +the four quarters of the globe; knows seventeen languages; had a +harem in Turkey and a Fayaway in the Marquesas; can be as polished as +Bayard in the drawing-room, but is as gloomy as Conrad in the +library; has a terrible eye and a withering glance, but can be +instantly subdued by a woman's hand, if it is not his wife's; and +through all his morose and vicious career has carried a heart as pure +as a violet. + +THE MISTRESS. Don't you think the Count of Monte Cristo is the elder +brother of Rochester? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. One is a mere hero of romance; the other is meant +for a real man. + +MANDEVILLE. I don't see that the men novel-writers are better than +the women. + +HERBERT. That's not the question; but what are women who write so +large a proportion of the current stories bringing into literature? +Aside from the question of morals, and the absolutely demoralizing +manner of treating social questions, most of their stories are vapid +and weak beyond expression, and are slovenly in composition, showing +neither study, training, nor mental discipline. + +THE MISTRESS. Considering that women have been shut out from the +training of the universities, and have few opportunities for the wide +observation that men enjoy, isn't it pretty well that the foremost +living writers of fiction are women? + +HERBERT. You can say that for the moment, since Thackeray and +Dickens have just died. But it does not affect the general estimate. +We are inundated with a flood of weak writing. Take the Sunday- +school literature, largely the product of women; it has n't as much +character as a dried apple pie. I don't know what we are coming to +if the presses keep on running. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. We are living, we are dwelling, in a grand and awful +time; I'm glad I don't write novels. + +THE PARSON. So am I. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I tried a Sunday-school book once; but I made the +good boy end in the poorhouse, and the bad boy go to Congress; and +the publisher said it wouldn't do, the public wouldn't stand that +sort of thing. Nobody but the good go to Congress. + +THE MISTRESS. Herbert, what do you think women are good for? + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That's a poser. + +HERBERT. Well, I think they are in a tentative state as to +literature, and we cannot yet tell what they will do. Some of our +most brilliant books of travel, correspondence, and writing on topics +in which their sympathies have warmly interested them, are by women. +Some of them are also strong writers in the daily journals. + +MANDEVILLE. I 'm not sure there's anything a woman cannot do as well +as a man, if she sets her heart on it. + +THE PARSON. That's because she's no conscience. + +CHORUS. O Parson! + +THE PARSON. Well, it does n't trouble her, if she wants to do +anything. She looks at the end, not the means. A woman, set on +anything, will walk right through the moral crockery without wincing. +She'd be a great deal more unscrupulous in politics than the average +man. Did you ever see a female lobbyist? Or a criminal? It is Lady +Macbeth who does not falter. Don't raise your hands at me! The +sweetest angel or the coolest devil is a woman. I see in some of the +modern novels we have been talking of the same unscrupulous daring, a +blindness to moral distinctions, a constant exaltation of a passion +into a virtue, an entire disregard of the immutable laws on which the +family and society rest. And you ask lawyers and trustees how +scrupulous women are in business transactions! + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Women are often ignorant of affairs, and, besides, +they may have a notion often that a woman ought to be privileged more +than a man in business matters; but I tell you, as a rule, that if +men would consult their wives, they would go a deal straighter in +business operations than they do go. + +THE PARSON. We are all poor sinners. But I've another indictment +against the women writers. We get no good old-fashioned love-stories +from them. It's either a quarrel of discordant natures one a +panther, and the other a polar bear--for courtship, until one of them +is crippled by a railway accident; or a long wrangle of married life +between two unpleasant people, who can neither live comfortably +together nor apart. I suppose, by what I see, that sweet wooing, +with all its torturing and delightful uncertainty, still goes on in +the world; and I have no doubt that the majority of married people +live more happily than the unmarried. But it's easier to find a dodo +than a new and good love-story. + +MANDEVILLE. I suppose the old style of plot is exhausted. +Everything in man and outside of him has been turned over so often +that I should think the novelists would cease simply from want of +material. + +THE PARSON. Plots are no more exhausted than men are. Every man is +a new creation, and combinations are simply endless. Even if we did +not have new material in the daily change of society, and there were +only a fixed number of incidents and characters in life, invention +could not be exhausted on them. I amuse myself sometimes with my +kaleidoscope, but I can never reproduce a figure. No, no. I cannot +say that you may not exhaust everything else: we may get all the +secrets of a nature into a book by and by, but the novel is immortal, +for it deals with men. + +The Parson's vehemence came very near carrying him into a sermon; and +as nobody has the privilege of replying to his sermons, so none of +the circle made any reply now. + +Our Next Door mumbled something about his hair standing on end, to +hear a minister defending the novel; but it did not interrupt the +general silence. Silence is unnoticed when people sit before a fire; +it would be intolerable if they sat and looked at each other. + +The wind had risen during the evening, and Mandeville remarked, as +they rose to go, that it had a spring sound in it, but it was as cold +as winter. The Mistress said she heard a bird that morning singing +in the sun a spring song, it was a winter bird, but it sang + + + + +SEVENTH STUDY + + +We have been much interested in what is called the Gothic revival. +We have spent I don't know how many evenings in looking over +Herbert's plans for a cottage, and have been amused with his vain +efforts to cover with Gothic roofs the vast number of large rooms +which the Young Lady draws in her sketch of a small house. + +I have no doubt that the Gothic, which is capable of infinite +modification, so that every house built in that style may be as +different from every other house as one tree is from every other, can +be adapted to our modern uses, and will be, when artists catch its +spirit instead of merely copying its old forms. But just now we are +taking the Gothic very literally, as we took the Greek at one time, +or as we should probably have taken the Saracenic, if the Moors had +not been colored. Not even the cholera is so contagious in this +country as a style of architecture which we happen to catch; the +country is just now broken out all over with the Mansard-roof +epidemic. + +And in secular architecture we do not study what is adapted to our +climate any more than in ecclesiastic architecture we adopt that +which is suited to our religion. + +We are building a great many costly churches here and there, we +Protestants, and as the most of them are ill adapted to our forms of +worship, it may be necessary and best for us to change our religion +in order to save our investments. I am aware that this would be a +grave step, and we should not hasten to throw overboard Luther and +the right of private judgment without reflection. And yet, if it is +necessary to revive the ecclesiastical Gothic architecture, not in +its spirit (that we nowhere do), but in the form which served another +age and another faith, and if, as it appears, we have already a great +deal of money invested in this reproduction, it may be more prudent +to go forward than to go back. The question is, "Cannot one easier +change his creed than his pew?" + +I occupy a seat in church which is an admirable one for reflection, +but I cannot see or hear much that is going on in what we like to +call the apse. There is a splendid stone pillar, a clustered column, +right in front of me, and I am as much protected from the minister as +Old Put's troops were from the British, behind the stone wall at +Bunker's Hill. I can hear his voice occasionally wandering round in +the arches overhead, and I recognize the tone, because he is a friend +of mine and an excellent man, but what he is saying I can very seldom +make out. If there was any incense burning, I could smell it, and +that would be something. I rather like the smell of incense, and it +has its holy associations. But there is no smell in our church, +except of bad air,--for there is no provision for ventilation in the +splendid and costly edifice. The reproduction of the old Gothic is +so complete that the builders even seem to have brought over the +ancient air from one of the churches of the Middle Ages,--you would +declare it had n't been changed in two centuries. + +I am expected to fix my attention during the service upon one man, +who stands in the centre of the apse and has a sounding-board behind +him in order to throw his voice out of the sacred semicircular space +(where the aitar used to stand, but now the sounding-board takes the +place of the altar) and scatter it over the congregation at large, +and send it echoing up in the groined roof I always like to hear a +minister who is unfamiliar with the house, and who has a loud voice, +try to fill the edifice. The more he roars and gives himself with +vehemence to the effort, the more the building roars in +indistinguishable noise and hubbub. By the time he has said (to +suppose a case), "The Lord is in his holy temple," and has passed on +to say, "let all the earth keep silence," the building is repeating +"The Lord is in his holy temple" from half a dozen different angles +and altitudes, rolling it and growling it, and is not keeping silence +at all. A man who understands it waits until the house has had its +say, and has digested one passage, before he launches another into +the vast, echoing spaces. I am expected, as I said, to fix my eye +and mind on the minister, the central point of the service. But the +pillar hides him. Now if there were several ministers in the church, +dressed in such gorgeous colors that I could see them at the distance +from the apse at which my limited income compels me to sit, and +candles were burning, and censers were swinging, and the platform was +full of the sacred bustle of a gorgeous ritual worship, and a bell +rang to tell me the holy moments, I should not mind the pillar at +all. I should sit there, like any other Goth, and enjoy it. But, as +I have said, the pastor is a friend of mine, and I like to look at +him on Sunday, and hear what he says, for he always says something +worth hearing. I am on such terms with him, indeed we all are, that +it would be pleasant to have the service of a little more social +nature, and more human. When we put him away off in the apse, and +set him up for a Goth, and then seat ourselves at a distance, +scattered about among the pillars, the whole thing seems to me a +trifle unnatural. Though I do not mean to say that the congregations +do not "enjoy their religion " in their splendid edifices which cost +so much money and are really so beautiful. + +A good many people have the idea, so it seems, that Gothic +architecture and Christianity are essentially one and the same thing. +Just as many regard it as an act of piety to work an altar cloth or +to cushion a pulpit. It may be, and it may not be. + +Our Gothic church is likely to prove to us a valuable religious +experience, bringing out many of the Christian virtues. It may have +had its origin in pride, but it is all being overruled for our good. +Of course I need n't explain that it is the thirteenth century +ecclesiastic Gothic that is epidemic in this country; and I think it +has attacked the Congregational and the other non-ritual churches +more violently than any others. We have had it here in its most +beautiful and dangerous forms. I believe we are pretty much all of +us supplied with a Gothic church now. Such has been the enthusiasm +in this devout direction, that I should not be surprised to see our +rich private citizens putting up Gothic churches for their individual +amusement and sanctification. As the day will probably come when +every man in Hartford will live in his own mammoth, five-story +granite insurance building, it may not be unreasonable to expect that +every man will sport his own Gothic church. It is beginning to be +discovered that the Gothic sort of church edifice is fatal to the +Congregational style of worship that has been prevalent here in New +England; but it will do nicely (as they say in Boston) for private +devotion. + +There isn't a finer or purer church than ours any where, inside and +outside Gothic to the last. The elevation of the nave gives it even +that "high-shouldered" appearance which seemed more than anything +else to impress Mr. Hawthorne in the cathedral at Amiens. I fancy +that for genuine high-shoulderness we are not exceeded by any church +in the city. Our chapel in the rear is as Gothic as the rest of it,- +-a beautiful little edifice. The committee forgot to make any more +provision for ventilating that than the church, and it takes a pretty +well-seasoned Christian to stay in it long at a time. The Sunday- +school is held there, and it is thought to be best to accustom the +children to bad air before they go into the church. The poor little +dears shouldn't have the wickedness and impurity of this world break +on them too suddenly. If the stranger noticed any lack about our +church, it would be that of a spire. There is a place for one; +indeed, it was begun, and then the builders seem to have stopped, +with the notion that it would grow itself from such a good root. It +is a mistake however, to suppose that we do not know that the church +has what the profane here call a "stump-tail" appearance. But the +profane are as ignorant of history as they are of true Gothic. All +the Old World cathedrals were the work of centuries. That at Milan +is scarcely finished yet; the unfinished spires of the Cologne +cathedral are one of the best-known features of it. I doubt if it +would be in the Gothic spirit to finish a church at once. We can +tell cavilers that we shall have a spire at the proper time, and not +a minute before. It may depend a little upon what the Baptists do, +who are to build near us. I, for one, think we had better wait and +see how high the Baptist spire is before we run ours up. The church +is everything that could be desired inside. There is the nave, with +its lofty and beautiful arched ceiling; there are the side aisles, +and two elegant rows of stone pillars, stained so as to be a perfect +imitation of stucco; there is the apse, with its stained glass and +exquisite lines; and there is an organ-loft over the front entrance, +with a rose window. Nothing was wanting, so far as we could see, +except that we should adapt ourselves to the circumstances; and that +we have been trying to do ever since. It may be well to relate how +we do it, for the benefit of other inchoate Goths. + +It was found that if we put up the organ in the loft, it would hide +the beautiful rose window. Besides, we wanted congregational sing- +ing, and if we hired a choir, and hung it up there under the roof, +like a cage of birds, we should not have congregational singing. We +therefore left the organ-loft vacant, making no further use of it +than to satisfy our Gothic cravings. As for choir,--several of the +singers of the church volunteered to sit together in the front +side-seats, and as there was no place for an organ, they gallantly +rallied round a melodeon,--or perhaps it is a cabinet organ,--a +charming instrument, and, as everybody knows, entirely in keeping +with the pillars, arches, and great spaces of a real Gothic edifice. +It is the union of simplicity with grandeur, for which we have all +been looking. I need not say to those who have ever heard a +melodeon, that there is nothing like it. It is rare, even in the +finest churches on the Continent. And we had congregational singing. +And it went very well indeed. One of the advantages of pure +congregational singing, is that you can join in the singing whether +you have a voice or not. The disadvantage is, that your neighbor can +do the same. It is strange what an uncommonly poor lot of voices +there is, even among good people. But we enjoy it. If you do not +enjoy it, you can change your seat until you get among a good lot. + +So far, everything went well. But it was next discovered that it was +difficult to hear the minister, who had a very handsome little desk +in the apse, somewhat distant from the bulk of the congregation; +still, we could most of us see him on a clear day. The church was +admirably built for echoes, and the centre of the house was very +favorable to them. When you sat in the centre of the house, it +sometimes seemed as if three or four ministers were speaking. + +It is usually so in cathedrals; the Right Reverend So-and-So is +assisted by the very Reverend Such-and-Such, and the good deal +Reverend Thus-and-Thus, and so on. But a good deal of the minister's +voice appeared to go up into the groined arches, and, as there was no +one up there, some of his best things were lost. We also had a +notion that some of it went into the cavernous organ-loft. It would +have been all right if there had been a choir there, for choirs +usually need more preaching, and pay less heed to it, than any other +part of the congregation. Well, we drew a sort of screen over the +organ-loft; but the result was not as marked as we had hoped. We +next devised a sounding-board,--a sort of mammoth clamshell, painted +white,--and erected it behind the minister. It had a good effect on +the minister. It kept him up straight to his work. So long as he +kept his head exactly in the focus, his voice went out and did not +return to him; but if he moved either way, he was assailed by a Babel +of clamoring echoes. There was no opportunity for him to splurge +about from side to side of the pulpit, as some do. And if he raised +his voice much, or attempted any extra flights, he was liable to be +drowned in a refluent sea of his own eloquence. And he could hear +the congregation as well as they could hear him. All the coughs, +whispers, noises, were gathered in the wooden tympanum behind him, +and poured into his ears. + +But the sounding-board was an improvement, and we advanced to bolder +measures; having heard a little, we wanted to hear more. Besides, +those who sat in front began to be discontented with the melodeon. +There are depths in music which the melodeon, even when it is called +a cabinet organ, with a colored boy at the bellows, cannot sound. +The melodeon was not, originally, designed for the Gothic worship. +We determined to have an organ, and we speculated whether, by +erecting it in the apse, we could not fill up that elegant portion of +the church, and compel the preacher's voice to leave it, and go out +over the pews. It would of course do something to efface the main +beauty of a Gothic church; but something must be done, and we began a +series of experiments to test the probable effects of putting the +organ and choir behind the minister. We moved the desk to the very +front of the platform, and erected behind it a high, square board +screen, like a section of tight fence round the fair-grounds. This +did help matters. The minister spoke with more ease, and we could +hear him better. If the screen had been intended to stay there, we +should have agitated the subject of painting it. But this was only +an experiment. + +Our next move was to shove the screen back and mount the volunteer +singers, melodeon and all, upon the platform,--some twenty of them +crowded together behind the minister. The,effect was beautiful. It +seemed as if we had taken care to select the finest-looking people in +the congregation,--much to the injury of the congregation, of course, +as seen from the platform. There are few congregations that can +stand this sort of culling, though ours can endure it as well as any; +yet it devolves upon those of us who remain the responsibility of +looking as well as we can. + +The experiment was a success, so far as appearances went, but when +the screen went back, the minister's voice went back with it. We +could not hear him very well, though we could hear the choir as plain +as day. We have thought of remedying this last defect by putting the +high screen in front of the singers, and close to the minister, as it +was before. This would make the singers invisible,--"though lost to +sight, to memory dear,"--what is sometimes called an "angel choir," +when the singers (and the melodeon) are concealed, with the most +subdued and religious effect. It is often so in cathedrals. + +This plan would have another advantage. The singers on the platform, +all handsome and well dressed, distract our attention from the +minister, and what he is saying. We cannot help looking at them, +studying all the faces and all the dresses. If one of them sits up +very straight, he is a rebuke to us; if he "lops" over, we wonder why +he does n't sit up; if his hair is white, we wonder whether it is age +or family peculiarity; if he yawns, we want to yawn; if he takes up a +hymn-book, we wonder if he is uninterested in the sermon; we look at +the bonnets, and query if that is the latest spring style, or whether +we are to look for another; if he shaves close, we wonder why he +doesn't let his beard grow; if he has long whiskers, we wonder why he +does n't trim 'em; if she sighs, we feel sorry; if she smiles, we +would like to know what it is about. And, then, suppose any of the +singers should ever want to eat fennel, or peppermints, or Brown's +troches, and pass them round! Suppose the singers, more or less of +them, should sneeze! + +Suppose one or two of them, as the handsomest people sometimes will, +should go to sleep! In short, the singers there take away all our +attention from the minister, and would do so if they were the +homeliest people in the world. We must try something else. + +It is needless to explain that a Gothic religious life is not an idle +one. + + + + +EIGHTH STUDY + + +I + +Perhaps the clothes question is exhausted, philosophically. I cannot +but regret that the Poet of the Breakfast-Table, who appears to have +an uncontrollable penchant for saying the things you would like to +say yourself, has alluded to the anachronism of "Sir Coeur de Lion +Plantagenet in the mutton-chop whiskers and the plain gray suit." + +A great many scribblers have felt the disadvantage of writing after +Montaigne; and it is impossible to tell how much originality in +others Dr. Holmes has destroyed in this country. In whist there are +some men you always prefer to have on your left hand, and I take it +that this intuitive essayist, who is so alert to seize the few +remaining unappropriated ideas and analogies in the world, is one of +them. + +No doubt if the Plantagenets of this day were required to dress in a +suit of chain-armor and wear iron pots on their heads, they would be +as ridiculous as most tragedy actors on the stage. The pit which +recognizes Snooks in his tin breastplate and helmet laughs at him, +and Snooks himself feels like a sheep; and when the great tragedian +comes on, shining in mail, dragging a two-handed sword, and mouths +the grandiloquence which poets have put into the speech of heroes, +the dress-circle requires all its good-breeding and its feigned love +of the traditionary drama not to titter. + +If this sort of acting, which is supposed to have come down to us +from the Elizabethan age, and which culminated in the school of the +Keans, Kembles, and Siddonses, ever had any fidelity to life, it must +have been in a society as artificial as the prose of Sir Philip +Sidney. That anybody ever believed in it is difficult to think, +especially when we read what privileges the fine beaux and gallants +of the town took behind the scenes and on the stage in the golden +days of the drama. When a part of the audience sat on the stage, and +gentlemen lounged or reeled across it in the midst of a play, to +speak to acquaintances in the audience, the illusion could not have +been very strong. + +Now and then a genius, like Rachel as Horatia, or Hackett as +Falstaff, may actually seem to be the character assumed by virtue of +a transforming imagination, but I suppose the fact to be that getting +into a costume, absurdly antiquated and remote from all the habits +and associations of the actor, largely accounts for the incongruity +and ridiculousness of most of our modern acting. Whether what is +called the "legitimate drama" ever was legitimate we do not know, but +the advocates of it appear to think that the theatre was some time +cast in a mould, once for all, and is good for all times and peoples, +like the propositions of Euclid. To our eyes the legitimate drama of +to-day is the one in which the day is reflected, both in costume and +speech, and which touches the affections, the passions, the humor, of +the present time. The brilliant success of the few good plays that +have been written out of the rich life which we now live--the most +varied, fruitful, and dramatically suggestive--ought to rid us +forever of the buskin-fustian, except as a pantomimic or spectacular +curiosity. + +We have no objection to Julius Caesar or Richard III. stalking about +in impossible clothes) and stepping four feet at a stride, if they +want to, but let them not claim to be more "legitimate" than "Ours" +or "Rip Van Winkle." There will probably be some orator for years +and years to come, at every Fourth of July, who will go on asking, +Where is Thebes? but he does not care anything about it, and he does +not really expect an answer. I have sometimes wished I knew the +exact site of Thebes, so that I could rise in the audience, and stop +that question, at any rate. It is legitimate, but it is tiresome. + +If we went to the bottom of this subject, I think we should find that +the putting upon actors clothes to which they are unaccustomed makes +them act and talk artificially, and often in a manner intolerable. + +An actor who has not the habits or instincts of a gentleman cannot be +made to appear like one on the stage by dress; he only caricatures +and discredits what he tries to represent; and the unaccustomed +clothes and situation make him much more unnatural and insufferable +than he would otherwise be. Dressed appropriately for parts for +which he is fitted, he will act well enough, probably. What I mean +is, that the clothes inappropriate to the man make the incongruity of +him and his part more apparent. Vulgarity is never so conspicuous as +in fine apparel, on or off the stage, and never so self-conscious. +Shall we have, then, no refined characters on the stage? Yes; but +let them be taken by men and women of taste and refinement and let us +have done with this masquerading in false raiment, ancient and +modern, which makes nearly every stage a travesty of nature and the +whole theatre a painful pretension. We do not expect the modern +theatre to be a place of instruction (that business is now turned +over to the telegraphic operator, who is making a new language), but +it may give amusement instead of torture, and do a little in +satirizing folly and kindling love of home and country by the way. + +This is a sort of summary of what we all said, and no one in +particular is responsible for it; and in this it is like public +opinion. The Parson, however, whose only experience of the theatre +was the endurance of an oratorio once, was very cordial in his +denunciation of the stage altogether. + +MANDEVILLE. Yet, acting itself is delightful; nothing so entertains +us as mimicry, the personation of character. We enjoy it in private. +I confess that I am always pleased with the Parson in the character +of grumbler. He would be an immense success on the stage. I don't +know but the theatre will have to go back into the hands of the +priests, who once controlled it. + +THE PARSON. Scoffer! + +MANDEVILLE. I can imagine how enjoyable the stage might be, cleared +of all its traditionary nonsense, stilted language, stilted behavior, +all the rubbish of false sentiment, false dress, and the manners of +times that were both artificial and immoral, and filled with living +characters, who speak the thought of to-day, with the wit and culture +that are current to-day. I've seen private theatricals, where all +the performers were persons of cultivation, that.... + +OUR NEXT DOOR. So have I. For something particularly cheerful, +commend me to amateur theatricals. I have passed some melancholy +hours at them. + +MANDEVILLE. That's because the performers acted the worn stage +plays, and attempted to do them in the manner they had seen on the +stage. It is not always so. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I suppose Mandeville would say that acting has got +into a mannerism which is well described as stagey, and is supposed +to be natural to the stage; just as half the modern poets write in a +recognized form of literary manufacture, without the least impulse +from within, and not with the purpose of saying anything, but of +turning out a piece of literary work. That's the reason we have so +much poetry that impresses one like sets of faultless cabinet- +furniture made by machinery. + +THE PARSON. But you need n't talk of nature or naturalness in acting +or in anything. I tell you nature is poor stuff. It can't go alone. +Amateur acting--they get it up at church sociables nowadays--is apt +to be as near nature as a school-boy's declamation. Acting is the +Devil's art. + +THE MISTRESS. Do you object to such innocent amusement? + +MANDEVILLE. What the Parson objects to is, that he isn't amused. + +THE PARSON. What's the use of objecting? It's the fashion of the +day to amuse people into the kingdom of heaven. + +HERBERT. The Parson has got us off the track. My notion about the +stage is, that it keeps along pretty evenly with the rest of the +world; the stage is usually quite up to the level of the audience. +Assumed dress on the stage, since you were speaking of that, makes +people no more constrained and self-conscious than it does off the +stage. + +THE MISTRESS. What sarcasm is coming now? + +HERBERT. Well, you may laugh, but the world has n't got used to good +clothes yet. The majority do not wear them with ease. People who +only put on their best on rare and stated occasions step into an +artificial feeling. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder if that's the reason the Parson finds it so +difficult to get hold of his congregation. + +HERBERT. I don't know how else to account for the formality and +vapidity of a set "party," where all the guests are clothed in a +manner to which they are unaccustomed, dressed into a condition of +vivid self-consciousness. The same people, who know each other +perfectly well, will enjoy themselves together without restraint in +their ordinary apparel. But nothing can be more artificial than the +behavior of people together who rarely "dress up." It seems +impossible to make the conversation as fine as the clothes, and so it +dies in a kind of inane helplessness. Especially is this true in the +country, where people have not obtained the mastery of their clothes +that those who live in the city have. It is really absurd, at this +stage of our civilization, that we should be so affected by such an +insignificant accident as dress. Perhaps Mandeville can tell us +whether this clothes panic prevails in the older societies. + +THE PARSON. Don't. We've heard it; about its being one of the +Englishman's thirty-nine articles that he never shall sit down to +dinner without a dress-coat, and all that. + +THE MISTRESS. I wish, for my part, that everybody who has time to +eat a dinner would dress for that, the principal event of the day, +and do respectful and leisurely justice to it. + +THE YOUNG LADY. It has always seemed singular to me that men who +work so hard to build elegant houses, and have good dinners, should +take so little leisure to enjoy either. + +MANDEVILLE. If the Parson will permit me, I should say that the +chief clothes question abroad just now is, how to get any; and it is +the same with the dinners. + + + + +II + +It is quite unnecessary to say that the talk about clothes ran into +the question of dress-reform, and ran out, of course. You cannot +converse on anything nowadays that you do not run into some reform. +The Parson says that everybody is intent on reforming everything but +himself. We are all trying to associate ourselves to make everybody +else behave as we do. Said-- + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Dress reform! As if people couldn't change their +clothes without concert of action. Resolved, that nobody should put +on a clean collar oftener than his neighbor does. I'm sick of every +sort of reform. I should like to retrograde awhile. Let a dyspeptic +ascertain that he can eat porridge three times a day and live, and +straightway he insists that everybody ought to eat porridge and +nothing else. I mean to get up a society every member of which shall +be pledged to do just as he pleases. + +THE PARSON. That would be the most radical reform of the day. That +would be independence. If people dressed according to their means, +acted according to their convictions, and avowed their opinions, it +would revolutionize society. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I should like to walk into your church some Sunday +and see the changes under such conditions. + +THE PARSON. It might give you a novel sensation to walk in at any +time. And I'm not sure but the church would suit your retrograde +ideas. It's so Gothic that a Christian of the Middle Ages, if he +were alive, couldn't see or hear in it. + +HERBERT. I don't know whether these reformers who carry the world on +their shoulders in such serious fashion, especially the little fussy +fellows, who are themselves the standard of the regeneration they +seek, are more ludicrous than pathetic. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Pathetic, by all means. But I don't know that they +would be pathetic if they were not ludicrous. There are those reform +singers who have been piping away so sweetly now for thirty years, +with never any diminution of cheerful, patient enthusiasm; their hair +growing longer and longer, their eyes brighter and brighter, and +their faces, I do believe, sweeter and sweeter; singing always with +the same constancy for the slave, for the drunkard, for the +snufftaker, for the suffragist,--"There'sa-good-time-com-ing-boys +(nothing offensive is intended by "boys," it is put in for euphony, +and sung pianissimo, not to offend the suffragists), it's- +almost-here." And what a brightening up of their faces there is when +they say, "it's-al-most-here," not doubting for a moment that "it's" +coming tomorrow; and the accompanying melodeon also wails its wheezy +suggestion that "it's-al-most-here," that "good-time" (delayed so +long, waiting perhaps for the invention of the melodeon) when we +shall all sing and all play that cheerful instrument, and all vote, +and none shall smoke, or drink, or eat meat, "boys." I declare it +almost makes me cry to hear them, so touching is their faith in the +midst of a jeer-ing world. + +HERBERT. I suspect that no one can be a genuine reformer and not be +ridiculous. I mean those who give themselves up to the unction of +the reform. + +THE MISTRESS. Does n't that depend upon whether the reform is large +or petty? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I should say rather that the reforms attracted to +them all the ridiculous people, who almost always manage to become +the most conspicuous. I suppose that nobody dare write out all that +was ludicrous in the great abolition movement. But it was not at all +comical to those most zealous in it; they never could see--more's the +pity, for thereby they lose much--the humorous side of their per- +formances, and that is why the pathos overcomes one's sense of the +absurdity of such people. + +THE YOUNG LADY. It is lucky for the world that so many are willing +to be absurd. + +HERBERT. Well, I think that, in the main, the reformers manage to +look out for themselves tolerably well. I knew once a lean and +faithful agent of a great philanthropic scheme, who contrived to +collect every year for the cause just enough to support him at a good +hotel comfortably. + +THE MISTRESS. That's identifying one's self with the cause. + +MANDEVILLE. You remember the great free-soil convention at Buffalo, +in 1848, when Van Buren was nominated. All the world of hope and +discontent went there, with its projects of reform. There seemed to +be no doubt, among hundreds that attended it, that if they could get +a resolution passed that bread should be buttered on both sides, it +would be so buttered. The platform provided for every want and every +woe. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I remember. If you could get the millennium by +political action, we should have had it then. + +MANDEVILLE. We went there on the Erie Canal, the exciting and +fashionable mode of travel in those days. I was a boy when we began +the voyage. The boat was full of conventionists; all the talk was of +what must be done there. I got the impression that as that boat-load +went so would go the convention; and I was not alone in that feeling. +I can never be grateful enough for one little scrubby fanatic who was +on board, who spent most of his time in drafting resolutions and +reading them privately to the passengers. He was a very +enthusiastic, nervous, and somewhat dirty little man, who wore a +woolen muffler about his throat, although it was summer; he had +nearly lost his voice, and could only speak in a hoarse, disagreeable +whisper, and he always carried a teacup about, containing some sticky +compound which he stirred frequently with a spoon, and took, whenever +he talked, in order to improve his voice. If he was separated from +his cup for ten minutes, his whisper became inaudible. I greatly +delighted in him, for I never saw any one who had so much enjoyment +of his own importance. He was fond of telling what he would do if +the conven-tion rejected such and such resolutions. He'd make it hot +for them. I did n't know but he'd make them take his mixture. The +convention had got to take a stand on tobacco, for one thing. He'd +heard Gid-dings took snuff; he'd see. When we at length reached +Buffalo he took his teacup and carpet-bag of resolutions and went +ashore in a great hurry. I saw him once again in a cheap restaurant, +whispering a resolution to another delegate, but he did n't appear in +the con-vention. I have often wondered what became of him. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably he's consul somewhere. They mostly are. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. After all, it's the easiest thing in the world to +sit and sneer at eccentricities. But what a dead and uninteresting +world it would be if we were all proper, and kept within the lines! +Affairs would soon be reduced to mere machinery. There are moments, +even days, when all interests and movements appear to be settled upon +some universal plan of equilibrium; but just then some restless and +absurd person is inspired to throw the machine out of gear. These +individual eccentricities seem to be the special providences in the +general human scheme. + +HERBERT. They make it very hard work for the rest of us, who are +disposed to go along peaceably and smoothly. + +MANDEVILLE. And stagnate. I 'm not sure but the natural condition +of this planet is war, and that when it is finally towed to its +anchorage--if the universe has any harbor for worlds out of +commission--it will look like the Fighting Temeraire in Turner's +picture. + +HERBERT. There is another thing I should like to understand: the +tendency of people who take up one reform, perhaps a personal +regeneration in regard to some bad habit, to run into a dozen other +isms, and get all at sea in several vague and pernicious theories and +practices. + +MANDEVILLE. Herbert seems to think there is safety in a man's being +anchored, even if it is to a bad habit. + +HERBERT. Thank you. But what is it in human nature that is apt to +carry a man who may take a step in personal reform into so many +extremes? + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably it's human nature. + +HERBERT. Why, for instance, should a reformed drunkard (one of the +noblest examples of victory over self) incline, as I have known the +reformed to do, to spiritism, or a woman suffragist to "pantarchism" +(whatever that is), and want to pull up all the roots of society, and +expect them to grow in the air, like orchids; or a Graham-bread +disciple become enamored of Communism? + +MANDEVILLE. I know an excellent Conservative who would, I think, +suit you; he says that he does not see how a man who indulges in the +theory and practice of total abstinence can be a consistent believer +in the Christian religion. + +HERBERT. Well, I can understand what he means: that a person is +bound to hold himself in conditions of moderation and control, using +and not abusing the things of this world, practicing temperance, not +retiring into a convent of artificial restrictions in order to escape +the full responsibility of self-control. And yet his theory would +certainly wreck most men and women. What does the Parson say? + +THE PARSON. That the world is going crazy on the notion of individual +ability. Whenever a man attempts to reform himself, or anybody else, +without the aid of the Christian religion, he is sure to go adrift, +and is pretty certain to be blown about by absurd theories, and +shipwrecked on some pernicious ism. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I think the discussion has touched bottom. + + + + +III + +I never felt so much the value of a house with a backlog in it as +during the late spring; for its lateness was its main feature. +Everybody was grumbling about it, as if it were something ordered +from the tailor, and not ready on the day. Day after day it snowed, +night after night it blew a gale from the northwest; the frost sunk +deeper and deeper into the ground; there was a popular longing for +spring that was almost a prayer; the weather bureau was active; +Easter was set a week earlier than the year before, but nothing +seemed to do any good. The robins sat under the evergreens, and +piped in a disconsolate mood, and at last the bluejays came and +scolded in the midst of the snow-storm, as they always do scold in +any weather. The crocuses could n't be coaxed to come up, even with +a pickaxe. I'm almost ashamed now to recall what we said of the +weather only I think that people are no more accountable for what +they say of the weather than for their remarks when their corns are +stepped on. + +We agreed, however, that, but for disappointed expectations and the +prospect of late lettuce and peas, we were gaining by the fire as +much as we were losing by the frost. And the Mistress fell to +chanting the comforts of modern civilization. + +THE FIRE-TENDER said he should like to know, by the way, if our +civilization differed essentially from any other in anything but its +comforts. + +HERBERT. We are no nearer religious unity. + +THE PARSON. We have as much war as ever. + +MANDEVILLE. There was never such a social turmoil. + +THE YOUNG LADY. The artistic part of our nature does not appear to +have grown. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. We are quarreling as to whether we are in fact +radically different from the brutes. + +HERBERT. Scarcely two people think alike about the proper kind of +human government. + +THE PARSON. Our poetry is made out of words, for the most part, and +not drawn from the living sources. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. And Mr. Cumming is uncorking his seventh phial. I +never felt before what barbarians we are. + +THE MISTRESS. Yet you won't deny that the life of the average man is +safer and every way more comfortable than it was even a century ago. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But what I want to know is, whether what we call +our civilization has done any thing more for mankind at large than to +increase the ease and pleasure of living? Science has multiplied +wealth, and facilitated intercourse, and the result is refinement of +manners and a diffusion of education and information. Are men and +women essentially changed, however? I suppose the Parson would say +we have lost faith, for one thing. + +MANDEVILLE. And superstition; and gained toleration. + +HERBERT. The question is, whether toleration is anything but +indifference. + +THE PARSON. Everything is tolerated now but Christian orthodoxy. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It's easy enough to make a brilliant catalogue of +external achievements, but I take it that real progress ought to be +in man himself. It is not a question of what a man enjoys, but what +he can produce. The best sculpture was executed two thousand years +ago. The best paintings are several centuries old. We study the +finest architecture in its ruins. The standards of poetry are +Shakespeare, Homer, Isaiah, and David. The latest of the arts, +music, culminated in composition, though not in execution, a century +ago. + +THE MISTRESS. Yet culture in music certainly distinguishes the +civilization of this age. It has taken eighteen hundred years for +the principles of the Christian religion to begin to be practically +incorporated in government and in ordinary business, and it will take +a long time for Beethoven to be popularly recognized; but there is +growth toward him, and not away from him, and when the average +culture has reached his height, some other genius will still more +profoundly and delicately express the highest thoughts. + +HERBERT. I wish I could believe it. The spirit of this age is +expressed by the Calliope. + +THE PARSON. Yes, it remained for us to add church-bells and cannon +to the orchestra. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a melancholy thought to me that we can no longer +express ourselves with the bass-drum; there used to be the whole of +the Fourth of July in its patriotic throbs. + +MANDEVILLE. We certainly have made great progress in one art,--that +of war. + +THE YOUNG LADY. And in the humane alleviations of the miseries of +war. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The most discouraging symptom to me in our +undoubted advance in the comforts and refinements of society is the +facility with which men slip back into barbarism, if the artificial +and external accidents of their lives are changed. We have always +kept a fringe of barbarism on our shifting western frontier; and I +think there never was a worse society than that in California and +Nevada in their early days. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That is because women were absent. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But women are not absent in London and New York, +and they are conspicuous in the most exceptionable demonstrations of +social anarchy. Certainly they were not wanting in Paris. Yes, +there was a city widely accepted as the summit of our material +civilization. No city was so beautiful, so luxurious, so safe, so +well ordered for the comfort of living, and yet it needed only a +month or two to make it a kind of pandemonium of savagery. Its +citizens were the barbarians who destroyed its own monuments of +civilization. I don't mean to say that there was no apology for what +was done there in the deceit and fraud that preceded it, but I simply +notice how ready the tiger was to appear, and how little restraint +all the material civilization was to the beast. + +THE MISTRESS. I can't deny your instances, and yet I somehow feel +that pretty much all you have been saying is in effect untrue. Not +one of you would be willing to change our civilization for any other. +In your estimate you take no account, it seems to me, of the growth +of charity. + +MANDEVILLE. And you might add a recognition of the value of human +life. + +THE MISTRESS. I don't believe there was ever before diffused +everywhere such an element of good-will, and never before were women +so much engaged in philanthropic work. + +THE PARSON. It must be confessed that one of the best signs of the +times is woman's charity for woman. That certainly never existed to +the same extent in any other civilization. + +MANDEVILLE. And there is another thing that distinguishes us, or is +beginning to. That is, the notion that you can do something more +with a criminal than punish him; and that society has not done its +duty when it has built a sufficient number of schools for one class, +or of decent jails for another. + +HERBERT. It will be a long time before we get decent jails. + +MANDEVILLE. But when we do they will begin to be places of education +and training as much as of punishment and disgrace. The public will +provide teachers in the prisons as it now does in the common schools. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The imperfections of our methods and means of +selecting those in the community who ought to be in prison are so +great, that extra care in dealing with them becomes us. We are +beginning to learn that we cannot draw arbitrary lines with infal- +lible justice. Perhaps half those who are convicted of crimes are as +capable of reformation as half those transgressors who are not +convicted, or who keep inside the statutory law. + +HERBERT. Would you remove the odium of prison? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. No; but I would have criminals believe, and society +believe, that in going to prison a man or woman does not pass an +absolute line and go into a fixed state. + +THE PARSON. That is, you would not have judgment and retribution +begin in this world. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Don't switch us off into theology. I hate to go up +in a balloon, or see any one else go. + +HERBERT. Don't you think there is too much leniency toward crime and +criminals, taking the place of justice, in these days? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. There may be too much disposition to condone the +crimes of those who have been considered respectable. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That is, scarcely anybody wants to see his friend +hung. + +MANDEVILLE. I think a large part of the bitterness of the condemned +arises from a sense of the inequality with which justice is +administered. I am surprised, in visiting jails, to find so few +respectable-looking convicts. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Nobody will go to jail nowadays who thinks anything +of himself. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. When society seriously takes hold of the +reformation of criminals (say with as much determination as it does +to carry an election) this false leniency will disappear; for it +partly springs from a feeling that punishment is unequal, and does +not discriminate enough in individuals, and that society itself has +no right to turn a man over to the Devil, simply because he shows a +strong leaning that way. A part of the scheme of those who work for +the reformation of criminals is to render punishment more certain, +and to let its extent depend upon reformation. There is no reason +why a professional criminal, who won't change his trade for an honest +one, should have intervals of freedom in his prison life in which he +is let loose to prey upon society. Criminals ought to be discharged, +like insane patients, when they are cured. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a wonder to me, what with our multitudes of +statutes and hosts of detectives, that we are any of us out of jail. +I never come away from a visit to a State-prison without a new spasm +of fear and virtue. The faculties for getting into jail seem to be +ample. We want more organizations for keeping people out. + +MANDEVILLE. That is the sort of enterprise the women are engaged in, +the frustration of the criminal tendencies of those born in vice. I +believe women have it in their power to regenerate the world morally. + +THE PARSON. It's time they began to undo the mischief of their +mother. + +THE MISTRESS. The reason they have not made more progress is that +they have usually confined their individual efforts to one man; they +are now organizing for a general campaign. