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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f93a9d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69882 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69882) diff --git a/old/69882-0.txt b/old/69882-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 8f6c0d2..0000000 --- a/old/69882-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5462 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Adventures in indigence and other -essays, by Laura Spencer Portor - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Adventures in indigence and other essays - -Author: Laura Spencer Portor - -Release Date: January 27, 2023 [eBook #69882] - -Language: English - -Produced by: hekula03 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images - made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE AND -OTHER ESSAYS *** - - - - - - Adventures in Indigence - and - Other Essays - - - - - ADVENTURES IN - INDIGENCE - - AND - - OTHER ESSAYS - - BY - LAURA SPENCER PORTOR - - [Illustration] - - - The Atlantic Monthly Press - Boston - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY - THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY PRESS, INC. - - ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - - CONTENTS - - - ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE - - I. Musgrove 1 - - II. The Harp and the Violin 13 - - III. Major Lobley 25 - - IV. Mamie Faffelfinger 38 - - V. The Lure of the "Chiffoneer" 55 - - VI. Margaret 68 - - VII. Margharetta 87 - - VIII. The Powers of the Poor 101 - - IX. Horatio 114 - - - GUESTS - - I. Relations of the Spirit 129 - - II. Kith and Kin 155 - - - THE DISAPPOINTMENTS AND VICISSITUDES OF MICE 183 - - BIRTHDAYS AND OTHER EGOTISMS 215 - - - - - PREFACE - - -It is doubtful whether the present volume should be looked on as a -collection of essays, or might not more aptly be called a book of -personal experience. The true essayist offers you fewer doubts and -peradventures. He comes with clear philosophies, to which he means -to convert you. He is well armed for controversy. He will cite you -Scripture, the Decalogue, and the statutes. You will find it difficult -to pick a flaw in his argument. Never hope to prove him wrong! He -leaves no man reasonable choice but to agree with him. He is a sworn -advocate. His essay is his brief. If he be a man of force, his cause -is won before the jurymen take their places. Be sure he will prove his -point before any just judge. The case, it seems when you come to think -upon it later, might almost have gone by default, so little is there -any argument left you. - -The papers in the present volume are not so forethought, nor are they -designed to be so convincing. There is more memory than doctrine in -them; more experience than authority, theology, or faith. In them -will be found little that is taught by the schools, upheld by the -courts, or propounded by the Fathers. Perhaps they contain not so much -what I believe, as what, because of persistent personal observation -and testing and proving, of my own, I have been at last unable to -disbelieve. These papers, in short, deal with none of the usual and -traditional theories of life, but rather with life as I have intimately -found it and lived it. - -It is one thing to uphold loyally an ancient faith which has from -the beginning been taught one, or to which one has, on the respected -authority of others, been converted; it is a wholly other thing to -uphold sincerely, and for what it may be worth, a belief which one has -but evolved and tested and proven for one's self. God forbid it should -be upheld arrogantly! For, as the first method is calculated to produce -devout believers, zealous to convert those whose beliefs differ from -their own, so does the other tend, rather, to make devout observers; -and as the passionate believer is to the last unable to understand how -others could believe differently than he does; the devout observer is -eager to mark where and how the observations of others differ from his -own, or, it may be, happily coincide with them. He has a persistent -desire to know whether, given the same experience and facts, others -will approve of his findings. - -It is for this reason, no doubt, that I find myself wondering whether -the reader of this volume has discovered, as I have,--all tradition, -teaching, theory, and articles of faith to the contrary,--indisputable -evidence of the mysterious and imponderable powers of the poor. Has -Life the Educator revealed herself to another in such a fashion -as to me? Have you who read--you also--a secret belief in certain -unmistakable superiorities hidden away in the unwritten records and the -unadministered laws of lesser creatures than ourselves? Have you, like -myself, lost birthdays irretrievably, and found in their place that -larger nativity writ in a more universal horoscope? - -Though these papers do not claim to be more than personal records -of experience and adventure and consequent belief, yet there may be -those who will decry the persistent personality, who will condemn the -seeming egotism. To these there is recommended--perhaps a little -wistfully--the paper, toward the last, which attempts to deal with this -rather widespread failing. - - L. S. P. - - - - - ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE - - - I - - MUSGROVE - -Both Stevenson and Lamb, writing of "Beggars," fall into what I take to -be a grave misapprehension. They both write a defense, and constitute -themselves advocates. Lamb brilliantly solicits our pity for these -"pensioners on our bounty"; Stevenson, though he characteristically -makes himself comrade and brother of his client, and presents the -"humbuggery" of the accused as a legitimate art, nevertheless thinks -himself but too evidently of a higher order, and the better gentleman -of the two. Here, and it would seem in spite of himself, are patronage -and condescension. - -I own that such an attitude shocks me and makes me apprehensive. Were -I superstitious, of a certain creed, I should cross myself to ward off -calamity; or were I a Greek of the ancient times, I should certainly -pour a propitiatory libation to Hermes, god of wayfarers, thieves, -vagabonds, mendicants, and the like. - -"Poor wretches," indeed! "Pensioners," they! "Ragamuffins! humbugs!" -They, with their occult powers! _They_, mind you, needing our advocacy! -I could indeed bear a different testimony. - -I think I began first to know the power of the poor, and to fall under -their sway, when I was certainly not more than six years old. It must -have been about then that I was learning to sew. This seems to have -been a profession to which I was so temperamentally disinclined that my -mother, to sweeten the task, was wont during the performance of it to -read to me. While I sat on a hassock at her feet scooping an unwilling -perpendicular needle in and out of difficult hems, my mother would read -from one of many little chap-books and children's tracts, which were -kept commonly in a flat wicker darning-basket in her wardrobe; little -paper books held over from her own and her mother's childhood. They -were illustrated with quaint woodcuts, and the covers of them were -colored. I was allowed to choose which one was to be read. - -One day--"because the time was ripe," I suppose--I selected a little -petunia-colored one, outwardly very pleasing to my fancy. It contained -the story and the pictures of a miserable beggar and a haughty and -unfeeling little girl. He was in rags, and reclined, from feebleness -I fancy, on the pavement; she walked proudly in a full-skirted dress, -strapped slippers, and pantalets. She wore a dipping leghorn with -streamers. Just over this she carried a most proud parasol; just under -it a nose aristocratically, it may even be said unduly, high in the air. - -I think I need not dwell on the tale, save to say that it was one of -the genus known as "moral." There was only one ending possible to the -story: the triumph of humility, the downfall of pride and prosperity; -swift and awful retribution falling upon her of the leghorn and -pantalets. I believe they allowed her in the last picture a pallet of -straw, a ragged petticoat, bare feet, clasped hands, and a prayerful -reconciliation with her Maker. The story was rendered distinctly -poignant for me by the fact that I possessed a parasol of pink -"pinked silk," which was held on Sundays and certain other occasions -proudly--it also--over a leghorn with streamers which dipped back -and front exactly as did the little girl's in the story. But never, -never,--once I had made the acquaintance of that story,--was my nose -carried haughtily under it, when by chance I sighted one of that race -so numerous and so ancient, so well known and so little known to us -all. From that day I began to know the power of the poor. - -I can remember delectable candies that I did not buy, delicious soft -cocoanut sticks that I never tasted, joys that I relinquished, hopes -that I deferred, for the questionable but tyrannous comfort of a penny -in an alien tin cup, and the inevitable "God bless you, little lady!" -which, remembering her of the leghorn and pantalets, I knew to be of -necessity more desirable than the delights I forewent. - -There was an old blind man there in my home town, whom I remember -very keenly. He used to go up and down, he and his dog, in front of -the only caravansary the place boasted,--the Hotel Latonia,--tap-tap, -tap-tapping. He had the peculiar stiff, hesitating walk of the blind, -the strange expectant upward tilt of the face. He wore across his -shoulder a strap on which was fastened a little tin cup. - -I used to see the drummers and leisurely men of a certain order, -their chairs tilted back against the hotel wall, their heels in the -chair-rungs, their hats on the back of their heads, their thumbs in -their arm-holes, their cigars tilted indifferently to heaven, and they -even cracking their jokes and slapping their knees and roaring with -laughter, or perhaps yawning, perfectly unaware of the blind man, it -seemed, while he passed by slowly, tap-tap, tap-tapping. - -But it was never thus with me. His cane tapped, not only on the -pavement, but directly on my heart. You could have heard it, had you -put your ear there. It may have seemed that his eyes were turned to the -sky. That was but a kind of physical delusion. I knew better. In some -occult way they were searching me out and finding me. I can give you no -idea of the command of the thing. Perhaps I have no need to. Your own -childhood--it is not improbable--may have been under a similar dominion. - -If I thought to experiment and withhold my penny, I might escape the -blind man for a while: I might elude him, for instance, while the -other members of the family and the guests in that old home of my -childhood were gay and talkative at the supper-table; or afterward, -when laughter and song drowned the lesser sounds; or while I stood safe -in the loved shelter of my father's arm, listening to conversations -I enjoyed, even though I could not understand them; or while, in the -more intimate evenings, he took his flute from its case, screwed its -wonderful parts together, and, his fingers rising and falling with -magic and precision on the joined wood and ivory, played "Mary of -Argyll" until I too heard the mavis singing. But later, later, when I -lay alone in my bed in the nursery in the moonlight, or, if it were -winter, in the waning firelight and the creeping shadows, then, _then_ -there came up the stairs and through the rooms the sound of the blind -man's cane, tap-tap, tap-tapping. He had come for his penny. And the -next time I saw him, with a chastened spirit and a sense of escape I -gave him two. - -But my own childish subserviency to the poor did not give me so great -a sense of their power as my mother's relation to them. She, it seems, -was perpetually at their service. Let them but raise a hand indicating -their need ever so slightly, and she moved in quick obedience, although -it seemed she too must sometimes have wearied of such service. Guests -were many and frequent in that old home, as I have elsewhere told; but -these came either by announcement or by invitation; the poor, on the -contrary, came unasked, unannounced, and exactly when they chose, as -by royal prerogative. Indeed, many a time I have seen my mother excuse -herself to a guest, to wait sympathetically upon a man or a woman with -a basket,--it might be the queen of the gypsies, with vivid, memorable -face; or the Wandering Jew in the very flesh; or it might be Kathleen -ni Houlihan herself, all Erin looking out, haunting you, from her -tragic old eyes,--offering soap or laces at exorbitant prices, or other -less useful wares, tendered for sale and excuse at the kitchen door. - -There was one whom I especially remember--Musgrove. He was a fine -marquis of a man, was Musgrove, as slender as a fiddle and with as -neat a waist. He used to come to the front door and sit by the old -hall clock, waiting my mother's pleasure. He had a wife and seven -or nine children, and a marvelous multiplicity of woes. There was a -generosity and spaciousness about the calamities of Musgrove--something -mythopœic, promethean. Tragedies befell him with consistent abundance. -Four or five of the seven or nine had broken their arms, almost put -out their eyes, or had just escaped by a hair's breadth from permanent -blanket-mortgage disability when the floor of the cottage they lived -in fell through; or they had been all but carried off wholesale by -measles. Once all nine, as I remember it, were poisoned _en gros_ by -Sunday-school-picnic ice-cream, which left the children of others -untouched. Only myths were comparable. Niobe alone, and she not -altogether successfully, could have matched calamities with him. - -By and by Time itself, I think, wearied of Musgrove. I think my -mother, sympathetic as she was, must have come to think the arrows of -outrageous fortune were falling far too thick for likelihood, even on -so shining a mark as Musgrove. She came from interviews with him with a -kind of gentle weariness. But Musgrove, I am very sure, had an eye for -the drama. He knew his exits and his entrances, and I have reason to -believe no shade of feeling in my mother's face was lost upon him. - -He came one day to say good-bye, his shabbiness heightened, but -brightened also, by a red cravat. It was safe now, no doubt, to allow -himself this gayety. He knew that my mother would be glad to hear that, -through the kindness of someone nearly as kind as herself, he had been -able to obtain a position in a large city. He lacked but the money to -move. After that--prosperity would be his. - -My mother did not deny him his chance, Musgrove himself, you see, -having contrived it so that the chance was not without a certain -advantage and privilege for her. So he made his fine bow, and he and -his fine marquis manners were gone. - -I think my mother must have missed him. I know I did. The other -pensioners came as regularly as ever--the gypsy with her grimy laces; -the Jew with his tins and soap; rheumatic darkies by the dozen, frankly -empty-handed; the little girl with the thin legs and with the black -shawl pinned over her head and draped down over the shy and empty -basket on her arm; and the old German inventor who always brought the -tragedy of old and outworn hopes along with some new invention; or, -at infrequent intervals, for a touch of color, there came an Italian -organ-grinder, and--if the gods were good--a monkey. But there were -times when I would have exchanged them all to see Musgrove again, with -his fine promethean show of endurance, his incomparable assortment of -unthinkable calamities. - -Another, it is true, came in his place, but he was of a wholly -different type. He had not the old free manner of Musgrove, yet he was -strangely appealing, too. He wore a beard and was stooped and spent and -submissive, a man broken by fate. He did not complain. He did not wait -rather grandly by the hall clock as Musgrove had done; no, but in the -kitchen, about breakfast-time, biding the cook's not always cordial -pleasure. - -In spite of my mother's sympathy,--which should certainly have made -amends for any lack of it in the cook,--he had a way of slipping in and -out with a little shrinking movement of his body, like the hound that -does the same to escape a blow. One would have said that body and soul -flinched. He limped stiffly, and seemed always to have come a little -dazed from far countries. - -My mother took even a very keen interest in him. This man was more -difficult to reach, but by that very token seemed no doubt the more -worthy. He told no wonderful tales to tax your credulity. His very -reticence was moving and hard to endure; the death of nine or seven -children would have been less sad. He kept coming for quite a long -time. Then the day dawned--a day quite like any other, I suppose, -though it should have been dark with cloudy portent--when, by some -slight misstep, some trifling but old reference on his part when his -mind was off its guard, my mother discovered, as by a sudden lightning -flash, that this _was_ Musgrove. - -I have known some dramatic moments in my life, but I would not put this -low on the list. - -He seemed to know for an intense arrested instant that he had spoken -a false line, that he had for a miserable moment forgotten his part. -He staggered into it again with what I know now was fine courage, and -managed in perfect character to get away. I can still see him as he -departed, bent and submissive (having most meekly thanked my mother), -and not forgetting to limp stiffly, going along under the falling -leaves of the grape-arbor, in the autumn sunshine, the shadows of the -stripped vines making a strange and moving pattern on his old coat as -he went; nor have I failed to see him in all the years since, thus -departing,--inevitably, irretrievably,--and have found my heart going -many a time along with him. - -My mother, and I with my hand in hers, went back into the quiet -comfortable rooms of that old house. But if you suppose we went in -any spirit of ascendency, or righteous indignation, or justification, -you are indeed mistaken. To be in the right is such an easy, such a -pleasant thing; what is difficult and must be tragically difficult -to endure is to be artistically, tragically in the wrong. I think it -likely that my mother remembered Musgrove, as I have done, through all -the years, a little as a survivor might remember one who had gone down -before his eyes. It is thus, you see, that Musgrove, bent and always -departing, still continues to sway others with his strange powers, as -it is fitting, no doubt, that one of his rare genius should do. - - - - - II - - THE HARP AND THE VIOLIN - - -Besides those that I have mentioned, there were two especially of that -ancient race whose fortunes were bound in with my early memories. - -It was upon a day when I was a little more than fourteen that I came to -know them. I was alone at home, save for the maids in the house, and -was reading at my ease, as I loved to do, in that old verandah that -fronted the south. I remember well that the book I read was "Rasselas, -or The Happy Valley." - -The verandah was deep and long. Beside it ran a brick pavement, -delightful in color and texture. Over this, joining the verandah, there -curved a latticed grape-arbor of most gracious lines, on which grew, -in lovely profusion, a wistaria, a catawba grape-vine, moonflower, and -traveler's-joy. When the wistaria, like a spendthrift, had lavished -all its purple blossoms, and there were left but green leaves in its -treasury, then the grape bloom lifted its fragrance; and when this was -spent, the traveler's-joy, as though it had foreseen and saved for -the event, flung forth its abundance; and when at last its every petal -had fallen and nothing more remained,--for the moonflower had its own -prejudice, persistently refused the demands of the sun, and would open -its riches only to the moon and the night moths,--then the early autumn -sun, feeling through the thinning leaves, hardly expectant, would come -upon that best treasure of all, stored long, against this time, in the -reddening clusters of the grapes. - -All these things lent I cannot say what charm inexhaustible to that -old verandah, and made it a place of abiding romance and delight. The -pattern of the sunshine and of the moonlight on the floor of it, as -they fell through the lattice and the leaves, are things that still -haunt my memory with the sense of a lovely security, of a generous -abundance, and, as it were, of the lavish inexhaustible liberality of -life itself. - -There, secure against interruption, I read and pondered, with the -imaginative ponderings of fourteen, the strange longings of that Prince -who should have been so content in the Happy Valley. - -As I read, I was aware of a strange intrusion: a bent form in baggy -trousers and rusty coat stooped under the weight of an old and worn -harp; behind him, bent also, but by no visible burden, an old man with -a violin entered the gateway of the arbor. They came very slowly and -deliberately, yet without pause or uncertainty. They did not introduce -themselves, being, I knew instantly, quite above such plebeian need. -They asked no permission, nor solicited any tolerance. They spoke not -a word. It was as if they had long outgrown the need of such earthly -trivialities. - -He of the rusty coat and baggy trousers, having taken a slow look at -the place around,--as though to establish in his mind some mysterious -identity,--let the harp slip from his shoulders to the brick pavement, -adjusted it there very deliberately, and proceeded to pluck one or two -of its strings with testing fingers, still looking around carefully all -the while; then he adjusted his camp-stool, seated himself, pulled the -worn, yet delicate and feminine instrument toward him, so that her body -lay against his shoulder, and put his hands in position to play. - -The old violin, more lordly, made no concession whatever to harmony; -he tuned or touched not a string, but with a really kingly gesture put -his instrument in the worn hollow of his shoulder, laid his head and -cheek over against it, as though lending his whole soul to listen, -raised the bow, held it for an immortal instant over the strings, -and then drew out a long preliminary note--on, on, on, to the very -quivering tip of the bow. - -My education had not been neglected as to music. There had always been -much of it in my home, where flute and voice and harp and violin and -piano spoke often, and my home town was near a great musical centre, -where, young as I was, I had heard the best that was to be heard. Had I -been in a critical mood, I should have noted how badly the long-drawn -note was drawn; I can hear still how excruciating it was, how horribly -it squawked; but rendered solemn, as I was, by the strangeness of their -appearance and their presence, and dimly, dimly aware of their immortal -powers, it thrilled me more than I remember those of Sarasate or Ysaye -to have done. - -The long note at an end, without so much as a consultation of the -eyes, they then began. With never a word, only with thrilling tones -horribly off the key, the violin spoke, say rather wrung its hands and -wailed,--"Oh, don't you remember"--("Oh, yes; I remember!" throbbed and -sobbed the harp)--"Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?" - -They played it all through, even to what must have been the "slab of -granite so gray," varying all the while from one half to one tone off -the key, the old violin lending his ear as attentively all the while to -the voice of his instrument as if she spoke with the tongues of angels; -his dim veiled eyes fixed on incalculable distances, like those of an -eagle in captivity. - -The old harp, on the contrary, kept his eyes lowered stubbornly on the -vibrating strings; and the harp, as he smote, quivered like some human -thing struck upon its remembering heart. From the painfully reminiscent -song they leaped without pause into that second most wailful melody in -the world,-- - - Ah, I have sighed to rest me, - Deep in the quiet grave,-- - -and played that on to the end also. - -But though to the outward eye these visitors played upon the harp -and violin, how much more indeed did they play upon me! Young, and -sensitive, and as yet unsounded, how, with dim compelling fingers -they searched and found and struck and drew from me emotions I had -never known! Old and worn and bowed with life, and weather-beaten of -the world, they played there in the mottled sunlight of that romantic -arbor, as might Ulysses have stood mistaken and unhonored by those who -had but heard of Troy. There was to me something suddenly overwhelming -in the situation. Oh, who was I, to enjoy so much, in such security; to -feast upon plenty, and to know the generous liberality of life, while -these, doomed to the duress of the gods, went through the world, day -after day, half-starved, playing miserable memorable music fearfully -off the key! - -Perhaps I was intense; certainly I was young; and as certainly I had -all the eager vivid imagination of youth. Moreover, this was, it should -not be overlooked, my very first adventure, all my own, with the poor; -my first piece of entirely independent service to those mysterious -powers. Meanwhile, the divinities in disguise played on--a wild, -boisterous tune it was now, set to a rollicking measure and infinitely -more sad for that than the sighs of "Trovatore," or than sweet Alice -under the stone. Bent they seemed on sounding every stop. You may think -they were but a grimy pair, dull and squalid; probably embittered. -I can only tell you that they invoked for me that day, as with the -mournful powers of the Sibyl of Cumæ, love and life and death, and joy -irrevocable, and memory--these they called up to pass before me, and -bade them as they went, for one summoning moment, to reveal their faces -to me. - -Presently, I do not know with what dark thoughts, these two would have -departed, but I remembered and begged them to stay. I flew upstairs and -found my purse, and emptied it, and gave them what it held. They took -it without thanks, merely as lawful tribute exacted. Again they would -have departed, but I begged them still to remain. Should this ancient -Zeus and Hermes be allowed to depart without bread? I disappeared into -the house with a beating heart. I found bread and milk and meat. I -brought these and set them out for them, and drew chairs for them. All -this, too, they took for granted, with some shrewd glances at me; they -shuffled their feet about under the table, bent low to their plates -like hungry men, and shoveled their food into their mouths dexterously -with their knives, the better, no doubt, to disguise their divinity. - -While they ate, I went, with a heart troubled yet high, and gathered -for them grapes that hung immortally lovely in the sun. These too they -ate, with a more manifest pleasure, cleaning the bunches down to the -stems; and when they had made away with all they could, slipped the -remaining clusters in their pockets against a less hospitable occasion. - -I remember that then they went and left me standing there in a world of -dreams and speculation and adventure. They had gone as they had come -but me they left forever changed. As they departed, certain doors in -my young days swung and closed mysteriously. For me the channels of -life were permanently deepened. With them had departed my complacent, -inexperienced attitude of mind; with them had fared forth the care-free -child that I had been. This adventure all my own, conducted in my own -manner, had initiated me into vast possibilities, the more impressive -because but dimly seen. On me had depended for a little while these two -of God knows what ancient descent. I too had begun to know and taste -life. I too would begin to count my memories. Oh, strange new world! -And with strange people in it! - -On this world, enter, upper left stage, Leila the maid. - -"Oh, Miss Laura, honey, what you bin' doin'? Dey ain't nothin' but -no-'count beggars, chile. Don't you know dey mought 'a' come indo's -and carried off all de silver? Dat's just de kind would steal fum you -when you warn't lookin'. I ain't right sho' now dey ain't got some o' -de silver in dey pockets!" And she took savage stock of what lay on the -table. - -O Leila, ingenuous mind! Dearly as I loved her, how little she knew! -How far she was from understanding the habits and predilections of the -gods! Would they trouble, do you think, to take a silver knife or fork, -who can take away the priceless riches of childhood with them? Would -they pause to purloin a mere petty silver spoon, who can carry off an -entire golden period of your existence, and leave you with the leaden -questions and dull philosophy and heavy responsibility of older years? - -I should have asked their names, that I might set these in my prayers, -but I had not had presence of mind enough to do that; so, that night, -while I knelt by my bed, alone in the moonlight, a very devout little -girl, there stood there, shadowy in the shadows, and among my nearest -and dearest, on whom I asked the Lord's blessing, the old harp and -violin; while, with my head buried passionately in my hands, I begged -Providence to have an especial care of these new friends of my heart, -to bless them, to let its face shine upon them, and to give them peace. - -Musical beggars! I have seen them often since, in one guise or another. -Sometimes they trumpet on the trombone or cornet, or blow fearful -blasts upon the French horn; I have known them to finesse upon the -flute or flageolet. These differences are but inconsiderable. Always -I find them equally mighty. I have thought sometimes to get past them -with giving them only a great deal more than I could afford. Useless -frugality! futile economy! For still they will be laying ghostly hands -upon you; still will they be exacting a heavier tribute and demanding -that gold and silver of the soul which, as Plato is so well aware, is -how infinitely more precious. - -Though to outward appearance they are busy with their instruments, -how they lay ghostly hands upon your imagination. How they conjure up -before the inward eye themselves as they might have been, to levy a new -tax upon you. The man with the horn, he who plays always off the key, -and always a little ahead of the others, he, it is now mysteriously -revealed to you, had meant perhaps, at the very least, to play in an -orchestra. And the baggy battered old violin was to have wiped his -heated brow with a grand gesture, and bowed condescendingly over his -collar to metropolitan audiences, had not his dreams so unaccountably -miscarried. And the old thread-bare harp-player, his shabbiness and -his bitter face to the contrary notwithstanding, had meant, had really -meant, to pluck some sweetness out of life. And the harp itself (yes, -even so extensive is the occult power they wield) makes its own special -appeal to you, and with its taste for delicacy seems suddenly like -a dull tormented thing, swaying and trembling under the stiff sullen -fingers of its master, there on the garish pavement--an instrument -which, but for the uncertainty of life (ah, the uncertainty of life!), -might have responded how devotedly, in the tempered light of a -curtained alcove, to the touch of delicate fingers. - -All this they conjure up before the mind's eye, ere they stop their -excruciating playing. Then the violin, at the very moment that should -have been his gracious one, counts the miserably few pennies. The -sullen horn, his instrument tucked under his arm, goes on, still a -stave ahead of the rest, a sodden expression in his eyes. The old -harpist swings the harp rudely over his shoulder, and gives the strap -an extra twitch to ease the dull weight, and they are off to fresh -pavements and districts new. I have seen great tragedians. I have sat -through the sleep-walking scene in "Macbeth." I have heard Banquo -knock. I have seen Juliet waken too late in the Capulet tomb and call -for Romeo: "O comfortable friar! Where is my lord?" In my schoolgirl -days I saw Booth in his great parts; but none of these master-scenes -and fine harmonies have stirred in me so intolerable an emotion of pity -or sense of fatality as an old horn, or harp and violin, grouped on a -garish pavement, their lives dedicated to cheap music fearfully off the -key. - -These are people of power, let appearances be what they may. You may -patronize them if you like, and look upon them as the downtrodden and -the dregs of existence. I am, indeed, not so hardy. I have read a -different fate in their groups and constellations. - - - - - III - - MAJOR LOBLEY - - -There were other poor whose influence was potent in my childhood, but -I pass them by, to note but one more, of a curiously strong type, -who crossed my path when I might have been about sixteen. She was a -Salvation Army major,--Major Lobley,--and she had at her heels an army -of poor wretches, "flood-sufferers." That great river on which my -home town was situated had risen and overtrod its banks, spreading -devastation. As it happened, my mother had standing idle at that time -three or four small houses. Into these a large and variegated band -of "flood-sufferers" was assisted to move. They came, poor things, -bringing their lares and penates. One, whom I take to have been an -aristocrat among them, led a mule. Among them all, like a burst of -sunshine over a dark and variegated landscape, came Major Lobley and -the drum. It would make a better recital, I know, if I said that -she was beating it--but I am resolved to tell of things only as I -remember them. The drum, however, even though silent, was to the eye -sufficiently triumphant and sounding. - -My acquaintance with Major Lobley began the morning after her -installation. We had already, for the comfort of her clan, parted with -all the available covers we could spare. She came seeking more. The -maid brought me her name. I went into the parlor to receive her and to -learn her errand. I take the liberty of reminding you that I was young -and proud, with a traditional training and conventional pride. - -In that curtained and rather sombre room, there sat Major Lobley, like -a brilliant bit of sunshine. Before I knew what she was about, she was -on her feet, had hold of both my hands, had kissed me on both cheeks, -was holding me away from her a little,--a quick pleased gesture seen -oftener on the stage than off it,--and was saying dazzlingly, "Sister! -Are you saved?" - -They tell me that even the bravest at the Yser were demoralized by the -first use of poisonous gases and other methods of warfare unknown, -even undreamed of, by them; and a like panic is said to have seized -the Germans at earliest sight of the British armored monsters which -ploughed over the ground disdainful of every obstacle, taking their own -tracks with them. - -Major Lobley attacked me in a fashion I had never before even -dreamed of. She was carrying her own tracks with her. None of my own -aforethought invulnerable defenses were of the least use. She had -thrown down and traversed the most ancient barriers. She had attacked -me in the very intrenchments of my oldest traditions. Where were -dignity, convention, pride of place, custom of behavior, and other -supposedly impregnable defenses? Where were distinctions of class, -fortifications of good taste, intrenchments of haughtiness? Where were -reserve and other iron and concrete and barbed-wire entanglements? I -tell you, they were as though they were not! This glib inquiry about -my soul routed me, demoralized me so completely, that I do not even -remember what I said. I only know that I fled precipitately for safety -into the covert of the nearest subject. Was there anything she needed? -And how could I serve her? - -At this she was eager. - -"Well, I'll tell you! We need another comfort. Darius needs a comfort -for his mule. Darius is a good man and his soul is saved. Now couldn't -you lend another comfort to the Lord?" - -"Yes," said I, in what now seems to me a kind of hypnotized state. "I -think I can find another for you." And I went myself and took it from -my bed. - -She received it with hallelujahs and went away beaming, assuring me -as she went, and as on the authority of an ambassador, that I would -certainly have my reward. - -I make no apology for all this. I know well that I was the weak and -routed one. I know that this gypsy from nowhere, with her lack of -advantages and her Cinderella training among the ashes and dregs of -life, had me at an astonishing disadvantage. I know that, while I stood -by, in my futile pride, she went off unaccountably, in a spangled -coach, as it were, carrying with her salvation and all the satisfaction -in the world, and happily possessed of the bed-covers without which I -was to sleep somewhat chilly that night. - -But I think it due to myself to say that this weakness on my part -was not single. For weeks, months,--as long as she stayed in the -neighborhood,--Major Lobley swayed people as by a spell. One would have -sworn her drumstick was a wand. In theory, and out of her presence, we -younger ones declared her presuming and impossible, but were reduced -to serve her whenever she appeared. My mother and my elder sister, who -were experienced and better judges, continued to give her and her thin -ragged ranks daily help. Pans of biscuit, pots of soup, drifted in -that northwesterly direction as by some gulf stream of sympathy which -you might speculate and argue about all you liked, but whose course -remained mystical and unchanged. - -One point I must not fail to mention. I had worried somewhat concerning -Darius's mule. There was, I knew, no shelter for him save a tiny -woodshed just about half his size. I pictured him standing there, with -only his forequarters or hindquarters sheltered, and the rest of him -the sport of the elements and the biting weather. Needless anxiety; -futile concern! I might have read a different fate for him in Orion and -Pleiades! Such anxiety comes of thinking too meanly of life. Darius had -a better opinion of it, and it may be with better cause. Perhaps he -argued that a power that was able to save his soul was perfectly well -able to look after his mule; and rendered expectant by this belief, -Darius's eyes saw what my less faithful ones would certainly have -overlooked, namely, that the comfortable kitchen of the little house, -with its sunshine and its neat wainscoting, made an ideal abiding-place -for his friend. Here, therefore, positively benefiting by misfortune -and like an animal in a fairy tale, the mule of Darius abode, and, no -doubt, more comfortably than ever in his life before; and even if his -meals continued to be meagre, he was enabled to eke them out with a -generous attention to the wainscoting. - -You see! What can be said of a people like that, able to turn the most -unlikely things to strange and immediate uses, for all the world as the -fairy godmother did the pumpkin and the mice! - -What stands out most clearly, as I remember Major Lobley, is neither -her scoop-bonnet, nor the drum, nor her solicitude for my soul, but -rather the way she managed, say rather contrived, to have us to do -whatever she wanted us to do. This was not accomplished by tact, not -by craft, not even by intelligence, certainly, I think, not by pity. -It was rather, I am persuaded, something ancient and inherited, and -not acquired in Major Lobley's brief span; something, rather, dating -back to gypsy centuries, God knows how many æons ago--something that -had ruled and triumphed, with sounding and loud timbrel, on countless -occasions before now; some freedom, some innate self-approval; some -linking, it would almost seem, of the powers of poverty with the -powers of the Deity. - -Have it as you will, the finer appearance still clings to the -improvident. They give you color and incident without your asking; they -scatter romance and wonder with largesse, as kings. As mere memorable -characters, were not the old blind man and Musgrove and Major Lobley -worth the money and the anxiety they cost us? And who will contend -that Darius's tradition is not to be valued above a mere strip of -wainscoting and the cost of a few repairs? - -I have long believed that Æsop needs rewriting in many instances, -and very especially in that of "The Grasshopper and the Ant." What -should be told--since Æsop's creatures are intended to exemplify human -behaviors and draw human morals--is how the Grasshopper spent the -winter with the Ant, and ate up all the Ant's preserves and marmalades, -and fiddled nightly and gayly by the Ant's fire, and managed somehow -to make the Ant feel that the privilege had been all her own, to -have labored long for the benefit of so interesting and so gifted a -gentleman. - -I can recall from time to time, all through my childhood and girlhood, -that I and mine made a kind of festival of a like circumstance, and -how gladly we toiled for the benefit of that class which might be said -to winter perpetually on our sympathies. I do not allude merely to -tableaux, fairs, private theatricals, musicales, and the like, given -for the benefit of those who neither sowed nor gathered into barns. I -would be afraid to say how many times, from my early years, I was for -their sake a spangled fairy, a Queen Elizabeth court dame, an "Elaine," -white, pallid, on a barge, dead of unrequited love, a Gainsborough -or Romney portrait, or a Huguenot lady parting from her lover, or a -demure "Priscilla," or a dejected "Mariana," or a shaken-kneed reciter -of verses, or a trembling performer on the piano. I remember that -there was a huge trunk in the old attic at home given over to nothing -but amateur theatrical properties. I remember coming home often from -dragging, wearisome rehearsals, how tired, but happy! What fun it was -to toil and practise and rehearse and labor until your little bones -ached "for the benefit of--!" - -"For the benefit of"! I tell you it is a magic phrase! I remember my -mother coming home again and again,--from some charitable conclave I -suppose,--radiant and eager, as she so often was, to announce that we -were once more to be permitted to labor in response to its magic. Once, -after her attendance on some missionary meeting, it was conveyed to us -that we were to be allowed to dress fifty dolls "for the benefit of" -as many gregarious little grasshoppers of Senegambia, to the end that -their Christmas and our own should be the happier. - -It had all the air of a fine adventure. It _was_ a fine adventure. I -really would not have missed it. Yet unless you have dressed, let us -say, thirty dolls, and know that twenty more remain naked, you can -hardly guess how doll-dressmaking may hang heavy, even on the most -eager fingers. I can still see them all in their pretty and varied -dresses, ranged triumphant at last on top of the old square piano, -that we might behold the labor of our hands--their feet straight ahead -of them, their eyes fixed, staring but noncommittal, supposedly on -Senegambia. - -It seems to me now a gay, even though at the same time a somewhat -futile, thing to have done; but turn it as you will, the true privilege -was ours. - -We and our forebears, you see, had in perfect innocence laid by a -few stores through the generations. We had preserved and retained -certain standards and comfortable customs and conveniences of living; -certain traditions, too, of education and treasures of understanding; -by which token it became our privilege to entertain and provide for -those cicada souls who had followed the more romantic profession of -fiddling; and that we might have our privilege to the full, we were -graciously permitted to set out preserves, not merely for the swarming -grasshoppers of our own land: it was vouchsafed us to sustain and -supply with dolls and other delights the appealing little grasshoppers -of Senegambia. - -Recalling all my childhood and girlhood experience with the poor, I -am led by every path of logic to believe that they have some secret -power of their own--some divine right and authority by which they rule, -beside which the most ancient dynasties are but tricks of evanescence, -and the infallibility of the Pope a mere political exigency. The powers -they wield would seem to me unique. Show me a dictatorship, empire, -oligarchy, system, or a suzerainty, seignory or pashawlic, which -presides over and possesses anything commensurate with their realm; -which sways and commands anything comparable to their wide dominion! - -Will you show me any other people outside of the fairy-books who can -put the most fearful calamity on like a cloak and doff it at will, who -can augment their families to seven or eight children overnight, and -reduce them as readily to five or six the following day, if it but seem -to them advisable? Where outside their ranks is there any one capable -of persuading you that it is a privilege to sleep cold so that some -Darius you never saw or care to see shall, he and his allegorical mule, -go better warmed? Who else, being neither of your kith nor kin, has -such power over you that, with a mere bloodshot eye and shiver of the -shoulders, he can turn your automobile, your furs, your warmth, and all -your pleasant pleasures into Dead Sea apples of discomfort? Or, did any -of your own class, by merely playing "Ben Bolt," raggedly and horribly -off the key, under a grape-arbor, exercise so great a power over you -that, having given him what you had, you went awed and chastened of -all vanity, and set his name in your prayers that night as the Church -service does the king? Are these people of rank who can do this? Or -will you still cling to your aristocracies? - -It is likely that I shall be accused of sentimentality. Some will say -that to talk of the power of the poor is but cruel irony. If I would -speak wisely and not as one of the foolish women, let me live and work -among the poor, or better still, be of them. This is the only way -fairly to judge them. - -I am of a like opinion; and am therefore resolved to ask you to let -me speak of a later time when I myself was poor, and of the wider -knowledge of the powers of the poor which that circumstance afforded -me. For, in my advantageous days, I was permitted only to serve the -poor, the discouraged, the improvident; later, I was promoted to be, at -least in a measure, of their fellowship. - - - - - IV - - MAMIE FAFFELFINGER - - -The _nouveaux pauvres_ are, I believe, as a rule, fully as awkward with -their poverty as the _nouveaux riches_ with their wealth. They have not -the true grand manner. They are not a whit more born to the rags than -your suddenly prosperous parvenu to the purple. It is difficult to be -at ease with them. Their behaviors, their manners, their speech, more -often their silences, are forever reminding you of their former mode of -living. - -For these and other reasons, I willingly pass over those intervening -years, when, though distinctly poor, I was unaccustomed, and wore my -changed conditions, I do not doubt, awkwardly. I pass on to a later -and more fixed season when, thrown wholly now on my own resources, and -totally untrained and unfitted for such an emergency, I made shift to -support myself, to live meagrely, and to endure what I took to be a -well-nigh intolerable poverty. - -Poverty is a variable term and much subject to comparison. Some -will allow it only to those who have been born to it. To have been -always half-starved, these think, and to carry a basket from door to -door--_that_ is to be poor. But it is idle to think of cold and hunger -to the point of beggary as the only cold and hunger there are. Not -alone are there degrees of cold and hunger of the body,--discomfortable -and ill-nourished living,--but there are, as well, things which seem -to me even more difficult to endure--unsatisfied hunger of the mind -and heart and a most cruel and persistent chill of the spirit. The -literal-minded may need to see the open sore, the sightless eye, or -the starved countenance, before their pity is moved; but he who has -ever touched the spiritual values will know--with a tenderness that -is mercy--that in one who never asked for pity, one who perhaps even -went outwardly gay, there may be hidden hurts borne unflinchingly; -intolerable darknesses not complained of; crippled powers which once -went proud and free; and a heart and mind which have endured, it -may be, starved hours. These are, I believe, some of the most real -poverties that the soul may be called on to endure. - -Yet, God forbid that, having tasted some of them, I should not bear -true witness! There are some hidden springs in these also. Here also, -in what you would take to be so dry, so arid a land, there will have -been wells and fountains, and locusts and honey for those cut off from -their kind. But of these things I would speak later. I wish at present -to tell of my further adventures with the poor, when I myself had -become more nearly one of them. - -Under the conditions I have mentioned my life had of course changed -greatly. Most of the old fond bonds were broken; but there were new and -even closer ones to be assumed, newer and larger responsibilities to be -undertaken. - -In every circumstance of our lives lies the stirring knowledge that -one's own case, however strange, is far from being singular. There are -others besides myself with whom Poverty has taken up its abode; there -are others from whose cup Despair has daily drunk; who, looking up from -their daily bread, have found Sorrow's eyes forever on them. Those who -have known these cup-companions need not be told how the House of Life -can be darkened, or how these darker presences occupy the chambers of -the mind. Nor need they yet be reminded how all this becomes bearable, -even enduringly precious to the heart, if Love but remains, and -consents still to sit at the board, and, though with brows bent, still -breaks bread with its white hands, and lifts in its unshaken fingers -the cup of bitter wine. - -We went to live in the deep country, on what had once been a beautiful -old estate. The house had not been lived in for years. It still -preserved an air of beauty and dignity, but its ancient pride and -fitness were turned toward decay. But if, like myself, it had fallen -on adversity and evil fortune, that was but the better reason I -should understand and love it. Wholly without what the world calls -comforts, yet how comforting it was in those chill and cheerless times! -Downfallen in the eyes of others, lowered from its proud estate, how -I have yet lifted my heart up to it under the stars, and paid it an -homage of love and thankfulness not matched, I think, in all its better -days. - -Our precarious means being entirely dependent on such writing as I -could do, it would have been extravagance and bankruptcy for me to -assume the domestic duties. There was no one else. I was the only -woman of the household. It seemed to me that a working housekeeper -might solve the difficulty; one of that variety which lays not so much -stress upon wages as upon a home. I found a surprising number with -this tendency. In answer to a most modest advertisement, I received -sixty-four answers. Those whom, in the course of time, I at last -engaged, were in each case women who had seen happier conditions and -were by their own affidavits capable of standing anything. But I found -them to be, without exception, shrinkingly susceptible to physical -discomforts, and of these there were in that old house many. - -These women were _nouveaux pauvres_ of a middle-class order and had -all the crudities of their condition. Each of them carried with her -a remnant of her "better days," as an inveterate shopper carries an -out-of-date sample, resolved, yet unable, to find its match. One of -them could not forget, and had no mind to let you forget, that her -husband had made four thousand a year; another had been to school in -Paris; and one always wore rubber gloves, "because," she assured me, -"as long as I can have my hands white, I can stand a great deal." -Another insisted on the most fluffy and unsubstantial desserts, and -thought the rest of the meal mattered little, so long as the finale had -a grand air. Another could not endure the odor of onions and fainted -at the sight of liver. Yet another, from reverses and humiliations -unendurable, had turned Christian Scientist. I learned afterward that -she came hoping to convert me to the idea that there is no poverty. I -wish I could have spared her the futility. - -By and by I abandoned all hope of a working housekeeper. I knew that -what I needed was a "general houseworker." - -Those who in extremity have sought servants in city employment bureaus -need not be told what is too old a tale. When the array of imposing -applicants had all declined the discomforts of my home, and the honor -of being employed by me, the manager explained, what I was dull not to -have known myself, that it might be wise to try some of the employment -bureaus in the poorer quarters. I found one finally at the head of the -Bowery, and climbed its rickety stairs. - -They were a strange and varied lot that I came upon now: weird old -flat-footed fairies, given to feathers and elaborate head-dresses, or -young heavy Audreys who looked at you out of dull eyes. I explained -elaborately the conditions under which they would be called on to live. -I omitted nothing, not even the screech-owls, or the night sounds -that might or might not be wild cats. They came eagerly or sullenly, -according to their dispositions. But apparently none of them had at -all grasped what I said. For when they saw the place, and felt the -loneliness of which I had so thoroughly warned them, they turned and -fled. The house might have been haunted. - -Finally I heard that one could engage servants of a certain order from -the Charities associations, such as the Society for Improving the -Condition of the Poor. To one of these I went. - -The matron, a full-eyed woman who gave the impression of having to -discipline an over-kind heart by an assumption of great severity, -questioned me curtly. What surroundings had I to offer? My heart sank, -but I went over faithfully the disadvantages--the extreme loneliness -of the life, the necessity that those who entered on it should abandon -all hope of "movies." "Movies" there were not within twelve miles. -There were no conveniences, no department stores, no bargain sales, -nothing--only field and forest, stars and dawns and sunsets--nothing! - -She lifted explanatory eyebrows, a little displeased, I thought. - -"I mean the _moral_ surroundings." Then, at my pause, "I mean, are you -yourself a Christian woman?" - -This was no Major Lobley. It is certain that she cared not a pin -whether I was "saved." She merely had it in mind to do her duty by her -flock. It was her duty to see that the poor, whose condition was to be -improved, were placed in Christian homes. - -Being perhaps the better satisfied on this point, for a rather -faltering answer on my part, she sent a mild-eyed assistant for "Mamie -Faffelfinger." - -She meanwhile explained in a businesslike way that Mamie was a -Catholic, brought up in an orphan asylum; her child was not a year -old; "the man"--(so the matron designated him curtly)--was not her -husband. - -"You mean she would wish a home for the child too?" - -The full-eyed woman ceased turning her pencil between her thumb and -fingers on the desk and gave me an aggressive look. - -"Certainly. Most of these people haven't a crust to live on. If you do -not wish to employ that kind, there are the employment bureaus." - -So they dawned on me like a blessing. These were not parvenu poor -who had been to school in Paris, who would insist on unsubstantial -desserts. Here were no head-dressy old fairies of questionable powers; -these were no exotic fruits of the "gardens of Proserpine"; here was -the good salt brine, here the ancient tides of reality--"the surge and -thunder of the Odyssey." - -Meanwhile the matron was speaking:-- - -"The man is not her husband. But if you are a Christian, I am sure you -have no narrow scruples as to _that_. He drinks. She is half-starved. -I have told her we will get her and the child a place, if she will -promise to leave him." She glanced at the open doorway of her tiny -office: "Yes, Mamie, come in." - -It was then that I first saw Mamie and Anne. - -Mamie looked her part. She was pallid, rather pretty; very slight, with -a skin of extreme fineness. She had heavy-lidded eyes, that looked to -have seen much weeping, and a smile the more pathetic for its great -readiness. - -As to Anne, a consistent story would require that she should be as -pallid as her mother, that her little hand, intent now on her mother's -hat-brim, should be a mere kite's claw; and there should have been -delicate dark rings under her eyes. But, far from being a kite's claw, -the hand on the hat-brim was as plump as ripe fruit, and her cheeks -were like smooth apricots perfect with the sun. But, after all, there -is no describing Anne. If you will look at the child held in the arms -of the Madonna of the Chair and then at the one in the arms of the -Sistine Madonna; then, if you will picture a child not quite a year -old, who might worthily be the little sister and companion of these, -you will have some idea, even though inadequate still, of what Anne -was, as she held tight to Mamie's rakish hat-brim and gave me the -solemn attention of her eyes. - -I went over the requirements. I spoke of the loneliness. Not a town -within miles. - -"Well, what do you think of that!" Mamie replied. But she was -unfeignedly eager to come. - -"When could you be ready?" - -"Oh, right away," she said. "I've got Anne's clothes here." She glanced -at a small paper bundle under one arm. - -My good fairy, who pays me occasional visits, prevented my asking her -where her own clothes were. - -The matron interposed. Mamie could stay right there until I was ready -to take her, late that afternoon. Then, when Mamie had gone into the -outer room, the matron explained. - -"She hasn't any home to go to. He left her and raised money on her -furniture. They came and took it. She hasn't even a stick of it." - -Tragic as this was, my mind was for the moment intent on something else. - -"But she wears a wedding ring!" I said. - -The matron pulled a heavy ledger toward her. - -"Oh, yes; they all do. They'd go starved, but they'd buy a wedding -ring." - -She pressed her lips together, shook her head, and began setting -down data,--my name, address, occupation, the names of two of my -friends,--they must be people of some standing, who could vouch for -me; then more as to Mamie, I suppose, in the interest of system and -statistics. - -I can give you no idea of the comradeship of that journey with Mamie -and Anne. Mamie looked delightedly out of the car-window, noting -the most trifling points of interest with enthusiasm, and saying -every little while, "Well, what do you think of _that_!" Or she -would excitedly point out some speeding bird, or flitting house, or -other flying object, to Anne, and Anne would lurch forward to look, -her little nose sometimes touching the pane, and then would turn -good-naturedly and look at me, with every air of asking me if that -probably so-interesting object had managed to escape me also. - -When we arrived at the house, Mamie was as cheerful as a sparrow. The -room on which flat-footed fairies and dull Audreys had looked with -unconcealed contempt or disapproval, she flew to. She settled in it -like a bird in her nest, and chirped contentedly to Anne,-- - -"Oh, Anne, look at the nice bureau! And the washstand! What do you -think of _that_!" Then she turned to me, with that winning comradely -smile: "I _like_ bureaus and washstands--furniture, I mean, and things. -It makes you think of home." And she drew her hand along the bureau. - -I did not know then, but I soon found out, that this was the top and -bottom of all her longings, and this the real hunger of her heart,--a -hunger starved enough, of course, in all her orphan-asylum years,--a -craving for a place of her own. - -Mamie talked much of "Bill." He filled her life and days, there could -be no doubt. If she swept, it was to his glory. If she scrubbed a -floor or kneaded dough, or bent affectionately over the scalloping -of a pie-crust, it was certainly for love of him that she lent these -her attention. She soon began sending him her weekly earnings. I -remonstrated, and suggested that it might be better to save her money -against another rainy day. She dusted her hands of flour and began -scraping the bread-board, vigorously, with the strength of her whole -body. I waited for my reply. At last it came. - -"Well, I will say you've been good to me, and Anne loves you--but I -think you've got a hard heart." - -Secretly I agreed with her. I retrenched and urged her to send only a -part of her money, saving the rest for furniture. Of course, I knew by -this time that the word "furniture" was to her like magic and a charm. - -Meanwhile, fond as she was of Anne and proud of her, Mamie was bent on -not spoiling her. She used to put her in a wooden tub in the sunshine -on the floor of the kitchen, as Peter Pumpkin-Eater put his wife in the -pumpkin shell; and like Peter, there she kept her very well. And Anne, -more ingenuous and happier than Diogenes,--for she liked it and crowed -if people came into her sunshine,--would stay there perfectly happy and -delighted for the greater part of the day, playing with an apple or a -potato. I really never saw such a baby. - -Meanwhile, although Bill was, it seems, drinking more than ever, with -the aid, of course, of Mamie's earnings, Mamie herself contrived to be -above fact and experience, and was sure he was actively reforming. In a -sense she really lived a charmed life. - -It seemed that Fate and fact could deal her no blow which would finally -affect her. She knew Bill's failings better than the matron, by a -great deal; but if you suppose that these could spoil the pure romance -of life for her, or invalidate her dream of a home and furniture of -her own, cushioned chairs owned and sat upon by the reformed Bill and -herself, you are much mistaken. - -She was a firm believer in miracles. "I know you don't believe in -them," she would say; "but at the Orphan Asylum there was a statue of -Saint Stephen that used to turn around over night, it really did, if it -was pleased with what you did." - -Like so many of her class, Mamie had an incorrigible tendency toward -rumor. Knowledge comes not to these by laborious delving of their own, -but appears to be delivered to them out of the air as by bird auguries, -and by all manner of unauthenticated hearsay infinitely rather to be -trusted than fact. I take this to be in their case a survival of what -was believed, in ancient times, to be speech with Divinity. However -it may shock the modern mind to read of the Almighty giving out to -Moses, not merely the majestic laws graven on tables of stone, but -commands and detail and measurement of great exactness as to the stuff -and manner of fashioning and trimming the High Priest's breeches, to -the minds of Mamie and her class there would be in this little that -was shocking, they themselves believing and delighting in Divine -collaboration in even the most homely matters. - -Anne wore on a string about her neck a little square of Canton flannel -which in the course of many months had become extremely grimy. I -suggested as tactfully as I could that this was not in keeping with the -laws of health, and might be, with a view to germs, a positive danger -to Anne. - -Mamie smiled happily, indulgently. - -"That's just where you're wrong! It's to _protect_ her from -danger--specially danger by drowning!" - -Once I suggested that, if I were she, I would not feed Anne burned -bread-crusts. - -"Oh, but they say they're good for a baby; they say they're splendid -for the digestion." - -Useless to argue. She had always heard so. "They" said so. - -So it is that knowledge comes to them, not laboriously, as does our -own, but by easy rumor, floating hearsay; and wisdom is brought to -them without effort of their own, as viands to a king. They are fed -by ravens. Their gourd grows overnight. Messengers still come and go -between heaven and earth to instruct them. There is not required of -them, the laboring class, that slavish mental toil exacted of the -world's great intellects. Angels and ministers of grace, however they -may have abandoned the wise, do still, it seems, defend them. They have -only to be of a listening mind and a believing heart, and they shall -know what is good for digestion, and what will save their children from -drowning. - -Mamie, further, was able to maintain a remarkable equilibrium between -respectful service as a servant and what might have been the gracious -democracy of a ruler. She taught Anne to call me "Honey," and had it as -a surprise for me one morning. I will not deny that it was a surprise. -But if you think that so sweet an appellation in Anne's bird-like -voice, her golden head leaning over into the sunshine as she heard my -step, seemed to me to be lacking in dignity, then you and I are of -contrary opinions. - -One day, when Mamie was dusting where hung a Fra Lippo Madonna, Anne -pointed a fat finger at it, demanding, "Honey?" - -Mamie did not even pause. - -"No," she said briskly, "that's not Honey. That's Lord and Lord's -mawma." - - - - - V - - THE LURE OF THE "CHIFFONEER" - - -One day, Mamie came to me, her face beaming. - -"I want to do the right thing, so I'm going to give you a whole month's -notice. Bill has rented some rooms. What do you think of that!" - -I told her gently, but firmly, what I suspected concerning it. - -She brought out his letter for proof. - -"He's to pay for the rooms, and I'm to send him the money for the -furniture. He'll get whatever kind I like. You've always been kind to -me," she added, "but I think you've got a hard heart as to Bill." - -Well, perhaps I had. - -The month passed very happily. As his letters came, she would tell me -what he had bought. - -"It's a bureau with a marble top,--secondhand, Second Avenue,--but as -good as new. Besides, some people would rather have antiques. And I -_do_ like bureaus!" - -Then it would be a table that set her singing her queer ragtime songs. -Once there came word of three cushioned chairs. One letter announced -a looking-glass. And once, as I went into the kitchen suddenly, there -was Mamie, one arm above her head, the other holding her skirt, dancing -for Anne to see, and to Anne's inexpressible wonder and delight. -She sat there in her tub, leaning forward, beaming, fascinated, and -holding tight to its sides as though we might all be personages in a -fairy-tale, and she and the tub might any moment fly away. - -At sight of me, Mamie stopped, flushing pink as a rose, apologetic, -but unfeignedly happy. - -"I couldn't help it! He's bought me a _chiffoneer_!" - -A moment later, as I passed through the hall, I could hear Mamie -singing, "And she's going back to her Daddy, and her home, home, -_home_!"--to some impromptu rigmarole tune of her own. - -Soon after this she took the train to the nearest town and came back -laden with packages--all manner of cheap household stuff picked up at -the five-and-ten-cent store. It occurred to me that she might as well -have a small empty trunk of mine that there was in the attic. She was -delighted with the gift, and wore the key of it on a chain around her -neck. - -"I'd rather have that key than a locket!" she said, putting her hand -over it affectionately. It was so that she repaid you tenfold. "It's -wonderful," she would say, every little while, in joyful anticipation, -"having your own home!" - -For myself, despite many unmitigated realities, I could not help -feeling that I was living in something of a wonder story. Who knew -but that, with those extraordinary powers of hers, which so readily -rose above fact, who knew but that she might rub that key some day as -Aladdin his lamp, and turn us all into triumphant heroes and heroines. - -Mamie did not forget, as I said good-bye to her in the big city -terminal where I finally left them, to give me parting advice, sisterly -sympathy:-- - -"Now, don't you go and get discouraged. I know you've had troubles. -Well, I've had trouble enough, too. You just keep right on, and hold -your head high. There's no telling what'll come to them that holds -their heads high. Look at me!" - -I looked at her and could have felt convinced. Then we said our -good-byes, and away they went. The last I saw of them in the crowd was -Anne's hand still waving loyally to me over Mamie's shoulder quite a -long time after her eyes had lost me. - -I missed them exceedingly; and the blue-birds of that second spring -hardly made up to me for the absence of Anne's birdlike voice. The new -maid, Margaret, was interesting enough, but no one could ever quite -take the place of those others. - -With all this in mind, you will realize with what a sinking of the -heart I found that there was more than Mamie to be missed. There could -be no doubt in the matter, for there had been no outsider in the house -at all of late; therefore it could be due to no other magic than hers -that there was a grievous lessening of my scant stores of household -belongings--sheets and pillow-cases, towels and a pair of blankets, -napkins and, I think, a table-cloth, and some muffin-rings and kitchen -conveniences, and I do not know what else. - -Little bits of reality came drifting back to me--the key kept so -faithfully always around her neck; my own gift of the trunk; and the -sentiment--say now, if you like, the sentimentality--with which I had -noted the fact that even that rather small trunk was too large for her -poor belongings. - -Then suddenly, the whole episode read to me like an Uncle Remus "Br'er -Fox and Br'er Rabbit" tale, and I was not too discouraged to laugh--as -the "Little Boy" is recorded always to have done--at the turn of the -story, at the inevitable triumph of the cleverer of the two. - -Yet for Mamie's sake, not to speak of my own, such an ending was not -to be permitted. I had asked her to come to see me in town on one of -the days of the week that I was always there, and to be sure to bring -Anne to see me. She had assured me that she would, and that she would -never forget me. Now I knew it would be necessary, rather, for me to -go and find her. I rehearsed the scene mentally. I meant to tell her -that she could keep all the things she had stolen. (Let them remain -in the manner of coals of fire in her trunk!) I would first reduce -her to powder in a solemn and serious manner, and then strew her upon -the winds of my righteous indignation! _She_ whom I had treated with -unfailing kindness! _She_ whom in sickness I had nursed! _She_ whose -many faults had been forgiven her, and in whom I had placed trust! -_She!_-- - -Strangely enough, she did come to see me, that very next day I was in -town. She seemed eager to get to me; nervous, too, like one whipped -of her conscience. I felt my heart suddenly softening, and as quickly -hardened it. I really had not expected quick penitence of her, but -even so, she must take the full punishment of my disapproval. There is -a duty we owe in such matters. I would make nothing easy for her. - -She sat down heavily, then suddenly put her hand over quickly on mine. -I made no sign. Not even that should move me. Then in a hoarse whisper, -a really hoarse whisper, almost a moan, she said,-- - -"Oh, how shall I tell you? _How_ shall I tell you?" - -Stony pause. I looked coldly at her. It seemed, for a moment, that the -irresistible force really _had_ met the immovable body. Then all at -once, she put her head down on her arm, sobbed, and spoke. - -"There _wasn't_ any bureau! There _wasn't_ any chiffoneer! There wasn't -_even_ any rooms!" - -An instant of time swirled past. Then I knew, as of old, that the power -of the poor is an irresistible force, never--never--not even by the -immovable body of our strongest determinations, to be withstood. My own -iron resolves I saw converted suddenly into the flimsiest fiction--rent -gossamer floating wide. - -Oh! Oh! I could have put my face in my hands and wept. All her dreams -gone! All her hopes! her pride! her cherished plans! her money! her -faith--everything! How small the theft of a few pillow-cases and towels -looked now that, at Fate's hands, she, poor thing, had had all this -stolen from her! This was no time to reduce her to powder, when she was -already reduced to floods of tears and I by no means far from the verge -of them. - -The story is too obvious to tell. Mamie's miracle had failed. The -unreformable Bill had not reformed. But neither,--I hasten to -add,--neither, it seems, was Mamie's ineradicable desire for a home -eradicated. I have mentioned before my belief that Fate cannot finally -affect the people of this extraordinary class. I believe them all to -have been plunged more effectually than Achilles in some protective -flood. - -Mamie, with the help of the perpetually severe, perpetually -tender-hearted matron, went out to work again. But there may be those -who would be more interested to know what I did with my resolves, my -righteous indignation, and, above all, with my conscience. As to my -conscience, I cleared that. I wrote to the matron, warning her that in -assigning Mamie to any place, it should be remembered that, valuable as -Mamie was in many ways, she had a light-fingered tendency to collect -household goods. From my later knowledge, I believe that the matron may -have smiled at the ingenuousness of that. It might readily be thought -superfluous to warn the expert physicist that water does not run -up-hill. - -As to my righteous indignation, it may seem to you a poor thing, but it -never came back. Somehow I never quite forgot the grip of Mamie's hand -on mine that day, and her hoarse voice as it announced the total ruin -of her hopes; or the memory, by contrast, of her little singing dance -before Anne at a happier season, with Anne leaning forward holding -delightedly to the sides of the tub. - -He is not apt to be the most severe in correction who has suffered -much discipline at the hands of Fate. It should be remembered by the -unrelenting and conscientious disciplinarian who judges me, that I -had seen the ruin of some of my own hopes. Joys that I had planned -for full as eagerly as Mamie, delights that I had reared on more -likely foundations, had been swept away, and almost as suddenly. I am -entering here on no philosophy, I am merely stating facts; and I may -as well confess that I took comfort in the thought, that, though the -bureau, the washstand and the "chiffoneer" had fallen in the general -ruin, Mamie still had the sheets, the pillow-cases, the towels, the -muffin-rings, and the rest. It was even turning out a little like a -fairy-tale after all, for I really now wanted her to have these, and -in view of my own very meagre circumstances and my duties to others, I -could not with a clear conscience have afforded to give them to her. -She, as with a magic foresight, had contrived to relieve me of all -embarrassment. - -Meanwhile, I heard nothing more of Mamie. Then one day, I had this -letter from her (I omit the independent spelling):-- - -"I thought I'd write to tell you that Anne has a good Papa. He's a -farmer. I'm married again." (Since she was not married before, the -"again" may refer to a second wedding ring.) "He's got a nice house. Do -come and see me." (Here followed very careful directions.) "I'd like -you to see our animals. We've got five chickens, one rooster, a cat and -a dog. He had a house already furnished. It's good furnished too. The -bed has got shams on the pillows." - -It was not long after this that I had a letter from an old aunt of -Mamie's, of whom Mamie had several times spoken to me, and to whom she -used sometimes to write. The aunt said that, though she had always been -too poor to do anything for Mamie, still she took an interest in her. -She knew I had been good to her. If it wasn't too much trouble, would -I write and tell her how Mamie was, or would I send her her address if -she was not with me. - -I wrote her with a good deal of pleasure that Mamie was happily married -(I did not quibble at the word) to a well-to-do farmer; that she had a -nicely furnished house, some animals, and that her husband loved Anne -devotedly; and I gave the desired address. - -Then I wrote to Mamie and sent her her aunt's letter; and I told her -that I thought it would be a kindness if she would write to the old -lady. - -In reply I had the following: "I know you meant to be kind. But I'm -sorry you wrote to my aunt. It wasn't my aunt at all. It was Bill." - -Here also--I know it well--fact is less satisfactory than romance. -There should, no doubt, be the telling scene of a sequel. I never saw -Mamie again, however, and the unfocused waving of a fat, lovely little -hand in that crowded terminal is my last memory of Anne. - -You who read this may be in some uneasiness as to Mamie. I confess -that I am not. I cannot forget the angels of grace that do undoubtedly -attend on such. If you will simply review what I have told you, I think -you will see that we need not be too anxious. One who can set aside -social customs and laws which the less privileged of us do not dare to -ignore; who can be married without clerk or benefit of clergy--rather, -after the manner of the owl and the pussy-cat, by the mere procuring -of a ring; who can protect her child from drowning by a canton-flannel -charm; improve health and digestion by a diet of burned bread-crusts; -rise above all fact and experience as successfully as if she were a -witch on a broomstick; and preserve her faith unspoiled, despite the -most blasting circumstances; who hob-nobs on such easy terms with the -Deity, and who can speak of her whom the poets prefer to name "Star of -the Deep," and the devout, "Queen of Heaven," as the Deity's "Maw-ma"; -one who can, like a prestidigitateur, by a mere turn of the hand, make -your conscientious resolves vanish--and draw pity out of the place -where solemn indignation should have been, as magicians rabbits out of -a silk hat; who can carry off your much needed linen, and have it look -like a favor.--Need we worry about such a one? Need Pharaoh, having -seen the wonders, be anxious, do you think, as to how the departed -children of Israel would be maintained in the desert places where he -would so easily have perished? - - * * * * * - -But lest you should, nevertheless, have Mamie's welfare at heart, and -should entertain, with some misgivings, thought of what may have become -of Anne, there are yet other signs and wonders of which I shall ask to -be allowed to speak. - - - - - VI - - MARGARET - - -Margaret, Mamie's successor, was a woman in the middle forties. There -were little shadowy modelings in her brow which made you think of the -smooth hollows of a shell. She gave one the impression of something -cast up from the sea and dragged back into it many times. She came of a -large family, and although her people had treated her badly (according -to her own story), she took pride nevertheless in speaking of them. "Me -brother Pat," I may say, was never spoken of without her head going up. -She had a taste for distinction, and pride of race was strong in her. -She was a born teller of tales. One of the best was of a wake to which -she was taken as a child. - -"It was a grrrand wake! The folk from all arroond were there! And -they'd baked meats such as you'd have only in the rrrichest houses -here. I was eight year old. I went with me brother Pat. The dead man -had been a mean old man, savin' and hoardin', not spendin', even for -the poor. They do say the dead'll come back if ye worry them enough; -and it's likely it worried him something terrible to see all that -spendin' of his money, and all the neighbor folk he hated so, crowded -so close in his room and the dhrrrink goin' round. Anyway, however be -it, as I was lookin' at him from my corner, all eyes, for I'd never -seen a dead man before, God save us! up he rose from the dead, right -among all the candles, upsettin' some of them; and he screamed, yes, -screamed, too, like he'd just escaped from hell, with the devil's -fingers still hot on him! Some went by the windys, some by the door. -Five got broken legs gettin' out, and the priest, God save us! fell -down dead, and him a good man, too!" - -This was but a small piece of ore from a rich mine. Give her but the -chance--she had a story for every occasion. - -She went on a tour of inspection when she had been with us a few hours. -I felt sure that the beauty and meaning of the old run-down place, of -necessity hid from the profane, would never be lost on one of her keen -and psychic temperament. She came back glowing, and I thought really -reverent. - -"Oh, it's a noble place," she said. "You can see plainer nor your -eyes, it's been lived in by the gentility! Look at them gables and -them chimneys! That house has the air of a grand lady, ma'am, sittin' -quiet with her hands folded. And them elms, too, like the grand slow -wavin' of a fan. Them parlors with their long windys have got the air -of havin' seen folk. Me brother Pat worked for a place like this once." -This with her head up and looking all round. "There's a rich squire -lived here at the least,"--with her eyes narrowed shrewdly and her head -nodding, I can give you no idea how knowingly. "Yes; and belike maybe -a lord. And there were ladies (seems I can see them, God save me!) and -little childer, I'll give warrant, little childer that knew how to -behave themselves in the like of these rooms. Don't it look dreamin' -now, ma'am? Wouldn't you say it was thinkin'?" This with her head on -one side, listening, it seemed, for the unseen presences to go by. By -and by she brightened, and came back to the present:-- - -"There's but one thing about it all I don't like, ma'am. It's the way -ye keep your pig. A sty way off from Christian fellowship is no place -to keep a pig. They're the childer of God, the way we are. We kept our -own, ma'am, in the old country as clean as your hand, so we could have -it friendly in the kitchen with us. I'm fond of animals, ma'am--the -puir things that can't talk!" - -Besides her great fondness for animals Margaret had an extraordinary -understanding of them. She had a way of talking with bird and beast -that lent reality to the legends of St. Francis. The "Sermon to the -Birds" is no more intimate, nor that to the fishes more appropriate, -than the daily admonitions she gave the pig, the counsel she tendered -the chickens, to which they listened with grave attention, the pig as -if hypnotized, his two fore feet planted stolidly, his eyes fixed upon -her; the chickens with their heads turned consideringly, now on this -side now on the other, and with little guttural comments of question -or approval. The wolf reputed to have put his paw in the saint's hand -seemed infinitely less legendary to me after I had seen the pig, -released from his pen, follow her to the kitchen stoop, and, with -manners as gentlemanly as he could counterfeit, eat out of a pan she -held for him. When he had finished, she offered him her hand, as if to -pledge him to further good manners; and he made a clumsy pawing motion -and managed with her help to get a hoof into her palm. She gave it a -grave shake and released it. - -"You're improvin'," was all she said; while the pig, delighted, no -doubt, with his new accomplishment, took to his four feet, with squeals -of delight, around the corner of the house. - -One day there came from about her person a strange chirping, a trifle -muffled, like the chirping of a tiny chicken. She absolutely ignored -it. She held her head stiff and high, as she was wont to do when she -served us or when she referred to "me brother Pat." But when she saw -that the day could not after all be carried by a mere haughty ignoring -of facts, she spoke. - -"Poor little uneducated abandoned fowl, ma'am, to cry out against its -own interests! I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave it in the cold. So, for -the love of its mother and God's mother, I'm carryin' it in me bosom -to keep it warm. And I'd think you'd be offended if I didn't believe -you're a follower of Him that carried the lambs there too!" - -It was in such ways that she left you no argument, disarmed all -objection, and pursued her own way and predilections, as the saints, -the poor, and other chosen of the Lord have, I believe, always done. - -Loyalty was, perhaps, the largest part of her code; but it was based -rather on the assumption that you were hers than that she was yours. -Guests came seldom to that old house; but the welcome she gave them -when they did come was a thing to warm the heart. - -She assumed a devoted possession of me and my affairs. When these fared -ill, she was as Babylon desolated; when they went comparatively well, -she was overjoyed, her step lightened, her head went up; she was as a -city set upon a hill, that cannot be hid. But it was toward those whom -she took to be my enemies that she really shone. By shrewd guesses and -by dint of a few downright questions, she figured out that a deal of -sorrow and calamity had come to me through the selfishness of others. -That was enough for her! Might the Lord smite them! Might a murrain -seize them and their cattle! - -"But they have no cattle, Margaret! They live in a very large city." - -(It was always a temptation to see how she would right herself.) - -"Then may devastation befittin' them fall on their basements and their -battlements! May their balustrades burst and a sign of pestilence -be put upon their door-sills! And--now God forgive me--whenever -He's willin' to take them--for it's He would know what to do with -them,"--this with a fierce knowing nod,--"He has my willin'ness they -should go! I'd think it a fairer earth without them, and I'd greet the -sun the friendlier in the morn'n' for knowin' he'd not set his bright -eye on them." - -Many batter-cakes were stirred to rounded periods of this sort, and -omelettes beaten the stiffer for her indignation. - -Once it came to her in a roundabout way that illness had fallen upon -one of these whom for my sake she despised. She looked shrewdly at -something at a very long distance, invisible to any but herself, winked -one eye very deliberately, with incredible calculation; then nodded -her head slowly, like a witch or sibyl. - -"_What_ did I tell ye! The currrse is beginnin' to work!" - -Funny as it was, there was something awful in it too. - -"But, Margaret, I don't wish them any ill. I don't believe people make -others suffer like that if they are in their right minds. Perhaps they -think they are doing right." - -"Of _courrrse_ they do! If they ever could think they were wrong, -there'd be salvation for them! But you see how clear it is that they're -doomed to destruction!" - -"It's slow waitin' on the Lord," she said one day wearily. "And oh, -it's meself would like to stir them up a little cake befittin' them!" - -I know she thought me a weakling as to hate. But for the insuperable -difficulty of several centuries, I believe she would have left me, to -ally herself with the Borgias. - -When she had been with me some time, she had a serious illness. She had -been subject to periodical attacks of the kind, it seems, since her -girlhood. - -"I didn't tell you," she said simply, "for if I had, ye wouldn't have -engaged me; and I liked the looks of ye." Then, triumphantly, "Nor was -I mistaken." - -This was the beginning of a system of appeals, searching and frequent, -which yet never took the direct form of appeal. - -"It's I can't be sayin' how I love this old house," she would say -irrelevantly one day; and the next, "Me brother Pat has been very -kind to me at times--at _times_!"--here a slow wink and nod at the -invisible,--"but it's not your own, God save me, that'll do for you in -misfortune! No, ma'am, it's not your own!" - -She began giving me little presents, a lace collar first. I insisted -that I would rather she kept it herself. - -"God save us! And all you've done for me!" Her tone was almost despair. -"And you wouldn't let me do that for you! A bit of a lace collar!" - -The next time it was a strange mosaic cross; and the next, a -queerly contrived egg-beater; again, a very fine and beautiful -handkerchief--all of these produced from her trunk. She always had some -ingenious tale of how she had come by them. - -Meanwhile her attacks were becoming more frequent. At such times she -was like one possessed by some spirit. Her mind would wander suddenly, -always to her childhood and the Green Isle. She would be calling the -cows home at evening, or talking to the pig. When the "spirit" left -her, she would be trembling and almost helpless for days, and needed -much care. - -When she was well enough for me to leave her, I went to see her doctor -and her people. The first suggested the almshouse: the others thought -that they were not called on to keep her unless she would agree to do -exactly as they bade her do, and would renounce her proud ways. - -Of course I kept her with me. There are extravagances of poverty -which may be allowed, as well as of wealth. Something, too, must be -conceded to the spirit of adventure and recklessness. It may be at -this crossroads that the provident will bid me adieu. I am sorry to -lose their company, for, despite their lesser distinction and certain -plebeian tendencies, I like the provident. But before they determine to -depart, I may be allowed to wonder whether they have ever been in such -close relation with the poor as I was then. Have they ever felt the -persistent appeal of a Margaret, I wonder, or seen her eyes go twenty -times a day to them as to one who held her fate in their keeping? I -think perhaps they will not have over-heard her say to the pig in a -moment of half-gay thankfulness, "Arrah! God save us! are ye glad as -ye should be ye're with people that have got a heart?" Or perhaps the -provident will scarcely have been vouchsafed a terrible understanding, -as I had at that time, of the dark possibilities of life, or have known -what it was to wonder where the next meals would come from. - -"But," argue the provident, "could she not have gone to her people?" -Which, being interpreted, means: "Should she not have taken thankfully -the grudged and conditioned charity, with dominion, offered her by -those in more fortunate circumstances?" - -And to that I answer, "If you think so, then I can only judge that -you know little 'how salt is the bread of others and how steep their -stairs'; and I can but refer you to one who has spoken immortally of -these matters." - -One day, when she had been ill for more than a week, I told her that -she might stay on with me and be cared for, and have a certain very -moderate wage, and do only such little light work as she felt able to, -all the heavier being taken over by a stronger woman. - -She pricked her head up and spoke from a white pillow, equal to fate -once more:-- - -"Now, God save us! If it isn't always good that be growin' out of evil! -I'll be yer _housekeeper_! And who'll ye have for a cook? 'Tis I'll be -keepin' the keys of things! Bring along the cook! Black or white, I -don't care. _I_ kin manage her!" (This threateningly.) - -This was alarming, but I counted upon inspiration and ingenuity when -the time came. - -I found a West India darky, whose condition also needed improving. She -was a fine type. She might have walked out of the jungles of Africa; -magnificently powerful, a little old. She was as irrevocably Protestant -as Margaret was Catholic. I urged each of them privately to remember -that they were both the Lord's children and therefore sisters. Augusta -accepted this in solemn religious spirit,--such a speech on my part -bound her to me forever,--but Margaret took it with a chip on her -shoulder. - -"She can call herself a Christian if she likes, but it is an insult to -the Lord, for she's nothin' better nor a heathen! Black like that!" - -"But, Margaret, you said you would not object to a black woman." - -"No, ma'am, nor I don't!" said Margaret, veering swiftly after her own -manner; "it's her pink lips I can't shtand." - -This was the beginning of their warfare; which, not inconsistently, -was made infinitely more bitter by Augusta's fixed resolve to be a -Christian. - -Augusta had a predilection for hymns, one in particular, whose refrain -could be heard wailing and poignant and confident at odd moments:-- - - Oh, what a Father, oh, what a Friend! - He will be with you unto the end. - Oh, what a Father, oh, what a Friend! - He will be with you unto the end. - -Margaret, like most of those of her creed, had a small opinion of -hymn-singing, and haughtily indulged in none of it. Moreover, she had -in very strong essence that secure sense of election and special -grace common with some of her faith. Let others attend mere temples -and mitigated meeting-houses, and presume to call them churches if -they like; let others take dark risks of undoctrinal salvation! Such -spiritual vagabondage must by contrast give but the greater assurance -of security to those elected since the beginning--a peculiar and a -chosen people. It can be seen, therefore, how Augusta's confident -appropriation of the Deity, with her reiterated boast of friendly -intimacy, wore upon this daughter of antique distinctions and ancient -privileges. - -There was, of course, soon established a strongly vicious circle; for, -when Margaret became excessively trying and difficult to deal with, -Augusta would console and fortify herself with the reassurances of this -particular refrain; whereas, at the same time, this particular refrain -having the effect of rousing Margaret to still worse and worse moods, -these, in turn, made the consolations of the refrain even more than -ever indispensable to Augusta. - -I do not know, I am sure, what would have been the final result of it -all save for the pig. When Margaret's limit of endurance was reached, -she would come out of the house, sometimes with her hands over her -ears, and make off at a kind of trot in the direction of the pig's -habitat. There, I am inclined to believe, she was able, after her own -manner, to find consolation and assuagement in her unrivaled place -in his affections, as well as in the friendly, grave, and undivided -attention which he always gave her. - -Impossible as Margaret was, I could see that her appealing and lovable -qualities played on Augusta as they had long played on me. - -"The poor afflicted soul!" said Augusta; "look at the poor thin -temples. You don't know, ma'am, how I pray for her every night!" - -Margaret, passing by unexpectedly, over-heard this and cried out,-- - -"Oh, God save us! Then I am lost! The Lord will abandon me now for -sure! He'll never forgive me such company! That's the wurst yet!" - -Then she went off for another of her long conversations with the pig. -When she came back she was in a changed mood. - -"Don't mind what I say," she said to me. "If God can forgive me, I -don't know I'm sure, why you can't!" Then she put a rosy-cheeked apple -beside Augusta. "And I think you'll find this pleasant to the taste." - -Remembering the Borgias, I should have been loath to taste it; but -Augusta bit into it with immediate Christian forgiveness. Yet late that -afternoon the wind had shifted again into the old quarter. Happening to -go into the woodshed, I found Augusta there crying. - -"What in the world is the matter, Augusta?" I asked. - -"I'm crying," she said, anticipating Shaw and Androcles, "because I'm a -Christian and I can't strike her!" - -She raised her old bloodshot eyes, not to me, but to heaven. I have -seen the same look in the eyes of an old dog teased by a pert mongrel, -and crippled and rendered helpless by rheumatism as was Augusta by her -Christianity. - -It was Margaret herself at last, who announced that she would be -obliged to leave me. She spoke with a dignity which she had held over, -I suppose, from regal years submerged but not forgotten. - -"It's I will have to be goin'; I've stayed as long as I can. I've stood -a great deal,--for ye'll stand a terrible lot for them ye're fond -of,--and I've been terrible fond of you, more than of me own--and am -to this day. But I can't honest say it's of your deserving! There's -a sayin' that we love best them that mistreat us most, and I'm for -thinkin' it may be true. I'd have stayed to help you, but I must be -havin' _some_ thought of meself! Though you've treated me as I wouldn't -treat me own,"--this tellingly,--"and asked me to live under the roof -with one of them the Lord has abandoned, yet I've a kindly feelin' in -me heart still for ye, and if ye were in need and ye'd come to me, -maybe I wouldn't say ye nay--I don't know. I'm a forgivin' disposition, -more than is for me own good, God knows! I've hated yer enemies and -doomed them to desthruction!" - -I patted her hand good-bye between two perfectly well-balanced desires -to laugh and to cry. She was so funny, so incredible, so bent, since -the foundation of the world, on proving herself right and everybody -else wrong. She was not Margaret, merely, whom chance and trouble had -brought into my path--she was a very piece of humanity, decked out in -unaccustomed bonnet and unlikely feather, best petticoat and a grand -pair of black kid gloves--humanity, the ancient, the amusing, the -faulty, the incredible, the pathetic, the endeared. And it was as that -that she rode away in the funny old jolting farm wagon, her chin in the -air, her eyes glancing around haughtily, scanning the old place she had -loved and clung to, but scanning it scornfully now, as if she had never -laid eyes on it before, and were saying, "Ye puir thing!