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I'm not sure but here is where the ameliorations of +the conditions of life, which are called the comforts of this +civilization, come in, after all, and distinguish the age above all +others. They have enabled the finer powers of women to have play as +they could not in a ruder age. I should like to live a hundred years +and see what they will do. + +HERBERT. Not much but change the fashions, unless they submit them- +selves to the same training and discipline that men do. + +I have no doubt that Herbert had to apologize for this remark +afterwards in private, as men are quite willing to do in particular +cases; it is only in general they are unjust. The talk drifted off +into general and particular depreciation of other times. Mandeville +described a picture, in which he appeared to have confidence, of a +fight between an Iguanodon and a Megalosaurus, where these huge +iron-clad brutes were represented chewing up different portions of +each other's bodies in a forest of the lower cretaceous period. So +far as he could learn, that sort of thing went on unchecked for +hundreds of thousands of years, and was typical of the intercourse of +the races of man till a comparatively recent period. There was also +that gigantic swan, the Plesiosaurus; in fact, all the early brutes +were disgusting. He delighted to think that even the lower animals +had improved, both in appearance and disposition. + +The conversation ended, therefore, in a very amicable manner, having +been taken to a ground that nobody knew anything about. + + + + +NINTH STUDY + + +I + +Can you have a backlog in July? That depends upon circumstances. + +In northern New England it is considered a sign of summer when the +housewives fill the fireplaces with branches of mountain laurel, and, +later, with the feathery stalks of the asparagus. This is often, +too, the timid expression of a tender feeling, under Puritanic +repression, which has not sufficient vent in the sweet-william and +hollyhock at the front door. This is a yearning after beauty and +ornamentation which has no other means of gratifying itself + +In the most rigid circumstances, the graceful nature of woman thus +discloses itself in these mute expressions of an undeveloped taste. +You may never doubt what the common flowers growing along the pathway +to the front door mean to the maiden of many summers who tends them; +--love and religion, and the weariness of an uneventful life. The +sacredness of the Sabbath, the hidden memory of an unrevealed and +unrequited affection, the slow years of gathering and wasting +sweetness, are in the smell of the pink and the sweet-clover. These +sentimental plants breathe something of the longing of the maiden who +sits in the Sunday evenings of summer on the lonesome front +doorstone, singing the hymns of the saints, and perennial as the +myrtle that grows thereby. + +Yet not always in summer, even with the aid of unrequited love and +devotional feeling, is it safe to let the fire go out on the hearth, +in our latitude. I remember when the last almost total eclipse of +the sun happened in August, what a bone-piercing chill came over the +world. Perhaps the imagination had something to do with causing the +chill from that temporary hiding of the sun to feel so much more +penetrating than that from the coming on of night, which shortly +followed. It was impossible not to experience a shudder as of the +approach of the Judgment Day, when the shadows were flung upon the +green lawn, and we all stood in the wan light, looking unfamiliar to +each other. The birds in the trees felt the spell. We could in +fancy see those spectral camp-fires which men would build on the +earth, if the sun should slow its fires down to about the brilliancy +of the moon. It was a great relief to all of us to go into the +house, and, before a blazing wood-fire, talk of the end of the world. + +In New England it is scarcely ever safe to let the fire go out; it is +best to bank it, for it needs but the turn of a weather-vane at any +hour to sweep the + +Atlantic rains over us, or to bring down the chill of Hudson's Bay. +There are days when the steam ship on the Atlantic glides calmly +along under a full canvas, but its central fires must always be ready +to make steam against head-winds and antagonistic waves. Even in our +most smiling summer days one needs to have the materials of a +cheerful fire at hand. It is only by this readiness for a change +that one can preserve an equal mind. We are made provident and +sagacious by the fickleness of our climate. We should be another +sort of people if we could have that serene, unclouded trust in +nature which the Egyptian has. The gravity and repose of the Eastern +peoples is due to the unchanging aspect of the sky, and the +deliberation and reg-ularity of the great climatic processes. Our +literature, politics, religion, show the effect of unsettled weather. +But they compare favorably with the Egyptian, for all that. + + + + +II + +You cannot know, the Young Lady wrote, with what longing I look back +to those winter days by the fire; though all the windows are open to +this May morning, and the brown thrush is singing in the chestnut- +tree, and I see everywhere that first delicate flush of spring, which +seems too evanescent to be color even, and amounts to little more +than a suffusion of the atmosphere. I doubt, indeed, if the spring +is exactly what it used to be, or if, as we get on in years [no one +ever speaks of "getting on in years" till she is virtually settled in +life], its promises and suggestions do not seem empty in comparison +with the sympathies and responses of human friendship, and the +stimulation of society. Sometimes nothing is so tiresome as a +perfect day in a perfect season. + +I only imperfectly understand this. The Parson says that woman is +always most restless under the most favorable conditions, and that +there is no state in which she is really happy except that of change. +I suppose this is the truth taught in what has been called the "Myth +of the Garden." Woman is perpetual revolution, and is that element +in the world which continually destroys and re-creates. She is the +experimenter and the suggester of new combinations. She has no +belief in any law of eternal fitness of things. She is never even +content with any arrangement of her own house. The only reason the +Mistress could give, when she rearranged her apartment, for hanging a +picture in what seemed the most inappropriate place, was that it had +never been there before. Woman has no respect for tradition, and +because a thing is as it is is sufficient reason for changing it. +When she gets into law, as she has come into literature, we shall +gain something in the destruction of all our vast and musty libraries +of precedents, which now fetter our administration of individual +justice. It is Mandeville's opinion that women are not so +sentimental as men, and are not so easily touched with the unspoken +poetry of nature; being less poetical, and having less imagination, +they are more fitted for practical affairs, and would make less +failures in business. I have noticed the almost selfish passion for +their flowers which old gardeners have, and their reluctance to part +with a leaf or a blossom from their family. They love the flowers +for themselves. A woman raises flowers for their use. She is +destruct-ion in a conservatory. She wants the flowers for her lover, +for the sick, for the poor, for the Lord on Easter day, for the +ornamentation of her house. She delights in the costly pleasure of +sacrificing them. She never sees a flower but she has an intense but +probably sinless desire to pick it. + +It has been so from the first, though from the first she has been +thwarted by the accidental superior strength of man. Whatever she +has obtained has been by craft, and by the same coaxing which the sun +uses to draw the blossoms out of the apple-trees. I am not surprised +to learn that she has become tired of indulgences, and wants some of +the original rights. We are just beginning to find out the extent to +which she has been denied and subjected, and especially her condition +among the primitive and barbarous races. I have never seen it in a +platform of grievances, but it is true that among the Fijians she is +not, unless a better civilization has wrought a change in her behalf, +permitted to eat people, even her own sex, at the feasts of the men; +the dainty enjoyed by the men being considered too good to be wasted +on women. Is anything wanting to this picture of the degradation of +woman? By a refinement of cruelty she receives no benefit whatever +from the missionaries who are sent out by--what to her must seem a +new name for Tantalus--the American Board. + +I suppose the Young Lady expressed a nearly universal feeling in her +regret at the breaking up of the winter-fireside company. Society +needs a certain seclusion and the sense of security. Spring opens +the doors and the windows, and the noise and unrest of the world are +let in. Even a winter thaw begets a desire to travel, and summer +brings longings innumerable, and disturbs the most tranquil souls. +Nature is, in fact, a suggester of uneasiness, a promoter of +pilgrimages and of excursions of the fancy which never come to any +satisfactory haven. The summer in these latitudes is a campaign of +sentiment and a season, for the most part, of restlessness and +discontent. We grow now in hot-houses roses which, in form and +color, are magnificent, and appear to be full of passion; yet one +simple June rose of the open air has for the Young Lady, I doubt not, +more sentiment and suggestion of love than a conservatory full of +them in January. And this suggestion, leavened as it is with the +inconstancy of nature, stimulated by the promises which are so often +like the peach-blossom of the Judas-tree, unsatisfying by reason of +its vague possibilities, differs so essentially from the more limited +and attainable and home-like emotion born of quiet intercourse by the +winter fireside, that I do not wonder the Young Lady feels as if some +spell had been broken by the transition of her life from in-doors to +out-doors. Her secret, if secret she has, which I do not at all +know, is shared by the birds and the new leaves and the blossoms on +the fruit trees. If we lived elsewhere, in that zone where the poets +pretend always to dwell, we might be content, perhaps I should say +drugged, by the sweet influences of an unchanging summer; but not +living elsewhere, we can understand why the Young Lady probably now +looks forward to the hearthstone as the most assured center of +enduring attachment. + +If it should ever become the sad duty of this biographer to write of +disappointed love, I am sure he would not have any sensational story +to tell of the Young Lady. She is one of those women whose +unostentatious lives are the chief blessing of humanity; who, with a +sigh heard only by herself and no change in her sunny face, would put +behind her all the memories of winter evenings and the promises of +May mornings, and give her life to some ministration of human +kindness with an assiduity that would make her occupation appear like +an election and a first choice. The disappointed man scowls, and +hates his race, and threatens self-destruction, choosing oftener the +flowing bowl than the dagger, and becoming a reeling nuisance in the +world. It would be much more manly in him to become the secretary of +a Dorcas society. + +I suppose it is true that women work for others with less expectation +of reward than men, and give themselves to labors of self-sacrifice +with much less thought of self. At least, this is true unless woman +goes into some public performance, where notoriety has its +attractions, and mounts some cause, to ride it man-fashion, when I +think she becomes just as eager for applause and just as willing that +self-sacrifice should result in self-elevation as man. For her, +usually, are not those unbought--presentations which are forced upon +firemen, philanthropists, legislators, railroad-men, and the +superintendents of the moral instruction of the young. These are +almost always pleasing and unexpected tributes to worth and modesty, +and must be received with satisfaction when the public service +rendered has not been with a view to procuring them. We should say +that one ought to be most liable to receive a "testimonial" who, +being a superintendent of any sort, did not superintend with a view +to getting it. But "testimonials" have become so common that a +modest man ought really to be afraid to do his simple duty, for fear +his motives will be misconstrued. Yet there are instances of very +worthy men who have had things publicly presented to them. It is the +blessed age of gifts and the reward of private virtue. And the +presentations have become so frequent that we wish there were a +little more variety in them. There never was much sense in giving a +gallant fellow a big speaking-trumpet to carry home to aid him in his +intercourse with his family; and the festive ice-pitcher has become a +too universal sign of absolute devotion to the public interest. The +lack of one will soon be proof that a man is a knave. The +legislative cane with the gold head, also, is getting to be +recognized as the sign of the immaculate public servant, as the +inscription on it testifies, and the steps of suspicion must ere-long +dog him who does not carry one. The "testimonial" business is, in +truth, a little demoralizing, almost as much so as the "donation;" +and the demoralization has extended even to our language, so that a +perfectly respectable man is often obliged to see himself "made the +recipient of" this and that. It would be much better, if +testimonials must be, to give a man a barrel of flour or a keg of +oysters, and let him eat himself at once back into the ranks of +ordinary men. + + + + +III + +We may have a testimonial class in time, a sort of nobility here in +America, made so by popular gift, the members of which will all be +able to show some stick or piece of plated ware or massive chain, "of +which they have been the recipients." In time it may be a +distinction not to belong to it, and it may come to be thought more +blessed to give than to receive. For it must have been remarked that +it is not always to the cleverest and the most amiable and modest man +that the deputation comes with the inevitable ice-pitcher (and +"salver to match"), which has in it the magic and subtle quality of +making the hour in which it is received the proudest of one's life. +There has not been discovered any method of rewarding all the +deserving people and bringing their virtues into the prominence of +notoriety. And, indeed, it would be an unreasonable world if there +had, for its chief charm and sweetness lie in the excellences in it +which are reluctantly disclosed; one of the chief pleasures of living +is in the daily discovery of good traits, nobilities, and kindliness +both in those we have long known and in the chance passenger whose +way happens for a day to lie with ours. The longer I live the more I +am impressed with the excess of human kindness over human hatred, and +the greater willingness to oblige than to disoblige that one meets at +every turn. The selfishness in politics, the jealousy in letters, +the bickering in art, the bitterness in theology, are all as nothing +compared to the sweet charities, sacrifices, and deferences of +private life. The people are few whom to know intimately is to +dislike. Of course you want to hate somebody, if you can, just to +keep your powers of discrimination bright, and to save yourself from +becoming a mere mush of good-nature; but perhaps it is well to hate +some historical person who has been dead so long as to be indifferent +to it. It is more comfortable to hate people we have never seen. I +cannot but think that Judas Iscariot has been of great service to the +world as a sort of buffer for moral indignation which might have made +a collision nearer home but for his utilized treachery. I used to +know a venerable and most amiable gentleman and scholar, whose +hospitable house was always overrun with wayside ministers, agents, +and philanthropists, who loved their fellow-men better than they +loved to work for their living; and he, I suspect, kept his moral +balance even by indulgence in violent but most distant dislikes. +When I met him casually in the street, his first salutation was +likely to be such as this: "What a liar that Alison was! Don't you +hate him?" And then would follow specifications of historical +inveracity enough to make one's blood run cold. When he was thus +discharged of his hatred by such a conductor, I presume he had not a +spark left for those whose mission was partly to live upon him and +other generous souls. + +Mandeville and I were talking of the unknown people, one rainy night +by the fire, while the Mistress was fitfully and interjectionally +playing with the piano-keys in an improvising mood. Mandeville has a +good deal of sentiment about him, and without any effort talks so +beautifully sometimes that I constantly regret I cannot report his +language. He has, besides, that sympathy of presence--I believe it +is called magnetism by those who regard the brain as only a sort of +galvanic battery--which makes it a greater pleasure to see him think, +if I may say so, than to hear some people talk. + +It makes one homesick in this world to think that there are so many +rare people he can never know; and so many excellent people that +scarcely any one will know, in fact. One discovers a friend by +chance, and cannot but feel regret that twenty or thirty years of +life maybe have been spent without the least knowledge of him. When +he is once known, through him opening is made into another little +world, into a circle of culture and loving hearts and enthusiasm in a +dozen congenial pursuits, and prejudices perhaps. How instantly and +easily the bachelor doubles his world when he marries, and enters +into the unknown fellowship of the to him continually increasing +company which is known in popular language as "all his wife's +relations." + +Near at hand daily, no doubt, are those worth knowing intimately, if +one had the time and the opportunity. And when one travels he sees +what a vast material there is for society and friendship, of which he +can never avail himself. Car-load after car-load of summer travel +goes by one at any railway-station, out of which he is sure he could +choose a score of life-long friends, if the conductor would introduce +him. There are faces of refinement, of quick wit, of sympathetic +kindness,--interesting people, traveled people, entertaining people, +--as you would say in Boston, "nice people you would admire to know," +whom you constantly meet and pass without a sign of recognition, many +of whom are no doubt your long-lost brothers and sisters. You can +see that they also have their worlds and their interests, and they +probably know a great many "nice" people. The matter of personal +liking and attachment is a good deal due to the mere fortune of +association. More fast friendships and pleasant acquaintanceships +are formed on the Atlantic steamships between those who would have +been only indifferent acquaintances elsewhere, than one would think +possible on a voyage which naturally makes one as selfish as he is +indifferent to his personal appearance. The Atlantic is the only +power on earth I know that can make a woman indifferent to her +personal appearance. + +Mandeville remembers, and I think without detriment to himself, the +glimpses he had in the White Mountains once of a young lady of whom +his utmost efforts could give him no further information than her +name. Chance sight of her on a passing stage or amid a group on some +mountain lookout was all he ever had, and he did not even know +certainly whether she was the perfect beauty and the lovely character +he thought her. He said he would have known her, however, at a great +distance; there was to her form that command of which we hear so much +and which turns out to be nearly all command after the "ceremony;" or +perhaps it was something in the glance of her eye or the turn of her +head, or very likely it was a sweet inherited reserve or hauteur that +captivated him, that filled his days with the expectation of seeing +her, and made him hasten to the hotel-registers in the hope that her +name was there recorded. Whatever it was, she interested him as one +of the people he would like to know; and it piqued him that there was +a life, rich in friendships, no doubt, in tastes, in many +noblenesses, one of thousands of such, that must be absolutely +nothing to him,--nothing but a window into heaven momentarily opened +and then closed. I have myself no idea that she was a countess +incognito, or that she had descended from any greater heights than +those where Mandeville saw her, but I have always regretted that she +went her way so mysteriously and left no glow, and that we shall wear +out the remainder of our days without her society. I have looked for +her name, but always in vain, among the attendants at the rights- +conventions, in the list of those good Americans presented at court, +among those skeleton names that appear as the remains of beauty in +the morning journals after a ball to the wandering prince, in the +reports of railway collisions and steamboat explosions. No news +comes of her. And so imperfect are our means of communication in +this world that, for anything we know, she may have left it long ago +by some private way. + + + + +IV + +The lasting regret that we cannot know more of the bright, sincere, +and genuine people of the world is increased by the fact that they +are all different from each other. Was it not Madame de Sevigne who +said she had loved several different women for several different +qualities? Every real person--for there are persons as there are +fruits that have no distinguishing flavor, mere gooseberries--has a +distinct quality, and the finding it is always like the discovery of +a new island to the voyager. The physical world we shall exhaust +some day, having a written description of every foot of it to which +we can turn; but we shall never get the different qualities of people +into a biographical dictionary, and the making acquaintance with a +human being will never cease to be an exciting experiment. We cannot +even classify men so as to aid us much in our estimate of them. The +efforts in this direction are ingenious, but unsatisfactory. If I +hear that a man is lymphatic or nervous-sanguine, I cannot tell +therefrom whether I shall like and trust him. He may produce a +phrenological chart showing that his knobby head is the home of all +the virtues, and that the vicious tendencies are represented by holes +in his cranium, and yet I cannot be sure that he will not be as +disagreeable as if phrenology had not been invented. I feel +sometimes that phrenology is the refuge of mediocrity. Its charts +are almost as misleading concerning character as photographs. And +photography may be described as the art which enables commonplace +mediocrity to look like genius. The heavy-jowled man with shallow +cerebrum has only to incline his head so that the lying instrument +can select a favorable focus, to appear in the picture with the brow +of a sage and the chin of a poet. Of all the arts for ministering to +human vanity the photographic is the most useful, but it is a poor +aid in the revelation of character. You shall learn more of a man's +real nature by seeing him walk once up the broad aisle of his church +to his pew on Sunday, than by studying his photograph for a month. + +No, we do not get any certain standard of men by a chart of their +temperaments; it will hardly answer to select a wife by the color of +her hair; though it be by nature as red as a cardinal's hat, she may +be no more constant than if it were dyed. The farmer who shuns all +the lymphatic beauties in his neighborhood, and selects to wife the +most nervous-sanguine, may find that she is unwilling to get up in +the winter mornings and make the kitchen fire. Many a man, even in +this scientific age which professes to label us all, has been cruelly +deceived in this way. Neither the blondes nor the brunettes act +according to the advertisement of their temperaments. The truth is +that men refuse to come under the classifications of the pseudo- +scientists, and all our new nomenclatures do not add much to our +knowledge. You know what to expect--if the comparison will be +pardoned--of a horse with certain points; but you wouldn't dare go on +a journey with a man merely upon the strength of knowing that his +temperament was the proper mixture of the sanguine and the +phlegmatic. Science is not able to teach us concerning men as it +teaches us of horses, though I am very far from saying that there are +not traits of nobleness and of meanness that run through families and +can be calculated to appear in individuals with absolute certainty; +one family will be trusty and another tricky through all its members +for generations; noble strains and ignoble strains are perpetuated. +When we hear that she has eloped with the stable-boy and married him, +we are apt to remark, "Well, she was a Bogardus." And when we read +that she has gone on a mission and has died, distinguishing herself +by some extraordinary devotion to the heathen at Ujiji, we think it +sufficient to say, "Yes, her mother married into the Smiths." But +this knowledge comes of our experience of special families, and +stands us in stead no further. + +If we cannot classify men scientifically and reduce them under a kind +of botanical order, as if they had a calculable vegetable +development, neither can we gain much knowledge of them by +comparison. It does not help me at all in my estimate of their +characters to compare Mandeville with the Young Lady, or Our Next +Door with the Parson. The wise man does not permit himself to set up +even in his own mind any comparison of his friends. His friendship +is capable of going to extremes with many people, evoked as it is by +many qualities. When Mandeville goes into my garden in June I can +usually find him in a particular bed of strawberries, but he does not +speak disrespectfully of the others. When Nature, says Mandeville, +consents to put herself into any sort of strawberry, I have no +criticisms to make, I am only glad that I have been created into the +same world with such a delicious manifestation of the Divine favor. +If I left Mandeville alone in the garden long enough, I have no doubt +he would impartially make an end of the fruit of all the beds, for +his capacity in this direction is as all-embracing as it is in the +matter of friendships. The Young Lady has also her favorite patch of +berries. And the Parson, I am sorry to say, prefers to have them +picked for him the elect of the garden--and served in an orthodox +manner. The straw-berry has a sort of poetical precedence, and I +presume that no fruit is jealous of it any more than any flower is +jealous of the rose; but I remark the facility with which liking for +it is transferred to the raspberry, and from the raspberry (not to +make a tedious enumeration) to the melon, and from the melon to the +grape, and the grape to the pear, and the pear to the apple. And we +do not mar our enjoyment of each by comparisons. + +Of course it would be a dull world if we could not criticise our +friends, but the most unprofitable and unsatisfactory criticism is +that by comparison. Criticism is not necessarily uncharitableness, +but a wholesome exercise of our powers of analysis and +discrimination. It is, however, a very idle exercise, leading to no +results when we set the qualities of one over against the qualities +of another, and disparage by contrast and not by independent +judgment. And this method of procedure creates jealousies and heart- +burnings innumerable. + +Criticism by comparison is the refuge of incapables, and especially +is this true in literature. It is a lazy way of disposing of a young +poet to bluntly declare, without any sort of discrimination of his +defects or his excellences, that he equals Tennyson, and that Scott +never wrote anything finer. What is the justice of damning a +meritorious novelist by comparing him with Dickens, and smothering +him with thoughtless and good-natured eulogy? The poet and the +novelist may be well enough, and probably have qualities and gifts of +their own which are worth the critic's attention, if he has any time +to bestow on them; and it is certainly unjust to subject them to a +comparison with somebody else, merely because the critic will not +take the trouble to ascertain what they are. If, indeed, the poet +and novelist are mere imitators of a model and copyists of a style, +they may be dismissed with such commendation as we bestow upon the +machines who pass their lives in making bad copies of the pictures of +the great painters. But the critics of whom we speak do not intend +depreciation, but eulogy, when they say that the author they have in +hand has the wit of Sydney Smith and the brilliancy of Macaulay. +Probably he is not like either of them, and may have a genuine though +modest virtue of his own; but these names will certainly kill him, +and he will never be anybody in the popular estimation. The public +finds out speedily that he is not Sydney Smith, and it resents the +extravagant claim for him as if he were an impudent pretender. How +many authors of fair ability to interest the world have we known in +our own day who have been thus sky-rocketed into notoriety by the +lazy indiscrimination of the critic-by-comparison, and then have sunk +into a popular contempt as undeserved! I never see a young aspirant +injudiciously compared to a great and resplendent name in literature, +but I feel like saying, My poor fellow, your days are few and full of +trouble; you begin life handicapped, and you cannot possibly run a +creditable race. + +I think this sort of critical eulogy is more damaging even than that +which kills by a different assumption, and one which is equally +common, namely, that the author has not done what he probably never +intended to do. It is well known that most of the trouble in life +comes from our inability to compel other people to do what we think +they ought, and it is true in criticism that we are unwilling to take +a book for what it is, and credit the author with that. When the +solemn critic, like a mastiff with a ladies' bonnet in his mouth, +gets hold of a light piece of verse, or a graceful sketch which +catches the humor of an hour for the entertainment of an hour, he +tears it into a thousand shreds. It adds nothing to human knowledge, +it solves none of the problems of life, it touches none of the +questions of social science, it is not a philosophical treatise, and +it is not a dozen things that it might have been. The critic cannot +forgive the author for this disrespect to him. This isn't a rose, +says the critic, taking up a pansy and rending it; it is not at all +like a rose, and the author is either a pretentious idiot or an +idiotic pretender. What business, indeed, has the author to send the +critic a bunch of sweet-peas, when he knows that a cabbage would be +preferred,--something not showy, but useful? + +A good deal of this is what Mandeville said and I am not sure that it +is devoid of personal feeling. He published, some years ago, a +little volume giving an account of a trip through the Great West, and +a very entertaining book it was. But one of the heavy critics got +hold of it, and made Mandeville appear, even to himself, he +confessed, like an ass, because there was nothing in the volume about +geology or mining prospects, and very little to instruct the student +of physical geography. With alternate sarcasm and ridicule, he +literally basted the author, till Mandeville said that he felt almost +like a depraved scoundrel, and thought he should be held up to less +execration if he had committed a neat and scientific murder. + +But I confess that I have a good deal of sympathy with the critics. +Consider what these public tasters have to endure! None of us, I +fancy, would like to be compelled to read all that they read, or to +take into our mouths, even with the privilege of speedily ejecting it +with a grimace, all that they sip. The critics of the vintage, who +pursue their calling in the dark vaults and amid mouldy casks, give +their opinion, for the most part, only upon wine, upon juice that has +matured and ripened into development of quality. But what crude, +unrestrained, unfermented--even raw and drugged liquor, must the +literary taster put to his unwilling lips day after day! + + + + +TENTH STUDY + + +I + +It was my good fortune once to visit a man who remembered the +rebellion of 1745. Lest this confession should make me seem very +aged, I will add that the visit took place in 1851, and that the man +was then one hundred and thirteen years old. He was quite a lad +before Dr. Johnson drank Mrs. Thrale's tea. That he was as old as he +had the credit of being, I have the evidence of my own senses (and I +am seldom mistaken in a person's age), of his own family, and his own +word; and it is incredible that so old a person, and one so +apparently near the grave, would deceive about his age. + +The testimony of the very aged is always to be received without +question, as Alexander Hamilton once learned. He was trying a +land-title with Aaron Burr, and two of the witnesses upon whom Burr +relied were venerable Dutchmen, who had, in their youth, carried the +surveying chains over the land in dispute, and who were now aged +respectively one hundred and four years and one hundred and six +years. Hamilton gently attempted to undervalue their testimony, but +he was instantly put down by the Dutch justice, who suggested that +Mr. Hamilton could not be aware of the age of the witnesses. + +My old man (the expression seems familiar and inelegant) had indeed +an exaggerated idea of his own age, and sometimes said that he +supposed he was going on four hundred, which was true enough, in +fact; but for the exact date, he referred to his youngest son,--a +frisky and humorsome lad of eighty years, who had received us at the +gate, and whom we had at first mistaken for the veteran, his father. +But when we beheld the old man, we saw the difference between age and +age. The latter had settled into a grizzliness and grimness which +belong to a very aged and stunted but sturdy oak-tree, upon the bark +of which the gray moss is thick and heavy. The old man appeared hale +enough, he could walk about, his sight and hearing were not seriously +impaired, he ate with relish) and his teeth were so sound that he +would not need a dentist for at least another century; but the moss +was growing on him. His boy of eighty seemed a green sapling beside +him. + +He remembered absolutely nothing that had taken place within thirty +years, but otherwise his mind was perhaps as good as it ever was, for +he must always have been an ignoramus, and would never know anything +if he lived to be as old as he said he was going on to be. Why he +was interested in the rebellion of 1745 I could not discover, for he +of course did not go over to Scotland to carry a pike in it, and he +only remembered to have heard it talked about as a great event in the +Irish market-town near which he lived, and to which he had ridden +when a boy. And he knew much more about the horse that drew him, and +the cart in which he rode, than he did about the rebellion of the +Pretender. + +I hope I do not appear to speak harshly of this amiable old man, and +if he is still living I wish him well, although his example was bad +in some respects. He had used tobacco for nearly a century, and the +habit has very likely been the death of him. If so, it is to be +regretted. For it would have been interesting to watch the process +of his gradual disintegration and return to the ground: the loss of +sense after sense, as decaying limbs fall from the oak; the failure +of discrimination, of the power of choice, and finally of memory +itself; the peaceful wearing out and passing away of body and mind +without disease, the natural running down of a man. The interesting +fact about him at that time was that his bodily powers seemed in +sufficient vigor, but that the mind had not force enough to manifest +itself through his organs. The complete battery was there, the +appetite was there, the acid was eating the zinc; but the electric +current was too weak to flash from the brain. And yet he appeared so +sound throughout, that it was difficult to say that his mind was not +as good as it ever had been. He had stored in it very little to feed +on, and any mind would get enfeebled by a century's rumination on a +hearsay idea of the rebellion of '45. + +It was possible with this man to fully test one's respect for age, +which is in all civilized nations a duty. And I found that my +feelings were mixed about him. I discovered in him a conceit in +regard to his long sojourn on this earth, as if it were somehow a +credit to him. In the presence of his good opinion of himself, I +could but question the real value of his continued life) to himself +or to others. If he ever had any friends he had outlived them, +except his boy; his wives--a century of them--were all dead; the +world had actually passed away for him. He hung on the tree like a +frost-nipped apple, which the farmer has neglected to gather. The +world always renews itself, and remains young. What relation had he +to it? + +I was delighted to find that this old man had never voted for George +Washington. I do not know that he had ever heard of him. Washington +may be said to have played his part since his time. I am not sure +that he perfectly remembered anything so recent as the American +Revolution. He was living quietly in Ireland during our French and +Indian wars, and he did not emigrate to this country till long after +our revolutionary and our constitutional struggles were over. The +Rebellion Of '45 was the great event of the world for him, and of +that he knew nothing. + +I intend no disrespect to this man,--a cheerful and pleasant enough +old person,--but he had evidently lived himself out of the world, as +completely as people usually die out of it. His only remaining value +was to the moralist, who might perchance make something out of him. +I suppose if he had died young, he would have been regretted, and his +friends would have lamented that he did not fill out his days in the +world, and would very likely have called him back, if tears and +prayers could have done so. They can see now what his prolonged life +amounted to, and how the world has closed up the gap he once filled +while he still lives in it. + +A great part of the unhappiness of this world consists in regret for +those who depart, as it seems to us, prematurely. We imagine that if +they would return, the old conditions would be restored. But would +it be so? If they, in any case, came back, would there be any place +for them? The world so quickly readjusts itself after any loss, that +the return of the departed would nearly always throw it, even the +circle most interested, into confusion. Are the Enoch Ardens ever +wanted? + + + + +II + +A popular notion akin to this, that the world would have any room for +the departed if they should now and then return, is the constant +regret that people will not learn by the experience of others, that +one generation learns little from the preceding, and that youth never +will adopt the experience of age. But if experience went for +anything, we should all come to a standstill; for there is nothing so +discouraging to effort. Disbelief in Ecclesiastes is the mainspring +of action. In that lies the freshness and the interest of life, and +it is the source of every endeavor. + +If the boy believed that the accumulation of wealth and the +acquisition of power were what the old man says they are, the world +would very soon be stagnant. If he believed that his chances of +obtaining either were as poor as the majority of men find them to be, +ambition would die within him. It is because he rejects the +experience of those who have preceded him, that the world is kept in +the topsy-turvy condition which we all rejoice in, and which we call +progress. + +And yet I confess I have a soft place in my heart for that rare +character in our New England life who is content with the world as he +finds it, and who does not attempt to appropriate any more of it to +himself than he absolutely needs from day to day. He knows from the +beginning that the world could get on without him, and he has never +had any anxiety to leave any result behind him, any legacy for the +world to quarrel over. + +He is really an exotic in our New England climate and society, and +his life is perpetually misunderstood by his neighbors, because he +shares none of their uneasiness about getting on in life. He is even +called lazy, good-for-nothing, and "shiftless,"--the final stigma +that we put upon a person who has learned to wait without the +exhausting process of laboring. + +I made his acquaintance last summer in the country, and I have not in +a long time been so well pleased with any of our species. He was a +man past middle life, with a large family. He had always been from +boyhood of a contented and placid mind, slow in his movements, slow +in his speech. I think he never cherished a hard feeling toward +anybody, nor envied any one, least of all the rich and prosperous +about whom he liked to talk. Indeed, his talk was a good deal about +wealth, especially about his cousin who had been down South and "got +fore-handed" within a few years. He was genuinely pleased at his +relation's good luck, and pointed him out to me with some pride. But +he had no envy of him, and he evinced no desire to imitate him. I +inferred from all his conversation about "piling it up" (of which he +spoke with a gleam of enthusiasm in his eye), that there were moments +when he would like to be rich himself; but it was evident that he +would never make the least effort to be so, and I doubt if he could +even overcome that delicious inertia of mind and body called +laziness, sufficiently to inherit. + +Wealth seemed to have a far and peculiar fascination for him, and I +suspect he was a visionary in the midst of his poverty. Yet I +suppose he had--hardly the personal property which the law exempts +from execution. He had lived in a great many towns, moving from one +to another with his growing family, by easy stages, and was always +the poorest man in the town, and lived on the most niggardly of its +rocky and bramble-grown farms, the productiveness of which he reduced +to zero in a couple of seasons by his careful neglect of culture. +The fences of his hired domain always fell into ruins under him, +perhaps because he sat on them so much, and the hovels he occupied +rotted down during his placid residence in them. He moved from +desolation to desolation, but carried always with him the equal mind +of a philosopher. Not even the occasional tart remarks of his wife, +about their nomadic life and his serenity in the midst of discomfort, +could ruffle his smooth spirit. + +He was, in every respect, a most worthy man, truthful, honest, +temperate, and, I need not say, frugal; and he had no bad habits,-- +perhaps he never had energy enough to acquire any. Nor did he lack +the knack of the Yankee race. He could make a shoe, or build a +house, or doctor a cow; but it never seemed to him, in this brief +existence, worth while to do any of these things. He was an +excellent angler, but he rarely fished; partly because of the +shortness of days, partly on account of the uncertainty of bites, but +principally because the trout brooks were all arranged lengthwise and +ran over so much ground. But no man liked to look at a string of +trout better than he did, and he was willing to sit down in a sunny +place and talk about trout-fishing half a day at a time, and he would +talk pleasantly and well too, though his wife might be continually +interrupting him by a call for firewood. + +I should not do justice to his own idea of himself if I did not add +that he was most respectably connected, and that he had a justifiable +though feeble pride in his family. It helped his self-respect, which +no ignoble circumstances could destroy. He was, as must appear by +this time, a most intelligent man, and he was a well-informed man; +that is to say, he read the weekly newspapers when he could get them, +and he had the average country information about Beecher and Greeley +and the Prussian war (" Napoleon is gettin' on't, ain't he?"), and +the general prospect of the election campaigns. Indeed, he was +warmly, or rather luke-warmly, interested in politics. He liked to +talk about the inflated currency, and it seemed plain to him that his +condition would somehow be improved if we could get to a specie +basis. He was, in fact, a little troubled by the national debt; it +seemed to press on him somehow, while his own never did. He +exhibited more animation over the affairs of the government than he +did over his own,--an evidence at once of his disinterestedness and +his patriotism. He had been an old abolitionist, and was strong on +the rights of free labor, though he did not care to exercise his +privilege much. Of course he had the proper contempt for the poor +whites down South. I never saw a person with more correct notions on +such a variety of subjects. He was perfectly willing that churches +(being himself a member), and Sunday-schools, and missionary +enterprises should go on; in fact, I do not believe he ever opposed +anything in his life. No one was more willing to vote town taxes and +road-repairs and schoolhouses than he. If you could call him +spirited at all, he was public-spirited. + +And with all this he was never very well; he had, from boyhood, +"enjoyed poor health." You would say he was not a man who would ever +catch anything, not even an epidemic; but he was a person whom +diseases would be likely to overtake, even the slowest of slow +fevers. And he was n't a man to shake off anything. And yet +sickness seemed to trouble him no more than poverty. He was not +discontented; he never grumbled. I am not sure but he relished a +"spell of sickness" in haying-time. + +An admirably balanced man, who accepts the world as it is, and +evidently lives on the experience of others. I have never seen a man +with less envy, or more cheerfulness, or so contented with as little +reason for being so. The only drawback to his future is that rest +beyond the grave will not be much change for him, and he has no works +to follow him. + + + + +III + +This Yankee philosopher, who, without being a Brahmin, had, in an +uncongenial atmosphere, reached the perfect condition of Nirvina, +reminded us all of the ancient sages; and we queried whether a world +that could produce such as he, and could, beside, lengthen a man's +years to one hundred and thirteen, could fairly be called an old and +worn-out world, having long passed the stage of its primeval poetry +and simplicity. Many an Eastern dervish has, I think, got +immortality upon less laziness and resignation than this temporary +sojourner in Massachusetts. It is a common notion that the world +(meaning the people in it) has become tame and commonplace, lost its +primeval freshness and epigrammatic point. Mandeville, in his +argumentative way, dissents from this entirely. He says that the +world is more complex, varied, and a thousand times as interesting as +it was in what we call its youth, and that it is as fresh, as +individual and capable of producing odd and eccentric characters as +ever. He thought the creative vim had not in any degree abated, that +both the types of men and of nations are as sharply stamped and +defined as ever they were. + +Was there ever, he said, in the past, any figure more clearly cut and +freshly minted than the Yankee? Had the Old World anything to show +more positive and uncompromising in all the elements of character +than the Englishman? And if the edges of these were being rounded +off, was there not developing in the extreme West a type of men +different from all preceding, which the world could not yet define? +He believed that the production of original types was simply +infinite. + +Herbert urged that he must at least admit that there was a freshness +of legend and poetry in what we call the primeval peoples that is +wanting now; the mythic period is gone, at any rate. + +Mandeville could not say about the myths. We couldn't tell what +interpretation succeeding ages would put upon our lives and history +and literature when they have become remote and shadowy. But we need +not go to antiquity for epigrammatic wisdom, or for characters as +racy of the fresh earth as those handed down to us from the dawn of +history. He would put Benjamin Franklin against any of the sages of +the mythic or the classic period. He would have been perfectly at +home in ancient Athens, as Socrates would have been in modern Boston. +There might have been more heroic characters at the siege of Troy +than Abraham Lincoln, but there was not one more strongly marked +individually; not one his superior in what we call primeval craft and +humor. He was just the man, if he could not have dislodged Priam by +a writ of ejectment, to have invented the wooden horse, and then to +have made Paris the hero of some ridiculous story that would have set +all Asia in a roar. + +Mandeville said further, that as to poetry, he did not know much +about that, and there was not much he cared to read except parts of +Shakespeare and Homer, and passages of Milton. But it did seem to +him that we had men nowadays, who could, if they would give their +minds to it, manufacture in quantity the same sort of epigrammatic +sayings and legends that our scholars were digging out of the Orient. +He did not know why Emerson in antique setting was not as good as +Saadi. Take for instance, said Mandeville, such a legend as this, +and how easy it would be to make others like it: + +The son of an Emir had red hair, of which he was ashamed, and wished +to dye it. But his father said: "Nay, my son, rather behave in such +a manner that all fathers shall wish their sons had red hair." + +This was too absurd. Mandeville had gone too far, except in the +opinion of Our Next Door, who declared that an imitation was just as +good as an original, if you could not detect it. But Herbert said +that the closer an imitation is to an original, the more unendurable +it is. But nobody could tell exactly why. + +The Fire-Tender said that we are imposed on by forms. The nuggets of +wisdom that are dug out of the Oriental and remote literatures would +often prove to be only commonplace if stripped of their quaint +setting. If you gave an Oriental twist to some of our modern +thought, its value would be greatly enhanced for many people. + +I have seen those, said the Mistress, who seem to prefer dried fruit +to fresh; but I like the strawberry and the peach of each season, and +for me the last is always the best. + +Even the Parson admitted that there were no signs of fatigue or decay +in the creative energy of the world; and if it is a question of +Pagans, he preferred Mandeville to Saadi. + + + + +ELEVENTH STUDY + + +It happened, or rather, to tell the truth, it was contrived,--for I +have waited too long for things to turn up to have much faith in +"happen," that we who have sat by this hearthstone before should all +be together on Christmas eve. There was a splendid backlog of +hickory just beginning to burn with a glow that promised to grow more +fiery till long past midnight, which would have needed no apology in +a loggers' camp,--not so much as the religion of which a lady (in a +city which shall be nameless) said, "If you must have a religion, +this one will do nicely." + +There was not much conversation, as is apt to be the case when people +come together who have a great deal to say, and are intimate enough +to permit the freedom of silence. It was Mandeville who suggested +that we read something, and the Young Lady, who was in a mood to +enjoy her own thoughts, said, "Do." And finally it came about that +the Fire Tender, without more resistance to the urging than was +becoming, went to his library, and returned with a manuscript, from +which he read the story of + + +MY UNCLE IN INDIA + +Not that it is my uncle, let me explain. It is Polly's uncle, as I +very well know, from the many times she has thrown him up to me, and +is liable so to do at any moment. Having small expectations myself, +and having wedded Polly when they were smaller, I have come to feel +the full force, the crushing weight, of her lightest remark about "My +Uncle in India." The words as I write them convey no idea of the +tone in which they fall upon my ears. I think it is the only fault +of that estimable woman, that she has an "uncle in India" and does +not let him quietly remain there. I feel quite sure that if I had an +uncle in Botany Bay, I should never, never throw him up to Polly in +the way mentioned. If there is any jar in our quiet life, he is the +cause of it; all along of possible "expectations" on the one side +calculated