--with yer air -of delapidation! Who--God save us--are you?" - -I went back into the kitchen and caught Augusta wiping her eyes with -her apron, and was not altogether gay myself--while Margaret jolted -away fiercely, our two scalps at her belt. - -"You mustn't worry too much about her, ma'am," said Augusta soothingly; -"the Lord is her friend, and He'll take care of her." - -From incontrovertible precedent I felt sure that He would, with a -sureness I had never had as to my own less considerable destiny. - -All this was some years ago. By a curious chance,--which has the air -of being something more considerable,--it was while I was writing these -very paragraphs about Margaret that I had a letter from her, the first -since she rode away. It was very characteristic, written in a scrawly -and benevolent hand:-- - - "Will you please let me hear, ma'am, whether you're dead or alive. - I've had you on my mind, and for six weeks I can't sleep night or day - for thinking of you. - - "Your old servant, - "MARGARET." - -Let no one tell me that this is mere coincidence. New proof it is, -to one who has long dealt with the poor, of strange powers of which -they are possessed. Here is a sister, I tell you,--"plainer nor your -eyes,"--to the old blind man, who used to come tap-tap, tap-tapping up -the shadowy stairs and into the nursery for the penny I had withheld. - -Margaret had come back also. Useless to suppose that I could hide from -her in the silence and shadows of the intervening years. She had with -her shrewd eye found me out. She had come, like the blind man, not -to exact money of me, no; but like a witch disembodied, and through -the mail, she had come to levy a more precious tax--to collect as of -old the old sympathetic affection; the old toll I had paid her so -often before; the tribute she had demanded and received times without -number--not for labors rendered, no, nor for accountable values -received, but rather by a kind of royal prerogative. Indeed, I take it -to be a thing proved, to which this is but slight additional testimony, -that these are, how much more than kings,--and it would seem by the -grace of God,--sovereigns and rulers over us. - -But there is still further testimony, of another order, which I feel -called on to bear. - - - - - VII - - MARGHARETTA - - -When we first went to live in the country, in the old house of which I -have written, we had a sufficiently large task merely to make the house -itself livable. But as time went on, we attempted to do a very little -farming. - -How greatly did this broaden and extend my experience as to the poor! -There were the boys from ten to sixteen who came (again, these were -those whose condition needed improving) to do work on the farm for the -summers: Joseph, the Hebrew, who from his long and elaborate prayers -should have been at least a priest of the Temple; Lester, so practised -in picking locks and purloining that it was sheer waste of genius to -place him in a home like ours, where jewelry and other returns for his -skill were so slender. He did the best he could with the circumstances, -but how meagre they were, after all! - -There was the little girl, too, who could dance and recite and sing -ragtime, having done so in vaudeville. Our home offered her neither -audience nor stage, nor was there a footlight in the house. And there -was the young Apollo, who at the least could have shepherded the sheep -of Admetus; we had no sheep--only one cow. - -Then there was Ernest, capable of really heroic devotion. How far did -our possibilities fall short of his gifts! I did not engage him--he -engaged me. I was setting out the disadvantages as usual, when he -blurted out generously, "I like you, and I am going to take this -position!" He was blond, German, of the perfectly good-natured type, -and of heroic proportions. But, like the ancient heroes of his race, -he was fond of the cup that both cheers and inebriates. I used to -remonstrate with him and received always one answer, given stubbornly: -"You know I'd jump in the river for you!" - -I tried my best to show him that what was desirable was, not that -he should fling himself into the river, only that he should refrain -from the cup! Useless, useless! He wanted a more royal opportunity. -To be sober, trustworthy, honorable, daily dependable--these were too -trifling! Give him something worthy of his powers! The unlikely and -surprising were pleasing to his temperament. He would how generously -neglect his work to bring home from the field rabbits, which he shot -with an old muzzle-loader, requiring days of toil before it could be -got to work at all. Once he produced a pheasant. Lacking the Nemean -lion, he butchered a pig, and smoked the pork for me, by an incredibly -laborious method, under two barrels, one on top of the other. He hewed -down trees with terrible strokes, and built me with Herculean effort a -corn-crib of gigantic size to hold a handful of corn he had raised. - -All these things, while I appreciated them, left his grave fault -uncorrected. But to rebuke him on this score was to quarrel with -Hercules for some trifling mistake in his spinning. "You _know_ I would -jump in the river for you!" he would reiterate. - -There really is something ample in their conceptions of life which -goes beyond our small bickerings as to honor and honesty. There is a -largeness about them which makes our code look small indeed. - -After Ernest's departure, another came for a few months, who had -surprising resources. He made a practice of bringing me gifts from I do -not know where--strawberries, asparagus, and other delicacies, given -him presumably, and for the most part, by gardeners of gentlemen's -estates in the outlying land--"friends of his." - -I suggested, with misgivings as to ethics, that I ought to pay for -these things; but he smiled benevolently, as a king on a subject, and -with a manner as bounteous. I had the impression that the world was his. - -In the face of his generosities, I felt my behaviors to be feeble and -inadequate. These were bounties of a kind to which I was unaccustomed -and parvenu, I who had none of the ancient quarterings which would -have entitled me to such gratuities; I who had been brought up to the -deplorably plebeian idea that one must pay for what one takes. - -These are occasions, when, frankly, I am at a loss how to deport -myself. I do not know the behaviors befitting. My etiquette does not -go so far; and Chesterfield, who covers so many points, stops short of -this: he says nothing on the subject. - -Oh, royal ways! Oh, fine prerogatives! What hope have I, who am but -descended from the founders of a mere country, from men who fought -and poured out their blood rather than pay for what they did not -receive--what hope is there that I shall ever attain to that gracious -and lordly company which receives, as a right, that for which it does -not pay! - -I have named but a few of these princely characters and their -deportments; but remembering them all and weighing all their -values, I believe that "the brightest jewel in my crown wad" still -be--Margharetta. - -I have never been entirely certain that Margharetta was not descended -from the Bourbons. Her husband was in jail for theft, and was a poet. -"I will show you some of his poetry," she promised me in the first five -minutes of my acquaintance with her. "Some of my friends say he is as -great a poet as Shakespeare." - -Like Marie Antoinette, she had three children. Her husband's misfortune -had made it necessary to put these under the care of others. She talked -of them incessantly, and assured me that no heart could bleed like a -mother's. - -As we drove up from the station, she looked all about her, with the air -of a Siddons. - -"Wouldn't Ethel enjoy this scenery!" she remarked, still very grand, -but almost awed, it seemed. "She's such a poetic child!" (Ethel was the -oldest, a little girl of ten.) "And these trees!" she said solemnly, as -we entered the grave lordly shadows of the hemlocks. "Wouldn't Richard -enjoy them, now!" (Richard was the Dauphin, aged six.) - -When we at last got to the house, and she entered the kitchen in her -grand manner, it seemed to grow large--as the lintels and chambers -of the Greeks are said to have done when the gods visited them. The -walls seemed to widen out, and the pans and kettles took on a shining -stateliness. I have difficulty when writing of her to keep myself to -fact, so gracious, so spacious, was her manner. I know, for instance, -that her dresses all dipped a little at the back, yet I have the -greatest temptation to say she wore a court train, so much was that -the enlarging impression that she at all times conveyed. She was the -most dominating personality, I believe, that I have ever known. Like -a French verb, she seemed to cover and account for all possibilities. -She reminded you of the infinitive, the subjunctive, the future, the -indicative, the _plus-que-parfait_. Entering the dining-room, her -handsome hands bearing--always a little aloft--the corned beef or pot -roast that should have been a peacock at the very least, she conveyed, -silently, time and tense and person, passive and active: "I am"; "let -us love"; "let us have"; "thou hast"; "I have _not_"; "_if_ I had!" - -Early in her career, I asked her what desserts she could make. - -She turned her full Bourbon eyes on me. She had no need to lift her -head: it was constitutionally, structurally high. - -"I can't make any," she said, with firmness and finality. "We bought -all _our_ desserts at the delicatessen." - -So, without anger, only with dignity, she managed to put me in my place. - -Added to the many unconscious appeals that Margharetta was forever -making to me, she finally made a direct one. Informing me once more -that no heart could bleed like a mother's, she begged to be allowed to -have, if it were only one of her children with her, the little girl -aged ten. I consented, and went myself to fetch her. - -She was a beautiful child. She had a great deal of Margharetta's own -handsome, insolent beauty, but she had in addition a craft and ability -for lying and deception astounding in one so young. Ten years old by -the calendar she no doubt was; but by sundry other reckonings, she -might have been ten thousand--a strange, pathetic, puzzling little -girl. - -For a time Margharetta's heart was staunched. But ere long it -began to bleed afresh for the one who was, it was now clear, her -dearest--Richard, the little Dauphin. She would stand looking out of -the window, the picture of wretchedness. "He is such an angelic little -fellow! I can't begin to tell you! Oh, if I could only see him! If I -could only have him in my arms once more!" - -I make no apology. I only tell the event, perhaps a little -shamefacedly. It was not long after this that I went and fetched -Richard also. - -If his sister was ten thousand, Richard was, I think, of prehistoric -origin. He had carried over from the Stone Age a strange ability for -having his own way at heavy cost. He had never been in the country. His -passion for flowers would have been a hopeful and poetic thing, had -it but been accompanied by a knowledge of what flowers were. He would -appear in full rapture, bearing a huge bouquet of young bean-plants or -a large nosegay of freshly planted cabbages. Never, despite my faithful -efforts, did he lose his passionate love of flowers, and never, despite -my equally faithful endeavors, did he learn to know what flowers were. -I think that they were to him anything that could be gathered with -greatest ease in largest bunches. With this definition in mind, it will -be seen that a vegetable garden offers superlative opportunities. - -Margharetta could see in all this nothing but a newly interesting phase -of her darling. I was there when he brought her his third generous -bouquet. She took it into her gracious handsome hands, held it off a -little, then appealed to me for appreciation:-- - -"Now, isn't that his mother's boy? He brings everything to _me_." - -I had explained to Margharetta before, that, right as filial affection -undoubtedly is, the gathering of young tomato-plants from the garden -had come to be fearfully wrong. I now repeated this severely, then -addressed the Dauphin direct. - -"You are never, _never_ to gather anything from the garden again; do -you understand?" - -Back went the Dauphin's head suddenly; his face became a purple mask of -tragedy; his eyes rained intolerable tears; he broke forth into a most -wild and tragic wail. - -Margharetta stooped, gathered him to her bosom with one of her finest -gestures, lifted him sobbing in her arms, laid his head against her -shoulder, held it there with a possessive queenly hand, and with a -colder look thrown at me, I am sure, than ever the Bourbons threw at -the mob, carried him upstairs. - -Later she explained to me haughtily what the Dauphin had meanwhile -explained to her--he had been _told_ to gather those plants. - -"_Told_ to gather them?" - -"Yes. Come, lamb, tell just what Tony said to you." - -"Tony said," began Richard, a little breathless, but resolved, and -twisting and braiding his fingers as he spoke, "Tony said, 'You can -have _all_ the flowers you want, _every_ day, and I think your mother -would like the tomato-plants best.'" - -This sudden opera-bouffe turn of affairs really took me off my feet. -When I suggested that it was quite certain that Tony would contradict -Richard's statement, Margharetta's reply was perfectly consistent. Did -I suppose she would take the word of "a no-account Eye-talian" against -that of her darling? - -So I found myself once more face to face with that total disregard -of fact and probabilities which I had now come to know as one of the -leading characteristics of her class. It was for me to remember that -miracle waits upon them; that nothing is improbable to them if it but -coincide with their desires; that truth shall not serve them unless it -goes dressed in their livery. Nothing could be done about the matter. -We were at a deadlock. What were mere logic and reason? What are they -ever, in the face of a faith chosen and adhered to? - -Margharetta stood firm in an unshaken faith in her own, while I -departed, to wonder why it is that humanity deports itself as decently -as it does, with these dark powers, not only at work in it, but hugely -at work in it, all the while. - -The days went on. In the course of becoming acquainted with the -country, the little Princess and the Dauphin underwent, of course, many -tragic adventures. Though they had me so well in command that I ran to -do their bidding, or flew to their rescue, at a mere summoning shriek, -wind, water, fire, cats, dogs, cows, horses, poison ivy, snapping -turtles, and sundry other folk were not so biddable. - -This recalcitrancy led to tragedies innumerable. When either or both -children were hurt by some fact or reality which by mere royal habit -they had haughtily ignored, and when they were beaten in the fray and -wounded, Margharetta was as one bereft of her senses. Panic seized -her. She flung herself upon my mercy and my intelligence. She wrung -her hands. She was distraught. She could do nothing herself for her -darlings, but was wild with gratitude, and watched with tragic animal -eyes everything that I was able to do for them. How wonderful I was at -such moments! How could she ever thank me! Then from my ministrations -she would receive into her arms the battered Princess or dilapidated -Dauphin, as it might have been from the hands of a relented Providence. - -My own glory lasted only during the danger, however. Her darlings -secure, she was not long in reascending her throne, and continued to -behave with entire consistency as to her probable ancestry. She was -the only real queen, with all a queen's regality and insolence, that -I have ever dealt with. It is clear to me now that I was hypnotized -by her manner to think it a privilege to be of use to her in the -calamities of herself and her family. It is true I did at last make a -fearful revolutionary stand for liberty, and bundled her and the young -Princess of ten and ten thousand and the little prehistoric Dauphin -off one day, and began as best I could to reconstruct life; but not -before I had come fearfully near, in the Versailles manner in which -Margharetta had conducted herself and our kitchen, being a "condition" -myself. - -It is now five years ago, "of a sunny morning," since they left us, -and the post brought me the other day a short letter from Margharetta -enclosing a "poem" by her husband, on the death of the little girl. -She "wanted me to know." I feel quite sure that the letter was divided -between sorrow for her loss and pride in her husband's performance. - -The circumstance touched me more than I would have supposed possible. -I thought of course of a mother's "bleeding heart." Poor Margharetta, -for all her queenliness and all her disregard of fact, brought at last -with the humblest of us to face the one supreme reality; and weaving -as best she could some fancy about that, too, and turning away her face -from it toward some consolation of reunion which (the verses promised -this) was to be given her in another life, and, I doubt not, also -toward the pride in this life of being wedded to a man (let us waive -the matter of the jail) who could write poetry, and was, some thought, -"as great as Shakespeare." - - - - - VIII - - THE POWERS OF THE POOR - - -That the poor have strange, one might almost say occult, powers, seems -to me proved. The downtrodden with whom I dealt were, so far as I could -judge, the very pies and daws of existence, who, one might reasonably -suppose, would be grateful for whatever hips and haws and other chance -berries the bleak winter of their calamities left them. Nothing could -be further from the truth. They lived, rather, it would seem, on canary -seed and millet, maize and sesame, not obtainable in the open markets -of the world. I fell under the strange delusion that they were to labor -for me, and that, for a wage agreed upon, they were to relieve me of -care. Again, how wide of the mark was this! They expected to be looked -after like queen bees, and they _were_! I myself laboring from flower -to flower for them, and filling their cells with honey. - -You may think them as stupid as you like, and as inconsiderable. Deal -with them but long enough, and you shall have strange suspicions. You -shall begin to note a growing and undeniable likeness in these to -"Cinderella" and "The Youngest Brother." Nor are these fairy tales, -mind you, safe and unbelievable, shut up there in your Grimm and -Andersen on the shelf, to be taken down only at pleasure; no, but fairy -tales potent and indisputable, hoeing your potatoes, walking about in -the flesh in your kitchen, and hanging out your clothes of a Monday. - -There is, indeed, some royalty about this class that bodes as ill for -us to ignore, as it is alarming for us to contemplate. If the Lord be -for them,--and there is every reason, historical and romantical, to -suppose that He is,--who then can be against them? Turn, Fortune, -turn thy wheel, but these can never be lowered! These, I take it, are -in their own manner imperial spirits, let kings and royal successions -be what they may. Here, without cabinets or ministers, or executive or -administrative cares to weigh upon them, yet with what authority they -go clothed! - -It is astounding, if one only becomes poor enough,--I say it in all -soberness and sincerity,--how rich and powerful one may become. And -perhaps just here it is my duty to submit a testimony I have up to this -time withheld. I have said that I myself have been poor, but I have -as yet said nothing of the strange unlooked-for loftiness that this -circumstance lent me. While I was of the wealthy, I strongly maintained -that these, and what we are wont to call the "upper classes," have the -very considerable advantage, and believed it with all my heart. But no -sooner was I downright poor, uncertain even where the next meals were -to come from, than the potion, the charm, the necromancy, the delusion, -or the truth,--have it which you will!--began to work, and I myself to -have a subtle suspicion, and at last a positive sense, of superiority. - - Who never ate his bread with tears, - He knows ye not, ye heavenly powers! - -The wealthy, the advantageous began to dwindle in my eyes. How poor -they were in real experience, in sympathy, in understanding; how -wanting in fine feeling; how destitute, for the most part, of that -only wealth worth acquiring,--wealth of the heart!--whereas, the -poorer I was, the greater the wealth of understanding that was mine; -as my moneys dwindled, I was made rich of the universe; a new sense -of love and bounty was given me as by an unlooked-for legacy. The -vast tired multitude going home at night, all these suddenly were my -own--my brothers and my sisters; further, it may be noted, I acquired -the wealthy also. These too became my brothers, more chill and starved -sometimes (I knew this now) in their luxuries than the "poor" in their -destitution. Could one, indeed, knowing any of the real values, feel a -bitterness toward such? or could one fail to experience, having known -any of the true humilities of life, a love for these also? - -Let it sound as paradoxical as it may,--I do not say it -unadvisedly,--poverty is an enrichment, and often enough a grandeur. -Here, indeed, in this fact--I think it by no means unlikely--may lie -the explanation of many a humorously high behavior and lordliness in -those of whom I have more particularly told. If this be truth, as I -take it to be, then it lends consistency, even if a little quaint, to -what threatened to seem but unwarrantable chaos. - -Is it not probable, remembering my own experience, that Musgrove, -Mamie, Margaret, and the others had with their very indigence acquired -a compensating fortune and, by reason of their very destitution, -inherited, as by lofty bequest, the universe? It should not be -forgotten, moreover, that I had come to these distinctions only after -years of comfortable living, whereas those I have told you of had been -born to the purple of their poverty. I, in serving others, have never -yet been able to give myself the ample airs of a Margharetta. I have -never found it possible to pull pennies out of people's pockets by the -Æschylean tragedy of my condition, or to draw pity at will out of -their hearts. I am smitten with silence when trouble and difficulty -assail me, and I have an intolerable instinct against asking for the -sympathy and commiseration of others; whereas those better accustomed -than myself,--as I have shown you,--how readily are they able to -requisition your sympathy, to appropriate wholly your pity, and to -confiscate your possessions, your theories, and your ethics! - -Yet we, mind you, in the face of these abilities, have assumed them to -be our inferiors, and have organized for them frankly a society for the -improvement of their condition! That we can mitigate their sufferings -and inconveniences, lessen their cold or their hunger, I willingly -admit; but I am not of so bold an intellect as to believe that we can -improve their condition, or that their condition, take it for all in -all, can be improved upon. - -If you doubt such testimony as I have borne, and think it too personal, -there is other more general and considerable. Were not Egypt and all -her power despised and triumphed over by "a colony of revolted Egyptian -slaves"? Did not proud Rome go down, also, to a like downtrodden -people? Picture what Rome was in her might--Rome tracing her ancestry -to the gods! And then look upon her bowed down in slavish subserviency -to kiss the shoe of a poor fisherman! - -And the poor then, who called themselves Christians--as now you would -have called them underlings, menials, subalterns. Yes, and so they -were. And they lived precariously in caves and catacombs under the -surveillance of the emperor's guards, as our most scurvy poor under the -police. Yet see them to-day, with dominion over palm and pine, and with -control of the earth's continents. And where now are the Roman emperors? - -History teems with such instances. With what scorn do you suppose the -mighty Persians in their glittering armor might have looked upon those -few youths who in the dawn "sat combing their long hair for death" -before Marathon? When the nameless poor murmured outside the gates of -Versailles, what would any of us have given for the brief lineage or -trumpery royalty of a Marie or a Louis? It would not have sold for a -franc to any one with a head for business. Even as these poor people -shook the gates, almost the haughtiest queen of history was already on -her way, then, and at their bidding, to become the Widow Capet. And -that, too, for only a little while, and by sufferance, before they -hurried her on to the last level of all. - -There may seem to be about them at first a marked futility. Only wait, -and you shall see what a power they have! Is there need that they -should pique or plume themselves or strut? They have no need to cut -a dash. The herald's office could add nothing to their stature. Here -is no newness or recency, no innovation; here rather are tradition, -custom, something time-honored, however little you may think it -venerable. Here is immemorial usage, "whereof the memory of man runneth -not to the contrary." - -And have these continued in the world in predominating numbers, despite -misfortune, calamity, catastrophe? No; mind you, rather because -of these! Think of a race with that ability! Since Cain fell into -misfortune and was shielded of the Almighty, and Lazarus, for a like -reason, lacked not a divine advocate, have these not had the special -protection of God? Can you show me any people of lands and property, -of thrift and saving habits, of full granaries and honest provident -stores laid by, who were guided by a pillar of cloud by day and of fire -by night? who had manna and quail supplied them; and an entire land -swept clean of its rightful owners by the Lord's hand, so that they -might come into it instead, to enjoy the wells they had not digged, and -the fruits thereof which neither had they planted? - -Were it not of too great a bulk, the testimony of literature could -be brought to corroborate that of history. When you read "The Jolly -Beggars," you are informed without squeamishness which is the most free -and powerful class in the world; and when you have read that other -document by the same hand, "The Twa Dogs," you have perused a fine bit -of testimony as to which is the happiest. Or if there lacked these, -and there were left us but Arden and its gentle beggars--who could be -in doubt? How they triumph over the rich and the successful and lord -it felicitously in their poverty! What would you look to find these -but broken and saddened--these who are not only beggars, mind you, but -wronged men: the Duke, Orlando, Rosalind, all suffering injustice; -Adam starving; Touchstone, Jaques, Amiens, and for the most part all of -them, too well acquainted with the rudeness of the world; men who had -known but too well the unkindness of man's ingratitude, the feigning of -most friendship, the bitterness of benefits forgot. And yet, turn only -to that first scene in the forest. If ever I set eyes on independent -gentlemen, here they are! And who doubts too, reading of these, that -Shakespeare wrote of them out of his own Arden, out of the enrichment -of his own poverty, and the splendors of his unsuccessful years! - -The powers of the poor! This is a matter to which I have often lent -my speculation, and have striven to perceive by what rights, as of -gods in exile, they have maintained their dignity and their supremacy; -and I have wondered whether one of these may not be that necessity -laid upon them to touch more nearly than we the realities of life. -We have set guards at our gateways, to turn away Poverty or Misery -or Cold or Hunger, yes, and Human Brotherhood and Life and Death -themselves. Death, it is true, and some others, will not be altogether -gainsaid, but enter at last into the lives of all of us, bringing -invariably--this is to be noted--a great dignity to the house which -they have visited. But to the poor the "heavenly powers" come, whether -welcome or no, and like the gods visiting mortals, they do not depart, -save from the entirely unworthy, without bestowing enrichment. - -I have sat at the table of an old Philemon and Baucis, whose condition -of poverty appeared not to be bettered by their entertainment of the -great realities of life; whose pitcher poured as scant as ever it did, -though Death and Calamity had but lately visited them. But when you -thirsted for a better draught, a draught not to sustain the body, but -the spirit--then, then the miracle was evident enough! They filled your -cup to its trembling brim, nor, pour as they would, could they empty -their hearts of love and understanding. - -These are, indeed, good gifts, and of the gods, and there are many -others; and it would take little to prove how much more bountifully the -poor receive of them than the wealthier classes. - -Another possession, which I have noted often among the poor, is that -gayety, that lightness of heart, that almost inconsequent gayety, so -often seen, amazingly, among them. Where you and I might be crushed by -calamity, they can raise their heads and be glad, and that over some -trifle. Where you might have gone sad and sober for weeks, Mamie could -dance her little ragtime songs; Margaret could be gay with the pig; and -Margharetta, fresh from a new downfall, could gather the children of -her heart to her as a hen its chickens, and in blissful content think -nothing of the morrow. This I have seen again and again. They are as -recuperative as King David. Let them sin and blunder and suffer and -be cast down, it is but for a brief season; soon you shall hear the -plucking of their harp and the sound of their psaltery, and a new song -unto the Lord. - -As further testimony, this is, I believe, the place to confess that it -was not in the days of my prosperity and happiness, but in the days -of my poverty and sorrow, that I myself became possessed of this good -gift of the gods. The laughter and gayety of heart of prosperous years, -though they may be of no mean order, seem to me but pallid things -compared with those of a more tested season. To have seen the total -wreckage of one's hopes, to have known despair and the bleak winds of -the heath of the world, and to delight still, and more than ever, in -the little and the gay, and to taste with a keener relish than ever -before the fine-flavored humor of the world, this is to be rich, though -one were in tatters; this is to be gifted, though to the last farthing -one has been robbed. - -But there is another endowment besides all these, even more precious--I -mean that unconscious grace and dignity of spirit possessed by some of -the poor; I mean that quiet and gracious acceptance of a lot which, to -our reckoning, seems but bare and difficult; that gentle and persistent -kindliness of men and women toward a world which, it seems to us, has -so roughly and despitefully used them. - -This I take to be the greatest of the gifts that the gods confer -upon the poor; and being so, it is fitting that it should not be -indiscriminately bestowed. You shall not meet it commonly or often; -yet here or there will be found some true ruler of his kind, looking -out on the world with this kindly and gracious spirit. I have known -some few such myself, and one notably; though my acquaintance with him -was but of short duration, yet it summed up for me and made whole the -fragmentary virtues of the poor, and set a lasting seal upon my love -and understanding of them. - - - - - IX - - HORATIO - - -I saw him first selling papers by a subway entrance. The day was -cold, and he had that peculiarly pinched look of those who are both -ill-nourished and ill-clad; and yet you could not without presumption -have called him pitiful. There was a kind of simple grandeur about -him which I am at a loss adequately to describe: a thing rather to be -embodied in myth and legend. - -The "envy of the gods" has been variously set out in tale and story. -Prometheus defying divinity is a moving enough figure, hurling curses -back at his superior, and visited by Asia, Panthea, and the nymphs and -Oceanides. But it would need a new legend, it seems to me, to embody -that loftiness which, in a similar bondage, hurls no curses, breathes -no complaint, nor asks even to be spared, if that be possible; a -gentleness which, without the least leaning to humility, preserves a -generous outlook, triumphant in its persistent kindliness as Prometheus -in his unconquered might; unbroken, unlowered; bound, yet attaining -somehow to a continued generosity and bestowal. - -It might seem, by the look of this man, that Fate had come to hate one -she could so little bend; for not only was he ragged and pinched, but -there was about his delicate face and the great slenderness of the -body, only too certainly, the mark of some physical ravage, and of an -overborne endurance. To the casual observer, he was but a man selling -newspapers at the entrance to the subway; to those of thoughtful and -speculative observation, he was a man standing within a few feet of -his grave, and likely at almost any moment to feel on his shoulder, -or dimly on his chilly hand, the summoning touch of Hermes, Leader of -Souls. - -There was about him a most amiable patience and courtesy which had -not at all the color of resignation. Indeed, to speak of resignation -in his case would have been to impute to him riches and hopes he had -not. I can give you no idea how much more courteous he seemed than his -destiny. The only Asia who ever visited him, I am sure, was a woman, -fat and comfortable looking, who sold papers also, at the other end of -the subway entrance, behind the shelter of its glass. She used to come -over sometimes while I was buying my paper of him, to ask him to make -change, blowing on her hands in a wholesome manner, or beating her arms -like a cabby. That she never sympathized with him, I felt sure, not -alone because of the general look and contour of her, but because--as I -have tried to show you--he was not the man to whom one would presume to -tender sympathy. - -As I came to know him better, I began to take the keenest pleasure in -his smile, which was always ready. He never let the salutation go at a -mere "good-morning." To my banal "Pretty cold to-day!" he would reply -smiling, and even while turning his shoulder to receive the cut of the -wind less directly, "Yes, but bracing"; or, while his blue fingers -fumbled for change, "Not quite so cold as yesterday"; or it was, -"Well, the children like snow for Christmas"; or, "This snow will give -work to the poor, cleaning the streets"; or, if the white flakes turned -to threads of rain, "This will save the city a great deal." - -There never was any bravado in this, only the incomparable gentleness -and the winning smile. If Fate lingered about, malicious, hoping -to hear him at last complain, she might as well have given over -her eavesdropping. I, going to him for the daily "Times," and not -infrequently with a tired spirit and a heavy heart, would find that, -in return for my penny, he had given me, not only the morning paper, -but a new courage, or a heartening and precious shame of my own -discouragement, or, oftener still, a new faith in the world. So it was -that he stood there, day after day, in the freezing weather, dispensing -these benefits, a peculiar and moving royalty legible in his person. - -If those who read of him here pity him, it can only be because my words -give but such a poor idea of his great dignity. Those who saw him with -a clear eye, could they pity him, do you think? And I--I who had cried -out more than once, under how much less provocation, against the duress -of fortune--was it my right to give him commiseration? Marry, heaven -forbid! Again and again, as I went from him, my mind suggested, rather, -noble likenesses, and sought to find some simile to match him. Once it -was, "The gods go in low disguises"; again, "Great spirits now on earth -are sojourning"; and once the words of Amiens, addressed to the Duke, -seemed to me to blend in with his behaviors:-- - - "Happy is your Grace, - That can translate the stubbornness of fortune - Into so quiet and so sweet a style." - -And again, I thought once that the royal Dane, addressing Horatio, -offered me words befitting:-- - - "For thou hast been - As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; - A man that fortune's buffets and rewards - Has ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those - Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger - To sound what stop she please." - -One day I bought him a pair of woolen gloves, and all the way to his -corner I kept rehearsing an absurd speech of presentation, designed -to relieve both him and me of embarrassment. He must not know that I -had bought them for him! I wanted to spare myself that! So I concocted -what is currently known as a "cock-and-bull" story; but, as I look back -on it and its results, I lean to believing that I never perpetrated a -finer bit of fiction. I give it now without shame. - -"My husband," said I, fumbling for my penny, "has been very ill--a long -while." - -"Well, now, I'm sorry!" said Horatio gravely, and without the least -wonder, apparently, why this should have been proffered. - -"And the doctors think," I stumbled on, digging in my purse, "there's -no likelihood in the world at all he will be out of his bed before the -summer." - -"Ah, that's very hard for a man if he's active," said Horatio, speaking -with full sympathy, as of one who knew. - -"And _so_," said I, putting my penny in his hand, taking the "Times," -and mentally beshrewing me the clumsiness of language, "and _so_, you -see,"--here I brought them forth,--"there's a pair of gloves of his he -won't have even the chance to wear; and they're _almost_ as good as -new, and--I just thought--may be--" - -Here words deserted me. I appealed directly to his eyes. These were -fixed, kind and gray, on the gloves. He was already taking them. - -"Indeed, I'd like very much to wear them," he said, "but I'm sorry he -can't be wearing them himself. May be he'll be well sooner than you -think, though. Sickness is a bad thing. These are very warm,"--this -with his delightful smile, and he began drawing one of them on,--"I'm -very much obliged. But may be he'll be well sooner than you think. I'm -sure I hope so." - -It was a busy morning. The early subway was pouring forth its crowds -as an early chimney, just started, its smoke. I was glad to mingle and -fade among them. - -The next morning, he was ready, may be even a little eager, as I -approached. He had my paper doubled and waiting for me, and waiting -too, his gentle inquiry, "Is he better?" - -"Yes," said I, "I think so--a little." - -Some one else wanted a paper and we said no more. But each day after -that he asked me, and I gave him a cautious, not too enthusiastic -report, for my patient must remain indoors till sharp weather and all -possible need of gloves were past. So, he was only a _little_ better. I -took pains once to add, "A long illness is very discouraging." - -"That it is," Horatio assented. "But you'll forget that when he's well." - -So we continued in our courtesies and our sympathies; I very pleased -and hardly conscience-stricken, to have been able to give him what -I knew he must have cherished a good deal more than the gloves, -something, indeed, for the warming of his heart--the chance, say rather -the right, to extend his so experienced sympathy, and the opportunity -to give, to one in need of them, some of the stored-up riches of his -spirit. So, his own days growing short, and the shadow of his own cares -lengthening, he yet smiled daily, as he gave me of these riches, and -wished me a happy sunrise of my hopes and a good-morrow. - -One day he was not there. His fine spirit had fared forth. I can still -feel the shock and sudden loss it was to me. I went over to Asia, or -Panthea, selling her papers, and questioned her. Was he ill? - -"He went very sudden, ma'am, I believe. His wife came to say so. I'm -selling his papers now. What will you have? The 'Times'?" - -Hermes, the kindly, had beckoned him from his "undefeated, undishonored -field," and he had gone, eager and gentle there, too, I have no doubt. - -It was but a little while that I knew him, but the influence of him -abides. He has lent something to life which even the least noble cannot -take from it. The sorry old derelict, his poor old red lantern eyes -looking out of his dark face, when I give him a dole, receives it, not -from me, I think, after all, but from some gentleness which Horatio -lends me as a legacy. - -He was, of course, supreme of his class; but by that very supremacy -he made plain to me many things concerning those less than himself, -but of his same lineage. It is by no means unlikely, I think, that -Musgrove, Mamie, Margaret, Margharetta, and the rest, so much less -worthy than Horatio, yet glimpsed their heritage also, though in some -dim adumbrated manner of their own, and were unconsciously affected and -aggrandized by it. - -Although I have spoken of them throughout with lightness, and have -laughed at their amazing follies, yet I know well that there is a -solemnity forever attendant upon the poor. There is without doubt -some unexpected endowment in suffering and privation, some surprising -enrichment in the common lot. Have it as you will, there is no honor so -high, or distinction so covetable, as to be a sharer of human joys and -sorrows, and an intimate, even though it be in misery and solitude, of -the hearts of men; and to this brotherhood, sharing the common lot, the -poor undeniably contribute by far the greater numbers. - -There is, to the very end, something tinsel and tawdry in the trappings -of special privilege. The splendors of the wealthy are but a brief -pageant--stage properties, donned for a little while to lend some -height and dignity to those of but human stature after all. The beggar -who looks on, as did Horatio, at this pageant, without envy, and who, -looking on, gives a gentle patronage to the rich, does so not without -warrant. The greater splendors and possessions are his own. Let them -decorate their stately halls; let them transport, as I have known them -to do, entire ceilings from Venetian palaces, tapestries from chambers -of those who also, long ago, once were great--the glory of the sun will -not be subsidized, the halls of the morning are lit with unmatchable -splendors, and the palace chambers of the night are hung by mightier -ministrants with tapestries of a finer weave, and ceiled with stars -for the mere vagrant and the vagabond who shall sleep some day beneath -them, without monument and unremembered. - -Do not these know life more nearly? Who has flattered them? Who has -shielded them from infancy, from the great powers? Who has defended -them? Have not these, like Œdipus and other kings' sons, been -exposed upon the very rocks of time; and have they not survived that -circumstance? Have these not dealt more intimately with the elements? -Who had enabled them to avoid the cut of the winter, or to evade -the stroke of the summer? to elude the arrows of sickness that fly -by night, or the pestilence that walks in the noonday? Sorrow and -Death have dealt with them more nearly, and without ambassadors. They -have had audience with reality; they have talked with Life without -interpreters. - -He who loves this world, and has found it good on such terms, may be -allowed his reasonable preference; he who speaks fondly still of life, -who has had such communings, may speak with some authority. Horatio's -smile was worth the pleasantness and optimism of a thousand who have -never made change with blue fingers, or shrunk from the cut of the cold. - -There are those who would patronize and pity such as Horatio. It -can only be, then, that they know this world but little, and still -childishly count riches to be but money, and poverty to be but lack of -it. - -And if you tell me that none but a sentimentalist would call poverty -an enrichment, then I can only assume that you have never been poor; -and if you tell me that the high behavior of Horatio is at the best but -endurance, even then, could I grant you so much, the argument still -would hold. Even so, Horatio endured life with a noble grace, and -helped others to do so; even so, he was able still to find pleasure -in a fate from which the wealthy would shrink in horror, and lovable -traits in one they would have called his bitterest enemy. He had -blessed the life which had cursed him, and had loved it though it had -despitefully used him. - -So he triumphed--yet without pride; nor did one hear in his spirit's -victory any hint of animosity, or talk of reprisals, or bitterness, -or demand for indemnities, or hidden hate. Rather, he was to be found -each day undefeated in his impregnable gentleness, that still unfallen -province in which he dwelt. His were some incalculable riches of -the spirit which Poverty had heaped up and amassed for him through -those years when his fingers handled without complaint the miserable -pennies; his was some towering strength under the disguise of the weak -and broken body; like that Olympian glory fabled inevitably to appear -some time, under the mortal humility of gods in exile. There was about -him, for all his slenderness, something grand, something epic, and -allegorical. He might have stood as a symbol of a downtrodden people, -such nations as the world (be it said to our shame) sees still, and -that not in small numbers--crushed, oppressed by the arrogant, the -strong, yet still surviving and giving to the other nations their gifts -of gay song or heroic endurance, and out of an incredible bounty still -bestowing love and kindness and beauty on the world which has behaved -toward them without mercy. - -Look, if you will, at the beggar nations of the world, and search the -heart of the poor among peoples, and I am convinced that you will -find in these also corroborative evidence of truths I have tried here -to touch upon but lightly. Let be their follies and their mistakes -and all their incredible assumptions: who shall declare that poverty -has not enriched them likewise? And among them, shall you not find -high and royal and single spirits, who, like Horatio, have both known -and loved the world and triumphed over it without animosity? To have -known and yet to have loved the world! Is not this the real heart of -the matter? Is not this the true test after all, and the indisputable -mark of a king's son? And shall you not find it oftener among the poor -than elsewhere? For he cannot be said to know the world who has never -been at its mercy; even as only he can be said to have triumphed over -it, who, having suffered all things at its hands, yet loves it with -unconquerable fidelity. - - - - - GUESTS - - - - - I - - RELATIONS OF THE SPIRIT - - -In his essay on "Character" Emerson points to the mutation and -change of religions and theological teachings, and then thunders -characteristically, "The moral sentiment alone is omnipotent." Now, -Emerson never takes away anything traditional and cherished, but he -puts something nobler into your hands in place of it. Hear him: "The -lines of religious sects are very shifting, their platforms unstable; -the whole science of theology of great uncertainty. No man can tell -what religious revolutions await us in the next years." Then with -thundering assurance he gives us the coveted reassurance. "But the -science of ethics has no mutation. The pulpit may shake, but this -platform will not. All the victories of religion belong to the moral -sentiment." - -I wish it were given me to speak with some such force and truth of -what we are wont to call education. Theories are very shifting; the -whole science of instruction is of great uncertainty. No man can tell -what pedagogic revolutions await us. But the educational value of life -has no uncertainty. Schools may come and go; this, the school of life, -remains--the greatest of them all. The highest attainments of mankind -are due to its teachings. - -In still another essay, Emerson, depicting, we suppose, the ideal not -the academic scholar, declares with the same tonic forcefulness that -"his use of books is occasional and infinitely subordinate; that he -should read a little proudly, as one who knows the original and cannot -therefore very highly value the copy." Always, life is to Emerson the -greater art, and learning, literature, and all other arts whatsoever, -but lesser things. "You send your child to the schoolmaster," he flings -out, "but it is the schoolboys who educate him." - -Precisely. When shall we have taken wholly to heart the so obvious -truth? It cannot be but the author of the "Greatest Show on Earth" was -right. The world _likes_ to be humbugged; else why all this elaboration -of educational systems and theories, educational forms and creeds, this -multiplication of modern methods and "didactic material"? These are, -indeed, but things that change and fluctuate, and already are on the -way to being superseded. Meanwhile the older and larger schoolroom of -Life never closes its doors, makes no bid for patronage, retains its -old teachers, changes its methods not at all, and still turns out the -best pupils. - -My own education is generally thought to be above the average. It is -my belief that it would be far less considerable but for those various -circumstances which in my childhood denied me much schooling, and -accorded me a good deal of staying at home. - -The home of those days had, it is true, a far greater educative value -than can be claimed justly for the home of the present day, owing -mainly--I hold it almost beyond dispute--to the fact that it was more -given to the practice of hospitality and the entertainment of guests. - -Of the homes of my day my own was, I believe, fairly typical. Though a -full description of it and of the men and women who frequented it would -make a colored recital, so would a like description of the homes of -many others besides myself, who were children also at that time. I do -not mean that such homes were entirely the rule; yet there were enough -of them certainly to constitute a type. They were not likely to be -luxurious; those of people of less position nowadays are far finer. - -The old house of my childhood was a large and comfortable one, with -low-ceilinged, well-proportioned rooms, and wide verandas. Its -furnishings were in taste, and contributed greatly to its character. -The big Holland secretary, with its bulging sides and secret drawer, -was a very piece of romance; the tall clock, with its brass balls and -moon face, the old clawfoot mahogany tables, the long scroll sofa, -the heavy scroll mahogany sideboard, were as mellow in tone as the -old Martin guitar on which men and women, beaux and belles of a past -generation, had played; or the harp that stood in a corner, all gold in -the afternoon sunlight; or the square Steck piano of the front room, a -true grandee in its day. Several really well-painted portraits looked -down from the walls, and added a certain stateliness to the warmth of -every welcome. - -Many people, recalling that home, have spoken to me since of a -peculiarly warm and beautiful light which on sunny days was present -in the three lower rooms--parlor, sitting-room, and dining-room--that -opened one into another. - -This light, which had first to make its way past maples and a few -pear trees, entered, it seemed, with an especial graciousness, -touching softly and lingeringly the old mahogany as it went; and from -morning until late afternoon abode in the rooms with a kind of mellow -gentleness hardly to be described. There was something well-mannered, -unobtrusive, in its coming and going, as though it were conscious of -being a guest there; a kind of gracious enjoyment it seemed to take in -the place, noticeable in its gentle behaviors among the dark colors -and the old books, and in its manner of moving about delicately from -object to object, and pausing at last, as it always did, before the -tall pier-glass, as though it pleased it to reflect on the three long -rooms, doubled to twice their length, before it slipped away again past -the western windows and departed across the hills. - -I have mentioned carefully the perpetual coming and going of the -sunlight because it seems to me symbolical of that coming and going -of guests which perpetually lighted the old house, lent it its chief -charm, and gave me my most memorable schooling. The educative value -of life has no uncertainty. These men and women who came and went as -guests were my first memorable lessons of life, and, as I take it, they -were lessons marvelously well adapted to the understanding and needs of -a little child. - -I would not seem to undervalue the silent influence and worth of that -material loveliness which was often found in the old houses of that -day, and was evident in my own home; but I believe this alone could -have done little to educate me. Such loveliness was but a means to an -end. I would be loath to give great credit for my education to the -furniture, old and interesting as it was. The real credit is due, -first, to the customs of that time, which made hospitality one of the -first virtues; and, second, to the guests who, coming there, furnished -the house with its best opportunities, and incidentally--I beg you to -note that word--afforded me, there can be no doubt, the better part of -my education. - -How far have we gone, "progressed," as we say, in a short span of -years! I am still a young woman, yet guests are not indeed what they -once were. There were poverty and riches in those days, too, but the -"high cost of living," that phrase forever turning up nowadays, was a -bad penny not yet coined, and guest-discouraging "flats" were anomalies -that my old home town rejected. - -Guests came and stayed then as they do not now. Visiting was still in -those days one of the accomplishments of life; a gracious habit not -yet broken up by ubiquitous hotels, ten, fifteen, twenty stories high; -not yet rendered superfluous by trains every hour on the hour, or -old-fashioned by scudding automobiles which, like Aladdin Abushamut's -magic sofa, snatch up whole parties of people, and in the twinkling -of an eye set them down in new lands with hardly time for greeting or -farewell. - -Life may be more provident, compact, convenient nowadays. I am not -prepared to dispute it. But of one thing I am certain: the modern child -in this almost guestless age has no such chance to acquire a broad -education out of school hours as had I, whose childhood flourished -when guests were the rule and the tinkling of the doorbell was more -likely than not to be a summons to a fine adventure in visitors. - -Ah, there was an education! An education indeed! Its A B C was that -every child of the house should be delighted to be turned out of his or -her bed, to sleep four in a four-poster, or on a mattress on the floor, -so that one more guest might be given welcome. Its simple mathematics -were concerned mainly with the addition of guests, the eager -subtraction of one's own comforts, the multiplications of welcomes, and -the long divisions of all delights and pleasures, which by some kind -of higher calculus miraculously increased the meaning and richness of -life. Its geography, if any, was no geography at all, beyond the fact -that the guest-room was the sunniest and largest and best in the house, -and that exports from all the other rooms flowed into it and rendered -it the most desirable and the "most important city." As to history, it -consisted of people at all times and of all ages, and the traditions -of men and women of many types. It concerned itself, not with the -succession of kings and durations of dynasties so much as with a -succession of visitors and the probable length of their stay. - -I cannot say what enlightenment or learning or benefit the guests -themselves derived from these visits; though, if measured by -the frequent length of their sojourn, these must have been very -considerable; but I do know that we, the children of that household, -gained high benefits immensely educative; I know that we assimilated -much knowledge, and attained to much learning of a very high order, -intellectual and spiritual; and what is best of all, I know that in -that old home, antedating and long anticipating Madame Montessori and -her "Houses of Childhood," we learned with neither desk, blackboard, -nor semblance of schooling, and never for a moment so much as dreamed -that we were being taught. - -This is not the place to enter on a discussion of the Montessori -method. Briefly Madame Montessori's chief tenets may be stated thus: -Liberty for the child; a careful education of the child's senses, -resulting in an extraordinary sense-control to which the child attains -without consciousness of learning. - -The "didactic material" (frankly so called by the author of this -distinctive system of education) is material by means of which the -child's senses are trained. It consists of many parts. To name only a -few--there are one hundred and twenty-eight color-tablets; thirty-six -geometrical insets; three series of thirty-six cards; the "dimension -material" consists of nine cylinders, each differing from the rest in -height and diameter, ten quadrilateral prisms, ten four-sided striped -rods, and so on. This and much more is the equipment daily used in the -"Houses of Childhood." - -The home of my childhood was bare, bare of such things. Neither cubes -nor cylinders were there that I remember, nor thermatic tests, nor -color-tablets, nor quadrilateral prisms; and yet-- - -What was there of especial value? There was, first of all, the -household. "The household," to quote Emerson further, "is a school of -power. There within the door learn the tragi-comedy of human life. -Here is the sincere thing, the wondrous composition for which day and -night go round. In that routine are the sacred relations, the passions -that bind and sever. Here is poverty and all the wisdom its hated -necessities can teach; here labor drudges, here affections glow, here -the secrets of character are told, the guards of man, the guards of -woman, the compensations which, like angels of justice, pay every -debt; the opium of custom, whereof all drink and many go mad. Here is -Economy, and Glee, and Hospitality, and Ceremony, and Frankness, and -Calamity, and Death, and Hope." - -Didactic material enough, if one chooses to call it that. But, besides -all this, there were guests--guests who came and lingered, guests of -an almost incredible variety. By recalling a few of them I can best -explain somewhat of their influence on my life. - -The first one I remember very clearly was a beautiful young -lady,--beautiful to me,--who spent I believe about six months with us. -I might have been a trifle over five years old. I remember her with -great exactness. Certain sparkling characteristics that she wore as -noticeably as the several heavy rings on her white hand, shine still -with surprising clearness in my memory. - -She was slender. She affected overskirts. She wore elbow-sleeves, and -trains, though she could hardly have been over eighteen or nineteen. -Her hair was plastered on her fashionably high forehead in what were -then known as "water-waves." - -On a collar of box-plaited lace she often wore a jet necklace, set in -gold, a kind of jewelry much in fashion at that time, I believe. Also I -remember that she had a pair of lemon-colored kid gloves; and on dress -occasions she wore heavy gold bracelets. - -But these were all as trifles to the fact that she sang. That was -her crowning glory. My mother sang sweetly, too, the beautiful songs -of "her day": "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton," "Lightly the Troubadour," -"Ye Banks and Braes," "The Gypsy's Warning," "Roll On, Silver Moon," -"Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms"--and many more. When -she sang them, she played on the old Steck piano or softly plucked the -strings of the old Martin guitar--simple and trill-less accompaniments. - -But you, Miss Lou Brooks! You, oh, you!--compounded of every creature's -best,--could sing the old and simple songs, if you chose, and very -graciously, for any one who asked for them; but better still if, left -to your own preference, you could take your seat how languidly at -the piano, how gracefully play a prelude in which the white jeweled -hands followed each other up and down the keyboard over and under, in -what moods and fancies, in what rippling runs and rapid arpeggios; -now lighting to flutter in a twinkling trill, with jewel-flash, like -whirring hummingbirds; now resting humble, two meek white doves, in the -long and waited-for preliminary pause. _Then_, you could break forth at -last into what burst of passion and fire of song! - -I can close my eyes still and see her. I have not a good memory, but -the words come to me almost unerring across the past (and I have to -remind you that I was a little over five years old):-- - - "The stars shine o'er his pathway! - - [_Long pause, with the white hands quivering on the pressed keys!_] - - "The trees bend back their leaves, - - [_Languid softness_] - - "To guide him to the meadow - Among the golden sheaves; - - [_Trills and expectancy!_] - - "Where stand I, loving, longing, - And list'ning while I wait - To the nightingale's sweet singing, - Sweet singing to its mate. - Singing!--Singing! [_The last, soft like an echo_] - Swe-e-eet singing to-oo its mate!" - -[_More trills and arpeggios to send shivers of delight over you--then -in a new measure._] - - "Come, for my arms are empty, - Come for the day is long. - Turn the darkness into glory;-- - The sorrow into song!" - -[_More pauses of which you were glad--then a beginning again of all -delight._] - - "I hear his footfall's music; - I feel his presence near, - All my soul responsive answers - And tells me he is here! - O stars, shine out your brightest! - - [_This with eyes cast to where the stars should have been_] - - "O nightingale, sing sweet;-- - To guide him to me waiting - And speed his flying feet;-- - To guide him to me waiting, - And speed his flying feet!" - -This was what they did in a world outside the walls of my childish -experience!--they sang like that!