to overawe the other side not having expectations. And +yet I know that if her uncle in India were this night to roll a +barrel of "India's golden sands," as I feel that he any moment may +do, into our sitting-room, at Polly's feet, that charming wife, who +is more generous than the month of May, and who has no thought but +for my comfort in two worlds, would straightway make it over to me, +to have and to hold, if I could lift it, forever and forever. And +that makes it more inexplicable that she, being a woman, will +continue to mention him in the way she does. + +In a large and general way I regard uncles as not out of place in +this transitory state of existence. They stand for a great many +possible advantages. They are liable to "tip" you at school, they +are resources in vacation, they come grandly in play about the +holidays, at which season mv heart always did warm towards them with +lively expectations, which were often turned into golden solidities; +and then there is always the prospect, sad to a sensitive mind, that +uncles are mortal, and, in their timely taking off, may prove as +generous in the will as they were in the deed. And there is always +this redeeming possibility in a niggardly uncle. Still there must be +something wrong in the character of the uncle per se, or all history +would not agree that nepotism is such a dreadful thing. + +But, to return from this unnecessary digression, I am reminded that +the charioteer of the patient year has brought round the holiday +time. It has been a growing year, as most years are. It is very +pleasant to see how the shrubs in our little patch of ground widen +and thicken and bloom at the right time, and to know that the great +trees have added a laver to their trunks. To be sure, our garden,-- +which I planted under Polly's directions, with seeds that must have +been patented, and I forgot to buy the right of, for they are mostly +still waiting the final resurrection,--gave evidence that it shared +in the misfortune of the Fall, and was never an Eden from which one +would have required to have been driven. It was the easiest garden +to keep the neighbor's pigs and hens out of I ever saw. If its +increase was small its temptations were smaller, and that is no +little recommendation in this world of temptations. But, as a +general thing, everything has grown, except our house. That little +cottage, over which Polly presides with grace enough to adorn a +palace, is still small outside and smaller inside; and if it has an +air of comfort and of neatness, and its rooms are cozy and sunny by +day and cheerful by night, and it is bursting with books, and not +unattractive with modest pictures on the walls, which we think do +well enough until my uncle--(but never mind my uncle, now),--and if, +in the long winter evenings, when the largest lamp is lit, and the +chestnuts glow in embers, and the kid turns on the spit, and the +house-plants are green and flowering, and the ivy glistens in the +firelight, and Polly sits with that contented, far-away look in her +eyes that I like to see, her fingers busy upon one of those cruel +mysteries which have delighted the sex since Penelope, and I read in +one of my fascinating law-books, or perhaps regale ourselves with a +taste of Montaigne,--if all this is true, there are times when the +cottage seems small; though I can never find that Polly thinks so, +except when she sometimes says that she does not know where she +should bestow her uncle in it, if he should suddenly come back from +India. + +There it is, again. I sometimes think that my wife believes her +uncle in India to be as large as two ordinary men; and if her ideas +of him are any gauge of the reality, there is no place in the town +large enough for him except the Town Hall. She probably expects him +to come with his bungalow, and his sedan, and his palanquin, and his +elephants, and his retinue of servants, and his principalities, and +his powers, and his ha--(no, not that), and his chowchow, and his--I +scarcely know what besides. + +Christmas eve was a shiny cold night, a creaking cold night, a +placid, calm, swingeing cold night. + +Out-doors had gone into a general state of crystallization. The +snow-fields were like the vast Arctic ice-fields that Kane looked on, +and lay sparkling under the moonlight, crisp and Christmasy, and all +the crystals on the trees and bushes hung glistening, as if ready, at +a breath of air, to break out into metallic ringing, like a million +silver joy-bells. I mentioned the conceit to Polly, as we stood at +the window, and she said it reminded her of Jean Paul. She is a +woman of most remarkable discernment. + +Christmas is a great festival at our house in a small way. Among the +many delightful customs we did not inherit from our Pilgrim Fathers, +there is none so pleasant as that of giving presents at this season. +It is the most exciting time of the year. No one is too rich to +receive something, and no one too poor to give a trifle. And in the +act of giving and receiving these tokens of regard, all the world is +kin for once, and brighter for this transient glow of generosity. +Delightful custom! Hard is the lot of childhood that knows nothing +of the visits of Kriss Kringle, or the stockings hung by the chimney +at night; and cheerless is any age that is not brightened by some +Christmas gift, however humble. What a mystery of preparation there +is in the preceding days, what planning and plottings of surprises! +Polly and I keep up the custom in our simple way, and great is the +perplexity to express the greatest amount of affection with a limited +outlay. For the excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness +rather than in its value. As we stood by the window that night, we +wondered what we should receive this year, and indulged in I know not +what little hypocrisies and deceptions. + +I wish, said Polly, "that my uncle in India would send me a +camel's-hair shawl, or a string of pearls, each as big as the end of +my thumb." + +"Or a white cow, which would give golden milk, that would make butter +worth seventy-five cents a pound," I added, as we drew the curtains, +and turned to our chairs before the open fire. + +It is our custom on every Christmas eve--as I believe I have +somewhere said, or if I have not, I say it again, as the member from +Erin might remark--to read one of Dickens's Christmas stories. And +this night, after punching the fire until it sent showers of sparks +up the chimney, I read the opening chapter of "Mrs. Lirriper's +Lodgings," in my best manner, and handed the book to Polly to +continue; for I do not so much relish reading aloud the succeeding +stories of Mr. Dickens's annual budget, since he wrote them, as men +go to war in these days, by substitute. And Polly read on, in her +melodious voice, which is almost as pleasant to me as the Wasser- +fluth of Schubert, which she often plays at twilight; and I looked +into the fire, unconsciously constructing stories of my own out of +the embers. And her voice still went on, in a sort of running +accompaniment to my airy or fiery fancies. + +"Sleep?" said Polly, stopping, with what seemed to me a sort of +crash, in which all the castles tumbled into ashes. + +"Not in the least," I answered brightly never heard anything more +agreeable." And the reading flowed on and on and on, and I looked +steadily into the fire, the fire, fire, fi.... + +Suddenly the door opened, and into our cozy parlor walked the most +venerable personage I ever laid eyes on, who saluted me with great +dignity. Summer seemed to have burst into the room, and I was +conscious of a puff of Oriental airs, and a delightful, languid +tranquillity. I was not surprised that the figure before me was clad +in full turban, baggy drawers, and a long loose robe, girt about the +middle with a rich shawl. Followed him a swart attendant, who +hastened to spread a rug upon which my visitor sat down, with great +gravity, as I am informed they do in farthest Ind. The slave then +filled the bowl of a long-stemmed chibouk, and, handing it to his +master, retired behind him and began to fan him with the most +prodigious palm-leaf I ever saw. Soon the fumes of the delicate +tobacco of Persia pervaded the room, like some costly aroma which you +cannot buy, now the entertainment of the Arabian Nights is +discontinued. + +Looking through the window I saw, if I saw anything, a palanquin at +our door, and attendant on it four dusky, half-naked bearers, who did +not seem to fancy the splendor of the night, for they jumped about on +the snow crust, and I could see them shiver and shake in the keen +air. Oho! thought!, this, then, is my uncle from India! + +"Yes, it is," now spoke my visitor extraordinary, in a gruff, harsh +voice. + +"I think I have heard Polly speak of you," I rejoined, in an attempt +to be civil, for I did n't like his face any better than I did his +voice,--a red, fiery, irascible kind of face. + +"Yes I've come over to O Lord,--quick, Jamsetzee, lift up that foot,- +-take care. There, Mr. Trimings, if that's your name, get me a +glass of brandy, stiff." + +I got him our little apothecary-labeled bottle and poured out enough +to preserve a whole can of peaches. My uncle took it down without a +wink, as if it had been water, and seemed relieved. It was a very +pleasant uncle to have at our fireside on Christmas eve, I felt. + +At a motion from my uncle, Jamsetzee handed me a parcel which I saw +was directed to Polly, which I untied, and lo! the most wonderful +camel's-hair shawl that ever was, so fine that I immediately drew it +through my finger-ring, and so large that I saw it would entirely +cover our little room if I spread it out; a dingy red color, but +splendid in appearance from the little white hieroglyphic worked in +one corner, which is always worn outside, to show that it cost nobody +knows how many thousands of dollars. + +"A Christmas trifle for Polly. I have come home--as I was saying +when that confounded twinge took me--to settle down; and I intend to +make Polly my heir, and live at my ease and enjoy life. Move that +leg a little, Jamsetzee." + +I meekly replied that I had no doubt Polly would be delighted to see +her dear uncle, and as for inheriting, if it came to that, I did n't +know any one with a greater capacity for that than she. + +"That depends," said the gruff old smoker, "how I like ye. A +fortune, scraped up in forty years in Ingy, ain't to be thrown away +in a minute. But what a house this is to live in!"; the +uncomfortable old relative went on, throwing a contemptuous glance +round the humble cottage. "Is this all of it?" + +"In the winter it is all of it," I said, flushing up; but in the +summer, when the doors and windows are open, it is as large as +anybody's house. And," I went on, with some warmth, "it was large +enough just before you came in, and pleasant enough. And besides, I +said, rising into indignation, "you can not get anything much better +in this city short of eight hundred dollars a year, payable first +days of January, April, July, and October, in advance, and my +salary...." + +"Hang your salary, and confound your impudence and your seven-by-nine +hovel! Do you think you have anything to say about the use of my +money, scraped up in forty years in Ingy? THINGS HAVE GOT TO BE +CHANGED!" he burst out, in a voice that rattled the glasses on the +sideboard. + +I should think they were. Even as I looked into the little fireplace +it enlarged, and there was an enormous grate, level with the floor, +glowing with seacoal; and a magnificent mantel carved in oak, old and +brown; and over it hung a landscape, wide, deep, summer in the +foreground with all the gorgeous coloring of the tropics, and beyond +hills of blue and far mountains lying in rosy light. I held my +breath as I looked down the marvelous perspective. Looking round for +a second, I caught a glimpse of a Hindoo at each window, who vanished +as if they had been whisked off by enchantment; and the close walls +that shut us in fled away. Had cohesion and gravitation given out? +Was it the "Great Consummation" of the year 18-? It was all like the +swift transformation of a dream, and I pinched my arm to make sure +that I was not the subject of some diablerie. + +The little house was gone; but that I scarcely minded, for I had +suddenly come into possession of my wife's castle in Spain. I sat in +a spacious, lofty apartment, furnished with a princely magnificence. +Rare pictures adorned the walls, statues looked down from deep +niches, and over both the dark ivy of England ran and drooped in +graceful luxuriance. Upon the heavy tables were costly, illuminated +volumes; luxurious chairs and ottomans invited to easy rest; and upon +the ceiling Aurora led forth all the flower-strewing daughters of the +dawn in brilliant frescoes. Through the open doors my eyes wandered +into magnificent apartment after apartment. There to the south, +through folding-doors, was the splendid library, with groined roof, +colored light streaming in through painted windows, high shelves +stowed with books, old armor hanging on the walls, great carved oaken +chairs about a solid oaken table, and beyond a conservatory of +flowers and plants with a fountain springing in the center, the +splashing of whose waters I could hear. Through the open windows I +looked upon a lawn, green with close-shaven turf, set with ancient +trees, and variegated with parterres of summer plants in bloom. It +was the month of June, and the smell of roses was in the air. + +I might have thought it only a freak of my fancy, but there by the +fireplace sat a stout, red-faced, puffy-looking man, in the ordinary +dress of an English gentleman, whom I had no difficulty in +recognizing as my uncle from India. + +"One wants a fire every day in the year in this confounded climate," +remarked that amiable old person, addressing no one in particular. + +I had it on my lips to suggest that I trusted the day would come when +he would have heat enough to satisfy him, in permanent supply. I +wish now that I had. + +I think things had changed. For now into this apartment, full of the +morning sunshine, came sweeping with the air of a countess born, and +a maid of honor bred, and a queen in expectancy, my Polly, stepping +with that lofty grace which I always knew she possessed, but which +she never had space to exhibit in our little cottage, dressed with +that elegance and richness that I should not have deemed possible to +the most Dutch duchess that ever lived, and, giving me a complacent +nod of recognition, approached her uncle, and said in her smiling, +cheery way, "How is the dear uncle this morning?" And, as she spoke, +she actually bent down and kissed his horrid old cheek, red-hot with +currie and brandy and all the biting pickles I can neither eat nor +name, kissed him, and I did not turn into stone. + +"Comfortable as the weather will permit, my darling!"--and again I +did not turn into stone. + +"Wouldn't uncle like to take a drive this charming morning?" Polly +asked. + +Uncle finally grunted out his willingness, and Polly swept away again +to prepare for the drive, taking no more notice of me than if I had +been a poor assistant office lawyer on a salary. And soon the +carriage was at the door, and my uncle, bundled up like a mummy, and +the charming Polly drove gayly away. + +How pleasant it is to be married rich, I thought, as I arose and +strolled into the library, where everything was elegant and prim and +neat, with no scraps of paper and piles of newspapers or evidences of +literary slovenness on the table, and no books in attractive +disorder, and where I seemed to see the legend staring at me from all +the walls, "No smoking." So I uneasily lounged out of the house. +And a magnificent house it was, a palace, rather, that seemed to +frown upon and bully insignificant me with its splendor, as I walked +away from it towards town. + +And why town? There was no use of doing anything at the dingy +office. Eight hundred dollars a year! It wouldn't keep Polly in +gloves, let alone dressing her for one of those fashionable +entertainments to which we went night after night. And so, after a +weary day with nothing in it, I went home to dinner, to find my uncle +quite chirruped up with his drive, and Polly regnant, sublimely +engrossed in her new world of splendor, a dazzling object of +admiration to me, but attentive and even tender to that +hypochondriacal, gouty old subject from India. + +Yes, a magnificent dinner, with no end of servants, who seemed to +know that I couldn't have paid the wages of one of them, and plate +and courses endless. I say, a miserable dinner, on the edge of which +seemed to sit by permission of somebody, like an invited poor +relation, who wishes he had sent a regret, and longing for some of +those nice little dishes that Polly used to set before me with +beaming face, in the dear old days. + +And after dinner, and proper attention to the comfort for the night +of our benefactor, there was the Blibgims's party. No long, +confidential interviews, as heretofore, as to what she should wear +and what I should wear, and whether it would do to wear it again. +And Polly went in one coach, and I in another. No crowding into the +hired hack, with all the delightful care about tumbling dresses, and +getting there in good order; and no coming home together to our +little cozy cottage, in a pleasant, excited state of "flutteration," +and sitting down to talk it all over, and "Was n't it nice?" and "Did +I look as well as anybody?" and "Of course you did to me," and all +that nonsense. We lived in a grand way now, and had our separate +establishments and separate plans, and I used to think that a real +separation couldn't make matters much different. Not that Polly +meant to be any different, or was, at heart; but, you know, she was +so much absorbed in her new life of splendor, and perhaps I was a +little old-fashioned. + +I don't wonder at it now, as I look back. There was an army of +dressmakers to see, and a world of shopping to do, and a houseful of +servants to manage, and all the afternoon for calls, and her dear, +dear friend, with the artless manners and merry heart of a girl, and +the dignity and grace of a noble woman, the dear friend who lived in +the house of the Seven Gables, to consult about all manner of im- +portant things. I could not, upon my honor, see that there was any +place for me, and I went my own way, not that there was much comfort +in it. + +And then I would rather have had charge of a hospital ward than take +care of that uncle. Such coddling as he needed, such humoring of +whims. And I am bound to say that Polly could n't have been more +dutiful to him if he had been a Hindoo idol. She read to him and +talked to him, and sat by him with her embroidery, and was patient +with his crossness, and wearied herself, that I could see, with her +devoted ministrations. + +I fancied sometimes she was tired of it, and longed for the old +homely simplicity. I was. Nepotism had no charms for me. There was +nothing that I could get Polly that she had not. I could surprise +her with no little delicacies or trifles, delightedly bought with +money saved for the purpose. There was no more coming home weary +with office work and being met at the door with that warm, loving +welcome which the King of England could not buy. There was no long +evening when we read alternately from some favorite book, or laid our +deep housekeeping plans, rejoiced in a good bargain or made light of +a poor one, and were contented and merry with little. I recalled +with longing my little den, where in the midst of the literary +disorder I love, I wrote those stories for the "Antarctic" which +Polly, if nobody else, liked to read. There was no comfort for me in +my magnificent library. We were all rich and in splendor, and our +uncle had come from India. I wished, saving his soul, that the ship +that brought him over had foundered off Barnegat Light. It would +always have been a tender and regretful memory to both of us. And +how sacred is the memory of such a loss! + +Christmas? What delight could I have in long solicitude and +ingenious devices touching a gift for Polly within my means, and +hitting the border line between her necessities and her extravagant +fancy? A drove of white elephants would n't have been good enough +for her now, if each one carried a castle on his back. + +"--and so they were married, and in their snug cottage lived happy +ever after."--It was Polly's voice, as she closed the book. + +"There, I don't believe you have heard a word of it," she said half +complaininglv. + +"Oh, yes, I have," I cried, starting up and giving the fire a jab +with the poker; "I heard every word of it, except a few at the close +I was thinking"--I stopped, and looked round. + +"Why, Polly, where is the camel's-hair shawl?" + +"Camel's-hair fiddlestick! Now I know you have been asleep for an +hour." + +And, sure enough, there was n't anv camel's-hair shawl there, nor any +uncle, nor were there any Hindoos at our windows. + +And then I told Polly all about it; how her uncle came back, and we +were rich and lived in a palace and had no end of money, but she +didn't seem to have time to love me in it all, and all the comfort of +the little house was blown away as by the winter wind. And Polly +vowed, half in tears, that she hoped her uncle never would come back, +and she wanted nothing that we had not, and she wouldn't exchange our +independent comfort and snug house, no, not for anybody's mansion. +And then and there we made it all up, in a manner too particular for +me to mention; and I never, to this day, heard Polly allude to My +Uncle in India. + +And then, as the clock struck eleven, we each produced from the place +where we had hidden them the modest Christmas gifts we had prepared +for each other, and what surprise there was! "Just the thing I +needed." And, "It's perfectly lovely." And, "You should n't have +done it." And, then, a question I never will answer, "Ten? fifteen? +five? twelve?" "My dear, it cost eight hundred dollars, for I have +put my whole year into it, and I wish it was a thousand times +better." + +And so, when the great iron tongue of the city bell swept over the +snow the twelve strokes that announced Christmas day, if there was +anywhere a happier home than ours, I am glad of it! + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Backlog Studies, by C. D. Warner + diff --git a/old/cwbls10.zip b/old/cwbls10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5bb747c --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cwbls10.zip diff --git a/old/cwbls11.txt b/old/cwbls11.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f27639d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cwbls11.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5807 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Backlog Studies by C. D. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.10/04/01*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + + + + + +NOTE: This work was previously published in [Etext #2671] +The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner Volume 1., +Project Gutenberg The Complete Writings of Charles Dudley Warner +1warn10.txt or 1warn10.zip + + + + + +BACKLOG STUDIES + +By Charles Dudley Warner + + + +FIRST STUDY + +I + +The fire on the hearth has almost gone out in New England; the hearth +has gone out; the family has lost its center; age ceases to be +respected; sex is only distinguished by a difference between +millinery bills and tailors' bills; there is no more toast-and-cider; +the young are not allowed to eat mince-pies at ten o'clock at night; +half a cheese is no longer set to toast before the fire; you scarcely +ever see in front of the coals a row of roasting apples, which a +bright little girl, with many a dive and start, shielding her sunny +face from the fire with one hand, turns from time to time; scarce are +the gray-haired sires who strop their razors on the family Bible, and +doze in the chimney-corner. A good many things have gone out with +the fire on the hearth. + +I do not mean to say that public and private morality have vanished +with the hearth. A good degree of purity and considerable happiness +are possible with grates and blowers; it is a day of trial, when we +are all passing through a fiery furnace, and very likely we shall be +purified as we are dried up and wasted away. Of course the family is +gone, as an institution, though there still are attempts to bring up +a family round a "register." But you might just as well try to bring +it up by hand, as without the rallying-point of a hearthstone. Are +there any homesteads nowadays? Do people hesitate to change houses +any more than they do to change their clothes? People hire houses as +they would a masquerade costume, liking, sometimes, to appear for a +year in a little fictitious stone-front splendor above their means. +Thus it happens that so many people live in houses that do not fit +them. I should almost as soon think of wearing another person's +clothes as his house; unless I could let it out and take it in until +it fitted, and somehow expressed my own character and taste. But we +have fallen into the days of conformity. It is no wonder that people +constantly go into their neighbors' houses by mistake, just as, in +spite of the Maine law, they wear away each other's hats from an +evening party. It has almost come to this, that you might as well be +anybody else as yourself. + +Am I mistaken in supposing that this is owing to the discontinuance +of big chimneys, with wide fireplaces in them? How can a person be +attached to a house that has no center of attraction, no soul in it, +in the visible form of a glowing fire, and a warm chimney, like the +heart in the body? When you think of the old homestead, if you ever +do, your thoughts go straight to the wide chimney and its burning +logs. No wonder that you are ready to move from one fireplaceless +house into another. But you have something just as good, you say. +Yes, I have heard of it. This age, which imitates everything, even +to the virtues of our ancestors, has invented a fireplace, with +artificial, iron, or composition logs in it, hacked and painted, in +which gas is burned, so that it has the appearance of a wood-fire. +This seems to me blasphemy. Do you think a cat would lie down before +it? Can you poke it? If you can't poke it, it is a fraud. To poke +a wood-fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the +world. The crowning human virtue in a man is to let his wife poke +the fire. I do not know how any virtue whatever is possible over an +imitation gas-log. What a sense of insincerity the family must have, +if they indulge in the hypocrisy of gathering about it. With this +center of untruthfulness, what must the life in the family be? +Perhaps the father will be living at the rate of ten thousand a year +on a salary of four thousand; perhaps the mother, more beautiful and +younger than her beautified daughters, will rouge; perhaps the young +ladies will make wax-work. A cynic might suggest as the motto of +modern life this simple legend,--"just as good as the real." But I am +not a cynic, and I hope for the rekindling of wood-fires, and a +return of the beautiful home light from them. If a wood-fire is a +luxury, it is cheaper than many in which we indulge without thought, +and cheaper than the visits of a doctor, made necessary by the want +of ventilation of the house. Not that I have anything against +doctors; I only wish, after they have been to see us in a way that +seems so friendly, they had nothing against us. + +My fireplace, which is deep, and nearly three feet wide, has a broad +hearthstone in front of it, where the live coals tumble down, and a +pair of gigantic brass andirons. The brasses are burnished, and +shine cheerfully in the firelight, and on either side stand tall +shovel and tongs, like sentries, mounted in brass. The tongs, like +the two-handed sword of Bruce, cannot be wielded by puny people. We +burn in it hickory wood, cut long. We like the smell of this +aromatic forest timber, and its clear flame. The birch is also a +sweet wood for the hearth, with a sort of spiritual flame and an even +temper,--no snappishness. Some prefer the elm, which holds fire so +well; and I have a neighbor who uses nothing but apple-tree wood,--a +solid, family sort of wood, fragrant also, and full of delightful +suggestions. But few people can afford to burn up their fruit trees. +I should as soon think of lighting the fire with sweet-oil that comes +in those graceful wicker-bound flasks from Naples, or with manuscript +sermons, which, however, do not burn well, be they never so dry, not +half so well as printed editorials. + +Few people know how to make a wood-fire, but everybody thinks he or +she does. You want, first, a large backlog, which does not rest on +the andirons. This will keep your fire forward, radiate heat all +day, and late in the evening fall into a ruin of glowing coals, like +the last days of a good man, whose life is the richest and most +beneficent at the close, when the flames of passion and the sap of +youth are burned out, and there only remain the solid, bright +elements of character. Then you want a forestick on the andirons; +and upon these build the fire of lighter stuff. In this way you have +at once a cheerful blaze, and the fire gradually eats into the solid +mass, sinking down with increasing fervor; coals drop below, and +delicate tongues of flame sport along the beautiful grain of the +forestick. There are people who kindle a fire underneath. But these +are conceited people, who are wedded to their own way. I suppose an +accomplished incendiary always starts a fire in the attic, if he can. +I am not an incendiary, but I hate bigotry. I don't call those +incendiaries very good Christians who, when they set fire to the +martyrs, touched off the fagots at the bottom, so as to make them go +slow. Besides, knowledge works down easier than it does up. +Education must proceed from the more enlightened down to the more +ignorant strata. If you want better common schools, raise the +standard of the colleges, and so on. Build your fire on top. Let +your light shine. I have seen people build a fire under a balky +horse; but he wouldn't go, he'd be a horse-martyr first. A fire +kindled under one never did him any good. Of course you can make a +fire on the hearth by kindling it underneath, but that does not make +it right. I want my hearthfire to be an emblem of the best things. + + + +II + +It must be confessed that a wood-fire needs as much tending as a pair +of twins. To say nothing of fiery projectiles sent into the room, +even by the best wood, from the explosion of gases confined in its +cells, the brands are continually dropping down, and coals are being +scattered over the hearth. However much a careful housewife, who +thinks more of neatness than enjoyment, may dislike this, it is one +of the chief delights of a wood-fire. I would as soon have an +Englishman without side-whiskers as a fire without a big backlog; and +I would rather have no fire than one that required no tending,--one +of dead wood that could not sing again the imprisoned songs of the +forest, or give out in brilliant scintillations the sunshine it +absorbed in its growth. Flame is an ethereal sprite, and the spice +of danger in it gives zest to the care of the hearth-fire. Nothing +is so beautiful as springing, changing flame,--it was the last freak +of the Gothic architecture men to represent the fronts of elaborate +edifices of stone as on fire, by the kindling flamboyant devices. A +fireplace is, besides, a private laboratory, where one can witness +the most brilliant chemical experiments, minor conflagrations only +wanting the grandeur of cities on fire. It is a vulgar notion that a +fire is only for heat. A chief value of it is, however, to look at. +It is a picture, framed between the jambs. You have nothing on your +walls, by the best masters (the poor masters are not, however, +represented), that is really so fascinating, so spiritual. Speaking +like an upholsterer, it furnishes the room. And it is never twice +the same. In this respect it is like the landscape-view through a +window, always seen in a new light, color, or condition. The +fireplace is a window into the most charming world I ever had a +glimpse of. + +Yet direct heat is an agreeable sensation. I am not scientific +enough to despise it, and have no taste for a winter residence on +Mount Washington, where the thermometer cannot be kept comfortable +even by boiling. They say that they say in Boston that there is a +satisfaction in being well dressed which religion cannot give. There +is certainly a satisfaction in the direct radiance of a hickory fire +which is not to be found in the fieriest blasts of a furnace. The +hot air of a furnace is a sirocco; the heat of a wood-fire is only +intense sunshine, like that bottled in Lacrimae Christi. Besides +this, the eye is delighted, the sense of smell is regaled by the +fragrant decomposition, and the ear is pleased with the hissing, +crackling, and singing,--a liberation of so many out-door noises. +Some people like the sound of bubbling in a boiling pot, or the +fizzing of a frying-spider. But there is nothing gross in the +animated crackling of sticks of wood blazing on the earth, not even +if chestnuts are roasting in the ashes. All the senses are +ministered to, and the imagination is left as free as the leaping +tongues of flame. + +The attention which a wood-fire demands is one of its best +recommendations. We value little that which costs us no trouble to +maintain. If we had to keep the sun kindled up and going by private +corporate action, or act of Congress, and to be taxed for the support +of customs officers of solar heat, we should prize it more than we +do. Not that I should like to look upon the sun as a job, and have +the proper regulation of its temperature get into politics, where we +already have so much combustible stuff; but we take it quite too much +as a matter of course, and, having it free, do not reckon it among +the reasons for gratitude. Many people shut it out of their houses +as if it were an enemy, watch its descent upon the carpet as if it +were only a thief of color, and plant trees to shut it away from the +mouldering house. All the animals know better than this, as well as +the more simple races of men; the old women of the southern Italian +coasts sit all day in the sun and ply the distaff, as grateful as the +sociable hens on the south side of a New England barn; the slow +tortoise likes to take the sun upon his sloping back, soaking in +color that shall make him immortal when the imperishable part of him +is cut up into shell ornaments. The capacity of a cat to absorb +sunshine is only equaled by that of an Arab or an Ethiopian. They +are not afraid of injuring their complexions. + +White must be the color of civilization; it has so many natural +disadvantages. But this is politics. I was about to say that, +however it may be with sunshine, one is always grateful for his +wood-fire, because he does not maintain it without some cost. + +Yet I cannot but confess to a difference between sunlight and the +light of a wood-fire. The sunshine is entirely untamed. Where it +rages most freely it tends to evoke the brilliancy rather than the +harmonious satisfactions of nature. The monstrous growths and the +flaming colors of the tropics contrast with our more subdued +loveliness of foliage and bloom. The birds of the middle region +dazzle with their contrasts of plumage, and their voices are for +screaming rather than singing. I presume the new experiments in +sound would project a macaw's voice in very tangled and inharmonious +lines of light. I suspect that the fiercest sunlight puts people, as +well as animals and vegetables, on extremes in all ways. A wood-fire +on the hearth is a kindler of the domestic virtues. It brings in +cheerfulness, and a family center, and, besides, it is artistic. +I should like to know if an artist could ever represent on canvas a +happy family gathered round a hole in the floor called a register. +Given a fireplace, and a tolerable artist could almost create a +pleasant family round it. But what could he conjure out of a +register? If there was any virtue among our ancestors,--and they +labored under a great many disadvantages, and had few of the aids +which we have to excellence of life,--I am convinced they drew it +mostly from the fireside. If it was difficult to read the eleven +commandments by the light of a pine-knot, it was not difficult to get +the sweet spirit of them from the countenance of the serene mother +knitting in the chimney-corner. + + + +III + +When the fire is made, you want to sit in front of it and grow genial +in its effulgence. I have never been upon a throne,--except in +moments of a traveler's curiosity, about as long as a South American +dictator remains on one,--but I have no idea that it compares, for +pleasantness, with a seat before a wood-fire. A whole leisure day +before you, a good novel in hand, and the backlog only just beginning +to kindle, with uncounted hours of comfort in it, has life anything +more delicious? For "novel" you can substitute "Calvin's +Institutes," if you wish to be virtuous as well as happy. Even +Calvin would melt before a wood-fire. A great snowstorm, visible on +three sides of your wide-windowed room, loading the evergreens, blown +in fine powder from the great chestnut-tops, piled up in ever +accumulating masses, covering the paths, the shrubbery, the hedges, +drifting and clinging in fantastic deposits, deepening your sense of +security, and taking away the sin of idleness by making it a +necessity, this is an excellent ground to your day by the fire. + +To deliberately sit down in the morning to read a novel, to enjoy +yourself, is this not, in New England (I am told they don't read much +in other parts of the country), the sin of sins? Have you any right +to read, especially novels, until you have exhausted the best part of +the day in some employment that is called practical? Have you any +right to enjoy yourself at all until the fag-end of the day, when you +are tired and incapable of enjoying yourself? I am aware that this +is the practice, if not the theory, of our society,--to postpone the +delights of social intercourse until after dark, and rather late at +night, when body and mind are both weary with the exertions of +business, and when we can give to what is the most delightful and +profitable thing in life, social and intellectual society, only the +weariness of dull brains and over-tired muscles. No wonder we take +our amusements sadly, and that so many people find dinners heavy and +parties stupid. Our economy leaves no place for amusements; we +merely add them to the burden of a life already full. The world is +still a little off the track as to what is really useful. + +I confess that the morning is a very good time to read a novel, or +anything else which is good and requires a fresh mind; and I take it +that nothing is worth reading that does not require an alert mind. +I suppose it is necessary that business should be transacted; though +the amount of business that does not contribute to anybody's comfort +or improvement suggests the query whether it is not overdone. I know +that unremitting attention to business is the price of success, but +I don't know what success is. There is a man, whom we all know, who +built a house that cost a quarter of a million of dollars, and +furnished it for another like sum, who does not know anything more +about architecture, or painting, or books, or history, than he cares +for the rights of those who have not so much money as he has. I +heard him once, in a foreign gallery, say to his wife, as they stood +in front of a famous picture by Rubens: "That is the Rape of the +Sardines!" What a cheerful world it would be if everybody was as +successful as that man! While I am reading my book by the fire, and +taking an active part in important transactions that may be a good +deal better than real, let me be thankful that a great many men are +profitably employed in offices and bureaus and country stores in +keeping up the gossip and endless exchange of opinions among mankind, +so much of which is made to appear to the women at home as +"business." I find that there is a sort of busy idleness among men in +this world that is not held in disrepute. When the time comes that I +have to prove my right to vote, with women, I trust that it will be +remembered in my favor that I made this admission. If it is true, as +a witty conservative once said to me, that we never shall have peace +in this country until we elect a colored woman president, I desire to +be rectus in curia early. + + + +IV + +The fireplace, as we said, is a window through which we look out upon +other scenes. We like to read of the small, bare room, with +cobwebbed ceiling and narrow window, in which the poor child of +genius sits with his magical pen, the master of a realm of beauty and +enchantment. I think the open fire does not kindle the imagination +so much as it awakens the memory; one sees the past in its crumbling +embers and ashy grayness, rather than the future. People become +reminiscent and even sentimental in front of it. They used to become +something else in those good old days when it was thought best to +heat the poker red hot before plunging it into the mugs of flip. +This heating of the poker has been disapproved of late years, but I +do not know on what grounds; if one is to drink bitters and gins and +the like, such as I understand as good people as clergymen and women +take in private, and by advice, I do not know why one should not make +them palatable and heat them with his own poker. Cold whiskey out of +a bottle, taken as a prescription six times a day on the sly, is n't +my idea of virtue any more than the social ancestral glass, sizzling +wickedly with the hot iron. Names are so confusing in this world; +but things are apt to remain pretty much the same, whatever we call +them. + +Perhaps as you look into the fireplace it widens and grows deep and +cavernous. The back and the jambs are built up of great stones, not +always smoothly laid, with jutting ledges upon which ashes are apt to +lie. The hearthstone is an enormous block of trap rock, with a +surface not perfectly even, but a capital place to crack butternuts +on. Over the fire swings an iron crane, with a row of pot-hooks of +all lengths hanging from it. It swings out when the housewife wants +to hang on the tea-kettle, and it is strong enough to support a row +of pots, or a mammoth caldron kettle on occasion. What a jolly sight +is this fireplace when the pots and kettles in a row are all boiling +and bubbling over the flame, and a roasting spit is turning in front! +It makes a person as hungry as one of Scott's novels. But the +brilliant sight is in the frosty morning, about daylight, when the +fire is made. The coals are raked open, the split sticks are piled +up in openwork criss-crossing, as high as the crane; and when the +flame catches hold and roars up through the interstices, it is like +an out-of-door bonfire. Wood enough is consumed in that morning +sacrifice to cook the food of a Parisian family for a year. How it +roars up the wide chimney, sending into the air the signal smoke and +sparks which announce to the farming neighbors another day cheerfully +begun! The sleepiest boy in the world would get up in his red +flannel nightgown to see such a fire lighted, even if he dropped to +sleep again in his chair before the ruddy blaze. Then it is that the +house, which has shrunk and creaked all night in the pinching cold of +winter, begins to glow again and come to life. The thick frost melts +little by little on the small window-panes, and it is seen that the +gray dawn is breaking over the leagues of pallid snow. It is time to +blow out the candle, which has lost all its cheerfulness in the light +of day. The morning romance is over; the family is astir; and member +after member appears with the morning yawn, to stand before the +crackling, fierce conflagration. The daily round begins. The most +hateful employment ever invented for mortal man presents itself: the +"chores" are to be done. The boy who expects every morning to open +into a new world finds that to-day is like yesterday, but he believes +to-morrow will be different. And yet enough for him, for the day, is +the wading in the snowdrifts, or the sliding on the diamond-sparkling +crust. Happy, too, is he, when the storm rages, and the snow is +piled high against the windows, if he can sit in the warm chimney- +corner and read about Burgoyne, and General Fraser, and Miss McCrea, +midwinter marches through the wilderness, surprises of wigwams, and +the stirring ballad, say, of the Battle of the Kegs:-- + + +"Come, gallants, attend and list a friend +Thrill forth harmonious ditty; +While I shall tell what late befell +At Philadelphia city." + + +I should like to know what heroism a boy in an old New England +farmhouse--rough-nursed by nature, and fed on the traditions of the +old wars did not aspire to. "John," says the mother, "You'll burn +your head to a crisp in that heat." But John does not hear; he is +storming the Plains of Abraham just now. "Johnny, dear, bring in a +stick of wood." How can Johnny bring in wood when he is in that +defile with Braddock, and the Indians are popping at him from behind +every tree? There is something about a boy that I like, after all. + +The fire rests upon the broad hearth; the hearth rests upon a great +substruction of stone, and the substruction rests upon the cellar. +What supports the cellar I never knew, but the cellar supports the +family. The cellar is the foundation of domestic comfort. Into its +dark, cavernous recesses the child's imagination fearfully goes. +Bogies guard the bins of choicest apples. I know not what comical +sprites sit astride the cider-barrels ranged along the walls. The +feeble flicker of the tallow-candle does not at all dispel, but +creates, illusions, and magnifies all the rich possibilities of this +underground treasure-house. When the cellar-door is opened, and the +boy begins to descend into the thick darkness, it is always with a +heart-beat as of one started upon some adventure. Who can forget the +smell that comes through the opened door;--a mingling of fresh earth, +fruit exhaling delicious aroma, kitchen vegetables, the mouldy odor +of barrels, a sort of ancestral air,--as if a door had been opened +into an old romance. Do you like it? Not much. But then I would +not exchange the remembrance of it for a good many odors and perfumes +that I do like. + +It is time to punch the backlog and put on a new forestick. + + + + +SECOND STUDY + +I + +The log was white birch. The beautiful satin bark at once kindled +into a soft, pure, but brilliant flame, something like that of +naphtha. There is no other wood flame so rich, and it leaps up in a +joyous, spiritual way, as if glad to burn for the sake of burning. +Burning like a clear oil, it has none of the heaviness and fatness of +the pine and the balsam. Woodsmen are at a loss to account for its +intense and yet chaste flame, since the bark has no oily appearance. +The heat from it is fierce, and the light dazzling. It flares up +eagerly like young love, and then dies away; the wood does not keep +up the promise of the bark. The woodsmen, it is proper to say, have +not considered it in its relation to young love. In the remote +settlements the pine-knot is still the torch of courtship; it endures +to sit up by. The birch-bark has alliances with the world of +sentiment and of letters. The most poetical reputation of the North +American Indian floats in a canoe made of it; his picture-writing was +inscribed on it. It is the paper that nature furnishes for lovers in +the wilderness, who are enabled to convey a delicate sentiment by its +use, which is expressed neither in their ideas nor chirography. It +is inadequate for legal parchment, but does very well for deeds of +love, which are not meant usually to give a perfect title. With +care, it may be split into sheets as thin as the Chinese paper. It +is so beautiful to handle that it is a pity civilization cannot make +more use of it. But fancy articles manufactured from it are very +much like all ornamental work made of nature's perishable seeds, +leaves, cones, and dry twigs,--exquisite while the pretty fingers are +fashioning it, but soon growing shabby and cheap to the eye. And yet +there is a pathos in "dried things," whether they are displayed as +ornaments in some secluded home, or hidden religiously in bureau +drawers where profane eyes cannot see how white ties are growing +yellow and ink is fading from treasured letters, amid a faint and +discouraging perfume of ancient rose-leaves. + +The birch log holds out very well while it is green, but has not +substance enough for a backlog when dry. Seasoning green timber or +men is always an experiment. A man may do very well in a simple, let +us say, country or backwoods line of life, who would come to nothing +in a more complicated civilization. City life is a severe trial. +One man is struck with a dry-rot; another develops season-cracks; +another shrinks and swells with every change of circumstance. +Prosperity is said to be more trying than adversity, a theory which +most people are willing to accept without trial; but few men stand +the drying out of the natural sap of their greenness in the +artificial heat of city life. This, be it noticed, is nothing +against the drying and seasoning process; character must be put into +the crucible some time, and why not in this world? A man who cannot +stand seasoning will not have a high market value in any part of the +universe. It is creditable to the race, that so many men and women +bravely jump into the furnace of prosperity and expose themselves to +the drying influences of city life. + +The first fire that is lighted on the hearth in the autumn seems to +bring out the cold weather. Deceived by the placid appearance of the +dying year, the softness of the sky, and the warm color of the +foliage, we have been shivering about for days without exactly +comprehending what was the matter. The open fire at once sets up a +standard of comparison. We find that the advance guards of winter +are besieging the house. The cold rushes in at every crack of door +and window, apparently signaled by the flame to invade the house and +fill it with chilly drafts and sarcasms on what we call the temperate +zone. It needs a roaring fire to beat back the enemy; a feeble one +is only an invitation to the most insulting demonstrations. Our +pious New England ancestors were philosophers in their way. It was +not simply owing to grace that they sat for hours in their barnlike +meeting-houses during the winter Sundays, the thermometer many +degrees below freezing, with no fire, except the zeal in their own +hearts,--a congregation of red noses and bright eyes. It was no +wonder that the minister in the pulpit warmed up to his subject, +cried aloud, used hot words, spoke a good deal of the hot place and +the Person whose presence was a burning shame, hammered the desk as +if he expected to drive his text through a two-inch plank, and heated +himself by all allowable ecclesiastical gymnastics. A few of their +followers in our day seem to forget that our modern churches are +heated by furnaces and supplied with gas. In the old days it would +have been thought unphilosophic as well as effeminate to warm the +meeting-houses artificially. In one house I knew, at least, when it +was proposed to introduce a stove to take a little of the chill from +the Sunday services, the deacons protested against the innovation. +They said that the stove might benefit those who sat close to it, but +it would drive all the cold air to the other parts of the church, and +freeze the people to death; it was cold enough now around the edges. +Blessed days of ignorance and upright living! Sturdy men who served +God by resolutely sitting out the icy hours of service, amid the +rattling of windows and the carousal of winter in the high, windswept +galleries! Patient women, waiting in the chilly house for +consumption to pick out his victims, and replace the color of youth +and the flush of devotion with the hectic of disease! At least, you +did not doze and droop in our over-heated edifices, and die of +vitiated air and disregard of the simplest conditions of organized +life. It is fortunate that each generation does not comprehend its +own ignorance. We are thus enabled to call our ancestors barbarous. +It is something also that each age has its choice of the death it +will die. Our generation is most ingenious. From our public +assembly-rooms and houses we have almost succeeded in excluding pure +air. It took the race ages to build dwellings that would keep out +rain; it has taken longer to build houses air-tight, but we are on +the eve of success. We are only foiled by the ill-fitting, insincere +work of the builders, who build for a day, and charge for all time. + + + +II + +When the fire on the hearth has blazed up and then settled into +steady radiance, talk begins. There is no place like the chimney- +corner for confidences; for picking up the clews of an old +friendship; for taking note where one's self has drifted, by +comparing ideas and prejudices with the intimate friend of years ago, +whose course in life has lain apart from yours. No stranger puzzles +you so much as the once close friend, with whose thinking and +associates you have for years been unfamiliar. Life has come to mean +this and that to you; you have fallen into certain habits of thought; +for you the world has progressed in this or that direction; of +certain results you feel very sure; you have fallen into harmony with +your surroundings; you meet day after day people interested in the +things that interest you; you are not in the least opinionated, it is +simply your good fortune to look upon the affairs of the world from +the right point of view. When you last saw your friend,--less than a +year after you left college,--he was the most sensible and agreeable +of men; he had no heterodox notions; he agreed with you; you could +even tell what sort of a wife he would select, and if you could do +that, you held the key to his life. + +Well, Herbert came to visit me the other day from the antipodes. And +here he sits by the fireplace. I cannot think of any one I would +rather see there, except perhaps Thackery; or, for entertainment, +Boswell; or old, Pepys; or one of the people who was left out of the +Ark. They were talking one foggy London night at Hazlitt's about +whom they would most like to have seen, when Charles Lamb startled +the company by declaring that he would rather have seen Judas +Iscariot than any other person who had lived on the earth. For +myself, I would rather have seen Lamb himself once, than to have +lived with Judas. Herbert, to my great delight, has not changed; I +should know him anywhere,--the same serious, contemplative face, with +lurking humor at the corners of the mouth,--the same cheery laugh and +clear, distinct enunciation as of old. There is nothing so winning +as a good voice. To see Herbert again, unchanged in all outward +essentials, is not only gratifying, but valuable as a testimony to +nature's success in holding on to a personal identity, through the +entire change of matter that has been constantly taking place for so +many years. I know very well there is here no part of the Herbert +whose hand I had shaken at the Commencement parting; but it is an +astonishing reproduction of him,--a material likeness; and now for +the spiritual. + +Such a wide chance for divergence in the spiritual. It has been such +a busy world for twenty years. So many things have been torn up by +the roots again that were settled when we left college. There were +to be no more wars; democracy was democracy, and progress, the +differentiation of the individual, was a mere question of clothes; if +you want to be different, go to your tailor; nobody had demonstrated +that there is a man-soul and a woman-soul, and that each is in +reality only a half-soul,--putting the race, so to speak, upon the +half-shell. The social oyster being opened, there appears to be two +shells and only one oyster; who shall have it? So many new canons of +taste, of criticism, of morality have been set up; there has been +such a resurrection of historical reputations for new judgment, and +there have been so many discoveries, geographical, archaeological, +geological, biological, that the earth is not at all what it was +supposed to be; and our philosophers are much more anxious to +ascertain where we came from than whither we are going. In this +whirl and turmoil of new ideas, nature, which has only the single end +of maintaining the physical identity in the body, works on +undisturbed, replacing particle for particle, and preserving the +likeness more skillfully than a mosaic artist in the Vatican; she has +not even her materials sorted and labeled, as the Roman artist has +his thousands of bits of color; and man is all the while doing his +best to confuse the process, by changing his climate, his diet, all +his surroundings, without the least care to remain himself. But the +mind? + +It is more difficult to get acquainted with Herbert than with an +entire stranger, for I have my prepossessions about him, and do not +find him in so many places where I expect to find him. He is full of +criticism of the authors I admire; he thinks stupid or improper the +books I most read; he is skeptical about the "movements" I am +interested in; he has formed very different opinions from mine +concerning a hundred men and women of the present day; we used to eat +from one dish; we could n't now find anything in common in a dozen; +his prejudices (as we call our opinions) are most extraordinary, and +not half so reasonable as my prejudices; there are a great many +persons and things that I am accustomed to denounce, uncontradicted +by anybody, which he defends; his public opinion is not at all my +public opinion. I am sorry for him. He appears to have fallen into +influences and among a set of people foreign to me. I find that his +church has a different steeple on it from my church (which, to say +the truth, hasn't any). It is a pity that such a dear friend and a +man of so much promise should have drifted off into such general +contrariness. I see Herbert sitting here by the fire, with the old +look in his face coming out more and more, but I do not recognize any +features of his mind,--except perhaps his contrariness; yes, he was +always a little contrary, I think. And finally he surprises me with, +"Well, my friend, you seem to have drifted away from your old notions +and opinions. We used to agree when we were together, but I +sometimes wondered where you would land; for, pardon me, you showed +signs of looking at things a little contrary." + +I am silent for a good while. I am trying to think who I am. There +was a person whom I thought I knew, very fond of Herbert, and +agreeing with him in most things. Where has he gone? and, if he is +here, where is the Herbert that I knew? + +If his intellectual and moral sympathies have all changed, I wonder +if his physical tastes remain, like his appearance, the same. There +has come over this country within the last generation, as everybody +knows, a great wave of condemnation of pie. It has taken the +character of a "movement!" though we have had no conventions about +it, nor is any one, of any of the several sexes among us, running for +president against it. It is safe almost anywhere to denounce pie, +yet nearly everybody eats it on occasion. A great many people think +it savors of a life abroad to speak with horror of pie, although they +were very likely the foremost of the Americans in Paris who used to +speak with more enthusiasm of the American pie at Madame Busque's +than of the Venus of Milo. To talk against pie and still eat it is +snobbish, of course; but snobbery, being an aspiring failing, is +sometimes the prophecy of better things. To affect dislike of pie is +something. We have no statistics on the subject, and cannot tell +whether it is gaining or losing in the country at large. Its +disappearance in select circles is no test. The amount of writing +against it is no more test of its desuetude, than the number of +religious tracts distributed in a given district is a criterion of +its piety. We are apt to assume that certain regions are +substantially free of it. Herbert and I, traveling north one summer, +fancied that we could draw in New England a sort of diet line, like +the sweeping curves on the isothermal charts, which should show at +least the leading pie sections. Journeying towards the White +Mountains, we concluded that a line passing through Bellows Falls, +and bending a little south on either side, would mark northward the +region of perpetual pie. In this region pie is to be found at all +hours and seasons, and at every meal. I am not sure, however, that +pie is not a matter of altitude rather than latitude, as I find that +all the hill and country towns of New England are full of those +excellent women, the very salt of the housekeeping earth, who would +feel ready to sink in mortification through their scoured kitchen +floors, if visitors should catch them without a pie in the house. +The absence of pie would be more noticed than a scarcity of Bible +even. Without it the housekeepers are as distracted as the +boarding-house keeper, who declared that if it were not for canned +tomato, she should have nothing to fly to. Well, in all this great +agitation I find Herbert unmoved, a conservative, even to the +under-crust. I dare not ask him if he eats pie at breakfast. There +are some tests that the dearest friendship may not apply. + +"Will you smoke?" I ask. + +"No, I have reformed." + +"Yes, of course." + +"The fact is, that when we consider the correlation of forces, the +apparent sympathy of spirit manifestations with electric conditions, +the almost revealed mysteries of what may be called the odic force, +and the relation of all these phenomena to the nervous system in man, +it is not safe to do anything to the nervous system that will--" + +"Hang the nervous system! Herbert, we can agree in one thing: old +memories, reveries, friendships, center about that:--is n't an open +wood-fire good?" + +"Yes," says Herbert, combatively, "if you don't sit before it too +long." + + + + +III + +The best talk is that which escapes up the open chimney and cannot be +repeated. The finest woods make the best fire and pass away with the +least residuum. I hope the next generation will not accept the +reports of "interviews" as specimens of the conversations of these +years of grace. + +But do we talk as well as our fathers and mothers did? We hear +wonderful stories of the bright generation that sat about the wide +fireplaces of New England. Good talk has so much short-hand that it +cannot be reported,--the inflection, the change of voice, the shrug, +cannot be caught on paper. The best of it is when the subject +unexpectedly goes cross-lots, by a flash of short-cut, to a +conclusion so suddenly revealed that it has the effect of wit. It +needs the highest culture and the finest breeding to prevent the +conversation from running into mere persiflage on the one hand--its +common fate--or monologue on the other. Our conversation is largely +chaff. I am not sure but the former generation preached a good deal, +but it had great practice in fireside talk, and must have talked +well. There were narrators in those days who could charm a circle +all the evening long with stories. When each day brought +comparatively little new to read, there was leisure for talk, and the +rare book and the in-frequent magazine were thoroughly discussed. +Families now are swamped by the printed matter that comes daily upon +the center-table. There must be a division of labor, one reading +this, and another that, to make any impression on it. The telegraph +brings the only common food, and works this daily miracle, that every +mind in Christendom is excited by one topic simultaneously with every +other mind; it enables a concurrent mental action, a burst of +sympathy, or a universal prayer to be made, which must be, if we have +any faith in the immaterial left, one of the chief forces in modern +life. It is fit that an agent so subtle as electricity should be the +minister of it. + +When there is so much to read, there is little time for conversation; +nor is there leisure for another pastime of the ancient firesides, +called reading aloud. The listeners, who heard while they looked +into the wide chimney-place, saw there pass in stately procession the +events and the grand persons of history, were kindled with the +delights of travel, touched by the romance of true love, or made +restless by tales of adventure;--the hearth became a sort of magic +stone that could transport those who sat by it to the most distant +places and times, as soon as the book was opened and the reader +began, of a winter's night. Perhaps the Puritan reader read through +his nose, and all the little Puritans made the most dreadful nasal +inquiries as the entertainment went on. The prominent nose of the +intellectual New-Englander is evidence of the constant linguistic +exercise of the organ for generations. It grew by talking through. +But I have no doubt that practice made good readers in those days. +Good reading aloud is almost a lost accomplishment now. It is little +thought of in the schools. It is disused at home. It is rare to +find any one who can read, even from the newspaper, well. Reading is +so universal, even with the uncultivated, that it is common to hear +people mispronounce words that you did not suppose they had ever +seen. In reading to themselves they glide over these words, in +reading aloud they stumble over them. Besides, our every-day books +and newspapers are so larded with French that the ordinary reader is +obliged marcher a pas de loup,--for instance. + +The newspaper is probably responsible for making current many words +with which the general reader is familiar, but which he rises to in +the flow of conversation, and strikes at with a splash and an +unsuccessful attempt at appropriation; the word, which he perfectly +knows, hooks him in the gills, and he cannot master it. The +newspaper is thus widening the language in use, and vastly increasing +the number of words which enter into common talk. The Americans of +the lowest intellectual class probably use more words to express +their ideas than the similar class of any other people; but this +prodigality is partially balanced by the parsimony of words in some +higher regions, in which a few phrases of current slang are made to +do the whole duty of exchange of ideas; if that can be called +exchange of ideas when one intellect flashes forth to another the +remark, concerning some report, that "you know how it is yourself," +and is met by the response of "that's what's the matter," and rejoins +with the perfectly conclusive "that's so." It requires a high degree +of culture to use slang with elegance and effect; and we are yet very +far from the Greek attainment. + + + + +IV + +The fireplace wants to be all aglow, the wind rising, the night heavy +and black above, but light with sifting snow on the earth, a +background of inclemency for the illumined room with its pictured +walls, tables heaped with books, capacious easy-chairs and their +occupants,--it needs, I say, to glow and throw its rays far through +the crystal of the broad windows, in order that we may rightly +appreciate the relation of the wide-jambed chimney to domestic +architecture in our climate. We fell to talking about it; and, as is +usual when the conversation is professedly on one subject, we +wandered all around it. The young lady staying with us was roasting +chestnuts in the ashes, and the frequent explosions required +considerable attention. The mistress, too, sat somewhat alert, ready +to rise at any instant and minister to the fancied want of this or +that guest, forgetting the reposeful truth that people about a +fireside will not have any wants if they are not suggested. The +worst of them, if they desire anything, only want something hot, and +that later in the evening. And it is an open question whether you +ought to associate with people who want that. + +I was saying that nothing had been so slow in its progress in the +world as domestic architecture. Temples, palaces, bridges, +aqueducts, cathedrals, towers of marvelous delicacy and strength, +grew to perfection while the common people lived in hovels, and the +richest lodged in the most gloomy and contracted quarters. The +dwelling-house is a modern institution. It is a curious fact that it +has only improved with the social elevation of women. Men were never +more brilliant in arms and letters than in the age of Elizabeth, and +yet they had no homes. They made themselves thick-walled castles, +with slits in the masonry for windows, for defense, and magnificent +banquet-halls for pleasure; the stone rooms into which they crawled +for the night were often little better than dog-kennels. The +Pompeians had no comfortable night-quarters. The most singular thing +to me, however, is that, especially interested as woman is in the +house, she has never done anything for architecture. And yet woman +is reputed to be an ingenious creature. + +HERBERT. I doubt if woman has real ingenuity; she has great +adaptability. I don't say that she will do the same thing twice +alike, like a Chinaman, but she is most cunning in suiting herself to +circumstances. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, if you speak of constructive, creative +ingenuity, perhaps not; but in the higher ranges of achievement--that +of accomplishing any purpose dear to her heart, for instance--her +ingenuity is simply incomprehensible to me. + +HERBERT. Yes, if you mean doing things by indirection. + +THE MISTRESS. When you men assume all the direction, what else is +left to us? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see a woman refurnish a house? + +THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH US. I never saw a man do it, unless he +was burned out of his rookery. + +HERBERT. There is no comfort in new things. + +THE FIRE-TENDER (not noticing the interruption). Having set her mind +on a total revolution of the house, she buys one new thing, not too +obtrusive, nor much out of harmony with the old. The husband +scarcely notices it, least of all does he suspect the revolution, +which she already has accomplished. Next, some article that does +look a little shabby beside the new piece of furniture is sent to the +garret, and its place is supplied by something that will match in +color and effect. Even the man can see that it ought to match, and +so the process goes on, it may be for years, it may be forever, until +nothing of the old is left, and the house is transformed as it was +predetermined in the woman's mind. I doubt if the man ever +understands how or when it was done; his wife certainly never says +anything about the refurnishing, but quietly goes on to new +conquests. + +THE MISTRESS. And is n't it better to buy little by little, enjoying +every new object as you get it, and assimilating each article to your +household life, and making the home a harmonious expression of your +own taste, rather than to order things in sets, and turn your house, +for the time being, into a furniture ware-room? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, I only spoke of the ingenuity of it. + +THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I never can get acquainted with more +than one piece of furniture at a time. + +HERBERT. I suppose women are our superiors in artistic taste, and I +fancy that I can tell whether a house is furnished by a woman or a +man; of course, I mean the few houses that appear to be the result of +individual taste and refinement,--most of them look as if they had +been furnished on contract by the upholsterer. + +THE MISTRESS. Woman's province in this world is putting things to +rights. + +HERBERT. With a vengeance, sometimes. In the study, for example. +My chief objection to woman is that she has no respect for the +newspaper, or the printed page, as such. She is Siva, the destroyer. +I have noticed that a great part of a married man's time at home is +spent in trying to find the things he has put on his study-table. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Herbert speaks with the bitterness of a bachelor +shut out of paradise. It is my experience that if women did not +destroy the rubbish that men bring into the house, it would become +uninhabitable, and need to be burned down every five years. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I confess women do a great deal for the appearance +of things. When the mistress is absent, this room, although +everything is here as it was before, does not look at all like the +same place; it is stiff, and seems to lack a soul. When she returns, +I can see that her eye, even while greeting me, takes in the +situation at a glance. While she is talking of the journey, and +before she has removed her traveling-hat, she turns this chair and +moves that, sets one piece of furniture at a different angle, +rapidly, and apparently unconsciously, shifts a dozen little +knick-knacks and bits of color, and the room is transformed. I +couldn't do it in a week. + +THE MISTRESS. That is the first time I ever knew a man admit he +couldn't do anything if he had time. + +HERBERT. Yet with all their peculiar instinct for making a home, +women make themselves very little felt in our domestic architecture. + +THE MISTRESS. Men build most of the houses in what might be called +the ready-made-clothing style, and we have to do the best we can with +them; and hard enough it is to make cheerful homes in most of them. +You will see something different when the woman is constantly +consulted in the plan of the house. + +HERBERT. We might see more difference if women would give any +attention to architecture. Why are there no women architects? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Want of the ballot, doubtless. It seems to me that +here is a splendid opportunity for woman to come to the front. + +THE YOUNG LADY. They have no desire to come to the front; they would +rather manage things where they are. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. If they would master the noble art, and put their +brooding taste upon it, we might very likely compass something in our +domestic architecture that we have not yet attained. The outside of +our houses needs attention as well as the inside. Most of them are +as ugly as money can build. + +THE YOUNG LADY. What vexes me most is, that women, married women, +have so easily consented to give up open fires in their houses. + +HERBERT. They dislike the dust and the bother. I think that women +rather like the confined furnace heat. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Nonsense; it is their angelic virtue of submission. +We wouldn't be hired to stay all-day in the houses we build. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That has a very chivalrous sound, but I know there +will be no reformation until women rebel and demand everywhere the +open fire. + +HERBERT. They are just now rebelling about something else; it seems +to me yours is a sort of counter-movement, a fire in the rear. + +THE MISTRESS. I'll join that movement. The time has come when woman +must strike for her altars and her fires. + +HERBERT. Hear, hear! + +THE MISTRESS. Thank you, Herbert. I applauded you once, when you +declaimed that years ago in the old Academy. I remember how +eloquently you did it. + +HERBERT. Yes, I was once a spouting idiot. + +Just then the door-bell rang, and company came in. And the company +brought in a new atmosphere, as company always does, something of the +disturbance of out-doors, and a good deal of its healthy cheer. The +direct news that the thermometer was approaching zero, with a hopeful +prospect of going below it, increased to liveliness our satisfaction +in the fire. When the cider was heated in the brown stone pitcher, +there was difference of opinion whether there should be toast in it; +some were for toast, because that was the old-fashioned way, and +others were against it, "because it does not taste good" in cider. +Herbert said there, was very little respect left for our forefathers. + +More wood was put on, and the flame danced in a hundred fantastic +shapes. The snow had ceased to fall, and the moonlight lay in +silvery patches among the trees in the ravine. The conversation +became worldly. + + + + +THIRD STUDY + + +I + +Herbert said, as we sat by the fire one night, that he wished he had +turned his attention to writing poetry like Tennyson's. + +The remark was not whimsical, but satirical. Tennyson is a man of +talent, who happened to strike a lucky vein, which he has worked with +cleverness. The adventurer with a pickaxe in Washoe may happen upon +like good fortune. The world is full of poetry as the earth is of +"pay-dirt;" one only needs to know how to "strike" it. An able man +can make himself almost anything that he will. It is melancholy to +think how many epic poets have been lost in the tea-trade, how many +dramatists (though the age of the drama has passed) have wasted their +genius in great mercantile and mechanical enterprises. I know a man +who might have been the poet, the essayist, perhaps the critic, of +this country, who chose to become a country judge, to sit day after +day upon a bench in an obscure corner of the world, listening to +wrangling lawyers and prevaricating witnesses, preferring to judge +his fellow-men rather than enlighten them. + +It is fortunate for the vanity of the living and the reputation of +the dead, that men get almost as much credit for what they do not as +for what they do. It was the opinion of many that Burns might have +excelled as a statesman, or have been a great captain in war; and Mr. +Carlyle says that if he had been sent to a university, and become a +trained intellectual workman, it lay in him to have changed the whole +course of British literature! A large undertaking, as so vigorous +and dazzling a writer as Mr. Carlyle must know by this time, since +British literature has swept by him in a resistless and widening +flood, mainly uncontaminated, and leaving his grotesque contrivances +wrecked on the shore with other curiosities of letters, and yet among +the richest of all the treasures lying there. + +It is a temptation to a temperate man to become a sot, to hear what +talent, what versatility, what genius, is almost always attributed to +a moderately bright man who is habitually drunk. Such a mechanic, +such a mathematician, such a poet he would be, if he were only sober; +and then he is sure to be the most generous, magnanimous, friendly +soul, conscientiously honorable, if he were not so conscientiously +drunk. I suppose it is now notorious that the most brilliant and +promising men have been lost to the world in this way. It is +sometimes almost painful to think what a surplus of talent and genius +there would be in the world if the habit of intoxication should +suddenly cease; and what a slim chance there would be for the +plodding people who have always had tolerably good habits. The fear +is only mitigated by the observation that the reputation of a person +for great talent sometimes ceases with his reformation. + +It is believed by some that the maidens who would make the best wives +never marry, but remain free to bless the world with their impartial +sweetness, and make it generally habitable. This is one of the +mysteries of Providence and New England life. It seems a pity, at +first sight, that all those who become poor wives have the +matrimonial chance, and that they are deprived of the reputation of +those who would be good wives were they not set apart for the high +and perpetual office of priestesses of society. There is no beauty +like that which was spoiled by an accident, no accomplishments--and +graces are so to be envied as those that circumstances rudely +hindered the development of. All of which shows what a charitable +and good-tempered world it is, notwithstanding its reputation for +cynicism and detraction. + +Nothing is more beautiful than the belief of the faithful wife that +her husband has all the talents, and could, if he would, be +distinguished in any walk in life; and nothing will be more +beautiful--unless this is a very dry time for signs--than the +husband's belief that his wife is capable of taking charge of any of +the affairs of this confused planet. There is no woman but thinks +that her husband, the green-grocer, could write poetry if he had +given his mind to it, or else she thinks small beer of poetry in +comparison with an occupation or accomplishment purely vegetable. It +is touching to see the look of pride with which the wife turns to her +husband from any more brilliant personal presence or display of wit +than his, in the perfect confidence that if the world knew what she +knows, there would be one more popular idol. How she magnifies his +small wit, and dotes upon the self-satisfied look in his face as if +it were a sign of wisdom! What a councilor that man would make! +What a warrior he would be! There are a great many corporals in +their retired homes who did more for the safety and success of our +armies in critical moments, in the late war, than any of the "high- +cock-a-lorum" commanders. Mrs. Corporal does not envy the +reputation of General Sheridan; she knows very well who really won +Five Forks, for she has heard the story a hundred times, and will +hear it a hundred times more with apparently unabated interest. What +a general her husband would have made; and how his talking talent +would shine in Congress! + +HERBERT. Nonsense. There isn't a wife in the world who has not +taken the exact measure of her husband, weighed him and settled him +in her own mind, and knows him as well as if she had ordered him +after designs and specifications of her own. That knowledge, +however, she ordinarily keeps to herself, and she enters into a +league with her husband, which he was never admitted to the secret +of, to impose upon the world. In nine out of ten cases he more than +half believes that he is what his wife tells him he is. At any rate, +she manages him as easily as the keeper does the elephant, with only +a bamboo wand and a sharp spike in the end. Usually she flatters +him, but she has the means of pricking clear through his hide on +occasion. It is the great secret of her power to have him think that +she thoroughly believes in him. + +THE YOUNG LADY STAYING WITH Us. And you call this hypocrisy? I have +heard authors, who thought themselves sly observers of women, call it +so. + +HERBERT. Nothing of the sort. It is the basis on which society +rests, the conventional agreement. If society is about to be +overturned, it is on this point. Women are beginning to tell men +what they really think of them; and to insist that the same relations +of downright sincerity and independence that exist between men shall +exist between women and men. Absolute truth between souls, without +regard to sex, has always been the ideal life of the poets. + +THE MISTRESS. Yes; but there was never a poet yet who would bear to +have his wife say exactly what she thought of his poetry, any more +than be would keep his temper if his wife beat him at chess; and +there is nothing that disgusts a man like getting beaten at chess by +a woman. + +HERBERT. Well, women know how to win by losing. I think that the +reason why most women do not want to take the ballot and stand out in +the open for a free trial of power, is that they are reluctant to +change the certain domination of centuries, with weapons they are +perfectly competent to handle, for an experiment. I think we should +be better off if women were more transparent, and men were not so +systematically puffed up by the subtle flattery which is used to +control them. + +MANDEVILLE. Deliver me from transparency. When a woman takes that +guise, and begins to convince me that I can see through her like a +ray of light, I must run or be lost. Transparent women are the truly +dangerous. There was one on ship-board [Mandeville likes to say +that; he has just returned from a little tour in Europe, and he quite +often begins his remarks with "on the ship going over; "the Young +Lady declares that he has a sort of roll in his chair, when he says +it, that makes her sea-sick] who was the most innocent, artless, +guileless, natural bunch of lace and feathers you ever saw; she was +all candor and helplessness and dependence; she sang like a +nightingale, and talked like a nun. There never was such simplicity. +There was n't a sounding-line on board that would have gone to the +bottom of her soulful eyes. But she managed the captain and all the +officers, and controlled the ship as if she had been the helm. All +the passengers were waiting on her, fetching this and that for her +comfort, inquiring of her health, talking about her genuineness, and +exhibiting as much anxiety to get her ashore in safety, as if she had +been about to knight them all and give them a castle apiece when they +came to land. + +THE MISTRESS. What harm? It shows what I have always said, that the +service of a noble woman is the most ennobling influence for men. + +MANDEVILLE. If she is noble, and not a mere manager. I watched this +woman to see if she would ever do anything for any one else. She +never did. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Did you ever see her again? I presume Mandeville +has introduced her here for some purpose. + +MANDEVILLE. No purpose. But we did see her on the Rhine; she was +the most disgusted traveler, and seemed to be in very ill humor with +her maid. I judged that her happiness depended upon establishing +controlling relations with all about her. On this Rhine boat, to be +sure, there was reason for disgust. And that reminds me of a remark +that was made. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Oh! + +MANDEVILLE. When we got aboard at Mayence we were conscious of a +dreadful odor somewhere; as it was a foggy morning, we could see no +cause of it, but concluded it was from something on the wharf. The +fog lifted, and we got under way, but the odor traveled with us, and +increased. We went to every part of the vessel to avoid it, but in +vain. It occasionally reached us in great waves of disagreeableness. +We had heard of the odors of the towns on the Rhine, but we had no +idea that the entire stream was infected. It was intolerable. + +The day was lovely, and the passengers stood about on deck holding +their noses and admiring the scenery. You might see a row of them +leaning over the side, gazing up at some old ruin or ivied crag, +entranced with the romance of the situation, and all holding their +noses with thumb and finger. The sweet Rhine! By and by somebody +discovered that the odor came from a pile of cheese on the forward +deck, covered with a canvas; it seemed that the Rhinelanders are so +fond of it that they take it with them when they travel. If there +should ever be war between us and Germany, the borders of the Rhine +would need no other defense from American soldiers than a barricade +of this cheese. I went to the stern of the steamboat to tell a stout +American traveler what was the origin of the odor he had been trying +to dodge all the morning. He looked more disgusted than before, when +he heard that it was cheese; but his only reply was: "It must be a +merciful God who can forgive a smell like that!" + + + + +II + +The above is introduced here in order to illustrate the usual effect +of an anecdote on conversation. Commonly it kills it. That talk +must be very well in hand, and under great headway, that an anecdote +thrown in front of will not pitch off the track and wreck. And it +makes little difference what the anecdote is; a poor one depresses +the spirits, and casts a gloom over the company; a good one begets +others, and the talkers go to telling stories; which is very good +entertainment in moderation, but is not to be mistaken for that +unwearying flow of argument, quaint remark, humorous color, and +sprightly interchange of sentiments and opinions, called +conversation. + +The reader will perceive that all hope is gone here of deciding +whether Herbert could have written Tennyson's poems, or whether +Tennyson could have dug as much money out of the Heliogabalus Lode as +Herbert did. The more one sees of life, I think the impression +deepens that men, after all, play about the parts assigned them, +according to their mental and moral gifts, which are limited and +preordained, and that their entrances and exits are governed by a law +no less certain because it is hidden. Perhaps nobody ever +accomplishes all that he feels lies in him to do; but nearly every +one who tries his powers touches the walls of his being occasionally, +and learns about how far to attempt to spring. There are no +impossibilities to youth and inexperience; but when a person has +tried several times to reach high C and been coughed down, he is +quite content to go down among the chorus. It is only the fools who +keep straining at high C all their lives. + +Mandeville here began to say that that reminded him of something that +happened when he was on the + +But Herbert cut in with the observation that no matter what a man's +single and several capacities and talents might be, he is controlled +by his own mysterious individuality, which is what metaphysicians +call the substance, all else being the mere accidents of the man. +And this is the reason that we cannot with any certainty tell what +any person will do or amount to, for, while we know his talents and +abilities, we do not know the resulting whole, which is he himself. +THE FIRE-TENDER. So if you could take all the first-class qualities +that we admire in men and women, and put them together into one +being, you wouldn't be sure of the result? + +HERBERT. Certainly not. You would probably have a monster. It +takes a cook of long experience, with the best materials, to make a +dish "taste good;" and the "taste good" is the indefinable essence, +the resulting balance or harmony which makes man or woman agreeable +or beautiful or effective in the world. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That must be the reason why novelists fail so +lamentably in almost all cases in creating good characters. They put +in real traits, talents, dispositions, but the result of the +synthesis is something that never was seen on earth before. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Oh, a good character in fiction is an inspiration. +We admit this in poetry. It is as true of such creations as Colonel +Newcome, and Ethel, and Beatrix Esmond. There is no patchwork about +them. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Why was n't Thackeray ever inspired to create a +noble woman? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. That is the standing conundrum with all the women. +They will not accept Ethel Newcome even. Perhaps we shall have to +admit that Thackeray was a writer for men. + +HERBERT. Scott and the rest had drawn so many perfect women that +Thackeray thought it was time for a real one. + +THE MISTRESS. That's ill-natured. Thackeray did, however, make +ladies. If he had depicted, with his searching pen, any of us just +as we are, I doubt if we should have liked it much. + +MANDEVILLE. That's just it. Thackeray never pretended to make +ideals, and if the best novel is an idealization of human nature, +then he was not the best novelist. When I was crossing the Channel + +THE MISTRESS. Oh dear, if we are to go to sea again, Mandeville, I +move we have in the nuts and apples, and talk about our friends. + + + + +III + +There is this advantage in getting back to a wood-fire on the hearth, +that you return to a kind of simplicity; you can scarcely imagine any +one being stiffly conventional in front of it. It thaws out +formality, and puts the company who sit around it into easy attitudes +of mind and body,--lounging attitudes,--Herbert said. + +And this brought up the subject of culture in America, especially as +to manner. The backlog period having passed, we are beginning to +have in society people of the cultured manner, as it is called, or +polished bearing, in which the polish is the most noticeable thing +about the man. Not the courtliness, the easy simplicity of the +old-school gentleman, in whose presence the milkmaid was as much at +her ease as the countess, but something far finer than this. These +are the people of unruffled demeanor, who never forget it for a +moment, and never let you forget it. Their presence is a constant +rebuke to society. They are never "jolly;" their laugh is never +anything more than a well-bred smile; they are never betrayed into +any enthusiasm. Enthusiasm is a sign of inexperience, of ignorance, +of want of culture. They never lose themselves in any cause; they +never heartily praise any man or woman or book; they are superior to +all tides of feeling and all outbursts of passion. They are not even +shocked at vulgarity. They are simply indifferent. They are calm, +visibly calm, painfully calm; and it is not the eternal, majestic +calmness of the Sphinx either, but a rigid, self-conscious +repression. You would like to put a bent pin in their chair when +they are about calmly to sit down. + +A sitting hen on her nest is calm, but hopeful; she has faith that +her eggs are not china. These people appear to be sitting on china +eggs. Perfect culture has refined all blood, warmth, flavor, out of +them. We admire them without envy. They are too beautiful in their +manners to be either prigs or snobs. They are at once our models and +our despair. They are properly careful of themselves as models, for +they know that if they should break, society would become a scene of +mere animal confusion. + +MANDEVILLE. I think that the best-bred people in the world are the +English. + +THE YOUNG LADY. You mean at home. + +MANDEVILLE. That's where I saw them. There is no nonsense about a +cultivated English man or woman. They express themselves sturdily +and naturally, and with no subservience to the opinions of others. +There's a sort of hearty sincerity about them that I like. Ages of +culture on the island have gone deeper than the surface, and they +have simpler and more natural manners than we. There is something +good in the full, round tones of their voices. + +HERBERT. Did you ever get into a diligence with a growling English- +man who had n't secured the place he wanted? + +[Mandeville once spent a week in London, riding about on the tops of +omnibuses.] + +THE MISTRESS. Did you ever see an English exquisite at the San +Carlo, and hear him cry "Bwavo"? + +MANDEVILLE. At any rate, he acted out his nature, and was n't afraid +to. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I think Mandeville is right, for once. The men of +the best culture in England, in the middle and higher social classes, +are what you would call good fellows,--easy and simple in manner, +enthusiastic on occasion, and decidedly not cultivated into the +smooth calmness of indifference which some Americans seem to regard +as the sine qua non of good breeding. Their position is so assured +that they do not need that lacquer of calmness of which we were +speaking. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Which is different from the manner acquired by those +who live a great deal in American hotels? + +THE MISTRESS. Or the Washington manner? + +HERBERT. The last two are the same. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Not exactly. You think you can always tell if a +man has learned his society carriage of a dancing-master. Well, you +cannot always tell by a person's manner whether he is a habitui of +hotels or of Washington. But these are distinct from the perfect +polish and politeness of indifferentism. + + + + +IV + +Daylight disenchants. It draws one from the fireside, and dissipates +the idle illusions of conversation, except under certain conditions. +Let us say that the conditions are: a house in the country, with some +forest trees near, and a few evergreens, which are Christmas-trees +all winter long, fringed with snow, glistening with ice-pendants, +cheerful by day and grotesque by night; a snow-storm beginning out of +a dark sky, falling in a soft profusion that fills all the air, its +dazzling whiteness making a light near at hand, which is quite lost +in the distant darkling spaces. + +If one begins to watch the swirling flakes and crystals, he soon gets +an impression of infinity of resources that he can have from nothing +else so powerfully, except it be from Adirondack gnats. Nothing +makes one feel at home like a great snow-storm. Our intelligent cat +will quit the fire and sit for hours in the low window, watching the +falling snow with a serious and contented air. His thoughts are his +own, but he is in accord with the subtlest agencies of Nature; on +such a day he is charged with enough electricity to run a telegraphic +battery, if it could be utilized. The connection between thought and +electricity has not been exactly determined, but the cat is mentally +very alert in certain conditions of the atmosphere. Feasting his +eyes on the beautiful out-doors does not prevent his attention to the +slightest noise in the wainscot. And the snow-storm brings content, +but not stupidity, to all the rest of the household. + +I can see Mandeville now, rising from his armchair and swinging his +long arms as he strides to the window, and looks out and up, with, +"Well, I declare!" Herbert is pretending to read Herbert Spencer's +tract on the philosophy of style but he loses much time in looking at +the Young Lady, who is writing a letter, holding her portfolio in her +lap,--one of her everlasting letters to one of her fifty everlasting +friends. She is one of the female patriots who save the post-office +department from being a disastrous loss to the treasury. Herbert is +thinking of the great radical difference in the two sexes, which +legislation will probably never change; that leads a woman always, to +write letters on her lap and a man on a table,--a distinction which +is commended to the notice of the anti-suffragists. + +The Mistress, in a pretty little breakfast-cap, is moving about the +room with a feather-duster, whisking invisible dust from the picture- +frames, and talking with the Parson, who has just come in, and is +thawing the snow from his boots on the hearth. The Parson says the +thermometer is 15 deg., and going down; that there is a snowdrift +across the main church entrance three feet high, and that the house +looks as if it had gone into winter quarters, religion and all. +There were only ten persons at the conference meeting last night, and +seven of those were women; he wonders how many weather-proof +Christians there are in the parish, anyhow. + +The Fire-Tender is in the adjoining library, pretending to write; but +it is a poor day for ideas. He has written his wife's name about +eleven hundred times, and cannot get any farther. He hears the +Mistress tell the Parson that she believes he is trying to write a +lecture on the Celtic Influence in Literature. The Parson says that +it is a first-rate subject, if there were any such influence, and +asks why he does n't take a shovel and make a path to the gate. +Mandeville says that, by George! he himself should like no better +fun, but it wouldn't look well for a visitor to do it. The +Fire-Tender, not to be disturbed by this sort of chaff, keeps on +writing his wife's name. + +Then the Parson and the Mistress fall to talking about the +soup-relief, and about old Mrs. Grumples in Pig Alley, who had a +present of one of Stowe's Illustrated Self-Acting Bibles on +Christmas, when she had n't coal enough in the house to heat her +gruel; and about a family behind the church, a widow and six little +children and three dogs; and he did n't believe that any of them had +known what it was to be warm in three weeks, and as to food, the +woman said, she could hardly beg cold victuals enough to keep the +dogs alive. + +The Mistress slipped out into the kitchen to fill a basket with +provisions and send it somewhere; and when the Fire-Tender brought in +a new forestick, Mandeville, who always wants to talk, and had been +sitting drumming his feet and drawing deep sighs, attacked him. + +MANDEVILLE. Speaking about culture and manners, did you ever notice +how extremes meet, and that the savage bears himself very much like +the sort of cultured persons we were talking of last night? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. In what respect? + +MANDEVILLE. Well, you take the North American Indian. He is never +interested in anything, never surprised at anything. He has by +nature that calmness and indifference which your people of culture +have acquired. If he should go into literature as a critic, he would +scalp and tomahawk with the same emotionless composure, and he would +do nothing else. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Then you think the red man is a born gentleman of +the highest breeding? + +MANDEVILLE. I think he is calm. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How is it about the war-path and all that? + +MANDEVILLE. Oh, these studiously calm and cultured people may have +malice underneath. It takes them to give the most effective "little +digs;" they know how to stick in the pine-splinters and set fire to +them. + +HERBERT. But there is more in Mandeville's idea. You bring a red +man into a picture-gallery, or a city full of fine architecture, or +into a drawing-room crowded with objects of art and beauty, and he is +apparently insensible to them all. Now I have seen country people,-- +and by country people I don't mean people necessarily who live in the +country, for everything is mixed in these days,--some of the best +people in the world, intelligent, honest, sincere, who acted as the +Indian would. + +THE MISTRESS. Herbert, if I did n't know you were cynical, I should +say you were snobbish. + +HERBERT. Such people think it a point of breeding never to speak of +anything in your house, nor to appear to notice it, however beautiful +it may be; even to slyly glance around strains their notion of +etiquette. They are like the countryman who confessed afterwards +that he could hardly keep from laughing at one of Yankee Hill's +entertainments, + +THE YOUNG LADY. Do you remember those English people at our house in +Flushing last summer, who pleased us all so much with their apparent +delight in everything that was artistic or tasteful, who explored the +rooms and looked at everything, and were so interested? I suppose +that Herbert's country relations, many of whom live in the city, +would have thought it very ill-bred. + +MANDEVILLE. It's just as I said. The English, the best of them, +have become so civilized that they express themselves, in speech and +action, naturally, and are not afraid of their emotions. + +THE PARSON. I wish Mandeville would travel more, or that he had +stayed at home. It's wonderful what a fit of Atlantic sea-sickness +will do for a man's judgment and cultivation. He is prepared to +pronounce on art, manners, all kinds of culture. There is more +nonsense talked about culture than about anything else. + +HERBERT. The Parson reminds me of an American country minister I +once met walking through the Vatican. You could n't impose upon him +with any rubbish; he tested everything by the standards of his native +place, and there was little that could bear the test. He had the sly +air of a man who could not be deceived, and he went about with his +mouth in a pucker of incredulity. There is nothing so placid as +rustic conceit. There was something very enjoyable about his calm +superiority to all the treasures of art. + +MANDEVILLE. And the Parson reminds me of another American minister, +a consul in an Italian city, who said he was going up to Rome to have +a thorough talk with the Pope, and give him a piece of his mind. +Ministers seem to think that is their business. They serve it in +such small pieces in order to make it go round. + +THE PARSON. Mandeville is an infidel. Come, let's have some music; +nothing else will keep him in good humor till lunch-time. + +THE MISTRESS. What shall it be? + +THE PARSON. Give us the larghetto from Beethoven's second symphony. + +The Young Lady puts aside her portfolio. Herbert looks at the young +lady. The Parson composes himself for critical purposes. Mandeville +settles himself in a chair and stretches his long legs nearly into +the fire, remarking that music takes the tangles out of him. + +After the piece is finished, lunch is announced. It is still +snowing. + + + + +FOURTH STUDY + +It is difficult to explain the attraction which the uncanny and even +the horrible have for most minds. I have seen a delicate woman half +fascinated, but wholly disgusted, by one of the most unseemly of +reptiles, vulgarly known as the "blowing viper" of the Alleghanies. +She would look at it, and turn away with irresistible shuddering and +the utmost loathing, and yet turn to look at it again and again, only +to experience the same spasm of disgust. In spite of her aversion, +she must have relished the sort of electric mental shock that the +sight gave her. + +I can no more account for the fascination for us of the stories of +ghosts and "appearances," and those weird tales in which the dead are +the chief characters; nor tell why we should fall into converse about +them when the winter evenings are far spent, the embers are glazing +over on the hearth, and the listener begins to hear the eerie noises +in the house. At such times one's dreams become of importance, and +people like to tell them and dwell upon them, as if they were a link +between the known and unknown, and could give us a clew to that +ghostly region which in certain states of the mind we feel to be more +real than that we see. + +Recently, when we were, so to say, sitting around the borders of the +supernatural late at night, MANDEVILLE related a dream of his which +he assured us was true in every particular, and it interested us so +much that we asked him to write it out. In doing so he has curtailed +it, and to my mind shorn it of some of its more vivid and picturesque +features. He might have worked it up with more art, and given it a +finish which the narration now lacks, but I think best to insert it +in its simplicity. It seems to me that it may properly be called, + + +A NEW "VISION OF SIN" + +In the winter of 1850 I was a member of one of the leading colleges +of this country. I was in moderate circumstances pecuniarily, +though I was perhaps better furnished with less fleeting riches than +many others. I was an incessant and indiscriminate reader of books. +For the solid sciences I had no particular fancy, but with mental +modes and habits, and especially with the eccentric and fantastic in +the intellectual and spiritual operations, I was tolerably familiar. +All the literature of the supernatural was as real to me as the +laboratory of the chemist, where I saw the continual struggle of +material substances to evolve themselves into more volatile, less +palpable and coarse forms. My imagination, naturally vivid, +stimulated by such repasts, nearly mastered me. At times I could +scarcely tell where the material ceased and the immaterial began (if +I may so express it); so that once and again I walked, as it seemed, +from the solid earth onward upon an impalpable plain, where I heard +the same voices, I think, that Joan of Arc heard call to her in the +garden at Domremy. She was inspired, however, while I only lacked +exercise. I do not mean this in any literal sense; I only describe a +state of mind. I was at this time of spare habit, and nervous, +excitable temperament. I was ambitious, proud, and extremely +sensitive. I cannot deny that I had seen something of the world, and +had contracted about the average bad habits of young men who have the +sole care of themselves, and rather bungle the matter. It is +necessary to this relation to admit that I had seen a trifle more of +what is called life than a young man ought to see, but at this period +I was not only sick of my experience, but my habits were as correct +as those of any Pharisee in our college, and we had some very +favorable specimens of that ancient sect. + +Nor can I deny that at this period of my life I was in a peculiar +mental condition. I well remember an illustration of it. I sat +writing late one night, copying a prize essay,--a merely manual task, +leaving my thoughts free. It was in June, a sultry night, and about +midnight a wind arose, pouring in through the open windows, full of +mournful reminiscence, not of this, but of other summers,--the same +wind that De Quincey heard at noonday in midsummer blowing through +the room where he stood, a mere boy, by the side of his dead sister,- +-a wind centuries old. As I wrote on mechanically, I became conscious +of a presence in the room, though I did not lift my eyes from the +paper on which I wrote. Gradually I came to know that my +grandmother--dead so long ago that I laughed at the idea--was in the +room. She stood beside her old-fashioned spinning-wheel, and quite +near me. She wore a plain muslin cap with a high puff in the crown, +a short woolen gown, a white and blue checked apron, and shoes with +heels. She did not regard me, but stood facing the wheel, with the +left hand near the spindle, holding lightly between the thumb and +forefinger the white roll of wool which was being spun and twisted on +it. In her right hand she held a small stick. I heard the sharp +click of this against the spokes of the wheel, then the hum of the +wheel, the buzz of the spindles as the twisting yarn was teased by +the whirl of its point, then a step backwards, a pause, a step +forward and the running of the yarn upon the spindle, and again a +backward step, the drawing out of the roll and the droning and hum of +the wheel, most mournfully hopeless sound that ever fell on mortal +ear. Since childhood it has haunted me. All this time I wrote, and +I could hear distinctly the scratching of the pen upon the paper. +But she stood behind me (why I did not turn my head I never knew), +pacing backward and forward by the spinning-wheel, just as I had a +hundred times seen her in childhood in the old kitchen on drowsy +summer afternoons. And I heard the step, the buzz and whirl of the +spindle, and the monotonous and dreary hum of the mournful wheel. +Whether her face was ashy pale and looked as if it might crumble at +the touch, and the border of her white cap trembled in the June wind +that blew, I cannot say, for I tell you I did NOT see her. But I +know she was there, spinning yarn that had been knit into hose years +and years ago by our fireside. For I was in full possession of my +faculties, and never copied more neatly and legibly any manuscript +than I did the one that night. And there the phantom (I use the word +out of deference to a public prejudice on this subject) most +persistently remained until my task was finished, and, closing the +portfolio, I abruptly rose. Did I see anything? That is a silly and +ignorant question. Could I see the wind which had now risen +stronger, and drove a few cloud-scuds across the sky, filling the +night, somehow, with a longing that was not altogether born of +reminiscence? + +In the winter following, in January, I made an effort to give up the +use of tobacco,--a habit in which I was confirmed, and of which I +have nothing more to say than this: that I should attribute to it +almost all the sin and misery in the world, did I not remember that +the old Romans attained a very considerable state of corruption +without the assistance of the Virginia plant. + +On the night of the third day of my abstinence, rendered more nervous +and excitable than usual by the privation, I retired late, and later +still I fell into an uneasy sleep, and thus into a dream, vivid, +illuminated, more real than any event of my life. I was at home, and +fell sick. The illness developed into a fever, and then a delirium +set in, not an intellectual blank, but a misty and most delicious +wandering in places of incomparable beauty. I learned subsequently +that our regular physician was not certain to finish me, when a +consultation was called, which did the business. I have the +satisfaction of knowing that they were of the proper school. I lay +sick for three days. + +On the morning of the fourth, at sunrise, I died. The sensation was +not unpleasant. It was not a sudden shock. I passed out of my body +as one would walk from the door of his house. There the body lay,--a +blank, so far as I was concerned, and only interesting to me as I was +rather entertained with watching the respect paid to it. My friends +stood about the bedside, regarding me (as they seemed to suppose), +while I, in a different part of the room, could hardly repress a +smile at their mistake, solemnized as they were, and I too, for that +matter, by my recent demise. A sensation (the word you see is +material and inappropriate) of etherealization and imponderability +pervaded me, and I was not sorry to get rid of such a dull, slow mass +as I now perceived myself to be, lying there on the bed. When I +speak of my death, let me be understood to say that there was no +change, except that I passed out of my body and floated to the top of +a bookcase in the corner of the room, from which I looked down. For +a moment I was interested to see my person from the outside, but +thereafter I was quite indifferent to the body. I was now simply +soul. I seemed to be a globe, impalpable, transparent, about six +inches in diameter. I saw and heard everything as before. Of +course, matter was no obstacle to me, and I went easily and quickly +wherever I willed to go. There was none of that tedious process of +communicating my wishes to the nerves, and from them to the muscles. +I simply resolved to be at a particular place, and I was there. It +was better than the telegraph. + +It seemed to have been intimated to me at my death (birth I half +incline to call it) that I could remain on this earth for four weeks +after my decease, during which time I could amuse myself as I chose. + +I chose, in the first place, to see myself decently buried, to stay +by myself to the last, and attend my own funeral for once. As most +of those referred to in this true narrative are still living, I am +forbidden to indulge in personalities, nor shall I dare to say +exactly how my death affected my friends, even the home circle. +Whatever others did, I sat up with myself and kept awake. I saw the +"pennies" used instead of the "quarters" which I should have +preferred. I saw myself "laid out," a phrase that has come to have +such a slang meaning that I smile as I write it. When the body was +put into the coffin, I took my place on the lid. + +I cannot recall all the details, and they are commonplace besides. +The funeral took place at the church. We all rode thither in +carriages, and I, not fancying my place in mine, rode on the outside +with the undertaker, whom I found to be a good deal more jolly than +he looked to be. The coffin was placed in front of the pulpit when +we arrived. I took my station on the pulpit cushion, from which +elevation I had an admirable view of all the ceremonies, and could +hear the sermon. How distinctly I remember the services. I think I +could even at this distance write out the sermon. The tune sung was +of--the usual country selection,--Mount Vernon. I recall the text. +I was rather flattered by the tribute paid to me, and my future was +spoken of gravely and as kindly as possible,--indeed, with remarkable +charity, considering that the minister was not aware of my presence. +I used to beat him at chess, and I thought, even then, of the last +game; for, however solemn the occasion might be to others, it was not +so to me. With what interest I watched my kinsfolks, and neighbors +as they filed past for the last look! I saw, and I remember, who +pulled a long face for the occasion and who exhibited genuine +sadness. I learned with the most dreadful certainty what people +really thought of me. It was a revelation never forgotten. + +Several particular acquaintances of mine were talking on the steps as +we passed out. + +"Well, old Starr's gone up. Sudden, was n't it? He was a first-rate +fellow." + +"Yes, queer about some things; but he had some mighty good streaks," +said another. And so they ran on. + +Streaks! So that is the reputation one gets during twenty years of +life in this world. Streaks! + +After the funeral I rode home with the family. It was pleasanter +than the ride down, though it seemed sad to my relations. They did +not mention me, however, and I may remark, that although I stayed +about home for a week, I never heard my name mentioned by any of the +family. Arrived at home, the tea-kettle was put on and supper got +ready. This seemed to lift the gloom a little, and under the +influence of the tea they brightened up and gradually got more +cheerful. They discussed the sermon and the singing, and the mistake +of the sexton in digging the grave in the wrong place, and the large +congregation. From the mantel-piece I watched the group. They had +waffles for supper,--of which I had been exceedingly fond, but now I +saw them disappear without a sigh. + +For the first day or two of my sojourn at home I was here and there +at all the neighbors, and heard a good deal about my life and +character, some of which was not very pleasant, but very wholesome, +doubtless, for me to hear. At the expiration of a week this +amusement ceased to be such for I ceased to be talked of. I realized +the fact that I was dead and gone. + +By an act of volition I found myself back at college. I floated into +my own room, which was empty. I went to the room of my two warmest +friends, whose friendship I was and am yet assured of. As usual, +half a dozen of our set were lounging there. A game of whist was +just commencing. I perched on a bust of Dante on the top of the +book-shelves, where I could see two of the hands and give a good +guess at a third. My particular friend Timmins was just shuffling +the cards. + +"Be hanged if it is n't lonesome without old Starr. Did you cut? I +should like to see him lounge in now with his pipe, and with feet on +the mantel-piece proceed to expound on the duplex functions of the +soul." + +"There--misdeal," said his vis-a-vis. "Hope there's been no misdeal +for old Starr." + +"Spades, did you say?" the talk ran on, "never knew Starr was +sickly." + +"No more was he; stouter than you are, and as brave and plucky as he +was strong. By George, fellows,--how we do get cut down! Last term +little Stubbs, and now one of the best fellows in the class." + +"How suddenly he did pop off,--one for game, honors easy,--he was +good for the Spouts' Medal this year, too." + +"Remember the joke he played on Prof. A., freshman year? "asked +another. + +"Remember he borrowed ten dollars of me about that time," said +Timmins's partner, gathering the cards for a new deal. + +"Guess he is the only one who ever did," retorted some one. + +And so the talk went on, mingled with whist-talk, reminiscent of me, +not all exactly what I would have chosen to go into my biography, but +on the whole kind and tender, after the fashion of the boys. At +least I was in their thoughts, and I could see was a good deal +regretted,--so I passed a very pleasant evening. Most of those +present were of my society, and wore crape on their badges, and all +wore the usual crape on the left arm. I learned that the following +afternoon a eulogy would be delivered on me in the chapel. + +The eulogy was delivered before members of our society and others, +the next afternoon, in the chapel. I need not say that I was +present. Indeed, I was perched on the desk within reach of the +speaker's hand. The apotheosis was pronounced by my most intimate +friend, Timmins, and I must say he did me ample justice. He never +was accustomed to "draw it very mild" (to use a vulgarism which I +dislike) when he had his head, and on this occasion he entered into +the matter with the zeal of a true friend, and a young man who never +expected to have another occasion to sing a public "In Memoriam." It +made my hair stand on end,--metaphorically, of course. From my +childhood I had been extremely precocious. There were anecdotes of +preternatural brightness, picked up, Heaven knows where, of my +eagerness to learn, of my adventurous, chivalrous young soul, and of +my arduous struggles with chill penury, which was not able (as it +appeared) to repress my rage, until I entered this institution, of +which I had been ornament, pride, cynosure, and fair promising bud +blasted while yet its fragrance was mingled with the dew of its +youth. Once launched upon my college days, Timmins went on with all +sails spread. I had, as it were, to hold on to the pulpit cushion. +Latin, Greek, the old literatures, I was perfect master of; all +history was merely a light repast to me; mathematics I glanced at, +and it disappeared; in the clouds of modern philosophy I was wrapped +but not obscured; over the field of light literature I familiarly +roamed as the honey-bee over the wide fields of clover which blossom +white in the Junes of this world! My life was pure, my character +spotless, my name was inscribed among the names of those deathless +few who were not born to die! + +It was a noble eulogy, and I felt before he finished, though I had +misgivings at the beginning, that I deserved it all. The effect on +the audience was a little different. They said it was a "strong" +oration, and I think Timmins got more credit by it than I did. After +the performance they stood about the chapel, talking in a subdued +tone, and seemed to be a good deal impressed by what they had heard, +or perhaps by thoughts of the departed. At least they all soon went +over to Austin's and called for beer. My particular friends called +for it twice. Then they all lit pipes. The old grocery keeper was +good enough to say that I was no fool, if I did go off owing him four +dollars. To the credit of human nature, let me here record that the +fellows were touched by this remark reflecting upon my memory, and +immediately made up a purse and paid the bill,--that is, they told +the old man to charge it over to them. College boys are rich in +credit and the possibilities of life. + +It is needless to dwell upon the days I passed at college during this +probation. So far as I could see, everything went on as if I were +there, or had never been there. I could not even see the place where +I had dropped out of the ranks. Occasionally I heard my name, but I +must say that four weeks was quite long enough to stay in a world +that had pretty much forgotten me. There is no great satisfaction in +being dragged up to light now and then, like an old letter. The case +was somewhat different with the people with whom I had boarded. They +were relations of mine, and I often saw them weep, and they talked of +me a good deal at twilight and Sunday nights, especially the youngest +one, Carrie, who was handsomer than any one I knew, and not much +older than I. I never used to imagine that she cared particularly +for me, nor would she have done so, if I had lived, but death brought +with it a sort of sentimental regret, which, with the help of a +daguerreotype, she nursed into quite a little passion. I spent most +of my time there, for it was more congenial than the college. + +But time hastened. The last sand of probation leaked out of the +glass. One day, while Carrie played (for me, though she knew it not) +one of Mendelssohn's "songs without words," I suddenly, yet gently, +without self-effort or volition, moved from the house, floated in the +air, rose higher, higher, by an easy, delicious, exultant, yet +inconceivably rapid motion. The ecstasy of that triumphant flight! +Groves, trees, houses, the landscape, dimmed, faded, fled away +beneath me. Upward mounting, as on angels' wings, with no effort, +till the earth hung beneath me a round black ball swinging, remote, +in the universal ether. Upward mounting, till the earth, no longer +bathed in the sun's rays, went out to my sight, disappeared in the +blank. Constellations, before seen from afar, I sailed among. +Stars, too remote for shining on earth, I neared, and found to be +round globes flying through space with a velocity only equaled by my +own. New worlds continually opened on my sight; newfields of +everlasting space opened and closed behind me. + +For days and days--it seemed a mortal forever--I mounted up the great +heavens, whose everlasting doors swung wide. How the worlds and +systems, stars, constellations, neared me, blazed and flashed in +splendor, and fled away! At length,--was it not a thousand years?--I +saw before me, yet afar off, a wall, the rocky bourn of that country +whence travelers come not back, a battlement wider than I could +guess, the height of which I could not see, the depth of which was +infinite. As I approached, it shone with a splendor never yet beheld +on earth. Its solid substance was built of jewels the rarest, and +stones of priceless value. It seemed like one solid stone, and yet +all the colors of the rainbow were contained in it. The ruby, the +diamond, the emerald, the carbuncle, the topaz, the amethyst, the +sapphire; of them the wall was built up in harmonious combination. +So brilliant was it that all the space I floated in was full of the +splendor. So mild was it and so translucent, that I could look for +miles into its clear depths. + +Rapidly nearing this heavenly battlement, an immense niche was +disclosed in its solid face. The floor was one large ruby. Its +sloping sides were of pearl. Before I was aware I stood within the +brilliant recess. I say I stood there, for I was there bodily, in my +habit as I lived; how, I cannot explain. Was it the resurrection of +the body? Before me rose, a thousand feet in height, a wonderful +gate of flashing diamond. Beside it sat a venerable man, with long +white beard, a robe of light gray, ancient sandals, and a golden key +hanging by a cord from his waist. In the serene beauty of his noble +features I saw justice and mercy had met and were reconciled. I +cannot describe the majesty of his bearing or the benignity of his +appearance. It is needless to say that I stood before St. Peter, who +sits at the Celestial Gate. + +I humbly approached, and begged admission. St. Peter arose, and +regarded me kindly, yet inquiringly. + +"What is your name?" asked he, "and from what place do you come?" + +I answered, and, wishing to give a name well known, said I was from +Washington, United States. He looked doubtful, as if he had never +heard the name before. + +"Give me," said he, "a full account of your whole life." + +I felt instantaneously that there was no concealment possible; all +disguise fell away, and an unknown power forced me to speak absolute +and exact truth. I detailed the events of my life as well as I +could, and the good man was not a little affected by the recital of +my early trials, poverty, and temptation. It did not seem a very +good life when spread out in that presence, and I trembled as I +proceeded; but I plead youth, inexperience, and bad examples. + +"Have you been accustomed," he said, after a time, rather sadly, "to +break the Sabbath?" + +I told him frankly that I had been rather lax in that matter, +especially at college. I often went to sleep in the chapel on +Sunday, when I was not reading some entertaining book. He then asked +who the preacher was, and when I told him, he remarked that I was not +so much to blame as he had supposed. + +"Have you," he went on, "ever stolen, or told any lie?" + +I was able to say no, except admitting as to the first, usual college +"conveyances," and as to the last, an occasional "blinder" to the +professors. He was gracious enough to say that these could be +overlooked as incident to the occasion. + +"Have you ever been dissipated, living riotously and keeping late +hours?" + +"Yes." + +This also could be forgiven me as an incident of youth. + +"Did you ever," he went on, "commit the crime of using intoxicating +drinks as a beverage?" + +I answered that I had never been a habitual drinker, that I had never +been what was called a "moderate drinker," that I had never gone to a +bar and drank alone; but that I had been accustomed, in company with +other young men, on convivial occasions to taste the pleasures of the +flowing bowl, sometimes to excess, but that I had also tasted the +pains of it, and for months before my demise had refrained from +liquor altogether. The holy man looked grave, but, after reflection, +said this might also be overlooked in a young man. + +"What," continued he, in tones still more serious, "has been your +conduct with regard to the other sex?" + +I fell upon my knees in a tremor of fear. I pulled from my bosom a +little book like the one Leperello exhibits in the opera of "Don +Giovanni." There, I said, was a record of my flirtation and +inconstancy. I waited long for the decision, but it came in mercy. + +"Rise," he cried; "young men will be young men, I suppose. We shall +forgive this also to your youth and penitence." + +"Your examination is satisfactory, he informed me," after a pause; +"you can now enter the abodes of the happy." + +Joy leaped within me. We approached the gate. The key turned in the +lock. The gate swung noiselessly on its hinges a little open. Out +flashed upon me unknown splendors. What I saw in that momentary +gleam I shall never whisper in mortal ears. I stood upon the +threshold, just about to enter. + +"Stop! one moment," exclaimed St. Peter, laying his hand on my +shoulder; "I have one more question to ask you." + +I turned toward him. + +"Young man, did you ever use tobacco?" + +"I both smoked and chewed in my lifetime," I faltered, "but..." + +"THEN TO HELL WITH YOU!" he shouted in a voice of thunder. + +Instantly the gate closed without noise, and I was flung, hurled, +from the battlement, down! down! down! Faster and faster I sank in +a dizzy, sickening whirl into an unfathomable space of gloom. The +light faded. Dampness and darkness were round about me. As before, +for days and days I rose exultant in the light, so now forever I sank +into thickening darkness,--and yet not darkness, but a pale, ashy +light more fearful. + +In the dimness, I at length discovered a wall before me. It ran up +and down and on either hand endlessly into the night. It was solid, +black, terrible in its frowning massiveness. + +Straightway I alighted at the gate,--a dismal crevice hewn into the +dripping rock. The gate was wide open, and there sat-I knew him at +once; who does not?--the Arch Enemy of mankind. He cocked his eye at +me in an impudent, low, familiar manner that disgusted me. I saw +that I was not to be treated like a gentleman. + +"Well, young man," said he, rising, with a queer grin on his face," +what are you sent here for? + +"For using tobacco," I replied. + +"Ho!" shouted he in a jolly manner, peculiar to devils, "that's what +most of 'em are sent here for now." + +Without more ado, he called four lesser imps, who ushered me within. +What a dreadful plain lay before me! There was a vast city laid out +in regular streets, but there were no houses. Along the streets were +places of torment and torture exceedingly ingenious and disagreeable. +For miles and miles, it seemed, I followed my conductors through +these horrors, Here was a deep vat of burning tar. Here were rows of +fiery ovens. I noticed several immense caldron kettles of boiling +oil, upon the rims of which little devils sat, with pitchforks in +hand, and poked down the helpless victims who floundered in the +liquid. But I forbear to go into unseemly details. The whole scene +is as vivid in my mind as any earthly landscape. + +After an hour's walk my tormentors halted before the mouth of an +oven,--a furnace heated seven times, and now roaring with flames. +They grasped me, one hold of each hand and foot. Standing before the +blazing mouth, they, with a swing, and a "one, two, THREE...." + +I again assure the reader that in this narrative I have set down +nothing that was not actually dreamed, and much, very much of this +wonderful vision I have been obliged to omit. + +Haec fabula docet: It is dangerous for a young man to leave off the +use of tobacco. + + + + +FIFTH STUDY + + +I + +I wish I could fitly celebrate the joyousness of the New England +winter. Perhaps I could if I more thoroughly believed in it. But +skepticism comes in with the south wind. When that begins to blow, +one feels the foundations of his belief breaking up. This is only +another way of saying that it is more difficult, if it be not +impossible, to freeze out orthodoxy, or any fixed notion, than it is +to thaw it out; though it is a mere fancy to suppose that this is the +reason why the martyrs, of all creeds, were burned at the stake. +There is said to be a great relaxation in New England of the ancient +strictness in the direction of toleration of opinion, called by some +a lowering of the standard, and by others a raising of the banner of +liberality; it might be an interesting inquiry how much this change +is due to another change,--the softening of the New England winter +and the shifting of the Gulf Stream. It is the fashion nowadays to +refer almost everything to physical causes, and this hint is a +gratuitous contribution to the science of metaphysical physics. + +The hindrance to entering fully into the joyousness of a New England +winter, except far inland among the mountains, is the south wind. It +is a grateful wind, and has done more, I suspect, to demoralize +society than any other. It is not necessary to remember that it +filled the silken sails of Cleopatra's galley. It blows over New +England every few days, and is in some portions of it the prevailing +wind. That it brings the soft clouds, and sometimes continues long +enough to almost deceive the expectant buds of the fruit trees, and +to tempt the robin from the secluded evergreen copses, may be +nothing; but it takes the tone out of the mind, and engenders +discontent, making one long for the tropics; it feeds the weakened +imagination on palm-leaves and the lotus. Before we know it we +become demoralized, and shrink from the tonic of the sudden change to +sharp weather, as the steamed hydropathic patient does from the +plunge. It is the insidious temptation that assails us when we are +braced up to profit by the invigorating rigor of winter. + +Perhaps the influence of the four great winds on character is only a +fancied one; but it is evident on temperament, which is not +altogether a matter of temperature, although the good old deacon used +to say, in his humble, simple way, that his third wife was a very +good woman, but her "temperature was very different from that of the +other two." The north wind is full of courage, and puts the stamina +of endurance into a man, and it probably would into a woman too if +there were a series of resolutions passed to that effect. The west +wind is hopeful; it has promise and adventure in it, and is, except +to Atlantic voyagers America-bound, the best wind that ever blew. +The east wind is peevishness; it is mental rheumatism and grumbling, +and curls one up in the chimney-corner like a cat. And if the +chimney ever smokes, it smokes when the wind sits in that quarter. +The south wind is full of longing and unrest, of effeminate +suggestions of luxurious ease, and perhaps we might say of modern +poetry,--at any rate, modern poetry needs a change of air. I am not +sure but the south is the most powerful of the winds, because of its +sweet persuasiveness. Nothing so stirs the blood in spring, when it +comes up out of the tropical latitude; it makes men "longen to gon on +pilgrimages." + +I did intend to insert here a little poem (as it is quite proper to +do in an essay) on the south wind, composed by the Young Lady Staying +With Us, beginning,-- + + "Out of a drifting southern cloud + My soul heard the night-bird cry," + +but it never got any farther than this. The Young Lady said it was +exceedingly difficult to write the next two lines, because not only +rhyme but meaning had to be procured. And this is true; anybody can +write first lines, and that is probably the reason we have so many +poems which seem to have been begun in just this way, that is, with a +south-wind-longing without any thought in it, and it is very +fortunate when there is not wind enough to finish them. This +emotional poem, if I may so call it, was begun after Herbert went +away. I liked it, and thought it was what is called "suggestive;" +although I did not understand it, especially what the night-bird was; +and I am afraid I hurt the Young Lady's feelings by asking her if she +meant Herbert by the "night-bird,"--a very absurd suggestion about +two unsentimental people. She said, "Nonsense;" but she afterwards +told the Mistress that there were emotions that one could never put +into words without the danger of being ridiculous; a profound truth. +And yet I should not like to say that there is not a tender +lonesomeness in love that can get comfort out of a night-bird in a +cloud, if there be such a thing. Analysis is the death of sentiment. + +But to return to the winds. Certain people impress us as the winds +do. Mandeville never comes in that I do not feel a north-wind vigor +and healthfulness in his cordial, sincere, hearty manner, and in his +wholesome way of looking at things. The Parson, you would say, was +the east wind, and only his intimates know that his peevishness is +only a querulous humor. In the fair west wind I know the Mistress +herself, full of hope, and always the first one to discover a bit of +blue in a cloudy sky. It would not be just to apply what I have said +of the south wind to any of our visitors, but it did blow a little +while Herbert was here. + + + + +II + +In point of pure enjoyment, with an intellectual sparkle in it, I +suppose that no luxurious lounging on tropical isles set in tropical +seas compares with the positive happiness one may have before a great +woodfire (not two sticks laid crossways in a grate), with a veritable +New England winter raging outside. In order to get the highest +enjoyment, the faculties must be alert, and not be lulled into a mere +recipient dullness. There are those who prefer a warm bath to a +brisk walk in the inspiring air, where ten thousand keen influences +minister to the sense of beauty and run along the excited nerves. +There are, for instance, a sharpness of horizon outline and a +delicacy of color on distant hills which are wanting in summer, and +which convey to one rightly organized the keenest delight, and a +refinement of enjoyment that is scarcely sensuous, not at all +sentimental, and almost passing the intellectual line into the +spiritual. + +I was speaking to Mandeville about this, and he said that I was +drawing it altogether too fine; that he experienced sensations of +pleasure in being out in almost all weathers; that he rather liked to +breast a north wind, and that there was a certain inspiration in +sharp outlines and in a landscape in trim winter-quarters, with +stripped trees, and, as it were, scudding through the season under +bare poles; but that he must say that he preferred the weather in +which he could sit on the fence by the wood-lot, with the spring sun +on his back, and hear the stir of the leaves and the birds beginning +their housekeeping. + +A very pretty idea for Mandeville; and I fear he is getting to have +private thoughts about the Young Lady. Mandeville naturally likes +the robustness and sparkle of winter, and it has been a little +suspicious to hear him express the hope that we shall have an early +spring. + +I wonder how many people there are in New England who know the glory +and inspiration of a winter walk just before sunset, and that, too, +not only on days of clear sky, when the west is aflame with a rosy +color, which has no suggestion of languor or unsatisfied longing in +it, but on dull days, when the sullen clouds hang about the horizon, +full of threats of storm and the terrors of the gathering night. We +are very busy with our own affairs, but there is always something +going on out-doors worth looking at; and there is seldom an hour +before sunset that has not some special attraction. And, besides, it +puts one in the mood for the cheer and comfort of the open fire at +home. + +Probably if the people of New England could have a plebiscitum on +their weather, they would vote against it, especially against winter. +Almost no one speaks well of winter. And this suggests the idea that +most people here were either born in the wrong place, or do not know +what is best for them. I doubt if these grumblers would be any +better satisfied, or would turn out as well, in the tropics. +Everybody knows our virtues,--at least if they believe half we tell +them,--and for delicate beauty, that rare plant, I should look among +the girls of the New England hills as confidently as anywhere, and I +have traveled as far south as New Jersey, and west of the Genesee +Valley. Indeed, it would be easy to show that the parents of the +pretty girls in the West emigrated from New England. And yet--such +is the mystery of Providence--no one would expect that one of the +sweetest and most delicate flowers that blooms, the trailing. +arbutus, would blossom in this inhospitable climate, and peep forth +from the edge of a snowbank at that. + +It seems unaccountable to a superficial observer that the thousands +of people who are dissatisfied with their climate do not seek a more +congenial one--or stop grumbling. The world is so small, and all +parts of it are so accessible, it has so many varieties of climate, +that one could surely suit himself by searching; and, then, is it +worth while to waste our one short life in the midst of unpleasant +surroundings and in a constant friction with that which is +disagreeable? One would suppose that people set down on this little +globe would seek places on it most agreeable to themselves. It must +be that they are much more content with the climate and country upon +which they happen, by the accident of their birth, than they pretend +to be. + + + + +III + +Home sympathies and charities are most active in the winter. Coming +in from my late walk,--in fact driven in by a hurrying north wind +that would brook no delay,--a wind that brought snow that did not +seem to fall out of a bounteous sky, but to be blown from polar +fields,--I find the Mistress returned from town, all in a glow of +philanthropic excitement. + +There has been a meeting of a woman's association for Ameliorating +the Condition of somebody here at home. Any one can belong to it by +paying a dollar, and for twenty dollars one can become a life +Ameliorator,--a sort of life assurance. The Mistress, at the +meeting, I believe, "seconded the motion" several times, and is one +of the Vice-Presidents; and this family honor makes me feel almost as +if I were a president of something myself. These little distinctions +are among the sweetest things in life, and to see one's name +officially printed stimulates his charity, and is almost as +satisfactory as being the chairman of a committee or the mover of a +resolution. It is, I think, fortunate, and not at all discreditable, +that our little vanity, which is reckoned among our weaknesses, is +thus made to contribute to the activity of our nobler powers. +Whatever we may say, we all of us like distinction; and probably +there is no more subtle flattery than that conveyed in the whisper, +"That's he," "That's she." + +There used to be a society for ameliorating the condition of the +Jews; but they were found to be so much more adept than other people +in ameliorating their own condition that I suppose it was given up. +Mandeville says that to his knowledge there are a great many people +who get up ameliorating enterprises merely to be conspicuously busy +in society, or to earn a little something in a good cause. They seem +to think that the world owes them a living because they are +philanthropists. In this Mandeville does not speak with his usual +charity. It is evident that there are Jews, and some Gentiles, whose +condition needs ameliorating, and if very little is really +accomplished in the effort for them, it always remains true that the +charitable reap a benefit to themselves. It is one of the beautiful +compensations of this life that no one can sincerely try to help +another without helping himself + +OUR NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOR. Why is it that almost all philanthropists +and reformers are disagreeable? + +I ought to explain who our next-door neighbor is. He is the person +who comes in without knocking, drops in in the most natural way, as +his wife does also, and not seldom in time to take the after-dinner +cup of tea before the fire. Formal society begins as soon as you +lock your doors, and only admit visitors through the media of bells +and servants. It is lucky for us that our next-door neighbor is +honest. + +THE PARSON. Why do you class reformers and philanthropists together? +Those usually called reformers are not philanthropists at all. They +are agitators. Finding the world disagreeable to themselves, they +wish to make it as unpleasant to others as possible. + +MANDEVILLE. That's a noble view of your fellow-men. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Well, granting the distinction, why are both apt to +be unpleasant people to live with? + +THE PARSON. As if the unpleasant people who won't mind their own +business were confined to the classes you mention! Some of the best +people I know are philanthropists,--I mean the genuine ones, and not +the uneasy busybodies seeking notoriety as a means of living. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It is not altogether the not minding their own +business. Nobody does that. The usual explanation is, that people +with one idea are tedious. But that is not all of it. For few +persons have more than one idea,--ministers, doctors, lawyers, +teachers, manufacturers, merchants,--they all think the world they +live in is the central one. + +MANDEVILLE. And you might add authors. To them nearly all the life +of the world is in letters, and I suppose they would be astonished if +they knew how little the thoughts of the majority of people are +occupied with books, and with all that vast thought circulation which +is the vital current of the world to book-men. Newspapers have +reached their present power by becoming unliterary, and reflecting +all the interests of the world. + +THE MISTRESS. I have noticed one thing, that the most popular +persons in society are those who take the world as it is, find the +least fault, and have no hobbies. They are always wanted to dinner. + +THE YOUNG LADY. And the other kind always appear to me to want a +dinner. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It seems to me that the real reason why reformers +and some philanthropists are unpopular is, that they disturb our +serenity and make us conscious of our own shortcomings. It is only +now and then that a whole people get a spasm of reformatory fervor, +of investigation and regeneration. At other times they rather hate +those who disturb their quiet. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Professional reformers and philanthropists are +insufferably conceited and intolerant. + +THE MISTRESS. Everything depends upon the spirit in which a reform +or a scheme of philanthropy is conducted. + +MANDEVILLE. I attended a protracted convention of reformers of a +certain evil, once, and had the pleasure of taking dinner with a +tableful of them. It was one of those country dinners accompanied +with green tea. Every one disagreed with every one else, and you +would n't wonder at it, if you had seen them. They were people with +whom good food wouldn't agree. George Thompson was expected at the +convention, and I remember that there was almost a cordiality in the +talk about him, until one sallow brother casually mentioned that +George took snuff,--when a chorus of deprecatory groans went up from +the table. One long-faced maiden in spectacles, with purple ribbons +in her hair, who drank five cups of tea by my count, declared that +she was perfectly disgusted, and did n't want to hear him speak. In +the course of the meal the talk ran upon the discipline of children, +and how to administer punishment. I was quite taken by the remark of +a thin, dyspeptic man who summed up the matter by growling out in a +harsh, deep bass voice, "Punish 'em in love!" It sounded as if he had +said, "Shoot 'em on the spot!" + +THE PARSON. I supposed you would say that he was a minister. There +is another thing about those people. I think they are working +against the course of nature. Nature is entirely indifferent to any +reform. She perpetuates a fault as persistently as a virtue. +There's a split in my thumb-nail that has been scrupulously continued +for many years, not withstanding all my efforts to make the nail +resume its old regularity. You see the same thing in trees whose +bark is cut, and in melons that have had only one summer's intimacy +with squashes. The bad traits in character are passed down from +generation to generation with as much care as the good ones. Nature, +unaided, never reforms anything. + +MANDEVILLE. Is that the essence of Calvinism? + +THE PARSON. Calvinism has n't any essence, it's a fact. + +MANDEVILLE. When I was a boy, I always associated Calvinism and +calomel together. I thought that homeopathy--similia, etc.--had done +away with both of them. + +OUR NEXT DOOR (rising). If you are going into theology, I'm off.. + + + + +IV + +I fear we are not getting on much with the joyousness of winter. In +order to be exhilarating it must be real winter. I have noticed that +the lower the thermometer sinks the more fiercely the north wind +rages, and the deeper the snow is, the higher rise the spirits of the +community. The activity of the "elements" has a great effect upon +country folk especially; and it is a more wholesome excitement than +that caused by a great conflagration. The abatement of a snow-storm +that grows to exceptional magnitude is regretted, for there is always +the half-hope that this will be, since it has gone so far, the +largest fall of snow ever known in the region, burying out of sight +the great fall of 1808, the account of which is circumstantially and +aggravatingly thrown in our way annually upon the least provocation. +We all know how it reads: "Some said it began at daylight, others +that it set in after sunrise; but all agree that by eight o'clock +Friday morning it was snowing in heavy masses that darkened the air." + +The morning after we settled the five--or is it seven?--points of +Calvinism, there began a very hopeful snow-storm, one of those +wide-sweeping, careering storms that may not much affect the city, +but which strongly impress the country imagination with a sense of +the personal qualities of the weather,--power, persistency, +fierceness, and roaring exultation. Out-doors was terrible to those +who looked out of windows, and heard the raging wind, and saw the +commotion in all the high tree-tops and the writhing of the low +evergreens, and could not summon resolution to go forth and breast +and conquer the bluster. The sky was dark with snow, which was not +permitted to fall peacefully like a blessed mantle, as it sometimes +does, but was blown and rent and tossed like the split canvas of a +ship in a gale. The world was taken possession of by the demons of +the air, who had their will of it. There is a sort of fascination in +such a scene, equal to that of a tempest at sea, and without its +attendant haunting sense of peril; there is no fear that the house +will founder or dash against your neighbor's cottage, which is dimly +seen anchored across the field; at every thundering onset there is no +fear that the cook's galley will upset, or the screw break loose and +smash through the side, and we are not in momently expectation of the +tinkling of the little bell to "stop her." The snow rises in +drifting waves, and the naked trees bend like strained masts; but so +long as the window-blinds remain fast, and the chimney-tops do not +go, we preserve an equal mind. Nothing more serious can happen than +the failure of the butcher's and the grocer's carts, unless, indeed, +the little news-carrier should fail to board us with the world's +daily bulletin, or our next-door neighbor should be deterred from +coming to sit by the blazing, excited fire, and interchange the +trifling, harmless gossip of the day. The feeling of seclusion on +such a day is sweet, but the true friend who does brave the storm and +come is welcomed with a sort of enthusiasm that his arrival in +pleasant weather would never excite. The snow-bound in their Arctic +hulk are glad to see even a wandering Esquimau. + +On such a day I recall the great snow-storms on the northern New +England hills, which lasted for a week with no cessation, with no +sunrise or sunset, and no observation at noon; and the sky all the +while dark with the driving snow, and the whole world full of the +noise of the rioting Boreal forces; until the roads were obliterated, +the fences covered, and the snow was piled solidly above the first- +story windows of the farmhouse on one side, and drifted before the +front door so high that egress could only be had by tunneling the +bank. + +After such a battle and siege, when the wind fell and the sun +struggled out again, the pallid world lay subdued and tranquil, and +the scattered dwellings were not unlike wrecks stranded by the +tempest and half buried in sand. But when the blue sky again bent +over all, the wide expanse of snow sparkled like diamond-fields, and +the chimney signal-smokes could be seen, how beautiful was the +picture! Then began the stir abroad, and the efforts to open up +communication through roads, or fields, or wherever paths could be +broken, and the ways to the meeting-house first of all. Then from +every house and hamlet the men turned out with shovels, with the +patient, lumbering oxen yoked to the sleds, to break the roads, +driving into the deepest drifts, shoveling and shouting as if the +severe labor were a holiday frolic, the courage and the hilarity +rising with the difficulties encountered; and relief parties, meeting +at length in the midst of the wide white desolation, hailed each +other as chance explorers in new lands, and made the whole +country-side ring with the noise of their congratulations. There was +as much excitement and healthy stirring of the blood in it as in the +Fourth of July, and perhaps as much patriotism. The boy saw it in +dumb show from the distant, low farmhouse window, and wished he were +a man. At night there were great stories of achievement told by the +cavernous fireplace; great latitude was permitted in the estimation +of the size of particular drifts, but never any agreement was reached +as to the "depth on a level." I have observed since that people are +quite as apt to agree upon the marvelous and the exceptional as upon +simple facts. + + + + +V + +By the firelight and the twilight, the Young Lady is finishing a +letter to Herbert,--writing it, literally, on her knees, transforming +thus the simple deed into an act of devotion. Mandeville says that +it is bad for her eyes, but the sight of it is worse for his eyes. +He begins to doubt the wisdom of reliance upon that worn apothegm +about absence conquering love. + +Memory has the singular characteristic of recalling in a friend +absent, as in a journey long past, only that which is agreeable. +Mandeville begins to wish he were in New South Wales. + +I did intend to insert here a letter of Herbert's to the Young Lady, +--obtained, I need not say, honorably, as private letters which get +into print always are,--not to gratify a vulgar curiosity, but + +to show how the most unsentimental and cynical people are affected by +the master passion. But I cannot bring myself to do it. Even in the +interests of science one has no right to make an autopsy of two +loving hearts, especially when they are suffering under a late attack +of the one agreeable epidemic. + +All the world loves a lover, but it laughs at him none the less in +his extravagances. He loses his accustomed reticence; he has +something of the martyr's willingness for publicity; he would even +like to show the sincerity of his devotion by some piece of open +heroism. Why should he conceal a discovery which has transformed the +world to him, a secret which explains all the mysteries of nature and +human-ity? He is in that ecstasy of mind which prompts those who +were never orators before to rise in an experience-meeting and pour +out a flood of feeling in the tritest language and the most +conventional terms. I am not sure that Herbert, while in this glow, +would be ashamed of his letter in print, but this is one of the cases +where chancery would step in and protect one from himself by his next +friend. This is really a delicate matter, and perhaps it is brutal +to allude to it at all. + +In truth, the letter would hardly be interesting in print. Love has +a marvelous power of vivifying language and charging the simplest +words with the most tender meaning, of restoring to them the power +they had when first coined. They are words of fire to those two who +know their secret, but not to others. It is generally admitted that +the best love-letters would not make very good literature. +"Dearest," begins Herbert, in a burst of originality, felicitously +selecting a word whose exclusiveness shuts out all the world but one, +and which is a whole letter, poem, confession, and creed in one +breath. What a weight of meaning it has to carry! There may be +beauty and wit and grace and naturalness and even the splendor of +fortune elsewhere, but there is one woman in the world whose sweet +presence would be compensation for the loss of all else. It is not +to be reasoned about; he wants that one; it is her plume dancing down +the sunny street that sets his heart beating; he knows her form among +a thousand, and follows her; he longs to run after her carriage, +which the cruel coachman whirls out of his sight. It is marvelous to +him that all the world does not want her too, and he is in a panic +when he thinks of it. And what exquisite flattery is in that little +word addressed to her, and with what sweet and meek triumph she +repeats it to herself, with a feeling that is not altogether pity for +those who still stand and wait. To be chosen out of all the +available world--it is almost as much bliss as it is to choose. "All +that long, long stage-ride from Blim's to Portage I thought of you +every moment, and wondered what you were doing and how you were +looking just that moment, and I found the occupation so charming that +I was almost sorry when the journey was ended." Not much in that! +But I have no doubt the Young Lady read it over and over, and dwelt +also upon every moment, and found in it new proof of unshaken +constancy, and had in that and the like things in the letter a sense +of the sweetest communion. There is nothing in this letter that we +need dwell on it, but I am convinced that the mail does not carry any +other letters so valuable as this sort. + +I suppose that the appearance of Herbert in this new light +unconsciously gave tone a little to the evening's talk; not that +anybody mentioned him, but Mandeville was evidently generalizing from +the qualities that make one person admired by another to those that +win the love of mankind. + +MANDEVILLE. There seems to be something in some persons that wins +them liking, special or general, independent almost of what they do +or say. + +THE MISTRESS. Why, everybody is liked by some one. + +MANDEVILLE. I'm not sure of that. There are those who are +friendless, and would be if they had endless acquaintances. But, to +take the case away from ordinary examples, in which habit and a +thousand circumstances influence liking, what is it that determines +the world upon a personal regard for authors whom it has never seen? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Probably it is the spirit shown in their writings. + +THE MISTRESS. More likely it is a sort of tradition; I don't believe +that the world has a feeling of personal regard for any author who +was not loved by those who knew him most intimately. + +THE FIRE-TENDFR. Which comes to the same thing. The qualities, the +spirit, that got him the love of his acquaintances he put into his +books. + +MANDEVILLE. That does n't seem to me sufficient. Shakespeare has +put everything into his plays and poems, swept the whole range of +human sympathies and passions, and at times is inspired by the +sweetest spirit that ever man had. + +THE YOUNG LADY. No one has better interpreted love. + +MANDEVILLE. Yet I apprehend that no person living has any personal +regard for Shakespeare, or that his personality affects many,--except +they stand in Stratford church and feel a sort of awe at the thought +that the bones of the greatest poet are so near them. + +THE PARSON. I don't think the world cares personally for any mere +man or woman dead for centuries. + +MANDEVILLE. But there is a difference. I think there is still +rather a warm feeling for Socrates the man, independent of what he +said, which is little known. Homer's works are certainly better +known, but no one cares personally for Homer any more than for any +other shade. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Why not go back to Moses? We've got the evening +before us for digging up people. + +MANDEVILLE. Moses is a very good illustration. No name of antiquity +is better known, and yet I fancy he does not awaken the same kind of +popular liking that Socrates does. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Fudge! You just get up in any lecture assembly and +propose three cheers for Socrates, and see where you'll be. +Mandeville ought to be a missionary, and read Robert Browning to the +Fijis. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How do you account for the alleged personal regard +for Socrates? + +THE PARSON. Because the world called Christian is still more than +half heathen. + +MANDEVILLE. He was a plain man; his sympathies were with the people; +he had what is roughly known as "horse-sense," and he was homely. +Franklin and Abraham Lincoln belong to his class. They were all +philosophers of the shrewd sort, and they all had humor. It was +fortunate for Lincoln that, with his other qualities, he was homely. +That was the last touching recommendation to the popular heart. + +THE MISTRESS. Do you remember that ugly brown-stone statue of St. +Antonio by the bridge in Sorrento? He must have been a coarse saint, +patron of pigs as he was, but I don't know any one anywhere, or the +homely stone image of one, so loved by the people. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Ugliness being trump, I wonder more people don't win. +Mandeville, why don't you get up a "centenary" of Socrates, and put +up his statue in the Central Park? It would make that one of Lincoln +in Union Square look beautiful. + +THE PARSON. Oh, you'll see that some day, when they have a museum +there illustrating the "Science of Religion." + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Doubtless, to go back to what we were talking of, +the world has a fondness for some authors, and thinks of them with an +affectionate and half-pitying familiarity; and it may be that this +grows out of something in their lives quite as much as anything in +their writings. There seems to be more disposition of personal +liking to Thackeray than to Dickens, now both are dead,--a result +that would hardly have been predicted when the world was crying over +Little Nell, or agreeing to hate Becky Sharp. + +THE YOUNG LADY. What was that you were telling about Charles Lamb, +the other day, Mandeville? Is not the popular liking for him +somewhat independent of his writings? + +MANDEVILLE. He is a striking example of an author who is loved. +Very likely the remembrance of his tribulations has still something +to do with the tenderness felt for him. He supported no dignity and +permitted a familiarity which indicated no self-appreciation of his +real rank in the world of letters. I have heard that his +acquaintances familiarly called him "Charley." + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a relief to know that! Do you happen to know +what Socrates was called? + +MANDEVILLE. I have seen people who knew Lamb very well. One of them +told me, as illustrating his want of dignity, that as he was going +home late one night through the nearly empty streets, he was met by a +roystering party who were making a night of it from tavern to tavern. +They fell upon Lamb, attracted by his odd figure and hesitating +manner, and, hoisting him on their shoulders, carried him off, +singing as they went. Lamb enjoyed the lark, and did not tell them +who he was. When they were tired of lugging him, they lifted him, +with much effort and difficulty, to the top of a high wall, and left +him there amid the broken bottles, utterly unable to get down. Lamb +remained there philosophically in the enjoyment of his novel +adventure, until a passing watchman rescued him from his ridiculous +situation. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. How did the story get out? + +MANDEVILLE. Oh, Lamb told all about it next morning; and when asked +afterwards why he did so, he replied that there was no fun in it +unless he told it. + + + + +SIXTH STUDY + + +I + +The King sat in the winter-house in the ninth month, and there was a +fire on the hearth burning before him . . . . When Jehudi had +read three or four leaves he cut it with the penknife. + +That seems to be a pleasant and home-like picture from a not very +remote period,--less than twenty-five hundred years ago, and many +centuries after the fall of Troy. And that was not so very long ago, +for Thebes, in the splendid streets of which Homer wandered and sang +to the kings when Memphis, whose ruins are older than history, was +its younger rival, was twelve centuries old when Paris ran away with +Helen. + +I am sorry that the original--and you can usually do anything with +the "original"--does not bear me out in saying that it was a pleasant +picture. I should like to believe that Jehoiakiin--for that was the +singular name of the gentleman who sat by his hearthstone--had just +received the Memphis "Palimpsest," fifteen days in advance of the +date of its publication, and that his secretary was reading to him +that monthly, and cutting its leaves as he read. I should like to +have seen it in that year when Thales was learning astronomy in +Memphis, and Necho was organizing his campaign against Carchemish. +If Jehoiakim took the "Attic Quarterly," he might have read its +comments on the banishment of the Alcmaeonida, and its gibes at +Solon for his prohibitory laws, forbidding the sale of unguents, +limiting the luxury of dress, and interfering with the sacred rights +of mourners to passionately bewail the dead in the Asiatic manner; +the same number being enriched with contributions from two rising +poets,--a lyric of love by Sappho, and an ode sent by Anacreon from +Teos, with an editorial note explaining that the Maces was not +responsible for the sentiments of the poem. + +But, in fact, the gentleman who sat before the backlog in his +winter-house had other things to think of. For Nebuchadnezzar was +coming that way with the chariots and horses of Babylon and a great +crowd of marauders; and the king had not even the poor choice whether +he would be the vassal of the Chaldean or of the Egyptian. To us, +this is only a ghostly show of monarchs and conquerors stalking +across vast historic spaces. It was no doubt a vulgar enough scene +of war and plunder. The great captains of that age went about to +harry each other's territories and spoil each other's cities very +much as we do nowadays, and for similar reasons;--Napoleon the Great +in Moscow, Napoleon the Small in Italy, Kaiser William in Paris, +Great Scott in Mexico! Men have not changed much. + +--The Fire-Tender sat in his winter-garden in the third month; there +was a fire on the hearth burning before him. He cut the leaves of +"Scribner's Monthly" with his penknife, and thought of Jehoiakim. + +That seems as real as the other. In the garden, which is a room of +the house, the tall callas, rooted in the ground, stand about the +fountain; the sun, streaming through the glass, illumines the +many-hued flowers. I wonder what Jehoiakim did with the mealy-bug on +his passion-vine, and if he had any way of removing the scale-bug +from his African acacia? One would like to know, too, how he treated +the red spider on the Le Marque rose. The record is silent. I do +not doubt he had all these insects in his winter-garden, and the +aphidae besides; and he could not smoke them out with tobacco, for +the world had not yet fallen into its second stage of the knowledge +of good and evil by eating the forbidden tobacco-plant. + +I confess that this little picture of a fire on the hearth so many +centuries ago helps to make real and interesting to me that somewhat +misty past. No doubt the lotus and the acanthus from the Nile grew +in that winter-house, and perhaps Jehoiakim attempted--the most +difficult thing in the world the cultivation of the wild flowers from +Lebanon. Perhaps Jehoiakim was interested also, as I am through this +ancient fireplace,--which is a sort of domestic window into the +ancient world,--in the loves of Bernice and Abaces at the court of +the Pharaohs. I see that it is the same thing as the sentiment-- +perhaps it is the shrinking which every soul that is a soul has, +sooner or later, from isolation--which grew up between Herbert and +the Young Lady Staying With Us. Jeremiah used to come in to that +fireside very much as the Parson does to ours. The Parson, to be +sure, never prophesies, but he grumbles, and is the chorus in the +play that sings the everlasting ai ai of "I told you so!" Yet we +like the Parson. He is the sprig of bitter herb that makes the +pottage wholesome. I should rather, ten times over, dispense with +the flatterers and the smooth-sayers than the grumblers. But the +grumblers are of two sorts,--the healthful-toned and the whiners. +There are makers of beer who substitute for the clean bitter of the +hops some deleterious drug, and then seek to hide the fraud by some +cloying sweet. There is nothing of this sickish drug in the Parson's +talk, nor was there in that of Jeremiah, I sometimes think there is +scarcely enough of this wholesome tonic in modern society. The +Parson says he never would give a child sugar-coated pills. +Mandeville says he never would give them any. After all, you cannot +help liking Mandeville. + + + + +II + +We were talking of this late news from Jerusalem. The Fire-Tender +was saying that it is astonishing how much is telegraphed us from the +East that is not half so interesting. He was at a loss +philosophically to account for the fact that the world is so eager to +know the news of yesterday which is unimportant, and so indifferent +to that of the day before which is of some moment. + +MANDEVILLE. I suspect that it arises from the want of imagination. +People need to touch the facts, and nearness in time is contiguity. +It would excite no interest to bulletin the last siege of Jerusalem +in a village where the event was unknown, if the date was appended; +and yet the account of it is incomparably more exciting than that of +the siege of Metz. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. The daily news is a necessity. I cannot get along +without my morning paper. The other morning I took it up, and was +absorbed in the telegraphic columns for an hour nearly. I thoroughly +enjoyed the feeling of immediate contact with all the world of +yesterday, until I read among the minor items that Patrick Donahue, +of the city of New York, died of a sunstroke. If he had frozen to +death, I should have enjoyed that; but to die of sunstroke in +February seemed inappropriate, and I turned to the date of the paper. +When I found it was printed in July, I need not say that I lost all +interest in it, though why the trivialities and crimes and accidents, +relating to people I never knew, were not as good six months after +date as twelve hours, I cannot say. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. You know that in Concord the latest news, except a +remark or two by Thoreau or Emerson, is the Vedas. I believe the +Rig-Veda is read at the breakfast-table instead of the Boston +journals. + +THE PARSON. I know it is read afterward instead of the Bible. + +MANDEVILLE. That is only because it is supposed to be older. I have +understood that the Bible is very well spoken of there, but it is not +antiquated enough to be an authority. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. There was a project on foot to put it into the +circulating library, but the title New in the second part was +considered objectionable. + +HERBERT. Well, I have a good deal of sympathy with Concord as to the +news. We are fed on a daily diet of trivial events and gossip, of +the unfruitful sayings of thoughtless men and women, until our mental +digestion is seriously impaired; the day will come when no one will +be able to sit down to a thoughtful, well-wrought book and assimilate +its contents. + +THE MISTRESS. I doubt if a daily newspaper is a necessity, in the +higher sense of the word. + +THE PARSON. Nobody supposes it is to women,--that is, if they can +see each other. + +THE MISTRESS. Don't interrupt, unless you have something to say; +though I should like to know how much gossip there is afloat that the +minister does not know. The newspaper may be needed in society, but +how quickly it drops out of mind when one goes beyond the bounds of +what is called civilization. You remember when we were in the depths +of the woods last summer how difficult it was to get up any interest +in the files of late papers that reached us, and how unreal all the +struggle and turmoil of the world seemed. We stood apart, and could +estimate things at their true value. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Yes, that was real life. I never tired of the +guide's stories; there was some interest in the intelligence that a +deer had been down to eat the lily-pads at the foot of the lake the +night before; that a bear's track was seen on the trail we crossed +that day; even Mandeville's fish-stories had a certain air of +probability; and how to roast a trout in the ashes and serve him hot +and juicy and clean, and how to cook soup and prepare coffee and heat +dish-water in one tin-pail, were vital problems. + +THE PARSON. You would have had no such problems at home. Why will +people go so far to put themselves to such inconvenience? I hate the +woods. Isolation breeds conceit; there are no people so conceited as +those who dwell in remote wildernesses and live mostly alone. + +THE YOUNG LADY. For my part, I feel humble in the presence of +mountains, and in the vast stretches of the wilderness. + +THE PARSON. I'll be bound a woman would feel just as nobody would +expect her to feel, under given circumstances. + +MANDEVILLE. I think the reason why the newspaper and the world it +carries take no hold of us in the wilderness is that we become a kind +of vegetable ourselves when we go there. I have often attempted to +improve my mind in the woods with good solid books. You might as +well offer a bunch of celery to an oyster. The mind goes to sleep: +the senses and the instincts wake up. The best I can do when it +rains, or the trout won't bite, is to read Dumas's novels. Their +ingenuity will almost keep a man awake after supper, by the +camp-fire. And there is a kind of unity about them that I like; the +history is as good as the morality. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I always wondered where Mandeville got his historical +facts. + +THE MISTRESS. Mandeville misrepresents himself in the woods. I +heard him one night repeat "The Vision of Sir Launfal"--(THE +FIRE-TENDER. Which comes very near being our best poem.)--as we were +crossing the lake, and the guides became so absorbed in it that they +forgot to paddle, and sat listening with open mouths, as if it had +been a panther story. + +THE PARSON. Mandeville likes to show off well enough. I heard that +he related to a woods' boy up there the whole of the Siege of Troy. +The boy was very much interested, and said "there'd been a man up +there that spring from Troy, looking up timber." Mandeville always +carries the news when he goes into the country. + +MANDEVILLE. I'm going to take the Parson's sermon on Jonah next +summer; it's the nearest to anything like news we've had from his +pulpit in ten years. But, seriously, the boy was very well informed. +He'd heard of Albany; his father took in the "Weekly Tribune," and he +had a partial conception of Horace Greeley. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I never went so far out of the world in America yet +that the name of Horace Greeley did n't rise up before me. One of +the first questions asked by any camp-fire is, "Did ye ever see +Horace?" + +HERBERT. Which shows the power of the press again. But I have often +remarked how little real conception of the moving world, as it is, +people in remote regions get from the newspaper. It needs to be read +in the midst of events. A chip cast ashore in a refluent eddy tells +no tale of the force and swiftness of the current. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I don't exactly get the drift of that last remark; +but I rather like a remark that I can't understand; like the +landlady's indigestible bread, it stays by you. + +HERBERT. I see that I must talk in words of one syllable. The +newspaper has little effect upon the remote country mind, because the +remote country mind is interested in a very limited number of things. +Besides, as the Parson says, it is conceited. The most accomplished +scholar will be the butt of all the guides in the woods, because he +cannot follow a trail that would puzzle a sable (saple the trappers +call it). + +THE PARSON. It's enough to read the summer letters that people write +to the newspapers from the country and the woods. Isolated from the +activity of the world, they come to think that the little adventures +of their stupid days and nights are important. Talk about that being +real life! Compare the letters such people write with the other +contents of the newspaper, and you will see which life is real. +That's one reason I hate to have summer come, the country letters set +in. + +THE MISTRESS. I should like to see something the Parson does n't +hate to have come. + +MANDEVILLE. Except his quarter's salary; and the meeting of the +American Board. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I don't see that we are getting any nearer the +solution of the original question. The world is evidently interested +in events simply because they are recent. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I have a theory that a newspaper might be published +at little cost, merely by reprinting the numbers of years before, +only altering the dates; just as the Parson preaches over his +sermons. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It's evident we must have a higher order of +news-gatherers. It has come to this, that the newspaper furnishes +thought-material for all the world, actually prescribes from day to +day the themes the world shall think on and talk about. The +occupation of news-gathering becomes, therefore, the most important. +When you think of it, it is astonishing that this department should +not be in the hands of the ablest men, accomplished scholars, +philosophical observers, discriminating selectors of the news of the +world that is worth thinking over and talking about. The editorial +comments frequently are able enough, but is it worth while keeping an +expensive mill going to grind chaff? I sometimes wonder, as I open +my morning paper, if nothing did happen in the twenty-four hours +except crimes, accidents, defalcations, deaths of unknown loafers, +robberies, monstrous births,--say about the level of police-court +news. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I have even noticed that murders have deteriorated; +they are not so high-toned and mysterious as they used to be. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It is true that the newspapers have improved vastly +within the last decade. + +HERBERT. I think, for one, that they are very much above the level +of the ordinary gossip of the country. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But I am tired of having the under-world still +occupy so much room in the newspapers. The reporters are rather more +alert for a dog-fight than a philological convention. It must be +that the good deeds of the world outnumber the bad in any given day; +and what a good reflex action it would have on society if they could +be more fully reported than the bad! I suppose the Parson would call +this the Enthusiasm of Humanity. + +THE PARSON. You'll see how far you can lift yourself up by your +boot-straps. + +HERBERT. I wonder what influence on the quality (I say nothing of +quantity) of news the coming of women into the reporter's and +editor's work will have. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. There are the baby-shows; they make cheerful reading. + +THE MISTRESS. All of them got up by speculating men, who impose upon +the vanity of weak women. + +HERBERT. I think women reporters are more given to personal details +and gossip than the men. When I read the Washington correspondence I +am proud of my country, to see how many Apollo Belvederes, Adonises, +how much marble brow and piercing eye and hyacinthine locks, we have +in the two houses of Congress. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That's simply because women understand the personal +weakness of men; they have a long score of personal flattery to pay +off too. + +MANDEVILLE. I think women will bring in elements of brightness, +picturesqueness, and purity very much needed. Women have a power of +investing simple ordinary things with a charm; men are bungling +narrators compared with them. + +THE PARSON. The mistake they make is in trying to write, and +especially to "stump-speak," like men; next to an effeminate man +there is nothing so disagreeable as a mannish woman. + +HERBERT. I heard one once address a legislative committee. The +knowing air, the familiar, jocular, smart manner, the nodding and +winking innuendoes, supposed to be those of a man "up to snuff," and +au fait in political wiles, were inexpressibly comical. And yet the +exhibition was pathetic, for it had the suggestive vulgarity of a +woman in man's clothes. The imitation is always a dreary failure. + +THE MISTRESS. Such women are the rare exceptions. I am ready to +defend my sex; but I won't attempt to defend both sexes in one. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I have great hope that women will bring into the +newspaper an elevating influence; the common and sweet life of +society is much better fitted to entertain and instruct us than the +exceptional and extravagant. I confess (saving the Mistress's +presence) that the evening talk over the dessert at dinner is much +more entertaining and piquant than the morning paper, and often as +important. + +THE MISTRESS. I think the subject had better be changed. + +MANDEVILLE. The person, not the subject. There is no entertainment +so full of quiet pleasure as the hearing a lady of cultivation and +refinement relate her day's experience in her daily rounds of calls, +charitable visits, shopping, errands of relief and condolence. The +evening budget is better than the finance minister's. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That's even so. My wife will pick up more news in +six hours than I can get in a week, and I'm fond of news. + +MANDEVILLE. I don't mean gossip, by any means, or scandal. A woman +of culture skims over that like a bird, never touching it with the +tip of a wing. What she brings home is the freshness and brightness +of life. She touches everything so daintily, she hits off a +character in a sentence, she gives the pith of a dialogue without +tediousness, she mimics without vulgarity; her narration sparkles, +but it does n't sting. The picture of her day is full of vivacity, +and it gives new value and freshness to common things. If we could +only have on the stage such actresses as we have in the drawing-room! + +THE FIRE-TENDER. We want something more of this grace, +sprightliness, and harmless play of the finer life of society in the +newspaper. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder Mandeville does n't marry, and become a +permanent subscriber to his embodied idea of a newspaper. + +THE YOUNG LADY. Perhaps he does not relish the idea of being unable +to stop his subscription. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Parson, won't you please punch that fire, and give us +more blaze? we are getting into the darkness of socialism. + + + + +III + +Herbert returned to us in March. The Young Lady was spending the +winter with us, and March, in spite of the calendar, turned out to be +a winter month. It usually is in New England, and April too, for +that matter. And I cannot say it is unfortunate for us. There are +so many topics to be turned over and settled at our fireside that a +winter of ordinary length would make little impression on the list. +The fireside is, after all, a sort of private court of chancery, +where nothing ever does come to a final decision. The chief effect +of talk on any subject is to strengthen one's own opinions, and, in +fact, one never knows exactly what he does believe until he is warmed +into conviction by the heat of attack and defence. A man left to +himself drifts about like a boat on a calm lake; it is only when the +wind blows that the boat goes anywhere. + +Herbert said he had been dipping into the recent novels written by +women, here and there, with a view to noting the effect upon +literature of this sudden and rather overwhelming accession to it. +There was a good deal of talk about it evening after evening, off and +on, and I can only undertake to set down fragments of it. + +HERBERT. I should say that the distinguishing feature of the +literature of this day is the prominence women have in its +production. They figure in most of the magazines, though very rarely +in the scholarly and critical reviews, and in thousands of +newspapers; to them we are indebted for the oceans of Sunday-school +books, and they write the majority of the novels, the serial stories, +and they mainly pour out the watery flood of tales in the weekly +papers. Whether this is to result in more good than evil it is +impossible yet to say, and perhaps it would be unjust to say, until +this generation has worked off its froth, and women settle down to +artistic, conscien-tious labor in literature. + +THE MISTRESS. You don't mean to say that George Eliot, and Mrs. +Gaskell, and George Sand, and Mrs. Browning, before her marriage and +severe attack of spiritism, are less true to art than contemporary +men novelists and poets. + +HERBERT. You name some exceptions that show the bright side of the +picture, not only for the present, but for the future. Perhaps +genius has no sex; but ordinary talent has. I refer to the great +body of novels, which you would know by internal evidence were +written by women. They are of two sorts: the domestic story, +entirely unidealized, and as flavorless as water-gruel; and the +spiced novel, generally immoral in tendency, in which the social +problems are handled, unhappy marriages, affinity and passional +attraction, bigamy, and the violation of the seventh commandment. +These subjects are treated in the rawest manner, without any settled +ethics, with little discrimination of eternal right and wrong, and +with very little sense of responsibility for what is set forth. Many +of these novels are merely the blind outbursts of a nature impatient +of restraint and the conventionalities of society, and are as chaotic +as the untrained minds that produce them. + +MANDEVILLE. Don't you think these novels fairly represent a social +condition of unrest and upheaval? + +HERBERT. Very likely; and they help to create and spread abroad the +discontent they describe. Stories of bigamy (sometimes disguised by +divorce), of unhappy marriages, where the injured wife, through an +entire volume, is on the brink of falling into the arms of a sneaking +lover, until death kindly removes the obstacle, and the two souls, +who were born for each other, but got separated in the cradle, melt +and mingle into one in the last chapter, are not healthful reading +for maids or mothers. + +THE MISTRESS. Or men. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The most disagreeable object to me in modern +literature is the man the women novelists have introduced as the +leading character; the women who come in contact with him seem to be +fascinated by his disdainful mien, his giant strength, and his brutal +manner. He is broad across the shoulders, heavily moulded, yet as +lithe as a cat; has an ugly scar across his right cheek; has been in +the four quarters of the globe; knows seventeen languages; had a +harem in Turkey and a Fayaway in the Marquesas; can be as polished as +Bayard in the drawing-room, but is as gloomy as Conrad in the +library; has a terrible eye and a withering glance, but can be +instantly subdued by a woman's hand, if it is not his wife's; and +through all his morose and vicious career has carried a heart as pure +as a violet. + +THE MISTRESS. Don't you think the Count of Monte Cristo is the elder +brother of Rochester? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. One is a mere hero of romance; the other is meant +for a real man. + +MANDEVILLE. I don't see that the men novel-writers are better than +the women. + +HERBERT. That's not the question; but what are women who write so +large a proportion of the current stories bringing into literature? +Aside from the question of morals, and the absolutely demoralizing +manner of treating social questions, most of their stories are vapid +and weak beyond expression, and are slovenly in composition, showing +neither study, training, nor mental discipline. + +THE MISTRESS. Considering that women have been shut out from the +training of the universities, and have few opportunities for the wide +observation that men enjoy, isn't it pretty well that the foremost +living writers of fiction are women? + +HERBERT. You can say that for the moment, since Thackeray and +Dickens have just died. But it does not affect the general estimate. +We are inundated with a flood of weak writing. Take the Sunday- +school literature, largely the product of women; it has n't as much +character as a dried apple pie. I don't know what we are coming to +if the presses keep on running. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. We are living, we are dwelling, in a grand and awful +time; I'm glad I don't write novels. + +THE PARSON. So am I. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I tried a Sunday-school book once; but I made the +good boy end in the poorhouse, and the bad boy go to Congress; and +the publisher said it wouldn't do, the public wouldn't stand that +sort of thing. Nobody but the good go to Congress. + +THE MISTRESS. Herbert, what do you think women are good for? + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That's a poser. + +HERBERT. Well, I think they are in a tentative state as to +literature, and we cannot yet tell what they will do. Some of our +most brilliant books of travel, correspondence, and writing on topics +in which their sympathies have warmly interested them, are by women. +Some of them are also strong writers in the daily journals. + +MANDEVILLE. I 'm not sure there's anything a woman cannot do as well +as a man, if she sets her heart on it. + +THE PARSON. That's because she's no conscience. + +CHORUS. O Parson! + +THE PARSON. Well, it does n't trouble her, if she wants to do +anything. She looks at the end, not the means. A woman, set on +anything, will walk right through the moral crockery without wincing. +She'd be a great deal more unscrupulous in politics than the average +man. Did you ever see a female lobbyist? Or a criminal? It is Lady +Macbeth who does not falter. Don't raise your hands at me! The +sweetest angel or the coolest devil is a woman. I see in some of the +modern novels we have been talking of the same unscrupulous daring, a +blindness to moral distinctions, a constant exaltation of a passion +into a virtue, an entire disregard of the immutable laws on which the +family and society rest. And you ask lawyers and trustees how +scrupulous women are in business transactions! + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Women are often ignorant of affairs, and, besides, +they may have a notion often that a woman ought to be privileged more +than a man in business matters; but I tell you, as a rule, that if +men would consult their wives, they would go a deal straighter in +business operations than they do go. + +THE PARSON. We are all poor sinners. But I've another indictment +against the women writers. We get no good old-fashioned love-stories +from them. It's either a quarrel of discordant natures one a +panther, and the other a polar bear--for courtship, until one of them +is crippled by a railway accident; or a long wrangle of married life +between two unpleasant people, who can neither live comfortably +together nor apart. I suppose, by what I see, that sweet wooing, +with all its torturing and delightful uncertainty, still goes on in +the world; and I have no doubt that the majority of married people +live more happily than the unmarried. But it's easier to find a dodo +than a new and good love-story. + +MANDEVILLE. I suppose the old style of plot is exhausted. +Everything in man and outside of him has been turned over so often +that I should think the novelists would cease simply from want of +material. + +THE PARSON. Plots are no more exhausted than men are. Every man is +a new creation, and combinations are simply endless. Even if we did +not have new material in the daily change of society, and there were +only a fixed number of incidents and characters in life, invention +could not be exhausted on them. I amuse myself sometimes with my +kaleidoscope, but I can never reproduce a figure. No, no. I cannot +say that you may not exhaust everything else: we may get all the +secrets of a nature into a book by and by, but the novel is immortal, +for it deals with men. + +The Parson's vehemence came very near carrying him into a sermon; and +as nobody has the privilege of replying to his sermons, so none of +the circle made any reply now. + +Our Next Door mumbled something about his hair standing on end, to +hear a minister defending the novel; but it did not interrupt the +general silence. Silence is unnoticed when people sit before a fire; +it would be intolerable if they sat and looked at each other. + +The wind had risen during the evening, and Mandeville remarked, as +they rose to go, that it had a spring sound in it, but it was as cold +as winter. The Mistress said she heard a bird that morning singing +in the sun a spring song, it was a winter bird, but it sang + + + + +SEVENTH STUDY + + +We have been much interested in what is called the Gothic revival. +We have spent I don't know how many evenings in looking over +Herbert's plans for a cottage, and have been amused with his vain +efforts to cover with Gothic roofs the vast number of large rooms +which the Young Lady draws in her sketch of a small house. + +I have no doubt that the Gothic, which is capable of infinite +modification, so that every house built in that style may be as +different from every other house as one tree is from every other, can +be adapted to our modern uses, and will be, when artists catch its +spirit instead of merely copying its old forms. But just now we are +taking the Gothic very literally, as we took the Greek at one time, +or as we should probably have taken the Saracenic, if the Moors had +not been colored. Not even the cholera is so contagious in this +country as a style of architecture which we happen to catch; the +country is just now broken out all over with the Mansard-roof +epidemic. + +And in secular architecture we do not study what is adapted to our +climate any more than in ecclesiastic architecture we adopt that +which is suited to our religion. + +We are building a great many costly churches here and there, we +Protestants, and as the most of them are ill adapted to our forms of +worship, it may be necessary and best for us to change our religion +in order to save our investments. I am aware that this would be a +grave step, and we should not hasten to throw overboard Luther and +the right of private judgment without reflection. And yet, if it is +necessary to revive the ecclesiastical Gothic architecture, not in +its spirit (that we nowhere do), but in the form which served another +age and another faith, and if, as it appears, we have already a great +deal of money invested in this reproduction, it may be more prudent +to go forward than to go back. The question is, "Cannot one easier +change his creed than his pew?" + +I occupy a seat in church which is an admirable one for reflection, +but I cannot see or hear much that is going on in what we like to +call the apse. There is a splendid stone pillar, a clustered column, +right in front of me, and I am as much protected from the minister as +Old Put's troops were from the British, behind the stone wall at +Bunker's Hill. I can hear his voice occasionally wandering round in +the arches overhead, and I recognize the tone, because he is a friend +of mine and an excellent man, but what he is saying I can very seldom +make out. If there was any incense burning, I could smell it, and +that would be something. I rather like the smell of incense, and it +has its holy associations. But there is no smell in our church, +except of bad air,--for there is no provision for ventilation in the +splendid and costly edifice. The reproduction of the old Gothic is +so complete that the builders even seem to have brought over the +ancient air from one of the churches of the Middle Ages,--you would +declare it had n't been changed in two centuries. + +I am expected to fix my attention during the service upon one man, +who stands in the centre of the apse and has a sounding-board behind +him in order to throw his voice out of the sacred semicircular space +(where the aitar used to stand, but now the sounding-board takes the +place of the altar) and scatter it over the congregation at large, +and send it echoing up in the groined roof I always like to hear a +minister who is unfamiliar with the house, and who has a loud voice, +try to fill the edifice. The more he roars and gives himself with +vehemence to the effort, the more the building roars in +indistinguishable noise and hubbub. By the time he has said (to +suppose a case), "The Lord is in his holy temple," and has passed on +to say, "let all the earth keep silence," the building is repeating +"The Lord is in his holy temple" from half a dozen different angles +and altitudes, rolling it and growling it, and is not keeping silence +at all. A man who understands it waits until the house has had its +say, and has digested one passage, before he launches another into +the vast, echoing spaces. I am expected, as I said, to fix my eye +and mind on the minister, the central point of the service. But the +pillar hides him. Now if there were several ministers in the church, +dressed in such gorgeous colors that I could see them at the distance +from the apse at which my limited income compels me to sit, and +candles were burning, and censers were swinging, and the platform was +full of the sacred bustle of a gorgeous ritual worship, and a bell +rang to tell me the holy moments, I should not mind the pillar at +all. I should sit there, like any other Goth, and enjoy it. But, as +I have said, the pastor is a friend of mine, and I like to look at +him on Sunday, and hear what he says, for he always says something +worth hearing. I am on such terms with him, indeed we all are, that +it would be pleasant to have the service of a little more social +nature, and more human. When we put him away off in the apse, and +set him up for a Goth, and then seat ourselves at a distance, +scattered about among the pillars, the whole thing seems to me a +trifle unnatural. Though I do not mean to say that the congregations +do not "enjoy their religion" in their splendid edifices which cost +so much money and are really so beautiful. + +A good many people have the idea, so it seems, that Gothic +architecture and Christianity are essentially one and the same thing. +Just as many regard it as an act of piety to work an altar cloth or +to cushion a pulpit. It may be, and it may not be. + +Our Gothic church is likely to prove to us a valuable religious +experience, bringing out many of the Christian virtues. It may have +had its origin in pride, but it is all being overruled for our good. +Of course I need n't explain that it is the thirteenth century +ecclesiastic Gothic that is epidemic in this country; and I think it +has attacked the Congregational and the other non-ritual churches +more violently than any others. We have had it here in its most +beautiful and dangerous forms. I believe we are pretty much all of +us supplied with a Gothic church now. Such has been the enthusiasm +in this devout direction, that I should not be surprised to see our +rich private citizens putting up Gothic churches for their individual +amusement and sanctification. As the day will probably come when +every man in Hartford will live in his own mammoth, five-story +granite insurance building, it may not be unreasonable to expect that +every man will sport his own Gothic church. It is beginning to be +discovered that the Gothic sort of church edifice is fatal to the +Congregational style of worship that has been prevalent here in New +England; but it will do nicely (as they say in Boston) for private +devotion. + +There isn't a finer or purer church than ours any where, inside and +outside Gothic to the last. The elevation of the nave gives it even +that "high-shouldered" appearance which seemed more than anything +else to impress Mr. Hawthorne in the cathedral at Amiens. I fancy +that for genuine high-shoulderness we are not exceeded by any church +in the city. Our chapel in the rear is as Gothic as the rest of it,- +-a beautiful little edifice. The committee forgot to make any more +provision for ventilating that than the church, and it takes a pretty +well-seasoned Christian to stay in it long at a time. The Sunday- +school is held there, and it is thought to be best to accustom the +children to bad air before they go into the church. The poor little +dears shouldn't have the wickedness and impurity of this world break +on them too suddenly. If the stranger noticed any lack about our +church, it would be that of a spire. There is a place for one; +indeed, it was begun, and then the builders seem to have stopped, +with the notion that it would grow itself from such a good root. It +is a mistake however, to suppose that we do not know that the church +has what the profane here call a "stump-tail" appearance. But the +profane are as ignorant of history as they are of true Gothic. All +the Old World cathedrals were the work of centuries. That at Milan +is scarcely finished yet; the unfinished spires of the Cologne +cathedral are one of the best-known features of it. I doubt if it +would be in the Gothic spirit to finish a church at once. We can +tell cavilers that we shall have a spire at the proper time, and not +a minute before. It may depend a little upon what the Baptists do, +who are to build near us. I, for one, think we had better wait and +see how high the Baptist spire is before we run ours up. The church +is everything that could be desired inside. There is the nave, with +its lofty and beautiful arched ceiling; there are the side aisles, +and two elegant rows of stone pillars, stained so as to be a perfect +imitation of stucco; there is the apse, with its stained glass and +exquisite lines; and there is an organ-loft over the front entrance, +with a rose window. Nothing was wanting, so far as we could see, +except that we should adapt ourselves to the circumstances; and that +we have been trying to do ever since. It may be well to relate how +we do it, for the benefit of other inchoate Goths. + +It was found that if we put up the organ in the loft, it would hide +the beautiful rose window. Besides, we wanted congregational sing- +ing, and if we hired a choir, and hung it up there under the roof, +like a cage of birds, we should not have congregational singing. We +therefore left the organ-loft vacant, making no further use of it +than to satisfy our Gothic cravings. As for choir,--several of the +singers of the church volunteered to sit together in the front +side-seats, and as there was no place for an organ, they gallantly +rallied round a melodeon,--or perhaps it is a cabinet organ,--a +charming instrument, and, as everybody knows, entirely in keeping +with the pillars, arches, and great spaces of a real Gothic edifice. +It is the union of simplicity with grandeur, for which we have all +been looking. I need not say to those who have ever heard a +melodeon, that there is nothing like it. It is rare, even in the +finest churches on the Continent. And we had congregational singing. +And it went very well indeed. One of the advantages of pure +congregational singing, is that you can join in the singing whether +you have a voice or not. The disadvantage is, that your neighbor can +do the same. It is strange what an uncommonly poor lot of voices +there is, even among good people. But we enjoy it. If you do not +enjoy it, you can change your seat until you get among a good lot. + +So far, everything went well. But it was next discovered that it was +difficult to hear the minister, who had a very handsome little desk +in the apse, somewhat distant from the bulk of the congregation; +still, we could most of us see him on a clear day. The church was +admirably built for echoes, and the centre of the house was very +favorable to them. When you sat in the centre of the house, it +sometimes seemed as if three or four ministers were speaking. + +It is usually so in cathedrals; the Right Reverend So-and-So is +assisted by the very Reverend Such-and-Such, and the good deal +Reverend Thus-and-Thus, and so on. But a good deal of the minister's +voice appeared to go up into the groined arches, and, as there was no +one up there, some of his best things were lost. We also had a +notion that some of it went into the cavernous organ-loft. It would +have been all right if there had been a choir there, for choirs +usually need more preaching, and pay less heed to it, than any other +part of the congregation. Well, we drew a sort of screen over the +organ-loft; but the result was not as marked as we had hoped. We +next devised a sounding-board,--a sort of mammoth clamshell, painted +white,--and erected it behind the minister. It had a good effect on +the minister. It kept him up straight to his work. So long as he +kept his head exactly in the focus, his voice went out and did not +return to him; but if he moved either way, he was assailed by a Babel +of clamoring echoes. There was no opportunity for him to splurge +about from side to side of the pulpit, as some do. And if he raised +his voice much, or attempted any extra flights, he was liable to be +drowned in a refluent sea of his own eloquence. And he could hear +the congregation as well as they could hear him. All the coughs, +whispers, noises, were gathered in the wooden tympanum behind him, +and poured into his ears. + +But the sounding-board was an improvement, and we advanced to bolder +measures; having heard a little, we wanted to hear more. Besides, +those who sat in front began to be discontented with the melodeon. +There are depths in music which the melodeon, even when it is called +a cabinet organ, with a colored boy at the bellows, cannot sound. +The melodeon was not, originally, designed for the Gothic worship. +We determined to have an organ, and we speculated whether, by +erecting it in the apse, we could not fill up that elegant portion of +the church, and compel the preacher's voice to leave it, and go out +over the pews. It would of course do something to efface the main +beauty of a Gothic church; but something must be done, and we began a +series of experiments to test the probable effects of putting the +organ and choir behind the minister. We moved the desk to the very +front of the platform, and erected behind it a high, square board +screen, like a section of tight fence round the fair-grounds. This +did help matters. The minister spoke with more ease, and we could +hear him better. If the screen had been intended to stay there, we +should have agitated the subject of painting it. But this was only +an experiment. + +Our next move was to shove the screen back and mount the volunteer +singers, melodeon and all, upon the platform,--some twenty of them +crowded together behind the minister. The effect was beautiful. It +seemed as if we had taken care to select the finest-looking people in +the congregation,--much to the injury of the congregation, of course, +as seen from the platform. There are few congregations that can +stand this sort of culling, though ours can endure it as well as any; +yet it devolves upon those of us who remain the responsibility of +looking as well as we can. + +The experiment was a success, so far as appearances went, but when +the screen went back, the minister's voice went back with it. We +could not hear him very well, though we could hear the choir as plain +as day. We have thought of remedying this last defect by putting the +high screen in front of the singers, and close to the minister, as it +was before. This would make the singers invisible,--"though lost to +sight, to memory dear,"--what is sometimes called an "angel choir," +when the singers (and the melodeon) are concealed, with the most +subdued and religious effect. It is often so in cathedrals. + +This plan would have another advantage. The singers on the platform, +all handsome and well dressed, distract our attention from the +minister, and what he is saying. We cannot help looking at them, +studying all the faces and all the dresses. If one of them sits up +very straight, he is a rebuke to us; if he "lops" over, we wonder why +he does n't sit up; if his hair is white, we wonder whether it is age +or family peculiarity; if he yawns, we want to yawn; if he takes up a +hymn-book, we wonder if he is uninterested in the sermon; we look at +the bonnets, and query if that is the latest spring style, or whether +we are to look for another; if he shaves close, we wonder why he +doesn't let his beard grow; if he has long whiskers, we wonder why he +does n't trim 'em; if she sighs, we feel sorry; if she smiles, we +would like to know what it is about. And, then, suppose any of the +singers should ever want to eat fennel, or peppermints, or Brown's +troches, and pass them round! Suppose the singers, more or less of +them, should sneeze! + +Suppose one or two of them, as the handsomest people sometimes will, +should go to sleep! In short, the singers there take away all our +attention from the minister, and would do so if they were the +homeliest people in the world. We must try something else. + +It is needless to explain that a Gothic religious life is not an idle +one. + + + + +EIGHTH STUDY + + +I + +Perhaps the clothes question is exhausted, philosophically. I cannot +but regret that the Poet of the Breakfast-Table, who appears to have +an uncontrollable penchant for saying the things you would like to +say yourself, has alluded to the anachronism of "Sir Coeur de Lion +Plantagenet in the mutton-chop whiskers and the plain gray suit." + +A great many scribblers have felt the disadvantage of writing after +Montaigne; and it is impossible to tell how much originality in +others Dr. Holmes has destroyed in this country. In whist there are +some men you always prefer to have on your left hand, and I take it +that this intuitive essayist, who is so alert to seize the few +remaining unappropriated ideas and analogies in the world, is one of +them. + +No doubt if the Plantagenets of this day were required to dress in a +suit of chain-armor and wear iron pots on their heads, they would be +as ridiculous as most tragedy actors on the stage. The pit which +recognizes Snooks in his tin breastplate and helmet laughs at him, +and Snooks himself feels like a sheep; and when the great tragedian +comes on, shining in mail, dragging a two-handed sword, and mouths +the grandiloquence which poets have put into the speech of heroes, +the dress-circle requires all its good-breeding and its feigned love +of the traditionary drama not to titter. + +If this sort of acting, which is supposed to have come down to us +from the Elizabethan age, and which culminated in the school of the +Keans, Kembles, and Siddonses, ever had any fidelity to life, it must +have been in a society as artificial as the prose of Sir Philip +Sidney. That anybody ever believed in it is difficult to think, +especially when we read what privileges the fine beaux and gallants +of the town took behind the scenes and on the stage in the golden +days of the drama. When a part of the audience sat on the stage, and +gentlemen lounged or reeled across it in the midst of a play, to +speak to acquaintances in the audience, the illusion could not have +been very strong. + +Now and then a genius, like Rachel as Horatia, or Hackett as +Falstaff, may actually seem to be the character assumed by virtue of +a transforming imagination, but I suppose the fact to be that getting +into a costume, absurdly antiquated and remote from all the habits +and associations of the actor, largely accounts for the incongruity +and ridiculousness of most of our modern acting. Whether what is +called the "legitimate drama" ever was legitimate we do not know, but +the advocates of it appear to think that the theatre was some time +cast in a mould, once for all, and is good for all times and peoples, +like the propositions of Euclid. To our eyes the legitimate drama of +to-day is the one in which the day is reflected, both in costume and +speech, and which touches the affections, the passions, the humor, of +the present time. The brilliant success of the few good plays that +have been written out of the rich life which we now live--the most +varied, fruitful, and dramatically suggestive--ought to rid us +forever of the buskin-fustian, except as a pantomimic or spectacular +curiosity. + +We have no objection to Julius Caesar or Richard III. stalking about +in impossible clothes, and stepping four feet at a stride, if they +want to, but let them not claim to be more "legitimate" than "Ours" +or "Rip Van Winkle." There will probably be some orator for years +and years to come, at every Fourth of July, who will go on asking, +Where is Thebes? but he does not care anything about it, and he does +not really expect an answer. I have sometimes wished I knew the +exact site of Thebes, so that I could rise in the audience, and stop +that question, at any rate. It is legitimate, but it is tiresome. + +If we went to the bottom of this subject, I think we should find that +the putting upon actors clothes to which they are unaccustomed makes +them act and talk artificially, and often in a manner intolerable. + +An actor who has not the habits or instincts of a gentleman cannot be +made to appear like one on the stage by dress; he only caricatures +and discredits what he tries to represent; and the unaccustomed +clothes and situation make him much more unnatural and insufferable +than he would otherwise be. Dressed appropriately for parts for +which he is fitted, he will act well enough, probably. What I mean +is, that the clothes inappropriate to the man make the incongruity of +him and his part more apparent. Vulgarity is never so conspicuous as +in fine apparel, on or off the stage, and never so self-conscious. +Shall we have, then, no refined characters on the stage? Yes; but +let them be taken by men and women of taste and refinement and let us +have done with this masquerading in false raiment, ancient and +modern, which makes nearly every stage a travesty of nature and the +whole theatre a painful pretension. We do not expect the modern +theatre to be a place of instruction (that business is now turned +over to the telegraphic operator, who is making a new language), but +it may give amusement instead of torture, and do a little in +satirizing folly and kindling love of home and country by the way. + +This is a sort of summary of what we all said, and no one in +particular is responsible for it; and in this it is like public +opinion. The Parson, however, whose only experience of the theatre +was the endurance of an oratorio once, was very cordial in his +denunciation of the stage altogether. + +MANDEVILLE. Yet, acting itself is delightful; nothing so entertains +us as mimicry, the personation of character. We enjoy it in private. +I confess that I am always pleased with the Parson in the character +of grumbler. He would be an immense success on the stage. I don't +know but the theatre will have to go back into the hands of the +priests, who once controlled it. + +THE PARSON. Scoffer! + +MANDEVILLE. I can imagine how enjoyable the stage might be, cleared +of all its traditionary nonsense, stilted language, stilted behavior, +all the rubbish of false sentiment, false dress, and the manners of +times that were both artificial and immoral, and filled with living +characters, who speak the thought of to-day, with the wit and culture +that are current to-day. I've seen private theatricals, where all +the performers were persons of cultivation, that.... + +OUR NEXT DOOR. So have I. For something particularly cheerful, +commend me to amateur theatricals. I have passed some melancholy +hours at them. + +MANDEVILLE. That's because the performers acted the worn stage +plays, and attempted to do them in the manner they had seen on the +stage. It is not always so. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I suppose Mandeville would say that acting has got +into a mannerism which is well described as stagey, and is supposed +to be natural to the stage; just as half the modern poets write in a +recognized form of literary manufacture, without the least impulse +from within, and not with the purpose of saying anything, but of +turning out a piece of literary work. That's the reason we have so +much poetry that impresses one like sets of faultless cabinet- +furniture made by machinery. + +THE PARSON. But you need n't talk of nature or naturalness in acting +or in anything. I tell you nature is poor stuff. It can't go alone. +Amateur acting--they get it up at church sociables nowadays--is apt +to be as near nature as a school-boy's declamation. Acting is the +Devil's art. + +THE MISTRESS. Do you object to such innocent amusement? + +MANDEVILLE. What the Parson objects to is, that he isn't amused. + +THE PARSON. What's the use of objecting? It's the fashion of the +day to amuse people into the kingdom of heaven. + +HERBERT. The Parson has got us off the track. My notion about the +stage is, that it keeps along pretty evenly with the rest of the +world; the stage is usually quite up to the level of the audience. +Assumed dress on the stage, since you were speaking of that, makes +people no more constrained and self-conscious than it does off the +stage. + +THE MISTRESS. What sarcasm is coming now? + +HERBERT. Well, you may laugh, but the world has n't got used to good +clothes yet. The majority do not wear them with ease. People who +only put on their best on rare and stated occasions step into an +artificial feeling. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I wonder if that's the reason the Parson finds it so +difficult to get hold of his congregation. + +HERBERT. I don't know how else to account for the formality and +vapidity of a set "party," where all the guests are clothed in a +manner to which they are unaccustomed, dressed into a condition of +vivid self-consciousness. The same people, who know each other +perfectly well, will enjoy themselves together without restraint in +their ordinary apparel. But nothing can be more artificial than the +behavior of people together who rarely "dress up." It seems +impossible to make the conversation as fine as the clothes, and so it +dies in a kind of inane helplessness. Especially is this true in the +country, where people have not obtained the mastery of their clothes +that those who live in the city have. It is really absurd, at this +stage of our civilization, that we should be so affected by such an +insignificant accident as dress. Perhaps Mandeville can tell us +whether this clothes panic prevails in the older societies. + +THE PARSON. Don't. We've heard it; about its being one of the +Englishman's thirty-nine articles that he never shall sit down to +dinner without a dress-coat, and all that. + +THE MISTRESS. I wish, for my part, that everybody who has time to +eat a dinner would dress for that, the principal event of the day, +and do respectful and leisurely justice to it. + +THE YOUNG LADY. It has always seemed singular to me that men who +work so hard to build elegant houses, and have good dinners, should +take so little leisure to enjoy either. + +MANDEVILLE. If the Parson will permit me, I should say that the +chief clothes question abroad just now is, how to get any; and it is +the same with the dinners. + + + + +II + +It is quite unnecessary to say that the talk about clothes ran into +the question of dress-reform, and ran out, of course. You cannot +converse on anything nowadays that you do not run into some reform. +The Parson says that everybody is intent on reforming everything but +himself. We are all trying to associate ourselves to make everybody +else behave as we do. Said-- + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Dress reform! As if people couldn't change their +clothes without concert of action. Resolved, that nobody should put +on a clean collar oftener than his neighbor does. I'm sick of every +sort of reform. I should like to retrograde awhile. Let a dyspeptic +ascertain that he can eat porridge three times a day and live, and +straightway he insists that everybody ought to eat porridge and +nothing else. I mean to get up a society every member of which shall +be pledged to do just as he pleases. + +THE PARSON. That would be the most radical reform of the day. That +would be independence. If people dressed according to their means, +acted according to their convictions, and avowed their opinions, it +would revolutionize society. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. I should like to walk into your church some Sunday +and see the changes under such conditions. + +THE PARSON. It might give you a novel sensation to walk in at any +time. And I'm not sure but the church would suit your retrograde +ideas. It's so Gothic that a Christian of the Middle Ages, if he +were alive, couldn't see or hear in it. + +HERBERT. I don't know whether these reformers who carry the world on +their shoulders in such serious fashion, especially the little fussy +fellows, who are themselves the standard of the regeneration they +seek, are more ludicrous than pathetic. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. Pathetic, by all means. But I don't know that they +would be pathetic if they were not ludicrous. There are those reform +singers who have been piping away so sweetly now for thirty years, +with never any diminution of cheerful, patient enthusiasm; their hair +growing longer and longer, their eyes brighter and brighter, and +their faces, I do believe, sweeter and sweeter; singing always with +the same constancy for the slave, for the drunkard, for the +snufftaker, for the suffragist,--"There'sa-good-time-com-ing-boys +(nothing offensive is intended by "boys," it is put in for euphony, +and sung pianissimo, not to offend the suffragists), it's- +almost-here." And what a brightening up of their faces there is when +they say, "it's-al-most-here," not doubting for a moment that "it's" +coming tomorrow; and the accompanying melodeon also wails its wheezy +suggestion that "it's-al-most-here," that "good-time" (delayed so +long, waiting perhaps for the invention of the melodeon) when we +shall all sing and all play that cheerful instrument, and all vote, +and none shall smoke, or drink, or eat meat, "boys." I declare it +almost makes me cry to hear them, so touching is their faith in the +midst of a jeer-ing world. + +HERBERT. I suspect that no one can be a genuine reformer and not be +ridiculous. I mean those who give themselves up to the unction of +the reform. + +THE MISTRESS. Does n't that depend upon whether the reform is large +or petty? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I should say rather that the reforms attracted to +them all the ridiculous people, who almost always manage to become +the most conspicuous. I suppose that nobody dare write out all that +was ludicrous in the great abolition movement. But it was not at all +comical to those most zealous in it; they never could see--more's the +pity, for thereby they lose much--the humorous side of their per- +formances, and that is why the pathos overcomes one's sense of the +absurdity of such people. + +THE YOUNG LADY. It is lucky for the world that so many are willing +to be absurd. + +HERBERT. Well, I think that, in the main, the reformers manage to +look out for themselves tolerably well. I knew once a lean and +faithful agent of a great philanthropic scheme, who contrived to +collect every year for the cause just enough to support him at a good +hotel comfortably. + +THE MISTRESS. That's identifying one's self with the cause. + +MANDEVILLE. You remember the great free-soil convention at Buffalo, +in 1848, when Van Buren was nominated. All the world of hope and +discontent went there, with its projects of reform. There seemed to +be no doubt, among hundreds that attended it, that if they could get +a resolution passed that bread should be buttered on both sides, it +would be so buttered. The platform provided for every want and every +woe. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I remember. If you could get the millennium by +political action, we should have had it then. + +MANDEVILLE. We went there on the Erie Canal, the exciting and +fashionable mode of travel in those days. I was a boy when we began +the voyage. The boat was full of conventionists; all the talk was of +what must be done there. I got the impression that as that boat-load +went so would go the convention; and I was not alone in that feeling. +I can never be grateful enough for one little scrubby fanatic who was +on board, who spent most of his time in drafting resolutions and +reading them privately to the passengers. He was a very +enthusiastic, nervous, and somewhat dirty little man, who wore a +woolen muffler about his throat, although it was summer; he had +nearly lost his voice, and could only speak in a hoarse, disagreeable +whisper, and he always carried a teacup about, containing some sticky +compound which he stirred frequently with a spoon, and took, whenever +he talked, in order to improve his voice. If he was separated from +his cup for ten minutes, his whisper became inaudible. I greatly +delighted in him, for I never saw any one who had so much enjoyment +of his own importance. He was fond of telling what he would do if +the conven-tion rejected such and such resolutions. He'd make it hot +for them. I did n't know but he'd make them take his mixture. The +convention had got to take a stand on tobacco, for one thing. He'd +heard Gid-dings took snuff; he'd see. When we at length reached +Buffalo he took his teacup and carpet-bag of resolutions and went +ashore in a great hurry. I saw him once again in a cheap restaurant, +whispering a resolution to another delegate, but he did n't appear in +the con-vention. I have often wondered what became of him. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably he's consul somewhere. They mostly are. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. After all, it's the easiest thing in the world to +sit and sneer at eccentricities. But what a dead and uninteresting +world it would be if we were all proper, and kept within the lines! +Affairs would soon be reduced to mere machinery. There are moments, +even days, when all interests and movements appear to be settled upon +some universal plan of equilibrium; but just then some restless and +absurd person is inspired to throw the machine out of gear. These +individual eccentricities seem to be the special providences in the +general human scheme. + +HERBERT. They make it very hard work for the rest of us, who are +disposed to go along peaceably and smoothly. + +MANDEVILLE. And stagnate. I 'm not sure but the natural condition +of this planet is war, and that when it is finally towed to its +anchorage--if the universe has any harbor for worlds out of +commission--it will look like the Fighting Temeraire in Turner's +picture. + +HERBERT. There is another thing I should like to understand: the +tendency of people who take up one reform, perhaps a personal +regeneration in regard to some bad habit, to run into a dozen other +isms, and get all at sea in several vague and pernicious theories and +practices. + +MANDEVILLE. Herbert seems to think there is safety in a man's being +anchored, even if it is to a bad habit. + +HERBERT. Thank you. But what is it in human nature that is apt to +carry a man who may take a step in personal reform into so many +extremes? + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Probably it's human nature. + +HERBERT. Why, for instance, should a reformed drunkard (one of the +noblest examples of victory over self) incline, as I have known the +reformed to do, to spiritism, or a woman suffragist to "pantarchism" +(whatever that is), and want to pull up all the roots of society, and +expect them to grow in the air, like orchids; or a Graham-bread +disciple become enamored of Communism? + +MANDEVILLE. I know an excellent Conservative who would, I think, +suit you; he says that he does not see how a man who indulges in the +theory and practice of total abstinence can be a consistent believer +in the Christian religion. + +HERBERT. Well, I can understand what he means: that a person is +bound to hold himself in conditions of moderation and control, using +and not abusing the things of this world, practicing temperance, not +retiring into a convent of artificial restrictions in order to escape +the full responsibility of self-control. And yet his theory would +certainly wreck most men and women. What does the Parson say? + +THE PARSON. That the world is going crazy on the notion of individual +ability. Whenever a man attempts to reform himself, or anybody else, +without the aid of the Christian religion, he is sure to go adrift, +and is pretty certain to be blown about by absurd theories, and +shipwrecked on some pernicious ism. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I think the discussion has touched bottom. + + + + +III + +I never felt so much the value of a house with a backlog in it as +during the late spring; for its lateness was its main feature. +Everybody was grumbling about it, as if it were something ordered +from the tailor, and not ready on the day. Day after day it snowed, +night after night it blew a gale from the northwest; the frost sunk +deeper and deeper into the ground; there was a popular longing for +spring that was almost a prayer; the weather bureau was active; +Easter was set a week earlier than the year before, but nothing +seemed to do any good. The robins sat under the evergreens, and +piped in a disconsolate mood, and at last the bluejays came and +scolded in the midst of the snow-storm, as they always do scold in +any weather. The crocuses could n't be coaxed to come up, even with +a pickaxe. I'm almost ashamed now to recall what we said of the +weather only I think that people are no more accountable for what +they say of the weather than for their remarks when their corns are +stepped on. + +We agreed, however, that, but for disappointed expectations and the +prospect of late lettuce and peas, we were gaining by the fire as +much as we were losing by the frost. And the Mistress fell to +chanting the comforts of modern civilization. + +THE FIRE-TENDER said he should like to know, by the way, if our +civilization differed essentially from any other in anything but its +comforts. + +HERBERT. We are no nearer religious unity. + +THE PARSON. We have as much war as ever. + +MANDEVILLE. There was never such a social turmoil. + +THE YOUNG LADY. The artistic part of our nature does not appear to +have grown. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. We are quarreling as to whether we are in fact +radically different from the brutes. + +HERBERT. Scarcely two people think alike about the proper kind of +human government. + +THE PARSON. Our poetry is made out of words, for the most part, and +not drawn from the living sources. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. And Mr. Cumming is uncorking his seventh phial. I +never felt before what barbarians we are. + +THE MISTRESS. Yet you won't deny that the life of the average man is +safer and every way more comfortable than it was even a century ago. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But what I want to know is, whether what we call +our civilization has done any thing more for mankind at large than to +increase the ease and pleasure of living? Science has multiplied +wealth, and facilitated intercourse, and the result is refinement of +manners and a diffusion of education and information. Are men and +women essentially changed, however? I suppose the Parson would say +we have lost faith, for one thing. + +MANDEVILLE. And superstition; and gained toleration. + +HERBERT. The question is, whether toleration is anything but +indifference. + +THE PARSON. Everything is tolerated now but Christian orthodoxy. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. It's easy enough to make a brilliant catalogue of +external achievements, but I take it that real progress ought to be +in man himself. It is not a question of what a man enjoys, but what +he can produce. The best sculpture was executed two thousand years +ago. The best paintings are several centuries old. We study the +finest architecture in its ruins. The standards of poetry are +Shakespeare, Homer, Isaiah, and David. The latest of the arts, +music, culminated in composition, though not in execution, a century +ago. + +THE MISTRESS. Yet culture in music certainly distinguishes the +civilization of this age. It has taken eighteen hundred years for +the principles of the Christian religion to begin to be practically +incorporated in government and in ordinary business, and it will take +a long time for Beethoven to be popularly recognized; but there is +growth toward him, and not away from him, and when the average +culture has reached his height, some other genius will still more +profoundly and delicately express the highest thoughts. + +HERBERT. I wish I could believe it. The spirit of this age is +expressed by the Calliope. + +THE PARSON. Yes, it remained for us to add church-bells and cannon +to the orchestra. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a melancholy thought to me that we can no longer +express ourselves with the bass-drum; there used to be the whole of +the Fourth of July in its patriotic throbs. + +MANDEVILLE. We certainly have made great progress in one art,--that +of war. + +THE YOUNG LADY. And in the humane alleviations of the miseries of +war. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The most discouraging symptom to me in our +undoubted advance in the comforts and refinements of society is the +facility with which men slip back into barbarism, if the artificial +and external accidents of their lives are changed. We have always +kept a fringe of barbarism on our shifting western frontier; and I +think there never was a worse society than that in California and +Nevada in their early days. + +THE YOUNG LADY. That is because women were absent. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. But women are not absent in London and New York, +and they are conspicuous in the most exceptionable demonstrations of +social anarchy. Certainly they were not wanting in Paris. Yes, +there was a city widely accepted as the summit of our material +civilization. No city was so beautiful, so luxurious, so safe, so +well ordered for the comfort of living, and yet it needed only a +month or two to make it a kind of pandemonium of savagery. Its +citizens were the barbarians who destroyed its own monuments of +civilization. I don't mean to say that there was no apology for what +was done there in the deceit and fraud that preceded it, but I simply +notice how ready the tiger was to appear, and how little restraint +all the material civilization was to the beast. + +THE MISTRESS. I can't deny your instances, and yet I somehow feel +that pretty much all you have been saying is in effect untrue. Not +one of you would be willing to change our civilization for any other. +In your estimate you take no account, it seems to me, of the growth +of charity. + +MANDEVILLE. And you might add a recognition of the value of human +life. + +THE MISTRESS. I don't believe there was ever before diffused +everywhere such an element of good-will, and never before were women +so much engaged in philanthropic work. + +THE PARSON. It must be confessed that one of the best signs of the +times is woman's charity for woman. That certainly never existed to +the same extent in any other civilization. + +MANDEVILLE. And there is another thing that distinguishes us, or is +beginning to. That is, the notion that you can do something more +with a criminal than punish him; and that society has not done its +duty when it has built a sufficient number of schools for one class, +or of decent jails for another. + +HERBERT. It will be a long time before we get decent jails. + +MANDEVILLE. But when we do they will begin to be places of education +and training as much as of punishment and disgrace. The public will +provide teachers in the prisons as it now does in the common schools. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. The imperfections of our methods and means of +selecting those in the community who ought to be in prison are so +great, that extra care in dealing with them becomes us. We are +beginning to learn that we cannot draw arbitrary lines with infal- +lible justice. Perhaps half those who are convicted of crimes are as +capable of reformation as half those transgressors who are not +convicted, or who keep inside the statutory law. + +HERBERT. Would you remove the odium of prison? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. No; but I would have criminals believe, and society +believe, that in going to prison a man or woman does not pass an +absolute line and go into a fixed state. + +THE PARSON. That is, you would not have judgment and retribution +begin in this world. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Don't switch us off into theology. I hate to go up +in a balloon, or see any one else go. + +HERBERT. Don't you think there is too much leniency toward crime and +criminals, taking the place of justice, in these days? + +THE FIRE-TENDER. There may be too much disposition to condone the +crimes of those who have been considered respectable. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. That is, scarcely anybody wants to see his friend +hung. + +MANDEVILLE. I think a large part of the bitterness of the condemned +arises from a sense of the inequality with which justice is +administered. I am surprised, in visiting jails, to find so few +respectable-looking convicts. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. Nobody will go to jail nowadays who thinks anything +of himself. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. When society seriously takes hold of the +reformation of criminals (say with as much determination as it does +to carry an election) this false leniency will disappear; for it +partly springs from a feeling that punishment is unequal, and does +not discriminate enough in individuals, and that society itself has +no right to turn a man over to the Devil, simply because he shows a +strong leaning that way. A part of the scheme of those who work for +the reformation of criminals is to render punishment more certain, +and to let its extent depend upon reformation. There is no reason +why a professional criminal, who won't change his trade for an honest +one, should have intervals of freedom in his prison life in which he +is let loose to prey upon society. Criminals ought to be discharged, +like insane patients, when they are cured. + +OUR NEXT DOOR. It's a wonder to me, what with our multitudes of +statutes and hosts of detectives, that we are any of us out of jail. +I never come away from a visit to a State-prison without a new spasm +of fear and virtue. The faculties for getting into jail seem to be +ample. We want more organizations for keeping people out. + +MANDEVILLE. That is the sort of enterprise the women are engaged in, +the frustration of the criminal tendencies of those born in vice. I +believe women have it in their power to regenerate the world morally. + +THE PARSON. It's time they began to undo the mischief of their +mother. + +THE MISTRESS. The reason they have not made more progress is that +they have usually confined their individual efforts to one man; they +are now organizing for a general campaign. + +THE FIRE-TENDER. I'm not sure but here is where the ameliorations of +the conditions of life, which are called the comforts of this +civilization, come in, after all, and distinguish the age above all +others. They have enabled the finer powers of women to have play as +they could not in a ruder age. I should like to live a hundred years +and see what they will do. + +HERBERT. Not much but change the fashions, unless they submit them- +selves to the same training and discipline that men do. + +I have no doubt that Herbert had to apologize for this remark +afterwards in private, as men are quite willing to do in particular +cases; it is only in general they are unjust. The talk drifted off +into general and particular depreciation of other times. Mandeville +described a picture, in which he appeared to have confidence, of a +fight between an Iguanodon and a Megalosaurus, where these huge +iron-clad brutes were represented chewing up different portions of +each other's bodies in a forest of the lower cretaceous period. So +far as he could learn, that sort of thing went on unchecked for +hundreds of thousands of years, and was typical of the intercourse of +the races of man till a comparatively recent period. There was also +that gigantic swan, the Plesiosaurus; in fact, all the early brutes +were disgusting. He delighted to think that even the lower animals +had improved, both in appearance and disposition. + +The conversation ended, therefore, in a very amicable manner, having +been taken to a ground that nobody knew anything about. + + + + +NINTH STUDY + + +I + +Can you have a backlog in July? That depends upon circumstances. + +In northern New England it is considered a sign of summer when the +housewives fill the fireplaces with branches of mountain laurel, and, +later, with the feathery stalks of the asparagus. This is often, +too, the timid expression of a tender feeling, under Puritanic +repression, which has not sufficient vent in the sweet-william and +hollyhock at the front door. This is a yearning after beauty and +ornamentation which has no other means of gratifying itself + +In the most rigid circumstances, the graceful nature of woman thus +discloses itself in these mute expressions of an undeveloped taste. +You may never doubt what the common flowers growing along the pathway +to the front door mean to the maiden of many summers who tends them; +--love and religion, and the weariness of an uneventful life. The +sacredness of the Sabbath, the hidden memory of an unrevealed and +unrequited affection, the slow years of gathering and wasting +sweetness, are in the smell of the pink and the sweet-clover. These +sentimental plants breathe something of the longing of the maiden who +sits in the Sunday evenings of summer on the lonesome front +doorstone, singing the hymns of the saints, and perennial as the +myrtle that grows thereby. + +Yet not always in summer, even with the aid of unrequited love and +devotional feeling, is it safe to let the fire go out on the hearth, +in our latitude. I remember when the last almost total eclipse of +the sun happened in August, what a bone-piercing chill came over the +world. Perhaps the imagination had something to do with causing the +chill from that temporary hiding of the sun to feel so much more +penetrating than that from the coming on of night, which shortly +followed. It was impossible not to experience a shudder as of the +approach of the Judgment Day, when the shadows were flung upon the +green lawn, and we all stood in the wan light, looking unfamiliar to +each other. The birds in the trees felt the spell. We could in +fancy see those spectral camp-fires which men would build on the +earth, if the sun should slow its fires down to about the brilliancy +of the moon. It was a great relief to all of us to go into the +house, and, before a blazing wood-fire, talk of the end of the world. + +In New England it is scarcely ever safe to let the fire go out; it is +best to bank it, for it needs but the turn of a weather-vane at any +hour to sweep the + +Atlantic rains over us, or to bring down the chill of Hudson's Bay. +There are days when the steam ship on the Atlantic glides calmly +along under a full canvas, but its central fires must always be ready +to make steam against head-winds and antagonistic waves. Even in our +most smiling summer days one needs to have the materials of a +cheerful fire at hand. It is only by this readiness for a change +that one can preserve an equal mind. We are made provident and +sagacious by the fickleness of our climate. We should be another +sort of people if we could have that serene, unclouded trust in +nature which the Egyptian has. The gravity and repose of the Eastern +peoples is due to the unchanging aspect of the sky, and the +deliberation and reg-ularity of the great climatic processes. Our +literature, politics, religion, show the effect of unsettled weather. +But they compare favorably with the Egyptian, for all that. + + + + +II + +You cannot know, the Young Lady wrote, with what longing I look back +to those winter days by the fire; though all the windows are open to +this May morning, and the brown thrush is singing in the chestnut- +tree, and I see everywhere that first delicate flush of spring, which +seems too evanescent to be color even, and amounts to little more +than a suffusion of the atmosphere. I doubt, indeed, if the spring +is exactly what it used to be, or if, as we get on in years [no one +ever speaks of "getting on in years" till she is virtually settled in +life], its promises and suggestions do not seem empty in comparison +with the sympathies and responses of human friendship, and the +stimulation of society. Sometimes nothing is so tiresome as a +perfect day in a perfect season. + +I only imperfectly understand this. The Parson says that woman is +always most restless under the most favorable conditions, and that +there is no state in which she is really happy except that of change. +I suppose this is the truth taught in what has been called the "Myth +of the Garden." Woman is perpetual revolution, and is that element +in the world which continually destroys and re-creates. She is the +experimenter and the suggester of new combinations. She has no +belief in any law of eternal fitness of things. She is never even +content with any arrangement of her own house. The only reason the +Mistress could give, when she rearranged her apartment, for hanging a +picture in what seemed the most inappropriate place, was that it had +never been there before. Woman has no respect for tradition, and +because a thing is as it is is sufficient reason for changing it. +When she gets into law, as she has come into literature, we shall +gain something in the destruction of all our vast and musty libraries +of precedents, which now fetter our administration of individual +justice. It is Mandeville's opinion that women are not so +sentimental as men, and are not so easily touched with the unspoken +poetry of nature; being less poetical, and having less imagination, +they are more fitted for practical affairs, and would make less +failures in business. I have noticed the almost selfish passion for +their flowers which old gardeners have, and their reluctance to part +with a leaf or a blossom from their family. They love the flowers +for themselves. A woman raises flowers for their use. She is +destruct-ion in a conservatory. She wants the flowers for her lover, +for the sick, for the poor, for the Lord on Easter day, for the +ornamentation of her house. She delights in the costly pleasure of +sacrificing them. She never sees a flower but she has an intense but +probably sinless desire to pick it. + +It has been so from the first, though from the first she has been +thwarted by the accidental superior strength of man. Whatever she +has obtained has been by craft, and by the same coaxing which the sun +uses to draw the blossoms out of the apple-trees. I am not surprised +to learn that she has become tired of indulgences, and wants some of +the original rights. We are just beginning to find out the extent to +which she has been denied and subjected, and especially her condition +among the primitive and barbarous races. I have never seen it in a +platform of grievances, but it is true that among the Fijians she is +not, unless a better civilization has wrought a change in her behalf, +permitted to eat people, even her own sex, at the feasts of the men; +the dainty enjoyed by the men being considered too good to be wasted +on women. Is anything wanting to this picture of the degradation of +woman? By a refinement of cruelty she receives no benefit whatever +from the missionaries who are sent out by--what to her must seem a +new name for Tantalus--the American Board. + +I suppose the Young Lady expressed a nearly universal feeling in her +regret at the breaking up of the winter-fireside company. Society +needs a certain seclusion and the sense of security. Spring opens +the doors and the windows, and the noise and unrest of the world are +let in. Even a winter thaw begets a desire to travel, and summer +brings longings innumerable, and disturbs the most tranquil souls. +Nature is, in fact, a suggester of uneasiness, a promoter of +pilgrimages and of excursions of the fancy which never come to any +satisfactory haven. The summer in these latitudes is a campaign of +sentiment and a season, for the most part, of restlessness and +discontent. We grow now in hot-houses roses which, in form and +color, are magnificent, and appear to be full of passion; yet one +simple June rose of the open air has for the Young Lady, I doubt not, +more sentiment and suggestion of love than a conservatory full of +them in January. And this suggestion, leavened as it is with the +inconstancy of nature, stimulated by the promises which are so often +like the peach-blossom of the Judas-tree, unsatisfying by reason of +its vague possibilities, differs so essentially from the more limited +and attainable and home-like emotion born of quiet intercourse by the +winter fireside, that I do not wonder the Young Lady feels as if some +spell had been broken by the transition of her life from in-doors to +out-doors. Her secret, if secret she has, which I do not at all +know, is shared by the birds and the new leaves and the blossoms on +the fruit trees. If we lived elsewhere, in that zone where the poets +pretend always to dwell, we might be content, perhaps I should say +drugged, by the sweet influences of an unchanging summer; but not +living elsewhere, we can understand why the Young Lady probably now +looks forward to the hearthstone as the most assured center of +enduring attachment. + +If it should ever become the sad duty of this biographer to write of +disappointed love, I am sure he would not have any sensational story +to tell of the Young Lady. She is one of those women whose +unostentatious lives are the chief blessing of humanity; who, with a +sigh heard only by herself and no change in her sunny face, would put +behind her all the memories of winter evenings and the promises of +May mornings, and give her life to some ministration of human +kindness with an assiduity that would make her occupation appear like +an election and a first choice. The disappointed man scowls, and +hates his race, and threatens self-destruction, choosing oftener the +flowing bowl than the dagger, and becoming a reeling nuisance in the +world. It would be much more manly in him to become the secretary of +a Dorcas society. + +I suppose it is true that women work for others with less expectation +of reward than men, and give themselves to labors of self-sacrifice +with much less thought of self. At least, this is true unless woman +goes into some public performance, where notoriety has its +attractions, and mounts some cause, to ride it man-fashion, when I +think she becomes just as eager for applause and just as willing that +self-sacrifice should result in self-elevation as man. For her, +usually, are not those unbought--presentations which are forced upon +firemen, philanthropists, legislators, railroad-men, and the +superintendents of the moral instruction of the young. These are +almost always pleasing and unexpected tributes to worth and modesty, +and must be received with satisfaction when the public service +rendered has not been with a view to procuring them. We should say +that one ought to be most liable to receive a "testimonial" who, +being a superintendent of any sort, did not superintend with a view +to getting it. But "testimonials" have become so common that a +modest man ought really to be afraid to do his simple duty, for fear +his motives will be misconstrued. Yet there are instances of very +worthy men who have had things publicly presented to them. It is the +blessed age of gifts and the reward of private virtue. And the +presentations have become so frequent that we wish there were a +little more variety in them. There never was much sense in giving a +gallant fellow a big speaking-trumpet to carry home to aid him in his +intercourse with his family; and the festive ice-pitcher has become a +too universal sign of absolute devotion to the public interest. The +lack of one will soon be proof that a man is a knave. The +legislative cane with the gold head, also, is getting to be +recognized as the sign of the immaculate public servant, as the +inscription on it testifies, and the steps of suspicion must ere-long +dog him who does not carry one. The "testimonial" business is, in +truth, a little demoralizing, almost as much so as the "donation;" +and the demoralization has extended even to our language, so that a +perfectly respectable man is often obliged to see himself "made the +recipient of" this and that. It would be much better, if +testimonials must be, to give a man a barrel of flour or a keg of +oysters, and let him eat himself at once back into the ranks of +ordinary men. + + + + +III + +We may have a testimonial class in time, a sort of nobility here in +America, made so by popular gift, the members of which will all be +able to show some stick or piece of plated ware or massive chain, "of +which they have been the recipients." In time it may be a +distinction not to belong to it, and it may come to be thought more +blessed to give than to receive. For it must have been remarked that +it is not always to the cleverest and the most amiable and modest man +that the deputation comes with the inevitable ice-pitcher (and +"salver to match"), which has in it the magic and subtle quality of +making the hour in which it is received the proudest of one's life. +There has not been discovered any method of rewarding all the +deserving people and bringing their virtues into the prominence of +notoriety. And, indeed, it would be an unreasonable world if there +had, for its chief charm and sweetness lie in the excellences in it +which are reluctantly disclosed; one of the chief pleasures of living +is in the daily discovery of good traits, nobilities, and kindliness +both in those we have long known and in the chance passenger whose +way happens for a day to lie with ours. The longer I live the more I +am impressed with the excess of human kindness over human hatred, and +the greater willingness to oblige than to disoblige that one meets at +every turn. The selfishness in politics, the jealousy in letters, +the bickering in art, the bitterness in theology, are all as nothing +compared to the sweet charities, sacrifices, and deferences of +private life. The people are few whom to know intimately is to +dislike. Of course you want to hate somebody, if you can, just to +keep your powers of discrimination bright, and to save yourself from +becoming a mere mush of good-nature; but perhaps it is well to hate +some historical person who has been dead so long as to be indifferent +to it. It is more comfortable to hate people we have never seen. I +cannot but think that Judas Iscariot has been of great service to the +world as a sort of buffer for moral indignation which might have made +a collision nearer home but for his utilized treachery. I used to +know a venerable and most amiable gentleman and scholar, whose +hospitable house was always overrun with wayside ministers, agents, +and philanthropists, who loved their fellow-men better than they +loved to work for their living; and he, I suspect, kept his moral +balance even by indulgence in violent but most distant dislikes. +When I met him casually in the street, his first salutation was +likely to be such as this: "What a liar that Alison was! Don't you +hate him?" And then would follow specifications of historical +inveracity enough to make one's blood run cold. When he was thus +discharged of his hatred by such a conductor, I presume he had not a +spark left for those whose mission was partly to live upon him and +other generous souls. + +Mandeville and I were talking of the unknown people, one rainy night +by the fire, while the Mistress was fitfully and interjectionally +playing with the piano-keys in an improvising mood. Mandeville has a +good deal of sentiment about him, and without any effort talks so +beautifully sometimes that I constantly regret I cannot report his +language. He has, besides, that sympathy of presence--I believe it +is called magnetism by those who regard the brain as only a sort of +galvanic battery--which makes it a greater pleasure to see him think, +if I may say so, than to hear some people talk. + +It makes one homesick in this world to think that there are so many +rare people he can never know; and so many excellent people that +scarcely any one will know, in fact. One discovers a friend by +chance, and cannot but feel regret that twenty or thirty years of +life maybe have been spent without the least knowledge of him. When +he is once known, through him opening is made into another little +world, into a circle of culture and loving hearts and enthusiasm in a +dozen congenial pursuits, and prejudices perhaps. How instantly and +easily the bachelor doubles his world when he marries, and enters +into the unknown fellowship of the to him continually increasing +company which is known in popular language as "all his wife's +relations." + +Near at hand daily, no doubt, are those worth knowing intimately, if +one had the time and the opportunity. And when one travels he sees +what a vast material there is for society and friendship, of which he +can never avail himself. Car-load after car-load of summer travel +goes by one at any railway-station, out of which he is sure he could +choose a score of life-long friends, if the conductor would introduce +him. There are faces of refinement, of quick wit, of sympathetic +kindness,--interesting people, traveled people, entertaining people, +--as you would say in Boston, "nice people you would admire to know," +whom you constantly meet and pass without a sign of recognition, many +of whom are no doubt your long-lost brothers and sisters. You can +see that they also have their worlds and their interests, and they +probably know a great many "nice" people. The matter of personal +liking and attachment is a good deal due to the mere fortune of +association. More fast friendships and pleasant acquaintanceships +are formed on the Atlantic steamships between those who would have +been only indifferent acquaintances elsewhere, than one would think +possible on a voyage which naturally makes one as selfish as he is +indifferent to his personal appearance. The Atlantic is the only +power on earth I know that can make a woman indifferent to her +personal appearance. + +Mandeville remembers, and I think without detriment to himself, the +glimpses he had in the White Mountains once of a young lady of whom +his utmost efforts could give him no further information than her +name. Chance sight of her on a passing stage or amid a group on some +mountain lookout was all he ever had, and he did not even know +certainly whether she was the perfect beauty and the lovely character +he thought her. He said he would have known her, however, at a great +distance; there was to her form that command of which we hear so much +and which turns out to be nearly all command after the "ceremony;" or +perhaps it was something in the glance of her eye or the turn of her +head, or very likely it was a sweet inherited reserve or hauteur that +captivated him, that filled his days with the expectation of seeing +her, and made him hasten to the hotel-registers in the hope that her +name was there recorded. Whatever it was, she interested him as one +of the people he would like to know; and it piqued him that there was +a life, rich in friendships, no doubt, in tastes, in many +noblenesses, one of thousands of such, that must be absolutely +nothing to him,--nothing but a window into heaven momentarily opened +and then closed. I have myself no idea that she was a countess +incognito, or that she had descended from any greater heights than +those where Mandeville saw her, but I have always regretted that she +went her way so mysteriously and left no glow, and that we shall wear +out the remainder of our days without her society. I have looked for +her name, but always in vain, among the attendants at the rights- +conventions, in the list of those good Americans presented at court, +among those skeleton names that appear as the remains of beauty in +the morning journals after a ball to the wandering prince, in the +reports of railway collisions and steamboat explosions. No news +comes of her. And so imperfect are our means of communication in +this world that, for anything we know, she may have left it long ago +by some private way. + + + + +IV + +The lasting regret that we cannot know more of the bright, sincere, +and genuine people of the world is increased by the fact that they +are all different from each other. Was it not Madame de Sevigne who +said she had loved several different women for several different +qualities? Every real person--for there are persons as there are +fruits that have no distinguishing flavor, mere gooseberries--has a +distinct quality, and the finding it is always like the discovery of +a new island to the voyager. The physical world we shall exhaust +some day, having a written description of every foot of it to which +we can turn; but we shall never get the different qualities of people +into a biographical dictionary, and the making acquaintance with a +human being will never cease to be an exciting experiment. We cannot +even classify men so as to aid us much in our estimate of them. The +efforts in this direction are ingenious, but unsatisfactory. If I +hear that a man is lymphatic or nervous-sanguine, I cannot tell +therefrom whether I shall like and trust him. He may produce a +phrenological chart showing that his knobby head is the home of all +the virtues, and that the vicious tendencies are represented