--of such things! I did not know what -it meant save in some incomplete half-lunar way; but its effect drew -me, and, like the seasons and tides of the moon, changed the face of -the earth for me. - -Further, it should be noted that I heard this song, not only on one -occasion, not detached, isolated, as at a concert. Here was nothing -paid for cold-bloodedly at a box-office; here was something all woven -in with the daily chance of life. I heard the song many a time. I might -come upon it unexpected when I woke from my nap. I might be drawn from -my toys by it to the more desirable pleasure of standing big-eyed by -the piano while such glory as this rolled around about me; or eat my -bowl of bread and milk in the early evening to the accompaniment of it; -or try to keep the Sandman on my pillow from throwing the last handful -of sand until the final note of it was sung. - -Miss Brooks was, I believe, the daughter of an army officer. She had -lived in various parts of the world; common on her lips were tales of a -life wholly different from that which I knew. - -To my eyes, water-waves and all, she was incredibly beautiful. -Moreover,--and here you see the fine discriminating points which -children make,--she was engaged; already selected; chosen; set apart! I -cannot tell you what glamour that lent her in my eyes. Child-psychology -is not a thing that always can be reduced to measurement of reflexes -and the like. I responded to all this by some unmeasured law of the -soul. This knowledge and appreciation of her--or of her type, if you -prefer--was as distinct and yet intangible a thing as the light of the -prism. The sun fell on her and was changed to color. I could not touch -or define her charm, but it was there; and the color and wonder of it -seemed to fall across me too as I sat near her, and upon my sun-browned -hands, if they touched her, until I could see colored jewels of rings -on them too, as there might be, and as I hoped there would be some day. - -I thought then that I was fond of her. Certainly her word was law to -me. I know that I used to run my little legs tired to wait upon her. -Her smiles and favors were precious to me as only the favors of the -beautiful and the gifted can be to a little child. The tap of her fan -on my cheek or my hand satisfied me altogether with life. - -But I was too near her then to judge of her fairly. I know now the -truth of the matter. I have never seen her since. The glamour of her -presence no longer colors and impedes the white truth. She was _not_ -the most beautiful young lady in the world, as I so generously took -her to be. She was _not_ the only person in the world who could play -dazzling accompaniments, and sing to melt one's soul, and make one a -stranger to one's self. She was not the only one in the universe who -knew the dim and lovely secret chambers of a little child's nature. -She was after all, only, indeed, by courtesy, Miss Lou Brooks. For she -was less and more than all this: she was a guest; a passing influence; -an ineffaceable impression; a glorious experience; a far adventure in -new lands; a glimpse into other worlds unknown; a new planet swum into -my ken. She was a magic mirror held up to me--one in which I could -for the first time clearly see myself as I might be; she was a glass -of fashion, a mould of form. In her I saw moving evidences of a world -more wonderful than any of my fancy; she was a passing guest in the -house, yes, but a permanency in the scheme of things--a very piece -of life itself; and the knowledge of her, an acquirement in learning -and an acquisition in education. The educative value of life has no -uncertainty. - -Let Montessori children in "Houses of Childhood" feel of wooden circles -and quadrangles and be taught with care the words "round," "square"; -let them touch sandpaper and know thereby "this is rough," or linen and -apprehend "this is smooth." I, a child of the same age, needed nothing -of such information. I knew smooth and rough more nearly by the mere -chance touch of my play-roughened hand on her fine satiny one; I, of a -like age, wholly lacking in cubes and cylinders and color-slabs, was -learning nevertheless to discriminate between short and long, heavy -and light, were it but by dread of her departure, or the length of her -train. - -Put beside Miss Lou Brooks and all that she taught me and revealed to -me any didactic material you may choose, and I wonder if it compares -with her. Place beside her most of the lessons learned from books. The -rule of three is useful, but I would not exchange her for it. I might -do without my multiplication-tables, and indeed do get along without -them fairly well, never having learned the seven, eight, and nine -tables properly. But these I take to be but subordinate things--pawns, -or, at the very best, but bishops and knights of the game, limited to -move in certain lines without deviation, and not to be compared with -a queen, who can move here or there at will, taking, disconcerting, -winning, and setting the whole of life into new relations. - -I have named Miss Lou Brooks first because she made the first strong -impression on me; but she was only one of many not less memorable. She -was indeed but one star in a certain notable constellation of guests, -which shone in one quarter of my heavens. - -Belonging to the same constellation, though of a different magnitude, -was the young German army officer, for instance, who came all the way -from Germany, where my brother in his _Wanderjahr_ had met him. His -visit was short, but the glory of it enduring. I was not yet seven. I -remember how he rose out of respect for me when I entered the room; how -he clicked his heels together and stood formal and attendant; how he -drew out my chair for me at the table, and saw me seated with all the -respect due an empress. To be allowed to come and sit in my brief piqué -dress at table with him and his shoulder-straps was an essay in form -and a treatise on self-respect. - -As brilliant a star, but of a steely blue radiance, was the -physician-scientist, Doctor Highway. He would be classified readily -now as a Christian gentleman of highest honor, brilliant gifts, and -scientific attainments. But the name scientist was not in those days -worn so easily. Huxley and Darwin were old but yet alive, as were many -who still believed them to be emissaries of the devil. - -Doctor Highway loved truth, he hated falsehood, and this with so much -fervor and so little compromise that he was pointed out by some as an -atheist. He was perpetually inviting argument, but he, or she, had -courage who accepted the invitation. Once, when he expatiated on the -marvels of mechanical music-boxes, an older sister of mine, in her -early teens, ventured boldly into the open with the tentative remark -that, wonderful as such music might be, might it not nevertheless lack -soul? - -I can see him still. He jerked sharply in his chair. He flung his -penetrating glance at her and at her only. He said, with a sharpness -that had all the effect of anger, "_What do you mean by SOUL_!!" - -You have seen a too bold rabbit scuttle into a hole at the near sound -of a gun. My sister to outward appearances was still there; but to -outward appearances only. She was indeed gone, vanished, obliterated, -annihilated--disappeared as effectually as though the earth had -swallowed her up. I have no record of the time when she again ventured -into the open, but I would be willing to think it was not for years. - -I remember supper-tables at which his conversations and brilliancy -presided. I remember sharp revolutionary statements that fell from him -as to Jonah and the whale, the flood; geological testimony as to the -length of time consumed in the creation of the world; all given with -his fine clear face lit up with a kind of righteous indignation, and -his hand brought down at last so that the glass and silver and myself -jumped suddenly. - -No thunderbolt fell on the house those nights, though I watched for -it with anxious waiting. Sometimes I think his was the beginning of -my own courage; for whatever moral bravery was in me rose, I think, -to honor this greater courage of his--a subaltern saluting a superior -officer. When he was by I listened, fascinated. In these long years -since he is gone, I too have loved truth; and I could wish for him now, -sometimes, that the too-complacent guests and cutlery and glassware -of our modern dinner-tables might be so startled and shocked by the -thunder of as righteous a sincerity. - -There was also--how warmly contrasted with Doctor Highway!--the young -Byronic musician with the extraordinary tenor voice. He was the pride -of his family, and to their dismay was resolved to go on the opera -stage. He treated me as an equal and, dispensing largesse, wrote in -my autograph book one day, in a fine stirring hand: "Music my only -love, the only bride I'll ever claim." Later, it is true, he seemed to -have repented his resolve and forgotten the album, for I believe that -he claimed some two brides besides music; but this did not alter his -educational value; that remained unspoiled. - -There was, too, that great flashing fiery star, Mrs. Rankin, at work -at the time of her visit on a drama, "Herod and Mariamne." She had a -mannish face; she wore heavy rings on somewhat mannish hands, and was, -no doubt,--it is now revealed to me,--an unclassified suffragette, born -untimely, denied, cut off by the custom of those days from the delights -of militancy, foredoomed to pass out of life with never the joy of -smashing a single window. - -She talked much of injustice. She had a big voice and a small opinion -of men. This it is not unreasonable to suppose they reciprocated with a -still more diminutive opinion of her. - -One might think from all this that she should have been a pamphleteer. -She was not. She was by all odds and incongruities a poetess, driven by -the inexorable muse to daily sessions with Mariamne. Mariamne! Ah, what -a subject for her--for _her_! - -She must have absolute quiet. She must be undisturbed. During her stay -we would romp in from our play to find my mother with a finger on her -lips. Above stairs Mrs. Rankin might be pacing her room, declaiming, to -the hearing of her own judicial ear only, the speeches of Mariamne, -delivered in the voice of Herod, and the speeches of Herod, in a voice -that should have been that of Mariamne. I can still hear the long pace -and stride overhead. - -Lest her type seem too strange, perhaps, it was explained to us, what -Plato explained long ago, that a poet is rapt wholly out of himself and -is as one possessed of the gods. - -Then, too, which brought her nearer to our sympathies, my mother -conveyed to us the more homely knowledge that Mrs. Rankin had had much -unhappiness in her life; some Herod of her own, I believe. This secured -to her our more willing respect and laid on us more than the ordinary -obligation of courtesy. This virtue on our part was obliged to be its -own reward, for there was no other that I can recall. - -These people, you will note, were not bound to us by ties of blood. -They were rather relations, rich or poor relations, of the spirit. I am -bound also to tell of other guests than these: of those who by virtue -of tradition and blood we more wontedly call "our own"; men and women -of my mother's and father's families; aunts and uncles and "relatives," -as we say. - -But before I pass on to these, there is need to mention one more, at -least, of the relations of the spirit--that one to me most memorable -of them all; the young dramatist-poet, with his flying tie and his -heavy hair, to whose romantic name--Eugene Ashton--I would how gladly -have prefixed the title "Cousin" had I but been entitled to it; who -was nevertheless cousin-german to the spirit of me, or closer still, a -kind of brother-of-dreams. He had been into distant countries of the -soul--that was clear by a far-away look in his eyes. I used to sit -wordless and well-behaved in his presence, but I slipped my soul's hand -in his, very friendly, the while; I wandered far with him into realms -of fancy, and counted his approval and the merest glance he gave me as -very nearly the most desirable thing I could attain to. - -I can see him still, and those gray eyes of his, as young as the young -moon and as many centuries old; I can still hear his very noble voice, -reciting from time to time, as he was wont to do, some of his own -verses. Or I can see him leaning forward, his gracious body bending -into the firelight, to talk over with my sympathetic mother his plans -for recognition and fame. - -How little we guessed that his life was even then near to its setting! -When one sees the morning star in the dawn, or Hesper in the twilight, -hanging limpid, golden, one does not wonder will its glory be long or -short; so much it holds one with its immortal loveliness, that little -thought is given to the near-by day, or the night which shall quench it. - -The other stars, Miss Lou Brooks, Mrs. Rankin, and the rest, shone long -and high in the firmament of my childhood; but the mellow light of -the gifts of Eugene Ashton, like the more splendid Hesper, hung low, -already low on the horizon. - -I shall not forget that morning we heard of his death. "Eugene Ashton -is dead!" The news was not kept from us children. Yet I remember, too, -that beyond the first sorrow and shock of such news lay a pardonable -pride. He had loved our home; he had found comfort and rest of spirit -there. I could still see his gray eyes looking into the firelight, -and the bend of his gracious body, every inch of him a poet. There, -with us, he had dared to be his best and had shared his gifts; his -personality had lighted up those very rooms and his voice had sounded -in them there where still my daily lot was cast. He had been our -guest--to me the most memorable of them all. And now he was gone. -Where? A kind of glory followed the thought. He was gone down over the -rim of the horizon of life to the land of Death, as splendid there as -here. We had lost him, whereas he, you see, had only lost us. It was -our lives that were darkened, not his. It was on our lives, not on his, -that the night fell. So he also, having been as a "morning star among -the living," now, having died, was - - ... as Hesperus giving - New splendor to the dead. - - - - - II - - KITH AND KIN - - -So far, in mentioning the many guests who frequented the old home of -my childhood, I have named only such as were relations of the spirit. -Often these seemed to me more truly my kindred than those whose -kinship was based upon ties of blood. Yet, as my memory brings before -me those men and women of my mother's and father's families, I find -myself aware that the bonds of blood are strong, strong. - -These came bearing valid claim of right and title; these were not -to be gainsaid or denied; these were accompanied by silent, but how -indisputable, witnesses of feature and form. Whether I liked them or -not, these were "my own." - -But their chief power over me lay in this--that they linked my life -openly to all that of the past which I could call mine. The older of -them, who sometimes laid their hands on my head, touched with the other -hand, as it were, the generation already gone. They still carried vivid -memories of the dead in their hearts; spoke familiar words of them; -or, perhaps, wore delicate pictures of them still in lockets at their -throats. The invisible past was theirs visibly. - -The Greeks, that people of sound ideals and of incomparable taste for -living, did not consent to or admit of the departure of the older -generation. To the invisible hands of the _lares_ and _penates_ was -delivered the sacredness of the house itself. The spirits of the -"departed" commemorated its lintels, kept clean and bright the fires -of the hearth, guarded the home from evil if so might be, and gathered -into a sweet influence those traits and characteristics and deeds long -gone in the flesh and surviving in the spirit in some fine aroma of -living. - -It was, I believe, somewhat in the manner of the _lares familiares_ -that the clan of our older "blood-kin," both those of a past and those -of a very nearly past generation, added meaning to that old home of my -childhood. - -My great-aunts and great-uncles brought with them the spirits of -ancestors, were, in a sense, abodes of ancestors themselves. An older -generation looked out of their eyes; the spirits of men and women long -gone still lingered with them. It lent a dignity to life. - -We children stood aside while they passed by in front of us. We saw -them served at table and elsewhere to the best of everything. To them, -too, as to the _lares_, were given the first and best portions of -viands. We listened to them as though to oracles speaking. It was for -us to allow the rivers of their broader wisdom to flow undisturbed by -that kind of stone-throwing, pebble-skipping curiosity so noticeable in -the average liberated child of to-day. Into their fine flowing streams -of narrative we flung no big or little stones of our questions or our -egotism. Their talk rippled on or flowed stately. - -"We were under full canvas,"--I can see the fine-featured old gentleman -yet,--"we were in a zone of tempests, sailing round the Horn"--a wave -of the hand here, and a pause. - -What is "full canvas"? What is a "zone"? What is "Horn"? Indeed, we -did not know. Be sure we did not interrupt the narrator to ask--not -more than the audience arrests the ghost in "Hamlet" for exact -definitions when it mouths out the sorrowful hollow words, "unhouseled, -disappointed, unaneled." - -The words defined themselves well enough for all practical and -spiritual purposes. The mere sound of them was much, and the manner -of saying them was much more. We got no definitions of "full canvas," -"zone," or "Horn," for future reference; but what we did get was -a present sense of some of the great allied human experiences--the -unpitying power of the sea, the dread of a soul brought face to face -with shipwreck and death, the quick awful moving of the "imminent hand -of God," the cry of a coward, the fierce bravery of a brave man ready -to fling life away for the sake of his fellows; then, the sense of a -great deliverance and what we take to be the mercy of God. And beyond -all these, for good measure, pressed down and running over, we had -added unto us additional respect for those older and more experienced -than ourselves, and the sense of a fine tale told tellingly. - -But I would not have you suppose that I found all the old ladies and -all the old gentlemen delightful. Some of them I disliked and wished -gone. A sense of justice compels me to believe, however,--putting -aside all question as to whether they charmed or disappointed us, and -considering them only as purely educative mediums,--that these visitors -of an older generation are not surpassed, indeed, are rarely equaled, -by any theory or practice of modern pedagogy. - -If Miss Lou Brooks and Eugene Ashton and Dr. Highway taught us much of -foreign lands and strange worlds and spiritual astronomies; if they -instructed me besides in the poetry and romance of life, these others -gave me a knowledge and love and understanding of other times, other -manners; they were a kind of incarnate treatises in history and ethics, -philosophy, and comparative philology. - -What a lesson in history and manners was my great-aunt Sarah for -instance! - -She was tall and stately, a kind of reproof to the shallowness of later -days. There was about her the refinement and delicacy of a rare old -vase. She had been young once; this my reason told me, for, in her -home, a large stone house called "Scarlet Oaks," hung a very beautiful -portrait of her, a delicate, very young, translucent face, rising above -the shimmering satin of a low-cut wedding gown. But for this I should -have taken her to have been always old, in the sense, I mean, in which -the piping forms of youth, the "brede of marble men and maidens," -on Keats's Grecian urn are "forever young, forever fair." There was -such a finality and finish about her, like something arrested in its -perfection; such achievement, such delicate completeness, it seemed, -as could not change! It appeared that, when old age should waste our -own generation, that delicate loveliness of her would remain untouched. -She seemed already to live above, to survive, what was perishable and -trivial in her own day and ours. - -She affected cashmere shawls and cameos, and wore long and very -elaborate mitts, and was always spoken of as "delicate." "Aunt Sarah is -very delicate." That, indeed, she was! - -We all waited upon my aunt Sarah, from the greatest to the least. She -was very fond of my father, and to hear her address him as "William," -and treat him with the condescension one gives to a child,--he who -had iron-gray hair,--and to see his eager and affectionate and wholly -respectful response, was to see time flow back. - -My great-aunt had two brothers, my uncle Hays and my uncle William, who -still wore great pointed collars, and black stocks that wound around -the throat several times, and broadcloth coats. But my great-uncles, -unlike my great-aunt, seemed passing by. There was in their somewhat -careful, sometimes feeble step a suggestion of treaty and capitulation, -and from time to time, in their glance or actions, the pathos of -childlikeness so much more frequent in the old of that sex than of the -other. - -Such types were rare, even in my day. There were only a few, a very -few such men and women left then, guests of a twice older generation, -visiting still, with a kind of retained graciousness, in the house of -life from which they were soon finally to depart. By an enviable fate -some six or eight of these men and women belonged to me. An air of -grandeur came to the house with them as with the coming of the gods -and goddesses in the old days; the human dwellings expanded, and the -lintels grew tall. - -You can guess, perhaps, whether we children ventured a word! Glory -enough to be permitted to come as silent as mice to supper, while they -were there! - -Yet I would not be misleading. Even those of a twice older generation -were by no means inevitably stately and imposing. History is not -given over entirely to kings and queens. There was, for instance, -my great-aunt Henrietta, of the "other side of the house." She was a -wholly different type. She was little. She wore three puffs at either -side of her face. These were held in place by little gray combs. She -knew everybody's affairs, and her chief delight was in recounting them. -She was a living chronicle, an accurate, if inglorious, historian; -an intimate and personal account, with a mind for little happenings -and a prodigious memory for events; a sort of Pepys in petticoats and -neckerchief. - -She was the oldest survivor of my mother's people. The family tree -was in her keeping. But she cared little enough to dig about its deep -roots. She took no delight, apparently in the dignity of its stem, or -pride in the wide spread of its branches. Her entire pleasure, rather, -was in the twittering and whispering of its leaves. There was something -bird-like and flitting in her character, and she gossiped like a -chaffinch. - -In her flowed together the great strains on my mother's side, Spencer -and Halsted, names to conjure with. She had, certainly, not less to be -stately about than my great-aunt Sarah. She had plenty of ancestors -to be proud of, and for a touch of romance, had danced the minuet -with Lafayette, when she was a slip of a girl and he a guest in her -grandfather's house; but she never appeared in the least proud of her -people, only unfailingly entertained by them. - -It was at an early age that I resolved to model my life after my aunt -Sarah rather than after my aunt Henrietta; yet recalling my aunt -Henrietta's memorable characteristics, and that about Lafayette, and -the delightful side-puffs, and her searching comments on humanity, -I am willing to admit that she was perhaps the more vivid lesson of -the two. And if one counts the lasting distaste for gossip which I -acquired by being obliged to listen respectfully, hours at a time, it -seemed, while she continued to profess her little astonishments and -"you-don't-say-so's!" to my mother, with the best end of her sentences -always finished, inaudible to me, behind her fan, I am even prone to -believe her to have been the more influential and educative of the two. - -In those days, those days when visits were long and frequent, the -bond of kinship was firmly established, and family characteristics -were strong and vivid. These were _Halsteds_, _Spencers_, _Hamiltons_, -_Ogdens_, _Portors_, and not to be mistaken, any more than you mistake -now your reader for your speller, your history for your geography. - -It seemed, it is true, that they were there but to visit; but how much -were they there, though how little were they aware of it, to teach, to -enlighten, to admonish! With them came the Halsted or Spencer or Portor -imperiousness or graciousness or brains; the Halsted eyes, which were -beautiful, and the Halsted tempers, which were not; with them came -those obstinate egotisms, those devotions and ideals, those headstrong -weaknesses, those gentle fortitudes which, strong in themselves, -survived vividly from generation to generation. - -My aunt Henrietta, my aunt Sarah and the rest, it was plain to be -seen, were the earthly abodes of strong antecedent family spirits; -and now, these bodily abodes doomed to decay, had not those spirits, -strong and nimble, already begun to frequent the available lives of -the younger generation, resolved on living yet in the day-lighted -world, and visiting still the glimpses of the moon; hopeful, perhaps, -in the younger generation, to correct some old folly; or willful, -and determined, it might be, to pursue in some younger life the old -fatality and mistakes? - -This was what it meant, this and not less, when, often a little -wistfully, the passing generation remarked certain likenesses. "Mary, -how _much_ she is getting to be like William!" or, "Do you know, she -reminds me of her great-grandmother Ferguson"; or, "She has the Portor -eyes"; and sometimes, cryptically, so that I might not guess too -clearly what it meant, "Very like the Halsteds." - -All those things were, I believe, far more influential and educative -than the unthinking will admit. They gave me much food for thought. -They roused in me commendable emotions, or salutary dismays. Might I -some day be like my aunt Sarah? Was I really like my father? Could -I worthily be classed with these others? And traits not to be proud -of--was I in danger from these? So cautions and hopes and worthinesses -grew up in me under the fine influence of what might be called a -study in "Comparative Characteristics." There is not alone a dignity, -but a tenderness as well, lent to life by such a study of former and -passing generations. The results of living much of my childhood in -the presence of the past, serving tea to it, offering it the required -courtesies, putting footstools under its feet, were, I believe, a -certain abiding reverence for human nobility, and a pity for human -faults and weaknesses, and more, a desire and hope for nobility in -myself, and a haunting dread that some family weakness might reappear -in me; and these, as valuable assets to education, I would not rank -below the dates of the battles of Crécy and Poitiers, and the siege of -Paris--none of which dates, though I once learned them carefully, have -remained with me. - -There is not space to tell of that nearer constellation of warm and -bright stars, guests who were my mother's and father's intimate friends -and contemporaries. Even if there were nothing else to recommend them, -these were men and women who had lived through the Civil War in their -prime. To sit on the knee of my ex-soldier uncle, and know that where -my head leaned he carried in his breast-pocket a little Testament, with -a bullet-hole in it but not quite through it--the Testament having -saved his life and stopped the bullet from reaching his heart; and to -sit on the knee of another uncle, who actually carried a bullet from -Antietam about in his body, yes, and for all that, was the very gayest -of the gay--these experiences were spelling-books of a higher order and -readings in life not to be looked down on. - -There were other uncles, who visited the house only in tradition, but -were entertained there how warmly of my eager fancy,--their adventurous -lives having ended before mine began,--who were memorable lessons in -daring, in courtesy, and in spirit! - -There was my uncle Robert, for instance, who, to escape, for his part, -from my Chancellor grandfather's stern requirement that all of his -seven sons should study law, ran away and went before the mast at -eighteen, and at twenty-one came sailing home again, master of his own -vessel. - -She was called the Griffin. Ah, the Griffin! the Griffin! Though I -never set foot upon her deck, how well I knew her, masts, spars, -canvas, tar, and timber! How often I had stood in dreams, a little -figure at the prow, my skirts and hair blown back by the wind, while -we sailed the seas, she and I and her gallant crew, under the wise -direction of my sailor uncle! How often had we sought and found, across -the pathless ways, those places, vague, vague and far away, but known -and endeared to me by the wonder and the romance of their names--China -and Celebes, Madagascar and Gibraltar, the Azores and Canaries and -Shetlands, Hebrides, Bermudas and the Spice Islands, Ceylon and the -Andamans, Marseilles and Archangel and Valparaiso! How possible all of -them were, how sure of access, without regard to limiting geography! -Let but the Griffin weigh her anchor, and her sails be set! How far! -how far! - -Never mind that the Griffin's master was dead and buried in the sea he -loved, before I was born! I contrived to live above these facts, as I -did above geography. Could it be possible, do you think, that this my -best-loved uncle did not know me when I knew him so well? Was I not, -somehow and notwithstanding, one of his close kith and kin, on whom he -looked fondly? His favorite niece, perhaps with a spirit of adventure -to match his own? - -There were other uncles besides, with lives full as romantic. I mention -only this one, because I loved him best. - -There was, further, my mother's youngest sister, who was better -than any legend. I would rather have inherited, as I did then, that -love-story of hers, than very considerable worldly riches. - -Another of my mother's sisters was mistress of a home on Fifth Avenue -and of a very lovely country place on the Hudson. She had maids at -every hand to wait upon her, and footmen whose eyes looked straight -ahead of them, and who wore cockades in their hats. I liked her for -herself: her beauty and her spirit and commandingness always stirred -me, and she liked and approved of me, besides. Moreover,--let me be -frank,--I liked her too, in those days, for the footmen as well. One -of my sisters had visited her for nine months, and had, on her return, -entirely revolutionized all my ideas of the world. - -But that, rather, which confirmed and stablished me and my ideals as on -a rock, was the love-story of my youngest aunt. - -She and her husband had only the most moderate means. They lived in -what I like now to believe must have been a rose-covered cottage. But -oh, the love of them! She had a mass of wonderful hair which it seems -he loved to unpin at night, to see it fall at either side of her lovely -face, down to her knees and beyond; and a tiny foot, whose slipper he -would allow no one but himself to put on. All reports of every member -of the family agreed: these were a pair of perfect lovers; like "Rose -in Bloom" and "Ansal Wajoud"; no harsh word was ever spoken between -them; they lived wholly for each other, in a blissful world apart, rich -in their own manner; where neither poverty, nor distress, nor discord -could find them; and where no hand could ever fall upon the latch to -bring them sorrow--save only one. - -That hand fell--the hand of him gently termed by Scheherazade and other -tale-tellers of the East, "The Terminator of Delights, and Separator of -Companions." - -She came to be with us the winter that she was widowed. It was thought -the change of air, and perhaps the brightness of our household, -might be of some little help. We children were admonished to be very -gentle--not to be noisy. Superfluous precaution! She was to me sacred! - -She used to walk up and down the upper veranda, taking the air -slenderly, a light shawl about her shoulders, her tiny foot pausing now -and then for greater steadiness, when the wind swayed her frail body -too rudely. I have known many faces since then; I never knew one with -a lovelier look. Heartbroken though she was, the depth of her love was -daily attested, for there never came complaint or bitter word across -her lips; and you went to her, without question, for quiet and comfort, -as to a sanctuary. - -At first, it seems, she had been pitifully rebellious, had longed and -prayed to die (we children knew these facts); but, having been denied -so much as this, she rose delicately, and lived on worthy of him, -binding and unbinding her hair, fastening her little slippers anew for -the daily road and routine of life. Sometimes, with tactful or tactless -devotion (I do not know to this day which), I would offer to fasten -them for her; and she would smile and let me do it, and usually kissed -me afterward. - -There were years and years when I never saw her. She grew more frail, I -am told, and her cheek withered; but to me she was always incomparable, -and