by holes +in his cranium, and yet I cannot be sure that he will not be as +disagreeable as if phrenology had not been invented. I feel +sometimes that phrenology is the refuge of mediocrity. Its charts +are almost as misleading concerning character as photographs. And +photography may be described as the art which enables commonplace +mediocrity to look like genius. The heavy-jowled man with shallow +cerebrum has only to incline his head so that the lying instrument +can select a favorable focus, to appear in the picture with the brow +of a sage and the chin of a poet. Of all the arts for ministering to +human vanity the photographic is the most useful, but it is a poor +aid in the revelation of character. You shall learn more of a man's +real nature by seeing him walk once up the broad aisle of his church +to his pew on Sunday, than by studying his photograph for a month. + +No, we do not get any certain standard of men by a chart of their +temperaments; it will hardly answer to select a wife by the color of +her hair; though it be by nature as red as a cardinal's hat, she may +be no more constant than if it were dyed. The farmer who shuns all +the lymphatic beauties in his neighborhood, and selects to wife the +most nervous-sanguine, may find that she is unwilling to get up in +the winter mornings and make the kitchen fire. Many a man, even in +this scientific age which professes to label us all, has been cruelly +deceived in this way. Neither the blondes nor the brunettes act +according to the advertisement of their temperaments. The truth is +that men refuse to come under the classifications of the pseudo- +scientists, and all our new nomenclatures do not add much to our +knowledge. You know what to expect--if the comparison will be +pardoned--of a horse with certain points; but you wouldn't dare go on +a journey with a man merely upon the strength of knowing that his +temperament was the proper mixture of the sanguine and the +phlegmatic. Science is not able to teach us concerning men as it +teaches us of horses, though I am very far from saying that there are +not traits of nobleness and of meanness that run through families and +can be calculated to appear in individuals with absolute certainty; +one family will be trusty and another tricky through all its members +for generations; noble strains and ignoble strains are perpetuated. +When we hear that she has eloped with the stable-boy and married him, +we are apt to remark, "Well, she was a Bogardus." And when we read +that she has gone on a mission and has died, distinguishing herself +by some extraordinary devotion to the heathen at Ujiji, we think it +sufficient to say, "Yes, her mother married into the Smiths." But +this knowledge comes of our experience of special families, and +stands us in stead no further. + +If we cannot classify men scientifically and reduce them under a kind +of botanical order, as if they had a calculable vegetable +development, neither can we gain much knowledge of them by +comparison. It does not help me at all in my estimate of their +characters to compare Mandeville with the Young Lady, or Our Next +Door with the Parson. The wise man does not permit himself to set up +even in his own mind any comparison of his friends. His friendship +is capable of going to extremes with many people, evoked as it is by +many qualities. When Mandeville goes into my garden in June I can +usually find him in a particular bed of strawberries, but he does not +speak disrespectfully of the others. When Nature, says Mandeville, +consents to put herself into any sort of strawberry, I have no +criticisms to make, I am only glad that I have been created into the +same world with such a delicious manifestation of the Divine favor. +If I left Mandeville alone in the garden long enough, I have no doubt +he would impartially make an end of the fruit of all the beds, for +his capacity in this direction is as all-embracing as it is in the +matter of friendships. The Young Lady has also her favorite patch of +berries. And the Parson, I am sorry to say, prefers to have them +picked for him the elect of the garden--and served in an orthodox +manner. The straw-berry has a sort of poetical precedence, and I +presume that no fruit is jealous of it any more than any flower is +jealous of the rose; but I remark the facility with which liking for +it is transferred to the raspberry, and from the raspberry (not to +make a tedious enumeration) to the melon, and from the melon to the +grape, and the grape to the pear, and the pear to the apple. And we +do not mar our enjoyment of each by comparisons. + +Of course it would be a dull world if we could not criticise our +friends, but the most unprofitable and unsatisfactory criticism is +that by comparison. Criticism is not necessarily uncharitableness, +but a wholesome exercise of our powers of analysis and +discrimination. It is, however, a very idle exercise, leading to no +results when we set the qualities of one over against the qualities +of another, and disparage by contrast and not by independent +judgment. And this method of procedure creates jealousies and heart- +burnings innumerable. + +Criticism by comparison is the refuge of incapables, and especially +is this true in literature. It is a lazy way of disposing of a young +poet to bluntly declare, without any sort of discrimination of his +defects or his excellences, that he equals Tennyson, and that Scott +never wrote anything finer. What is the justice of damning a +meritorious novelist by comparing him with Dickens, and smothering +him with thoughtless and good-natured eulogy? The poet and the +novelist may be well enough, and probably have qualities and gifts of +their own which are worth the critic's attention, if he has any time +to bestow on them; and it is certainly unjust to subject them to a +comparison with somebody else, merely because the critic will not +take the trouble to ascertain what they are. If, indeed, the poet +and novelist are mere imitators of a model and copyists of a style, +they may be dismissed with such commendation as we bestow upon the +machines who pass their lives in making bad copies of the pictures of +the great painters. But the critics of whom we speak do not intend +depreciation, but eulogy, when they say that the author they have in +hand has the wit of Sydney Smith and the brilliancy of Macaulay. +Probably he is not like either of them, and may have a genuine though +modest virtue of his own; but these names will certainly kill him, +and he will never be anybody in the popular estimation. The public +finds out speedily that he is not Sydney Smith, and it resents the +extravagant claim for him as if he were an impudent pretender. How +many authors of fair ability to interest the world have we known in +our own day who have been thus sky-rocketed into notoriety by the +lazy indiscrimination of the critic-by-comparison, and then have sunk +into a popular contempt as undeserved! I never see a young aspirant +injudiciously compared to a great and resplendent name in literature, +but I feel like saying, My poor fellow, your days are few and full of +trouble; you begin life handicapped, and you cannot possibly run a +creditable race. + +I think this sort of critical eulogy is more damaging even than that +which kills by a different assumption, and one which is equally +common, namely, that the author has not done what he probably never +intended to do. It is well known that most of the trouble in life +comes from our inability to compel other people to do what we think +they ought, and it is true in criticism that we are unwilling to take +a book for what it is, and credit the author with that. When the +solemn critic, like a mastiff with a ladies' bonnet in his mouth, +gets hold of a light piece of verse, or a graceful sketch which +catches the humor of an hour for the entertainment of an hour, he +tears it into a thousand shreds. It adds nothing to human knowledge, +it solves none of the problems of life, it touches none of the +questions of social science, it is not a philosophical treatise, and +it is not a dozen things that it might have been. The critic cannot +forgive the author for this disrespect to him. This isn't a rose, +says the critic, taking up a pansy and rending it; it is not at all +like a rose, and the author is either a pretentious idiot or an +idiotic pretender. What business, indeed, has the author to send the +critic a bunch of sweet-peas, when he knows that a cabbage would be +preferred,--something not showy, but useful? + +A good deal of this is what Mandeville said and I am not sure that it +is devoid of personal feeling. He published, some years ago, a +little volume giving an account of a trip through the Great West, and +a very entertaining book it was. But one of the heavy critics got +hold of it, and made Mandeville appear, even to himself, he +confessed, like an ass, because there was nothing in the volume about +geology or mining prospects, and very little to instruct the student +of physical geography. With alternate sarcasm and ridicule, he +literally basted the author, till Mandeville said that he felt almost +like a depraved scoundrel, and thought he should be held up to less +execration if he had committed a neat and scientific murder. + +But I confess that I have a good deal of sympathy with the critics. +Consider what these public tasters have to endure! None of us, I +fancy, would like to be compelled to read all that they read, or to +take into our mouths, even with the privilege of speedily ejecting it +with a grimace, all that they sip. The critics of the vintage, who +pursue their calling in the dark vaults and amid mouldy casks, give +their opinion, for the most part, only upon wine, upon juice that has +matured and ripened into development of quality. But what crude, +unrestrained, unfermented--even raw and drugged liquor, must the +literary taster put to his unwilling lips day after day! + + + + +TENTH STUDY + + +I + +It was my good fortune once to visit a man who remembered the +rebellion of 1745. Lest this confession should make me seem very +aged, I will add that the visit took place in 1851, and that the man +was then one hundred and thirteen years old. He was quite a lad +before Dr. Johnson drank Mrs. Thrale's tea. That he was as old as he +had the credit of being, I have the evidence of my own senses (and I +am seldom mistaken in a person's age), of his own family, and his own +word; and it is incredible that so old a person, and one so +apparently near the grave, would deceive about his age. + +The testimony of the very aged is always to be received without +question, as Alexander Hamilton once learned. He was trying a +land-title with Aaron Burr, and two of the witnesses upon whom Burr +relied were venerable Dutchmen, who had, in their youth, carried the +surveying chains over the land in dispute, and who were now aged +respectively one hundred and four years and one hundred and six +years. Hamilton gently attempted to undervalue their testimony, but +he was instantly put down by the Dutch justice, who suggested that +Mr. Hamilton could not be aware of the age of the witnesses. + +My old man (the expression seems familiar and inelegant) had indeed +an exaggerated idea of his own age, and sometimes said that he +supposed he was going on four hundred, which was true enough, in +fact; but for the exact date, he referred to his youngest son,--a +frisky and humorsome lad of eighty years, who had received us at the +gate, and whom we had at first mistaken for the veteran, his father. +But when we beheld the old man, we saw the difference between age and +age. The latter had settled into a grizzliness and grimness which +belong to a very aged and stunted but sturdy oak-tree, upon the bark +of which the gray moss is thick and heavy. The old man appeared hale +enough, he could walk about, his sight and hearing were not seriously +impaired, he ate with relish, and his teeth were so sound that he +would not need a dentist for at least another century; but the moss +was growing on him. His boy of eighty seemed a green sapling beside +him. + +He remembered absolutely nothing that had taken place within thirty +years, but otherwise his mind was perhaps as good as it ever was, for +he must always have been an ignoramus, and would never know anything +if he lived to be as old as he said he was going on to be. Why he +was interested in the rebellion of 1745 I could not discover, for he +of course did not go over to Scotland to carry a pike in it, and he +only remembered to have heard it talked about as a great event in the +Irish market-town near which he lived, and to which he had ridden +when a boy. And he knew much more about the horse that drew him, and +the cart in which he rode, than he did about the rebellion of the +Pretender. + +I hope I do not appear to speak harshly of this amiable old man, and +if he is still living I wish him well, although his example was bad +in some respects. He had used tobacco for nearly a century, and the +habit has very likely been the death of him. If so, it is to be +regretted. For it would have been interesting to watch the process +of his gradual disintegration and return to the ground: the loss of +sense after sense, as decaying limbs fall from the oak; the failure +of discrimination, of the power of choice, and finally of memory +itself; the peaceful wearing out and passing away of body and mind +without disease, the natural running down of a man. The interesting +fact about him at that time was that his bodily powers seemed in +sufficient vigor, but that the mind had not force enough to manifest +itself through his organs. The complete battery was there, the +appetite was there, the acid was eating the zinc; but the electric +current was too weak to flash from the brain. And yet he appeared so +sound throughout, that it was difficult to say that his mind was not +as good as it ever had been. He had stored in it very little to feed +on, and any mind would get enfeebled by a century's rumination on a +hearsay idea of the rebellion of '45. + +It was possible with this man to fully test one's respect for age, +which is in all civilized nations a duty. And I found that my +feelings were mixed about him. I discovered in him a conceit in +regard to his long sojourn on this earth, as if it were somehow a +credit to him. In the presence of his good opinion of himself, I +could but question the real value of his continued life, to himself +or to others. If he ever had any friends he had outlived them, +except his boy; his wives--a century of them--were all dead; the +world had actually passed away for him. He hung on the tree like a +frost-nipped apple, which the farmer has neglected to gather. The +world always renews itself, and remains young. What relation had he +to it? + +I was delighted to find that this old man had never voted for George +Washington. I do not know that he had ever heard of him. Washington +may be said to have played his part since his time. I am not sure +that he perfectly remembered anything so recent as the American +Revolution. He was living quietly in Ireland during our French and +Indian wars, and he did not emigrate to this country till long after +our revolutionary and our constitutional struggles were over. The +Rebellion Of '45 was the great event of the world for him, and of +that he knew nothing. + +I intend no disrespect to this man,--a cheerful and pleasant enough +old person,--but he had evidently lived himself out of the world, as +completely as people usually die out of it. His only remaining value +was to the moralist, who might perchance make something out of him. +I suppose if he had died young, he would have been regretted, and his +friends would have lamented that he did not fill out his days in the +world, and would very likely have called him back, if tears and +prayers could have done so. They can see now what his prolonged life +amounted to, and how the world has closed up the gap he once filled +while he still lives in it. + +A great part of the unhappiness of this world consists in regret for +those who depart, as it seems to us, prematurely. We imagine that if +they would return, the old conditions would be restored. But would +it be so? If they, in any case, came back, would there be any place +for them? The world so quickly readjusts itself after any loss, that +the return of the departed would nearly always throw it, even the +circle most interested, into confusion. Are the Enoch Ardens ever +wanted? + + + + +II + +A popular notion akin to this, that the world would have any room for +the departed if they should now and then return, is the constant +regret that people will not learn by the experience of others, that +one generation learns little from the preceding, and that youth never +will adopt the experience of age. But if experience went for +anything, we should all come to a standstill; for there is nothing so +discouraging to effort. Disbelief in Ecclesiastes is the mainspring +of action. In that lies the freshness and the interest of life, and +it is the source of every endeavor. + +If the boy believed that the accumulation of wealth and the +acquisition of power were what the old man says they are, the world +would very soon be stagnant. If he believed that his chances of +obtaining either were as poor as the majority of men find them to be, +ambition would die within him. It is because he rejects the +experience of those who have preceded him, that the world is kept in +the topsy-turvy condition which we all rejoice in, and which we call +progress. + +And yet I confess I have a soft place in my heart for that rare +character in our New England life who is content with the world as he +finds it, and who does not attempt to appropriate any more of it to +himself than he absolutely needs from day to day. He knows from the +beginning that the world could get on without him, and he has never +had any anxiety to leave any result behind him, any legacy for the +world to quarrel over. + +He is really an exotic in our New England climate and society, and +his life is perpetually misunderstood by his neighbors, because he +shares none of their uneasiness about getting on in life. He is even +called lazy, good-for-nothing, and "shiftless,"--the final stigma +that we put upon a person who has learned to wait without the +exhausting process of laboring. + +I made his acquaintance last summer in the country, and I have not in +a long time been so well pleased with any of our species. He was a +man past middle life, with a large family. He had always been from +boyhood of a contented and placid mind, slow in his movements, slow +in his speech. I think he never cherished a hard feeling toward +anybody, nor envied any one, least of all the rich and prosperous +about whom he liked to talk. Indeed, his talk was a good deal about +wealth, especially about his cousin who had been down South and "got +fore-handed" within a few years. He was genuinely pleased at his +relation's good luck, and pointed him out to me with some pride. But +he had no envy of him, and he evinced no desire to imitate him. I +inferred from all his conversation about "piling it up" (of which he +spoke with a gleam of enthusiasm in his eye), that there were moments +when he would like to be rich himself; but it was evident that he +would never make the least effort to be so, and I doubt if he could +even overcome that delicious inertia of mind and body called +laziness, sufficiently to inherit. + +Wealth seemed to have a far and peculiar fascination for him, and I +suspect he was a visionary in the midst of his poverty. Yet I +suppose he had--hardly the personal property which the law exempts +from execution. He had lived in a great many towns, moving from one +to another with his growing family, by easy stages, and was always +the poorest man in the town, and lived on the most niggardly of its +rocky and bramble-grown farms, the productiveness of which he reduced +to zero in a couple of seasons by his careful neglect of culture. +The fences of his hired domain always fell into ruins under him, +perhaps because he sat on them so much, and the hovels he occupied +rotted down during his placid residence in them. He moved from +desolation to desolation, but carried always with him the equal mind +of a philosopher. Not even the occasional tart remarks of his wife, +about their nomadic life and his serenity in the midst of discomfort, +could ruffle his smooth spirit. + +He was, in every respect, a most worthy man, truthful, honest, +temperate, and, I need not say, frugal; and he had no bad habits,-- +perhaps he never had energy enough to acquire any. Nor did he lack +the knack of the Yankee race. He could make a shoe, or build a +house, or doctor a cow; but it never seemed to him, in this brief +existence, worth while to do any of these things. He was an +excellent angler, but he rarely fished; partly because of the +shortness of days, partly on account of the uncertainty of bites, but +principally because the trout brooks were all arranged lengthwise and +ran over so much ground. But no man liked to look at a string of +trout better than he did, and he was willing to sit down in a sunny +place and talk about trout-fishing half a day at a time, and he would +talk pleasantly and well too, though his wife might be continually +interrupting him by a call for firewood. + +I should not do justice to his own idea of himself if I did not add +that he was most respectably connected, and that he had a justifiable +though feeble pride in his family. It helped his self-respect, which +no ignoble circumstances could destroy. He was, as must appear by +this time, a most intelligent man, and he was a well-informed man; +that is to say, he read the weekly newspapers when he could get them, +and he had the average country information about Beecher and Greeley +and the Prussian war (" Napoleon is gettin' on't, ain't he?"), and +the general prospect of the election campaigns. Indeed, he was +warmly, or rather luke-warmly, interested in politics. He liked to +talk about the inflated currency, and it seemed plain to him that his +condition would somehow be improved if we could get to a specie +basis. He was, in fact, a little troubled by the national debt; it +seemed to press on him somehow, while his own never did. He +exhibited more animation over the affairs of the government than he +did over his own,--an evidence at once of his disinterestedness and +his patriotism. He had been an old abolitionist, and was strong on +the rights of free labor, though he did not care to exercise his +privilege much. Of course he had the proper contempt for the poor +whites down South. I never saw a person with more correct notions on +such a variety of subjects. He was perfectly willing that churches +(being himself a member), and Sunday-schools, and missionary +enterprises should go on; in fact, I do not believe he ever opposed +anything in his life. No one was more willing to vote town taxes and +road-repairs and schoolhouses than he. If you could call him +spirited at all, he was public-spirited. + +And with all this he was never very well; he had, from boyhood, +"enjoyed poor health." You would say he was not a man who would ever +catch anything, not even an epidemic; but he was a person whom +diseases would be likely to overtake, even the slowest of slow +fevers. And he was n't a man to shake off anything. And yet +sickness seemed to trouble him no more than poverty. He was not +discontented; he never grumbled. I am not sure but he relished a +"spell of sickness" in haying-time. + +An admirably balanced man, who accepts the world as it is, and +evidently lives on the experience of others. I have never seen a man +with less envy, or more cheerfulness, or so contented with as little +reason for being so. The only drawback to his future is that rest +beyond the grave will not be much change for him, and he has no works +to follow him. + + + + +III + +This Yankee philosopher, who, without being a Brahmin, had, in an +uncongenial atmosphere, reached the perfect condition of Nirvina, +reminded us all of the ancient sages; and we queried whether a world +that could produce such as he, and could, beside, lengthen a man's +years to one hundred and thirteen, could fairly be called an old and +worn-out world, having long passed the stage of its primeval poetry +and simplicity. Many an Eastern dervish has, I think, got +immortality upon less laziness and resignation than this temporary +sojourner in Massachusetts. It is a common notion that the world +(meaning the people in it) has become tame and commonplace, lost its +primeval freshness and epigrammatic point. Mandeville, in his +argumentative way, dissents from this entirely. He says that the +world is more complex, varied, and a thousand times as interesting as +it was in what we call its youth, and that it is as fresh, as +individual and capable of producing odd and eccentric characters as +ever. He thought the creative vim had not in any degree abated, that +both the types of men and of nations are as sharply stamped and +defined as ever they were. + +Was there ever, he said, in the past, any figure more clearly cut and +freshly minted than the Yankee? Had the Old World anything to show +more positive and uncompromising in all the elements of character +than the Englishman? And if the edges of these were being rounded +off, was there not developing in the extreme West a type of men +different from all preceding, which the world could not yet define? +He believed that the production of original types was simply +infinite. + +Herbert urged that he must at least admit that there was a freshness +of legend and poetry in what we call the primeval peoples that is +wanting now; the mythic period is gone, at any rate. + +Mandeville could not say about the myths. We couldn't tell what +interpretation succeeding ages would put upon our lives and history +and literature when they have become remote and shadowy. But we need +not go to antiquity for epigrammatic wisdom, or for characters as +racy of the fresh earth as those handed down to us from the dawn of +history. He would put Benjamin Franklin against any of the sages of +the mythic or the classic period. He would have been perfectly at +home in ancient Athens, as Socrates would have been in modern Boston. +There might have been more heroic characters at the siege of Troy +than Abraham Lincoln, but there was not one more strongly marked +individually; not one his superior in what we call primeval craft and +humor. He was just the man, if he could not have dislodged Priam by +a writ of ejectment, to have invented the wooden horse, and then to +have made Paris the hero of some ridiculous story that would have set +all Asia in a roar. + +Mandeville said further, that as to poetry, he did not know much +about that, and there was not much he cared to read except parts of +Shakespeare and Homer, and passages of Milton. But it did seem to +him that we had men nowadays, who could, if they would give their +minds to it, manufacture in quantity the same sort of epigrammatic +sayings and legends that our scholars were digging out of the Orient. +He did not know why Emerson in antique setting was not as good as +Saadi. Take for instance, said Mandeville, such a legend as this, +and how easy it would be to make others like it: + +The son of an Emir had red hair, of which he was ashamed, and wished +to dye it. But his father said: "Nay, my son, rather behave in such +a manner that all fathers shall wish their sons had red hair." + +This was too absurd. Mandeville had gone too far, except in the +opinion of Our Next Door, who declared that an imitation was just as +good as an original, if you could not detect it. But Herbert said +that the closer an imitation is to an original, the more unendurable +it is. But nobody could tell exactly why. + +The Fire-Tender said that we are imposed on by forms. The nuggets of +wisdom that are dug out of the Oriental and remote literatures would +often prove to be only commonplace if stripped of their quaint +setting. If you gave an Oriental twist to some of our modern +thought, its value would be greatly enhanced for many people. + +I have seen those, said the Mistress, who seem to prefer dried fruit +to fresh; but I like the strawberry and the peach of each season, and +for me the last is always the best. + +Even the Parson admitted that there were no signs of fatigue or decay +in the creative energy of the world; and if it is a question of +Pagans, he preferred Mandeville to Saadi. + + + + +ELEVENTH STUDY + + +It happened, or rather, to tell the truth, it was contrived,--for I +have waited too long for things to turn up to have much faith in +"happen," that we who have sat by this hearthstone before should all +be together on Christmas eve. There was a splendid backlog of +hickory just beginning to burn with a glow that promised to grow more +fiery till long past midnight, which would have needed no apology in +a loggers' camp,--not so much as the religion of which a lady (in a +city which shall be nameless) said, "If you must have a religion, +this one will do nicely." + +There was not much conversation, as is apt to be the case when people +come together who have a great deal to say, and are intimate enough +to permit the freedom of silence. It was Mandeville who suggested +that we read something, and the Young Lady, who was in a mood to +enjoy her own thoughts, said, "Do." And finally it came about that +the Fire Tender, without more resistance to the urging than was +becoming, went to his library, and returned with a manuscript, from +which he read the story of + + +MY UNCLE IN INDIA + +Not that it is my uncle, let me explain. It is Polly's uncle, as I +very well know, from the many times she has thrown him up to me, and +is liable so to do at any moment. Having small expectations myself, +and having wedded Polly when they were smaller, I have come to feel +the full force, the crushing weight, of her lightest remark about "My +Uncle in India." The words as I write them convey no idea of the +tone in which they fall upon my ears. I think it is the only fault +of that estimable woman, that she has an "uncle in India" and does +not let him quietly remain there. I feel quite sure that if I had an +uncle in Botany Bay, I should never, never throw him up to Polly in +the way mentioned. If there is any jar in our quiet life, he is the +cause of it; all along of possible "expectations" on the one side +calculated to overawe the other side not having expectations. And +yet I know that if her uncle in India were this night to roll a +barrel of "India's golden sands," as I feel that he any moment may +do, into our sitting-room, at Polly's feet, that charming wife, who +is more generous than the month of May, and who has no thought but +for my comfort in two worlds, would straightway make it over to me, +to have and to hold, if I could lift it, forever and forever. And +that makes it more inexplicable that she, being a woman, will +continue to mention him in the way she does. + +In a large and general way I regard uncles as not out of place in +this transitory state of existence. They stand for a great many +possible advantages. They are liable to "tip" you at school, they +are resources in vacation, they come grandly in play about the +holidays, at which season mv heart always did warm towards them with +lively expectations, which were often turned into golden solidities; +and then there is always the prospect, sad to a sensitive mind, that +uncles are mortal, and, in their timely taking off, may prove as +generous in the will as they were in the deed. And there is always +this redeeming possibility in a niggardly uncle. Still there must be +something wrong in the character of the uncle per se, or all history +would not agree that nepotism is such a dreadful thing. + +But, to return from this unnecessary digression, I am reminded that +the charioteer of the patient year has brought round the holiday +time. It has been a growing year, as most years are. It is very +pleasant to see how the shrubs in our little patch of ground widen +and thicken and bloom at the right time, and to know that the great +trees have added a laver to their trunks. To be sure, our garden,-- +which I planted under Polly's directions, with seeds that must have +been patented, and I forgot to buy the right of, for they are mostly +still waiting the final resurrection,--gave evidence that it shared +in the misfortune of the Fall, and was never an Eden from which one +would have required to have been driven. It was the easiest garden +to keep the neighbor's pigs and hens out of I ever saw. If its +increase was small its temptations were smaller, and that is no +little recommendation in this world of temptations. But, as a +general thing, everything has grown, except our house. That little +cottage, over which Polly presides with grace enough to adorn a +palace, is still small outside and smaller inside; and if it has an +air of comfort and of neatness, and its rooms are cozy and sunny by +day and cheerful by night, and it is bursting with books, and not +unattractive with modest pictures on the walls, which we think do +well enough until my uncle--(but never mind my uncle, now),--and if, +in the long winter evenings, when the largest lamp is lit, and the +chestnuts glow in embers, and the kid turns on the spit, and the +house-plants are green and flowering, and the ivy glistens in the +firelight, and Polly sits with that contented, far-away look in her +eyes that I like to see, her fingers busy upon one of those cruel +mysteries which have delighted the sex since Penelope, and I read in +one of my fascinating law-books, or perhaps regale ourselves with a +taste of Montaigne,--if all this is true, there are times when the +cottage seems small; though I can never find that Polly thinks so, +except when she sometimes says that she does not know where she +should bestow her uncle in it, if he should suddenly come back from +India. + +There it is, again. I sometimes think that my wife believes her +uncle in India to be as large as two ordinary men; and if her ideas +of him are any gauge of the reality, there is no place in the town +large enough for him except the Town Hall. She probably expects him +to come with his bungalow, and his sedan, and his palanquin, and his +elephants, and his retinue of servants, and his principalities, and +his powers, and his ha--(no, not that), and his chowchow, and his--I +scarcely know what besides. + +Christmas eve was a shiny cold night, a creaking cold night, a +placid, calm, swingeing cold night. + +Out-doors had gone into a general state of crystallization. The +snow-fields were like the vast Arctic ice-fields that Kane looked on, +and lay sparkling under the moonlight, crisp and Christmasy, and all +the crystals on the trees and bushes hung glistening, as if ready, at +a breath of air, to break out into metallic ringing, like a million +silver joy-bells. I mentioned the conceit to Polly, as we stood at +the window, and she said it reminded her of Jean Paul. She is a +woman of most remarkable discernment. + +Christmas is a great festival at our house in a small way. Among the +many delightful customs we did not inherit from our Pilgrim Fathers, +there is none so pleasant as that of giving presents at this season. +It is the most exciting time of the year. No one is too rich to +receive something, and no one too poor to give a trifle. And in the +act of giving and receiving these tokens of regard, all the world is +kin for once, and brighter for this transient glow of generosity. +Delightful custom! Hard is the lot of childhood that knows nothing +of the visits of Kriss Kringle, or the stockings hung by the chimney +at night; and cheerless is any age that is not brightened by some +Christmas gift, however humble. What a mystery of preparation there +is in the preceding days, what planning and plottings of surprises! +Polly and I keep up the custom in our simple way, and great is the +perplexity to express the greatest amount of affection with a limited +outlay. For the excellence of a gift lies in its appropriateness +rather than in its value. As we stood by the window that night, we +wondered what we should receive this year, and indulged in I know not +what little hypocrisies and deceptions. + +I wish, said Polly, "that my uncle in India would send me a +camel's-hair shawl, or a string of pearls, each as big as the end of +my thumb." + +"Or a white cow, which would give golden milk, that would make butter +worth seventy-five cents a pound," I added, as we drew the curtains, +and turned to our chairs before the open fire. + +It is our custom on every Christmas eve--as I believe I have +somewhere said, or if I have not, I say it again, as the member from +Erin might remark--to read one of Dickens's Christmas stories. And +this night, after punching the fire until it sent showers of sparks +up the chimney, I read the opening chapter of "Mrs. Lirriper's +Lodgings," in my best manner, and handed the book to Polly to +continue; for I do not so much relish reading aloud the succeeding +stories of Mr. Dickens's annual budget, since he wrote them, as men +go to war in these days, by substitute. And Polly read on, in her +melodious voice, which is almost as pleasant to me as the Wasser- +fluth of Schubert, which she often plays at twilight; and I looked +into the fire, unconsciously constructing stories of my own out of +the embers. And her voice still went on, in a sort of running +accompaniment to my airy or fiery fancies. + +"Sleep?" said Polly, stopping, with what seemed to me a sort of +crash, in which all the castles tumbled into ashes. + +"Not in the least," I answered brightly, "never heard anything more +agreeable." And the reading flowed on and on and on, and I looked +steadily into the fire, the fire, fire, fi.... + +Suddenly the door opened, and into our cozy parlor walked the most +venerable personage I ever laid eyes on, who saluted me with great +dignity. Summer seemed to have burst into the room, and I was +conscious of a puff of Oriental airs, and a delightful, languid +tranquillity. I was not surprised that the figure before me was clad +in full turban, baggy drawers, and a long loose robe, girt about the +middle with a rich shawl. Followed him a swart attendant, who +hastened to spread a rug upon which my visitor sat down, with great +gravity, as I am informed they do in farthest Ind. The slave then +filled the bowl of a long-stemmed chibouk, and, handing it to his +master, retired behind him and began to fan him with the most +prodigious palm-leaf I ever saw. Soon the fumes of the delicate +tobacco of Persia pervaded the room, like some costly aroma which you +cannot buy, now the entertainment of the Arabian Nights is +discontinued. + +Looking through the window I saw, if I saw anything, a palanquin at +our door, and attendant on it four dusky, half-naked bearers, who did +not seem to fancy the splendor of the night, for they jumped about on +the snow crust, and I could see them shiver and shake in the keen +air. Oho! thought! this, then, is my uncle from India! + +"Yes, it is," now spoke my visitor extraordinary, in a gruff, harsh +voice. + +"I think I have heard Polly speak of you," I rejoined, in an attempt +to be civil, for I did n't like his face any better than I did his +voice,--a red, fiery, irascible kind of face. + +"Yes I've come over to O Lord,--quick, Jamsetzee, lift up that foot,- +-take care. There, Mr. Trimings, if that's your name, get me a +glass of brandy, stiff." + +I got him our little apothecary-labeled bottle and poured out enough +to preserve a whole can of peaches. My uncle took it down without a +wink, as if it had been water, and seemed relieved. It was a very +pleasant uncle to have at our fireside on Christmas eve, I felt. + +At a motion from my uncle, Jamsetzee handed me a parcel which I saw +was directed to Polly, which I untied, and lo! the most wonderful +camel's-hair shawl that ever was, so fine that I immediately drew it +through my finger-ring, and so large that I saw it would entirely +cover our little room if I spread it out; a dingy red color, but +splendid in appearance from the little white hieroglyphic worked in +one corner, which is always worn outside, to show that it cost nobody +knows how many thousands of dollars. + +"A Christmas trifle for Polly. I have come home--as I was saying +when that confounded twinge took me--to settle down; and I intend to +make Polly my heir, and live at my ease and enjoy life. Move that +leg a little, Jamsetzee." + +I meekly replied that I had no doubt Polly would be delighted to see +her dear uncle, and as for inheriting, if it came to that, I did n't +know any one with a greater capacity for that than she. + +"That depends," said the gruff old smoker, "how I like ye. A +fortune, scraped up in forty years in Ingy, ain't to be thrown away +in a minute. But what a house this is to live in!"; the +uncomfortable old relative went on, throwing a contemptuous glance +round the humble cottage. "Is this all of it?" + +"In the winter it is all of it," I said, flushing up; but in the +summer, when the doors and windows are open, it is as large as +anybody's house. And," I went on, with some warmth, "it was large +enough just before you came in, and pleasant enough. And besides, I +said, rising into indignation, "you can not get anything much better +in this city short of eight hundred dollars a year, payable first +days of January, April, July, and October, in advance, and my +salary...." + +"Hang your salary, and confound your impudence and your seven-by-nine +hovel! Do you think you have anything to say about the use of my +money, scraped up in forty years in Ingy? THINGS HAVE GOT TO BE +CHANGED!" he burst out, in a voice that rattled the glasses on the +sideboard. + +I should think they were. Even as I looked into the little fireplace +it enlarged, and there was an enormous grate, level with the floor, +glowing with seacoal; and a magnificent mantel carved in oak, old and +brown; and over it hung a landscape, wide, deep, summer in the +foreground with all the gorgeous coloring of the tropics, and beyond +hills of blue and far mountains lying in rosy light. I held my +breath as I looked down the marvelous perspective. Looking round for +a second, I caught a glimpse of a Hindoo at each window, who vanished +as if they had been whisked off by enchantment; and the close walls +that shut us in fled away. Had cohesion and gravitation given out? +Was it the "Great Consummation" of the year 18-? It was all like the +swift transformation of a dream, and I pinched my arm to make sure +that I was not the subject of some diablerie. + +The little house was gone; but that I scarcely minded, for I had +suddenly come into possession of my wife's castle in Spain. I sat in +a spacious, lofty apartment, furnished with a princely magnificence. +Rare pictures adorned the walls, statues looked down from deep +niches, and over both the dark ivy of England ran and drooped in +graceful luxuriance. Upon the heavy tables were costly, illuminated +volumes; luxurious chairs and ottomans invited to easy rest; and upon +the ceiling Aurora led forth all the flower-strewing daughters of the +dawn in brilliant frescoes. Through the open doors my eyes wandered +into magnificent apartment after apartment. There to the south, +through folding-doors, was the splendid library, with groined roof, +colored light streaming in through painted windows, high shelves +stowed with books, old armor hanging on the walls, great carved oaken +chairs about a solid oaken table, and beyond a conservatory of +flowers and plants with a fountain springing in the center, the +splashing of whose waters I could hear. Through the open windows I +looked upon a lawn, green with close-shaven turf, set with ancient +trees, and variegated with parterres of summer plants in bloom. It +was the month of June, and the smell of roses was in the air. + +I might have thought it only a freak of my fancy, but there by the +fireplace sat a stout, red-faced, puffy-looking man, in the ordinary +dress of an English gentleman, whom I had no difficulty in +recognizing as my uncle from India. + +"One wants a fire every day in the year in this confounded climate," +remarked that amiable old person, addressing no one in particular. + +I had it on my lips to suggest that I trusted the day would come when +he would have heat enough to satisfy him, in permanent supply. I +wish now that I had. + +I think things had changed. For now into this apartment, full of the +morning sunshine, came sweeping with the air of a countess born, and +a maid of honor bred, and a queen in expectancy, my Polly, stepping +with that lofty grace which I always knew she possessed, but which +she never had space to exhibit in our little cottage, dressed with +that elegance and richness that I should not have deemed possible to +the most Dutch duchess that ever lived, and, giving me a complacent +nod of recognition, approached her uncle, and said in her smiling, +cheery way, "How is the dear uncle this morning?" And, as she spoke, +she actually bent down and kissed his horrid old cheek, red-hot with +currie and brandy and all the biting pickles I can neither eat nor +name, kissed him, and I did not turn into stone. + +"Comfortable as the weather will permit, my darling!"--and again I +did not turn into stone. + +"Wouldn't uncle like to take a drive this charming morning?" Polly +asked. + +Uncle finally grunted out his willingness, and Polly swept away again +to prepare for the drive, taking no more notice of me than if I had +been a poor assistant office lawyer on a salary. And soon the +carriage was at the door, and my uncle, bundled up like a mummy, and +the charming Polly drove gayly away. + +How pleasant it is to be married rich, I thought, as I arose and +strolled into the library, where everything was elegant and prim and +neat, with no scraps of paper and piles of newspapers or evidences of +literary slovenness on the table, and no books in attractive +disorder, and where I seemed to see the legend staring at me from all +the walls, "No smoking." So I uneasily lounged out of the house. +And a magnificent house it was, a palace, rather, that seemed to +frown upon and bully insignificant me with its splendor, as I walked +away from it towards town. + +And why town? There was no use of doing anything at the dingy +office. Eight hundred dollars a year! It wouldn't keep Polly in +gloves, let alone dressing her for one of those fashionable +entertainments to which we went night after night. And so, after a +weary day with nothing in it, I went home to dinner, to find my uncle +quite chirruped up with his drive, and Polly regnant, sublimely +engrossed in her new world of splendor, a dazzling object of +admiration to me, but attentive and even tender to that +hypochondriacal, gouty old subject from India. + +Yes, a magnificent dinner, with no end of servants, who seemed to +know that I couldn't have paid the wages of one of them, and plate +and courses endless. I say, a miserable dinner, on the edge of which +seemed to sit by permission of somebody, like an invited poor +relation, who wishes he had sent a regret, and longing for some of +those nice little dishes that Polly used to set before me with +beaming face, in the dear old days. + +And after dinner, and proper attention to the comfort for the night +of our benefactor, there was the Blibgims's party. No long, +confidential interviews, as heretofore, as to what she should wear +and what I should wear, and whether it would do to wear it again. +And Polly went in one coach, and I in another. No crowding into the +hired hack, with all the delightful care about tumbling dresses, and +getting there in good order; and no coming home together to our +little cozy cottage, in a pleasant, excited state of "flutteration," +and sitting down to talk it all over, and "Was n't it nice?" and "Did +I look as well as anybody?" and "Of course you did to me," and all +that nonsense. We lived in a grand way now, and had our separate +establishments and separate plans, and I used to think that a real +separation couldn't make matters much different. Not that Polly +meant to be any different, or was, at heart; but, you know, she was +so much absorbed in her new life of splendor, and perhaps I was a +little old-fashioned. + +I don't wonder at it now, as I look back. There was an army of +dressmakers to see, and a world of shopping to do, and a houseful of +servants to manage, and all the afternoon for calls, and her dear, +dear friend, with the artless manners and merry heart of a girl, and +the dignity and grace of a noble woman, the dear friend who lived in +the house of the Seven Gables, to consult about all manner of im- +portant things. I could not, upon my honor, see that there was any +place for me, and I went my own way, not that there was much comfort +in it. + +And then I would rather have had charge of a hospital ward than take +care of that uncle. Such coddling as he needed, such humoring of +whims. And I am bound to say that Polly could n't have been more +dutiful to him if he had been a Hindoo idol. She read to him and +talked to him, and sat by him with her embroidery, and was patient +with his crossness, and wearied herself, that I could see, with her +devoted ministrations. + +I fancied sometimes she was tired of it, and longed for the old +homely simplicity. I was. Nepotism had no charms for me. There was +nothing that I could get Polly that she had not. I could surprise +her with no little delicacies or trifles, delightedly bought with +money saved for the purpose. There was no more coming home weary +with office work and being met at the door with that warm, loving +welcome which the King of England could not buy. There was no long +evening when we read alternately from some favorite book, or laid our +deep housekeeping plans, rejoiced in a good bargain or made light of +a poor one, and were contented and merry with little. I recalled +with longing my little den, where in the midst of the literary +disorder I love, I wrote those stories for the "Antarctic" which +Polly, if nobody else, liked to read. There was no comfort for me in +my magnificent library. We were all rich and in splendor, and our +uncle had come from India. I wished, saving his soul, that the ship +that brought him over had foundered off Barnegat Light. It would +always have been a tender and regretful memory to both of us. And +how sacred is the memory of such a loss! + +Christmas? What delight could I have in long solicitude and +ingenious devices touching a gift for Polly within my means, and +hitting the border line between her necessities and her extravagant +fancy? A drove of white elephants would n't have been good enough +for her now, if each one carried a castle on his back. + +"--and so they were married, and in their snug cottage lived happy +ever after."--It was Polly's voice, as she closed the book. + +"There, I don't believe you have heard a word of it," she said half +complaininglv. + +"Oh, yes, I have," I cried, starting up and giving the fire a jab +with the poker; "I heard every word of it, except a few at the close +I was thinking"--I stopped, and looked round. + +"Why, Polly, where is the camel's-hair shawl?" + +"Camel's-hair fiddlestick! Now I know you have been asleep for an +hour." + +And, sure enough, there was n't anv camel's-hair shawl there, nor any +uncle, nor were there any Hindoos at our windows. + +And then I told Polly all about it; how her uncle came back, and we +were rich and lived in a palace and had no end of money, but she +didn't seem to have time to love me in it all, and all the comfort of +the little house was blown away as by the winter wind. And Polly +vowed, half in tears, that she hoped her uncle never would come back, +and she wanted nothing that we had not, and she wouldn't exchange our +independent comfort and snug house, no, not for anybody's mansion. +And then and there we made it all up, in a manner too particular for +me to mention; and I never, to this day, heard Polly allude to My +Uncle in India. + +And then, as the clock struck eleven, we each produced from the place +where we had hidden them the modest Christmas gifts we had prepared +for each other, and what surprise there was! "Just the thing I +needed." And, "It's perfectly lovely." And, "You should n't have +done it." And, then, a question I never will answer, "Ten? fifteen? +five? twelve?" "My dear, it cost eight hundred dollars, for I have +put my whole year into it, and I wish it was a thousand times +better." + +And so, when the great iron tongue of the city bell swept over the +snow the twelve strokes that announced Christmas day, if there was +anywhere a happier home than ours, I am glad of it! + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of End of Backlog Studies +by Charles Dudley Warner + diff --git a/old/cwbls11.zip b/old/cwbls11.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2857229 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/cwbls11.zip |