always "Rose-in-Bloom"; and like Rose-in-Bloom, looking always to -one thing only--reunion with her beloved. - -"Will fortune, after separation and distance, grant me union with -my beloved?" sighs the lover of Rose-in-Bloom. "Close the book -of estrangement and efface my trouble? Shall my beloved be my -cup-companion once more? Where is Rose-in-Bloom, O King of the Age?" - -It might have been her lover who so questioned a mightier king, while -she waited far from him, there even in our very house. And the reply of -the king in the story would still have been fitting: "By Allah, ye are -two sincere lovers; and in the heaven of beauty two shining stars, and -your case is wonderful and your affair extraordinary." - - * * * * * - -It were indeed impossible to explain all that these, the vivid lives of -my own, meant to me, and what effect they had on what I like to call -my education--how much indeed they were my education. - -It is usually assumed that, the sooner we get at books, the sooner we -shall become educated. I think it a pale assumption. The order might -more happily be reversed. I am convinced that it was mainly by my -reading of these men and women, with whom the world of my childhood was -peopled and whom the gracious habit of visiting brought within my ken, -that I came later to recognize and enjoy the best authors and the best -literature. I had known Lear and Othello and Hamlet in my own circle, -though without Shakespearean dramatization or language. I have already -told you how well I knew "Rose-in-Bloom," so much better than the -"Arabian Nights" could ever tell me of her. "The poet's eye in a fine -frenzy rolling" was familiar enough to me. I had had it rolled on me by -the author of "Herod and Mariamne." I was continually recognizing in -books fragments of life, but glorified by the art of phrase or symbol. -When I came one day upon the incomparable scene in Capulet's orchard, -and those lines,-- - - "By yonder blessed moon I swear, - That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops," - -was I, do you think, a stranger to it? Had I not in real life heard -Miss Lou Brooks sing with a full heart and a quivering voice,-- - - "The stars shine o'er his pathway!" - -It will, without doubt, be objected that my childhood was an -exceptional one, even for my day; that the average child of the present -would certainly have no such characters and types from which to draw -knowledge. But this is, I am sure, a false premise. Humanity is a -very ancient stuff, and human beings are to be found to-day quite as -interesting and vivid as ever human beings were. But there lacks to the -modern child the quiet opportunity for knowing and studying humanity -at first-hand. In place of long and comfortable and constant visits, -we have a kind of motion-picture hospitality soon over, a film on a -roll soon spun out; and instead of life with its slower actions and -reactions, a startling mere picture of life flashing by. - -A short time ago I watched a party of married people and children -receive an automobileful of guests at a country house. The guests -remained something over twelve hours, which is a long visit in these -days. - -When they came, it was explained by them how many miles they had come -that day and over what roads. An hour was now devoted to getting the -dust off and to a change of clothes. After this there was much chatter -among host and guests, talk of mutual friends, and much detail as to -journeying; what roads had been found good, what ones uncomfortable for -speeding, with a comparing of road-maps among the men. Then there was -luncheon; after that, siestas; after these, a spin to the polo grounds -in the host's "auto"; after this, tea on the country-club veranda, -and another spin home. Another half-hour was now again given to the -removal of dust, then an hour to an exceptionally well-served supper; -more chatter, with rather high laughter; then the summoning of the -original "auto"; good-byes, some waving of hands, a little preliminary -chugging of the machine; then a speeding away, a vanished thing. Gone -in a flash! A clean sheet once more! The moving-picture visit was over; -the host and hostess returned to the chairs on their own veranda; the -handsome, long-legged bronzed children looked bored; and the _lares_ -and _penates_ inside, if there were any, shivered, I am sure, with what -"freezings" in the midst of "old December's bareness everywhere." - -"And yet this time removed was summer's time." There were in that -flashing speeding automobile six people: there was an old gentleman -(very trig and alert) who had hunted tigers in India and had buried -three wives; there was a woman who was one of the most proud and vain -women in the world, as well as one of the most beautiful; there was -a man who had carried through a great panic in Wall Street, and who -wore an invisible halo of prayers of widows and orphans; there was a -middle-aged woman with a broken heart, whose lover had been buried at -sea; there was a fresh-looking young girl chained to the rock of modern -conventions, and a square-jawed handsome young Perseus, who was in love -with her and determined to rescue her and carry her away to dwell with -poverty and himself on a claim in eastern Idaho. - -Flash, flash! They are moving pictures, they are gone! What might they -not have been, what might they not have contributed, very especially -to the host's children, in the way of lessons and knowledge and -education, had they remained long enough to be guests! What? Education? -But the children all go to school, and to the best to be had; and the -little one there is just starting in under the Montessori method. You -should see how amazingly, from fifty-seven varieties, she can select -and grade the different shades and colors. - -Madame Montessori recommends that children be under the care of a -"directress" (note the name) in the "Houses of Childhood," each day, -the day to begin at eight and to last until six, in a schoolroom -where the Montessori "method" is practised by means, mainly, of the -"didactic material"! The thing revolts me. I do not say, "What time -for arithmetic and geography, and the sterner realities of schooling?" -No, nor do I complain as does Sir Walter Scott when he touches on -Waverley's education, you remember, that "the history of England is now -reduced to a game at cards." I say to myself more solemnly, "But what -time is left for life? What time for guests?" - -They have a great care of children's education nowadays. We were -neglected to a higher learning and abandoned to a larger fate. There -were guests coming! We made off to don our best dresses and behaviors. -We hoped to be worthy the gracious occasion. We meant to try. Life was -at the door. - -It was not mere shrewdness in St. Paul, surely, when he recommended the -Romans so earnestly to be "given to hospitality"; but a wistfulness as -well, and a certain longing for a high education to be given unto them; -and it was his correspondents' welfare he had in mind, you remember, -rather than the welfare of their guests, when he bade the Hebrews that -they "be not forgetful to entertain strangers"; for--now note carefully -the sequel--"for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." - -I have an old friend who is on his way, I am told by those in -authority, to be one of our great modern psychologists. He gives -anxious thought to the education of his children. Lately, he approached -me seriously in the matter of his boy's educational needs. Would I -talk them over with him? He wished to consult me. I looked for a -careful discussion of "methods," and was ready with all my arguments -concerning the Montessori teachings. Instead, he inquired, "Now when -will you come and visit us? a real visit, I mean? That is what I wanted -to ask you. It is with that that I am most concerned. That is exactly -what Jack needs." - -I am needed as a guest in their house, for the sake of the children! My -heart rises at the thought! Cheered, I seem to see ahead, clearly, a -time when, if we do not provide them with guests, we shall think that -we have shamefully neglected our children's education; when we will no -more deny them visitors, than we would now neglect to have them taught -to read. - -To love life for ourselves and others; to be forever interested in it; -to be loyal to it, and that down to the grave; to dwell helpfully and -appreciatively with one's kind; to understand others as generously as -is possible to faulty human nature, and to make ourselves understood -as much as is consistent with courtesy; these are, I take it, the fine -flower of culture; here is all that I would dare call education, or -presume to think of permanent importance. - -And by no means, I feel sure, can youth be led to all this so readily, -so happily, so effectually, as by means of the age-old virtue of -hospitality. These things are things which guests bring with them, -knowing it not, and bestow on those who are not aware of the bestowal. - -And our most advanced ideal, that of "universal brotherhood" and a -"federation of the world"--what is this, I ask you, but a glad sharing -of life in a society to which all will be welcome, with bread and wine -and greeting denied to none, and guest and host fulfilling an equal -obligation? - -This is the old manner of entertaining, and--I ask your patience--it is -God's manner, not less. The gentle sympathy, the unfailing hospitality -of my mother,--how gentle and understanding she was of all types which -frequented the old house!--her patience and hospitality had in them, -I like to think, some resemblance to that larger patience of Him in -whose House of Life we do but for a time visit, some of us how gayly, -how romantically, some how fretfully and inconsiderately, lingering -past our time; some contributing but idle gossip; some lending to the -hearth-fires the glow of poetic dreams; some adding truth or dignity -of our own; some possessed of foibles and accomplished in failures; -some shining with hopes of final successes that shall never be ours. -Yet all of us, by the grace of God, and God be thanked, even so, adding -somewhat to the meaning of life, edifying when we least know it, -teaching when we are wholly unaware; helpful, instructive, even in our -blunders, profiting others by the often profitless lessons and fables -of our lives; enlightening when we are most ignorant of so doing, and -even when our own lives are darkened. In a word, _guests_; and what is -of even sweeter import, all of us understood, condoned, valued, pitied, -loved, by the Master of the House; welcomed by his world that has long -looked for our coming; served by his servants; waited upon by wind and -wave and those others who do his bidding; afforded the bread of life to -eat, given the wine of life to drink; warmed by the shining, welcoming -sun; lighted by no less candles than the stars; and with rest and -peace, and a bed at last for every one. - - - - - THE DISAPPOINTMENTS AND VICISSITUDES OF MICE - - - I - -There is, I am persuaded, a tendency in many of us to reckon too -absorbedly our own difficulties and to give but scant regard to the -difficulties of others. This I have observed frequently, not only in -our associations with those of our own kind, but very especially in our -relations with creatures that we assume to be of a lower order than -ourselves. - -I believe my own opportunity for observing the difficulties and -disappointments of certain members of the animal kingdom to have been -somewhat exceptional. It first came to me by way of residence in a very -delightful house in the country, in which it was my privilege to live. -It is an old house, as age goes in America, eighty or more years having -passed over the oldest of its low gables. Before we came to it, the -owner had not lived in it for many years. People had camped there from -time to time; it had served during one summer as sanctuary to some -episcopal nuns, who set up a chapel in one of its twenty-two rooms, and -tinkled matins and vespers in and out of its twilit chambers; but they -remained a short two months only and then went on again, they and their -chanted services, leaving it voiceless and tenantless--tenantless, that -is, as to human kind. - -When we came to it there were many problems, difficult enough, -certainly, to be met before the beautiful old rooms of pleasing and -aristocratical proportions could be made comfortable and livable. But I -know now that I reckoned these problems far too curiously, and with too -scant regard for the far greater difficulties that our advent must have -put upon all the shy creature-folk who had up to that time found the -old place convenient and habitable enough. - -In front of the house a wide brook brawls, or pauses in little pools, -to meditate under the hazel light of the birches and maples of a most -lovely woodland. Into this woodland the long veranda, running the -length of the house, faces directly. It is but a step--say, rather, -the mere dip of a wing--from the branches of the trees to the -more sheltered safety of those cornices and crevices of pillar and -window-frame where nests may be built so commodiously, away from storm -and uncertainty of many kinds; so, too, it is but a step, or let us say -a mere flying-squirrel-leap, from the drooping wood branches to the -mossy veranda roof, and thence a swift squirrel-run, of no distance -at all, along the varied eaves, and under them where secret openings -offer, and then but a flash of four-footed speed, to the inviting -safety and quiet of the old rafter attic--an ideal place to raise baby -squirrels. - -When we arrived that day, the house was occupied, at its edges and -corners, and even between its closed attic shutters, by birds of every -householding and houseloving variety; and in between its many walls, -and in its upper rooms and closets and air-chambers and low, long -attic, by squirrels and chipmunks; and here, there, and everywhere, as -we learned later, in all manner of unobservable but plainly audible -places, by mice. - -At the time I was not aware of the completeness of this occupancy; but -looking back now with full knowledge, I have a sense of shame and -crudeness as I think what our coming must have meant to all those many -denizens of that long, rambling, quiet old mansion. I had then, it must -be remembered, not a thought of them. We were reckoning so absorbedly -all our own difficulties and discomforts of moving attendant on our -arrival, that we gave not so much as a thought to their calamities of -withdrawal. - -The birds were the first to go. I remember the frightened dart of one -of them close to my face when I first stepped from the front hall on -to the veranda. Such a frightened whirr and clipping and cutting of -the air to get through it and away, as if a panic had seized her. And -another on the branches just beyond the veranda, on her way, no doubt, -back to her nest on the window-casing, where now she dared not alight. -Such incredulous flitting from branch to branch, such twitching of -tail and wings, such anxious twitterings and turnings of the head, -such bird exclamations! Then she spread her wings and flew away, no -doubt to circulate the news. What Huns and Vandals had entered on her -possessions and threatened the country of her safety! - -I think the first week, certainly the second, at most, saw all the -birds gone. The squirrels and chipmunks, too, though they stayed on -a trifle later, were not long in departing. There were councils and -hurried scamperings, hushed pauses, and now and then--when I got an -actual glimpse of one of them--an attitude of intent listening, a tiny -paw held dangling in front of a visibly beating heart; then the quick, -noiseless drop to all-fours, the drooped tail, the flash of speed; -then the leap into leafy invisibility--only the branches left swaying, -remembering. - -We had an Irish cook, who called all this tribe--red squirrels, gray -squirrels, and chipmunks,--indiscriminately "the munks." - -"God bless us! Look at the munks, mum! How they do race and carry on!" - -She came to me the second morning, after what I take to have been a -sleepless night. "Did you hear last night, mum? 'Twas a shame to any -decent house. And but for its bein' here in this heathen country, at -the back of God's field, and not a Christian locomotive to be had for -miles, I'd pack up and be gone before I'd stand another night of their -riotin'! I can't stand the rakish things, mum." The last in a high, -nervous key. - -"What is it you cannot stand?" - -"The munks, mum!" - -It was she, a devout daughter of the Church, who had said it. I made no -amendment; I only, I am sorry to say, offered her as consolation this:-- - -"Don't worry about them. They will not stay now we are here. They will -find other homes for themselves." - -Yes, I said just that, and gave it to her for consolation. - - - II - -So much for the birds and squirrels, those altogether shy denizens -given to quick abdication. But the mice, being, I suppose, of a -somewhat more reasoning and philosophical order, more given to -treaty and capitulation, remained, after I know not what cautious -considerations and watchful consultations among themselves. That these -must have been sufficiently serious, I am convinced, for we heard at -first very little indeed of their doings; as if they intended to wait -and study this phenomenon of our usurpation before taking any risk -with powers so unlikely and unknown. - -But as time passed, their attitude toward the heavens and their -horoscope must have altered. Doubtless there was some hope that matters -were not so bad as the old and experienced among them had prophesied. -Appropriately quiet in the day, in the night they began to dare, and -to recover what was, I suppose, some of their erstwhile freedom, or -old-time happiness. They began cautiously to come and go; to advance -creepingly; to explore; to inquire and pry; to examine and study; and I -think, no doubt, to report. - -The usurpers, it seems, had a strange way of lying quiet at night (of -all times!), and pursuing their busy activities in the day, when all -good mouse citizens were in bed and asleep! Well, so far so good. -Perhaps the mice set this down to a special providence. However that -may be, it is certain that they acted on the intelligence; for at -night, having now become well informed as to our habits, they began -to come and go, if still a little cautiously, yet with more and more -freedom. - -I used to lie awake listening to them. One would scurry across the -floor wildly overhead, forget something, and run back for it. Another, -carrying a burden, would in fright or haste drop it, scamper away as if -terrified (oh, good gracious!) and then would dare to go back for it, -and roll it away soundingly into safety. I am inclined to think that a -certain pleasure was attendant on these dangers, and that among them, -as among ourselves, the brave were the gay; for there were among them -now--oh, bead-eyed, venturesome spirits!--certain delicate squeakings -that had all the effect of laughter. I could have sworn their feet -tittered; there was--I do assure you I am speaking the truth--something -giggling in their gait. - -They were not, I am sure, without their Colchases and Cassandras; but, -despite these, they began ere long to have certain celebrations. Go to! -Let old White-Whiskers, who foretold calamity, take himself off and lie -with his nose on his paws! There are better things in the world than -prudence! - -Celebrations there certainly were, though of what exact kind I am -unable to state; weddings, very likely; town meetings, it may be, -with the ladies present and welcome; picnics, in all probability; and -christenings, I lean to believe, at which I make little doubt they -drank deliriously of dandelion wine. One must not demand too curiously -where they got it. I really have no idea. I keep my own well corked. -I only know that circumstantial evidence is strongly in favor of the -belief that they had it, and that in large quantities. How else is -it conceivable they could so far forget our presence and their own -risk? For I heard them coming home late one night between the rafters, -shortly before dawn, in an openly riotous manner. Prudence they had -flung to the winds. Their behavior was wholly ramshackle and reckless. -Such squeakings! such tumblings and titterings and scramblings as could -only have occurred among those totally oblivious to all danger! Such a -drunken dropping of acorns and other picnic viands! with little shrieks -from the ladies! Too evidently they had determined to eat and drink and -be merry, let come what would. - -I could not help laughing myself with them, yet I sobered, too, at such -recklessness on their part. This was no mere indiscretion; it was -sheer folly. - -I have no way of knowing whether any Daniel rose to warn them. If so, -he was not heeded. The feast went on uninterrupted. Or, it is possible, -too, they had not the requisite education or conscience to enable them -to read the moonlight on the rafter wall for writing of an ominous -character. - -When I wakened in the morning, not a sound or evidence. Like Bottom, it -seemed to me that I had had a most rare vision, for daylight had laid a -hushing and dispersing hand on them also. Then, suddenly, I knew it all -for reality. Not a beady eye among them, of course, that was not closed -now; in the daytime twilight of old rafters, all of them, without -doubt, slept, dandelion deep, their noses and their whiskers on their -tails. - -Meanwhile, time and events went forward. Miss Layng, a North-of-Ireland -woman who kept house for us, while I attended to the work required of -me in my study, appeared before me with a white and sleepless face. - -Miss Layng had ominous colored hair, which she heaped each morning in -an exact manner above a face in which delicate health, gentleness, and -unalterable determination were composite. She stood before me now, like -an allegorical figure of Justice, or Commerce, or Law, bearing in one -outheld hand a magenta "Dutchman's head" cheese. - -"You heard them?" - -She spoke with quiet severity. - -I looked inquiring, innocent. - -She disregarded this, as a person too much above a lie herself to -recognize one. - -"I think we shall need six traps, at least. Cook says she will not stay -unless they go. She says one ran across her face last night!" - -(Oh, the riotousness of them! More than I had suspected!) - -At this moment the cook herself appeared, far less allegorical, -comfortingly real, a lemon-squeezer in one hand. - -"Oh, mum, I can't be saying exactly whether it did or not. Maybe it -did, belike it didn't. But they do get me that nervous with what they -_might_ do!" - -"You can see from this," antiphonied Miss Layng, solemnly. - -She turned the Holland cheese toward me. In its side was eaten what -could only be called a cavern. She stood there exhibiting it, eloquent, -without need of words. - -Meanwhile, my own mental processes were busy, delightedly. Of course! -of course! Here was a revelation and an accounting! It was this, -undoubtedly, that had been the occasion of so much merriment and -wild celebration. And how altogether natural! For days they had been -fearful, and oppressed with dark anxiety. What harm might not such a -race as ourselves bring them! Other powers had fled before us. They -had remained! But who dared tell the outcome? Dark prophecies! Sombre -forebodings! Unthinkable possibilities! And then,--then,--when the -dark-minded and old among them pointed out optimism as the sheerest -folly,--then came this proof of unlooked-for benevolence! Age and -pessimism received their due. Caution and timorousness were flung -to the winds. Old wives and grandfathers were flouted, and their -cautiousness set down to sheer envy and crabbedness. The day and the -victory were in the hands of the young, the optimistic, the full of -faith! Come, ladies; come gentlemen! Pay no heed to these pessimistic -aged people. Preserve your faith in life! Here is good warrant! -Quick! uncork the bottles! Bring the baskets along! This is a day for -feasting, for feasting! Look upon this magenta miracle of benevolence, -and be convinced. Life is kind! - -Where is a man with heart and imagination so dead who would not -understand, by the light of all this, why the night had seen such -celebration? How well understood, now, was the daring of the gentlemen, -the almost hysterical gayety of the ladies! - -Meanwhile Miss Layng waited. - -"I thought I would get six traps, but wished to speak of it first, -otherwise you might wonder to see so many on the bill at the end of the -month." - -In this cryptic yet crystalline fashion the problem of their fate was -presented to me. There was put before me a choice, a clear choice, -between the proper maintaining of an honorable household, the retaining -of a housekeeper and a cook with all that this implied as to my own -comfort, and--a whole community of I know not how many fathers, -mothers, children, step-children, brothers, half-brothers, uncles, -aunts, cousins, first cousins once removed, prophets, sibyls, lawgivers. - -Need I say which I felt constrained to choose? - -Six were caught the first night. - - - III - -Six the first night! In the very midst of their rejoicings and the -apparent favor of their divinity--six! What a subject for a rodent -Æschylus! How they must have set themselves to ponder it! How and by -what neglect or unintentional disrespect had they offended the gods, -who but a while before had shone so kind! Six! And, as in the reapings -of war among ourselves, these were bound to have been the best and most -adventurous spirits. I paused to look at only one of them. What a sleek -and likely fellow he was! What a bead of an eye! What a father of a -family he would have made, nay, perhaps was! - -After that I asked Miss Layng to spare me all bulletins and statistics; -but by the frequency with which I came across her in the halls, or just -emerging from closets, holding far from her, between horrified fingers, -a small magenta trap rigged with wires and a dangling tail, I knew the -number was large. - -I knew, too, by signs other and quite as authentic. The riotous -junketings had indeed ceased. The community was without doubt sobered, -and, it may be, led to think of its sins, its gods having turned -against it. There was less frolic and gladness in the world than there -had been. - -I confess, all this seemed to me a loss, or, more exactly, a kind of -waste. The wiser and the brooding East does not throw such things -away. Are there not many folk in India, of tawny skin and gentle eye, -who regard the humbler orders as sacred? There in that land are not -the monkeys (and I cannot believe them to be a less destructive or -garrulous race) welcome to the temples? There does not Kim's sacred -bull go about and select the best vegetables for himself? - -I was discontent with our order of things, not to say -conscience-stricken, and thought much about it. How we patronize and -humiliate and rout and exterminate these humbler folk! With how marked -an arrogance we deal with them! How we impose our morals upon them, -and bid them live up to our laws or be gone! They must exist in the -presence of a perpetual ultimatum. No court is held for their benefit. -There is no appeal possible save to mouse-traps with their inevitable -death-penalty. There is no more chance of getting their case correctly -stated before us than before the White Queen. Who ever listened to even -their most able and eloquent attorney? - -"My lords," he begins, with nervous whiskers, "the case of my client is -one that especially commends itself to human clemency. Six little ones -at home, my lords, and not a mouthful to eat! If this, my lords, if -this be not--" - -"Off with his head! Sentence first" (the inevitable sentence!), -"verdict afterward!" - -So we behave ourselves atrociously toward these, who, though of a -humbler order, are yet susceptible, I doubt not, of sensibilities and -sorrows and enjoyments; we, who in turn are so ready to abuse our own -order for their atrocities when we do not happen to be a party to them. - -These things are disturbing to philosophy and troubling to the heart. -How shall we with a conscience justify ourselves in the eyes of the -animal creation? Humbler folk than ourselves, yet I cannot think -that mice suffer by a comparison. I have attended to them with much -speculative attention, and I have found them a peaceable people without -malice. The worst offense that I have to record against them is the -demolition of several fine books in my library; but it was done (it -is not fair to hide this testimony) with the high intent of providing -a comfortable nest for the birth and early tending of the tender -young. As much cannot be said for the destruction of Louvain, for the -shelling of Rheims. They have purloined my cheese and been sly as to -my soap and tallow candles, but not, you will note, that they might -grow disproportionately fat and sleek thereon; no, nor for the sake of -banking these riches, to exchange them later for horseless carriages in -which to loll lazily or to pursue madly some unwholesome excitement; -no, nor yet to lay such things by in hoard and stores in such a -manner as to make it difficult or impossible for others to have the -same pleasure as themselves. No; they took only what hunger rendered -legitimate, a few satisfying nibbles at the candle, then leaving it -free, with a fine democracy, for the next man to take whatever was his -need. - -Where shall you find me a millionaire, or even a moderately -conscientious business man among us, with as generous and as democratic -a tendency? We who are so sharp with them, so eager to give them the -death-penalty, would we have thieved as little as they? Nor have I -ever, for all my listenings, been able to hear any quarrelings or -recriminations among them. Solicitous cautions, dangerous adventure, -frolickings and gigglings and squeaking laughter I have heard, but -nothing to compare with our harshnesses, spoken and unspoken; nor do -I believe them capable either of our sullenness or our spites. I have -met, as have most of us, with days of such from honorable men and -women, which I do not believe a mouse--of a so much lower order!--would -for a moment be capable of. - -In the face of uncertainties and disappointments such as theirs, what -would become, I wonder, of our philosophy? Yet they would appear to -maintain their gentleness unspoiled. We who take offense so readily; -we who would boast if we forgave a man seven times seven! They, it -would appear from easily collected data, do, in all likelihood, forgive -seven hundred times seventy, and make no ado about it at all. They seem -always ready to try life anew, and to give you another chance to be -generous. - -I was sitting once in the library of the old house, of which I have -written, reading. Stillness and the stars were out; a fire burned on -the hearth, for the night was cold. I read by the light of a lamp -a book that I loved. At my feet slept Commodore, my collie, his -pointed nose resting on his paws. On the rug by the fire was the old -tortoise-shell cat, Lady Jane, a spoiled but endeared companion. Both -had had their supper so bounteously that the dish of milk lay unemptied -still on the hearth, and, like the Giant in the fairy tale, they slept -"from repletion." - -They slept and I read, and for comfort of mind and body you might -have gone far to find three so comfortable as we that night. And then -presently I became aware of a little timorous shadow, that was not -a shadow, after all, but a tiny, tiny mouse. It put up its nose and -sniffed the air nor'-nor'-west, sou'-sou'-east. It tasted the possible -danger with its whiskers. It tasted and made sure, delicately, like a -connoisseur. Could the great adventure be risked? - -I can give you no idea by what sensitive soundings and testings and -deliberations and speculations it at last crept into the flickering -firelight. I wish I could convey to you the delicacy of its behavior: -manners to make those of Commodore and Lady Jane (they with their -sounding titles!) seem crude and greedy and plebeian. Its little -pauses said, "May I?" Its delicate deliberations conveyed, "If I am -troubling no one?" Its hesitations offered, "If I may be so bold?" And -then, after these preliminaries, it took its place how politely on the -brim of the flat dish of milk, and drank, and raised its head, and -drank, paused and drank again, daintily. Once, I thought, it offered a -courteous toast to me and my silence. - -Commodore and Lady Jane slept on! Oh, if they had known! Oh, the mews -of disappointment and the terrible barkings and the _Fi-fo-fum_ there -would have been! But no, they slept on; and at last, having supped but -lightly, the little mouse took itself away, carrying with it neither -money-bags nor marvelous hen, nor golden harp. A true story and a fairy -tale all in one, if you like--and without the questionable ethics of -its more famous prototype. - - - IV - -What do they make of life? Their stoicism, their gentleness, their -never-jaded curiosity perpetually tempt my speculation. That they are -a people of vicissitudes and disappointments due largely to ourselves -needs no arguing. What opinions have they of us? What effect have our -behaviors on them? A consistently gentle people, they are treated -with unvarying severity. What have they in lieu of logic to make life -bearable? And what reward is there for their virtues? Or, are they too -simple at heart, as yet, to ask for reward at all beyond the hope of a -mere precarious existence? Is life as dear to them as that? And what, -if any, in the way of religious speculation of a crude and early order, -might they be supposed to entertain? I would like to be delegated to -investigate and report upon mouse mythology. - -I can hardly rid myself of the idea that in their present is, as it -were, some dim glimmering of our own past. They seem to me testing -the world, as we ourselves must have done when we too were less -established, when we also were in a position scarcely less precarious, -eons before any written records were kept, long before man had -learned to remember at will for the quick purposes of convenience and -comparison--in a dim, dim foretime, when to us, in some early Caliban -existence, the outward world was as Prospero, unaccountable, and -possessed of strange whimsies and quick with unwarrantable revenges. - -"When a tree," says Frazer, tracing in his "Golden Bough" the -beginnings of mythology, "comes to be viewed no longer as a body of the -tree spirit, but simply as its abode, which it can quit at pleasure, -an important advance has been made in religious thought. Animism is -passing into polytheism." - -I cannot help wondering from time to time, whimsically, whether those -quiet denizens of that old house had made "an important advance -in religious thought"; was "animism," with them, "passing into -polytheism"? Were mouse-traps deceptive and evil gods with terrible -snapping jaws, or but the abodes of these evil deities? And for -philosophy and metaphysic, what had they? In that dim attic world -was this perhaps an entire people in its mythopœic age, their gods -descending and ascending miraculously, leaving a magenta cheese as -incontrovertible evidence, or as unaccountably visiting them with swift -and crafty destruction? - -I am inclined to think their world is a colored one, fertile in fables. -It would not surprise me to find that a small wooden object, known -to us of a different development as a mere "mouse-trap," is to them -some Dis or Ahriman, a terrible deity of dark powers and multiple -personalities. That there are other gods besides,--the great and -awful CAT, the less omnipresent but not less terrible TERRIER,--I -am not disposed to doubt; nor do I think they lack the shining ones -also, as quiet as the others are full of movement, as conducive to -life and well-being as the others to death and destruction--bright, -effulgent ones of the godlike color of cheese, or silver sheen of -tallow and paraffine; and back of all these, it may be, some elder -deities,--ourselves,--the older gods with Olympian powers, who can -establish earthquakes; who can wipe away entire communities; gods and -goddesses whose heads are in the clouds, whose movements are terrific, -who shake complete creation when they walk, and with unthinkable besoms -sweep with horrible sweepings, and periodically visit the world with -awful scourges and hellish visitations of order and cleanliness. - -I would not pretend to be acquainted with mouse literature, but I -would venture a wager that their "Arabian Nights" outdoes ours as -cheese, chalk. Djinns, genii, and affrites--can it be thought that -they lack them? If the unaccountability of the world be, as it would -seem to me, the basis of all literature and the origin of all fable, -philosophy, entertainment, and speculation, can it be denied that they -have extraordinary inducement? If our own world seems full of chance, -and forever breaking away from bonds and probabilities, I only ask you -to compare it with theirs!--in which the unaccountable is the sole -certainty they possess. - -I awoke one morning in the late fall, and began to dress, giving no -thought whatever to them and their problems. When I came to put on my -shoe, however, I could no longer ignore them. In the toe of it, stowed -away safely, were three hickory-nuts! - -Some sleek-coated citizen, with a winter house in mind, had wandered in -those purlieus, thinking to begin the arduous labor requisite to the -building of a home suitable to the long, dark season nearly at hand, -when lo, this prudent necessity was suddenly, by a miraculous bounty, -waived! Mark you and observe! Here was provided for him a home such as -his best skill could never have contrived. A place how warm, how neat, -how conformable! That his acceptance was immediate, was testified by -his already accumulated stores. - -I paused and took them in my hand: one, two, three. There was a saint, -I am told, who allowed the birds to build in his two palms, and did not -rise from his knees until the fledglings were ready to fly from the -nest. Neither was I a saint, nor could I afford such beneficence. I was -pressed for time, as God's saints, I believe, never are, and I needed -my shoe. I slipped it on as I had slipped on its mate; I tied its lace -neatly, gave the bow an efficient pat, and walked away in it. It is -true, I did put the three hickory-nuts on the bureau. I am not sure -what I meant to do with them, but I never saw them again. Miss Layng, -the terrible goddess of order, probably flung them out of the window -with mutterings. - -But I ask you only to picture the romance, and it may be the -terror, of the thing to the one who had laid such delightful plans, -who had enjoyed such anticipations! House, stores, hopes, social -aggrandizement, everything--gone! carried off entire, by God knows what -spirit! and not so much as a vestige left to tell the tale! - -I do not forget that it is the custom to speak of mice as -_destructive_; yet may not that word be used, after all, with something -of a bias? I picture one of them on his way to seek a few bits of -newspaper for the lining of a nest, and I imagine him suddenly endowed -with the ability to read the inky characters. He pauses in amaze. -His eyes bulge and devour the news beadily. And what news it is! -Statistics! Staggering statistics of the men and officers killed since -our great war's beginning; and of aged and innocent citizens shot, -women violated, little children sacrificed, noble cities destroyed! - -His hand goes over his heart to quiet its violent beating. Ah, what -a race of gods they are! Or, he reads this from a recent account of -the bayonet practice at Plattsburg--whatever "bayonet" may mean, and -whatever "Plattsburg"; for these accessories of civilization lie ahead -of him some eons. - -"Aim for the vitals," he reads. "Do not fire until you feel your -bayonet stick. Thus you will shatter the bone, and you can then -withdraw the blade. At the same time, try to trip your enemy with your -left foot, so that he will fall forward." - -None of this is clear to him. This is the deportment, without doubt, of -the immortal gods! Fancy the consequences of _his_ attempting to trip -_his_ enemy, the mouse-trap, or the cat, or the terrier, with _his_ -left foot! - -No; these are powers and potencies to which he can only look forward -in dim futures, when the mouse tribe shall have attained, eons hence, -perhaps, to a higher order of being, and to these godlike practices. -But that, however glorious, is but a far dream! Meek and gentle and -forgiving, in his inferiority, he lends himself devotedly once more to -his labors, and nibbles the newspaper, carrying off small pieces of it, -very destructively, to build that near-by nest in which soon are to be -born tiny creatures as gentle and inferior and destructive as himself. - -To one who has studied mythology with a reverence for its revelations, -it must often have seemed that man is kinder than his conception of -the mighty powers that try him. Job would seem to be, rather than the -Deity, the hero of Job's tragical story; and how much nobler, to cite a -most obvious instance, is the ancient Greek than his deities! - -However impious this may appear to the pious, yet to me the thing -looks hopeful. Dread and powerful as are our own gods,--Authority, -Mammon, Sentiment, Public Opinion, Superstition, Fear,--and many as -have been our sacrifices offered up to them, yet may it not be that -humanity, frail, and so largely at their mercy, retains some sovereign -nobilities still unvanquished by them? - -Have we not had our own disappointments and vicissitudes? Have not our -conceptions of our duties and privileges and rights and gayeties been -but poorly adjusted to those powers whose awful retributions we have -tempted? Yet I am inclined to hope that, notwithstanding all this, we -shall still preserve some gentleness that cannot be conquered; shall -still retain some virtues which, let these terrible powers descend upon -us as they will, cannot be obliterated, that we shall be, till the end, -something better than our fate, something more kind than our destiny. - -I have but speculated widely concerning mouse mythology. Truth compels -me to state that it is to me, after all, but dim and debatable -territory. I can give you nothing authoritative as to their philosophy. -But this I know: they have maintained their gentleness, and are a -reproach to those whom I take to be their gods. - -All else is but speculation and possibility, but this is the evidence -of their lives. They are a meek and a forgiving people. Think only -what they endure at our hands, who justly make so great a matter of a -Belgium violated, and forget, in a god-like manner, when it so pleases -us, a violated Congo, or a divided Persia, or a Poland outraged and cut -to pieces, but not defended! How gentle, how consistent, how without -spite, ill-will, or grudge, they remain toward those unalterably -hostile to them! With what mildness not matched among us do they -conduct themselves! How they preserve their cheerfulness, their good -nature, their kindliness! Have you not heard with what gayety they -roll hickory-nuts away? Has your ear not witnessed their gigglings and -rejoicings? - -But their virtues go deeper than this. It may be told of them above -all, that, however provident in other matters, they store up no malice, -they preserve no hate. - -Once I lay ill in that house of which I have here written. I had been -very wretched, but my physician, seated now by my bed, promised me I -would soon be well. After that we spoke together, as we were wont to -do, of matters of a philosophic kind, then paused. At the bottom of -my bed, on the footboard, was a tiny mouse. No; it was not the same -adventurous spirit who had visited the giant's castle and drunk from -the plate of milk; this one was smaller and more slender. We did not -speak. He came down cautiously, very gently, to the coverlet, then -delicately up one fold, down another, pausing, listening, waiting to -take note; pausing, waiting, foot delicately lifted, until he had -got as far as the tray. He went very carefully about this, smelling -and inspecting it; yes, I would have sworn, inspecting. It had every -air of his wanting to know whether they had brought me the right and -well-cooked food. He tasted nothing save a tiny crumb on the tray -itself, and then, as though satisfied, was gone. - -I hoped for another visit, but waited for him in vain. He was a little -fellow, sleek of skin, with a black, beady eye, and very delicate -whiskers. I never saw a daintier foot. - - - - - BIRTHDAYS AND OTHER EGOTISMS - - - I - -Charles Lamb, in his "Grace Before Meat," protests--very endearingly, -it seems to me--against the custom of particular thankfulness for food. -He suspects that it had its origin in the "hunter state of man, when -dinners were precarious things, and a full meal was something more than -a common blessing; when a bellyful was a windfall and looked like a -special Providence.--"It is not otherwise easy to be understood," he -avers, "why the blessing of food--the act of eating--should have had -a particular expression of thanksgiving annexed to it, distinct from -that implied and silent gratitude with which we are expected to enter -upon the enjoyment of the many other various gifts and good things of -existence." - -I find myself like-minded and similarly protestant as to birthdays. I -cannot discover why the blessing of these should be hailed with any -very particular delight, distinct from that implied joy with which we -might be expected to welcome the many other various days of the year. - -It cannot be said that it was because I was abnormally shy throughout -my childhood that I found birthdays embarrassing, for I had no more -than the usual shyness of the average child. Moreover, my surroundings -and training gave me easy confidence in others and in myself. The -tragedies of my little girlhood were not exceptional: dead cats or -canaries, broken dolls, the inability to make myself always understood -by grown-ups, and certain moral and spiritual failures and cataclysms -known only to myself and what I took to be my fearfully disappointed -Maker. But barring these things, incident and customary, my early years -may be said to have been especially bright and reassuring. What was it, -then, which could have caused this early distrust of birthdays? - -If I am to trace the growth of what perhaps seems so unwarranted a -thing, I shall have to ask indulgence for what may appear to be some -of that very egotism I decry: I shall have to ask to be allowed a -discussion of several of my own birthdays, and their celebration when -I was a child. - -My fifth is the earliest that I remember. I had been promised a -cake with candles. Moreover, I had learned, by dint of the patience -of Mademoiselle Cinque, our queer old French governess, a little -French song, which I was to sing as my own share toward the festive -celebration. From the shelter of my father's arm, I was to sing it for -the rest to hear:-- - - "_Frè-re Jac-ques! Frè-re Jac-ques! - Dor-mez vous? Dor-mez vous? - Son-nez les matines; son-nez les matines; - Den, din, don!_" - -The cake, then, and the song were, from my point of view, the -extraordinarily important and sufficient events of the day--these and -the fact that on that day I would be five years old. It is certain that -I chattered about these things a great deal, and laid deep plans. But, -as it happened, it was neither the cake nor yet my ripe years that -were to make that day so memorable. I can close my eyes and go back -to it unerring, and find myself in the old surroundings, familiar yet -strange--strange that day with an unwonted, unaccountable strangeness. -Where was everybody? The house was, indeed, still--as still as the -February day outside, which lay quiet as death under a sheeted -whiteness that had been drawn over it silently in the night. - -I can seem to feel myself actually as little as I was then, and with -my doll under one arm going up the silent stairs, laboriously but -determinedly, pulling one leg resolutely after the other, up the -length of them, with the aid of one hand on the banister spindles, to -investigate for myself the strangeness. - -An older sister of mine, whom I loved dearly, had been ill, and for -several days past I had been cautioned to gentleness and had played -apart, so that quietness of a certain kind I understood. But the -quietness now was of a different order. In the upper hall some one -opened a door, at the patter of my investigating steps, I suppose; held -out a hand, stopped me in mid-search--stopped me and kissed me and told -me. My sister had died in the early hours of that day, before the dawn -was come. - -I do not remember who it was who told me. I remember, however, pushing -myself away from the embrace a little, demanding whether I might see -my mother. I was told with great gentleness that this was impossible. -My father? No; him, also, I might not see--not yet. All this sobered -and puzzled me. I reached for the next, and perhaps on that day even -dearer, possibility. Might I see the cook? Yes. - -That, for a time at least, righted matters, and restored my world to -me. I pattered down the stairs, down the lower hall, then more steps; -found the cook and demanded my birthday cake; and in place of the cake -received a most shocked look, delivered in the manner of unthinkable -rebuke. When I insisted, words came to her tongue, but not concerning -the cake. They dealt wholly with myself. They conveyed the impression -that I had done some dreadful and wicked thing. They did not explain. I -was expected to understand and repent. - -I remember feeling only thoroughly outraged at having my reasonable -request received in that manner. This was _my_ day, and, in honor of -it, there was to have been a birthday cake. As to larger matters, they -were extraneous to the subject. Of death, it should be remembered, I -had absolutely no knowledge. I loved my sister to the full bent of my -simple but ardent little nature, and she had been peculiarly devoted to -me; but ask some one who has never seen the stars or spoken with one -who has seen them, what he knows of the deep firmament: so much I knew -of that night which had fallen upon our house--nothing! - -What I did know presently--the information being conveyed to me in -unmistakable terms by the cook--was that my birthday celebration was -not to be; that it was not only jeopardized, it was clean wiped out, -by an event of immensely greater moment. I have little doubt I wept -sufficiently over my personal disappointment, and it may have taken -especial tact on the part of the gentle person upstairs to pacify me; -but by and by, with that easy forgetfulness which is the better part of -childhood, I must have relinquished all hope of appropriating that day -as my birthday, and accepted, in place of it, life as it was. - -My parents, who twice before had been summoned to bear acute -loss,--once when, before I was born, a little baby brother of mine -died, and once when the life of a little baby sister had flickered out -before the flame got well started,--tasted now of what must have been a -far deeper bitterness. She who had gone now was their "extreme hope." - -She was twenty-one when she died, and within a few months of her -graduation at the University. She was brilliant above any promise -given by the rest of us. I remember her very clearly--her sensitive -and beautiful face, her great delicacy of body, her ready, very gentle -laugh, and her unfailing understanding of all a little child's desires -and moods. She was exquisite, sensitive as a mimosa in a garden of -sturdier growth. Above us all she seemed to stretch delicate and -flowering branches, in which the wind moved more mysterious; and lovely -winged and songful things, that we could never have hoped to harbor, -seemed to have made their home in her. There was in her something rare -and unlooked for (I do not exaggerate), like the sudden call of a -thrush in the twilight, or delicate and darkling, as in starlight the -song of the nightingale. She was the one reckoned to be most like my -father, and by the generous, and, I think, even proud consent of all of -us, was by him the most beloved. She was as devoted as Cordelia, and -with lesser cause, bringing to the happiness and fullness of his life -what Lear knew only in his desolation. Since I have grown into what is -at least some slight realization of what her loss must have meant to my -father, I cannot touch without a trembling of tears the memory of his -taking me in his arms as he did, to look upon her as she lay, white and -final, delicate and done with life, there in the still and shuttered -room. - -But, incredible though it seems to my present knowledge, I had then no -feeling of sadness whatever. She might have slept. Nor did the days -that followed lay heavy hands upon me. There was a quiet stir and -hushed preparation toward what I did not know, and I was looked after -by neighbors or relatives to the extent of believing that a certain -pleasant distinction accrued to me. In all that followed, I know that I -contributed no sadness, only a child's frank observation in the face of -unusual behavior of its elders. - -But to return to the birthday. It was a remarkable one, you see, linked -with all these things, allied to such large sorrows--a sad one and -disappointing enough, you will say, for a little child. Yet I did not -find it so. I was, as I have told you, indignant as to the cake, and -disappointed, no doubt, that there was no happy and devoted family -now gathered to hear me sing my gay little song. But to offset these -there was a kind of reassurance in the day which I find it difficult -to describe very exactly. It was as if, at one and the same time, this -were and were not my birthday. It was my day by the calendar, but in -no other way. For a birthday is one whose dawn and sunset are one's -very own, a day when one's importance is admitted very gladly by a -certain intimate circle. But on no day of my life, I am sure, was I -of so little importance as then--a very inconsiderable little person, -playing alone in the sunshine and with my song unsung. Yet something -in that day shines now across the years, as distant as a star, as -silver, as satisfying. That something is not to be ascribed to any -one mere incident: it was compounded, no doubt, of the best of every -relationship which I felt that day for the first time. The extreme -gentleness of the grown-up of whom I have told you was one element; -for the rest, the companionship with my father in that strange still -moment in the shuttered room; the wordless love given me by my mother, -of a different sort from any she had given me before; the quietness, -giving me an impression as of remote spaces never dreamed of before; -and, over all, the sense of something strange and of a great dignity, -as of presences that moved, dread, but not unkindly. - -And the little song which I had practised so faithfully, and which -I was to have sung! Little as I was, and without ever being told, I -believe, as the day wore on, I must have had a dim realization of how -inconsiderable it was in that house where Death had taken up Life's -lute, and, brows bent above it, remembered the songs that Life had sung. - - - II - -The birthdays that followed on this one were curiously unsatisfying, -though they were celebrated appropriately enough, and with the fullest -respect for my importance. The anticipation and approach of them, -as nearly as I can remember, were clear joy. But the days, when -they arrived, overwhelmed me unaccountably. There was something -disproportionate in them, so that I was glad to escape from their too -personal glory to the more comfortable commonplace of the impersonal. -It was as if I guessed dimly, without being in the least aware, that -this display in my honor had in it something almost a little cheap--an -egotism (though I had not then so much as heard the word) which -contrasted unfavorably with the large and gracious and forgetful ways -of Life itself. - -I believe my embarrassment, my wholly unanalyzed sense of -disappointment and disproportion, may have been, on a very diminutive -scale, something akin to that which I am sure Joshua must have -experienced,--not, mind you, at the moment of his extraordinary -and flattering command,--no, but afterwards, afterwards, in the -disappointed watches of the night, when he must have reflected, with -disappointed amazement, that, if his senses deceived him not, he, -Joshua, had made the great luminary to stand still over Gibeon, and -the moon in the valley of Ajalon. Something, too, of what Joseph must -have experienced,--not in the enjoyable dream of his brothers' sheaves -bowing down to his sheaf, and the sun and the moon and the eleven -stars making their obeisance to him; nor in those long anticipatory -years, when his greatness was approaching, and the scroll of the future -hung loose in his hands for his remembering eye to read,--no, but in -the actual moment of overwhelming fulfillment, when, from Judah to -Benjamin, his brothers actually did bow down to him as ruler over all -those great granaries of Egypt, and, as we are told, his mature spirit -could not consent to endure so much, but "he sought where to weep, and -entered into his chamber and wept there." - -These are, I believe, no mere extraneous or personal experiences, but -are rather of the fine weave and fabric of humanity; and the uneasiness -I felt in my complacent little soul, I now believe to have been a -stirring of old things, of ancient memories under the moon, which -linked my little inconsiderable life, as they link all lives, to Egypt, -Nilus, Babylon, and the ages that are not. - -But lest this seem but vague argument and debatable territory, I would -like to speak of other childhood birthdays of my own which, it seems -to me, bring to the case clear evidence and important testimony. - -I have said that I was one of a large family. Happily we could not -make too important a matter of birthdays in our home; it would have -kept us celebrating most of the time, and would have tended to make -the whole year frivolous. For obvious reasons, then, birthday parties -were not many. But I remember one of a most lasting glory, which had -as its excuse that one of my sisters was fifteen upon the fifteenth. -My mother, who by mere warmth and gayety of sympathetic temperament -was forever on the watch for a reason to celebrate something, could -never have missed so valid an occasion. Furniture was therefore moved -out, ferns were moved in, smilax was twined about the chandeliers and -strung along the portraits, a linen dancing-cloth was stretched the -length of the three rooms. I can still feel the smooth glide of my -strapped slippers over it. Musicians were concealed in a bosky corner. -At the top of the stairs was a room known as the conservatory, whose -plants had been all winter in my keeping, their condition testifying -rather sadly to that fact. But now, by a lovely bounty, my sins of -negligence were all wiped out. Florists came bearing pots of flowers in -full blossom, and more of them and more of them. There were primroses -such as my own care could never have hoped for, and fuchsias and -candytuft and daffodils in full abundant bloom, even while the March -winds outside yet blew so chill. In the day or two just before the -fifteenth, how often I ran up into that little room and stood wordless -and satisfied among them, or stooped and touched my cheek to them! Oh, -the sweet heliotrope! oh, the mignonette! - -On that wonderful evening there bloomed among the flowers little lights -with dark red shades, and here and there comfortable seats were placed, -where you could hear the music at a muted distance. We children all -wore new gowns, my sister--she of the birthday--having of course, by -generous consent, the filmiest and the loveliest. - -That was a happy gathering if ever I saw one; and were I brought to -believe that a birthday celebration is ever an affair of unmixed -loveliness, I should perhaps be brought to say it concerning one for -fifteen on the fifteenth. Fourteen on the fourteenth lacks flavor, -is a little unripe, like fruit imported before the real season is -at hand. Sixteen on the sixteenth is a little over-mellow, a little -late; already childhood is gone, and youth, however lovely it may be -in the receiving of homage and favors, should already have its hands -outstretched rather to bestow them. But fifteen on the fifteenth! There -is a golden mean and a time for all things, as the Scriptures and the -fairy tales tell us. This was the time to dance, that King Solomon -talks about. Like the "Tuney Bear's" soup in the old tale, this party -to celebrate fifteen on the fifteenth seems to me as nearly right as -things can be contrived in a world of chance like our own. - -Through a maze of years and smilax I am still aware of the delicious -mystery of concealed music wailing forth the Sirens waltzes (no dances -were given then without the Sirens waltzes). I can see the children -moving about, gay and a little fluttery; and the grown-ups, quieter, -but still gay, who came to add the dignity and charm of their greeting -to the celebration; and I can see my sister,--fifteen that day by a -delectable distinction,--lithe and poised and gracious, and flushed -and very pretty, standing beside my mother, her eyes looking out like -stars under her dark hair, and her flying eyebrows that had just the -slight lift of a bird's wing; and my next younger sister and I, of a -less vivid coloring, no more than attendant sisters, and rich enough in -that, with our new sashes and our new delight in graciousness; and my -oldest sister of all, moving about with a lovely homage to us younger -ones, a gracious bending down of her life to ours for a little while. - -And every one, old and young, even some with gray hairs, came and bowed -over the hand of fifteen. That impressed me most. And some who were a -little more than guests--intimates--brought my sister gifts--one that -lies here now on the table as I write: a beautifully bound small copy -of Shakespeare's Sonnets, with the Dowden introduction. I did not know -it then for what it was. I only loved it for its red and gold binding; -but later, I grew up to it in my girlhood, as a young vine climbs at -last to a trellis that is placed above it and awaits its growing. On -its first leaf, in an exact hand, is written the date, my sister's -name, and that of the donor. Then follows this wish, suitable to the -day:-- - -"May each succeeding birthday find you as light-hearted as you are -to-day." - -Oh, time! time! that brings us our blunders and our tears! Was he so -inexperienced himself, he who brought her that? Or did he set that -down in a mere spirit of carnival and bravado, just because she _was_ -fifteen on the fifteenth, and nothing else was for the moment to be -admitted of any importance? - -I do not know how beautiful a birthday it was for her, but oh, for -me! How I loved it! How good it was to bring her my homage! How -glad and willing and eager I was that she should stand first! Play, -play, concealed musicians! I can still catch the plucking of the -harp-strings, and the sweet gay wailing of the violins, across the -years. - - - III - -One other birthday of my childhood stands out vividly in my memory: -that one on which I was twelve years old. My mother had taken us all -abroad, to widen our horizons and promote our education. After a -preliminary few months in England, we were established in Paris, in -a comfortable apartment in a little hotel which they tell me is still -there, and which went then, and still goes, by the name "Louis le -Grand"--nothing less. - -From the moment of our arrival, in January, I began to think even more -of my birthday than was my wont. This was, no doubt, largely due to the -fact that, at the distance of a few blocks one way or another, anything -in the world, so it seemed, could be bought. Shops! Shops! The rue des -Petits Champs, the avenue de l'Opéra, the boulevard des Italiens, were -full of them. The rue des Petits Champs had innumerable _boutiques_ -of all kinds--one given over to nothing, mind you, but honey and -gingerbread, like a shop in a fairy tale. If you went across the Place -Vendôme and followed the rue Castiglione, you came to the most romantic -shops of all, there under the arcades of the rue de Rivoli, beginning -with the most delectable pastry shop in the world on the very corner. -You could walk there on a sunny day, disdainful of the weather, with -the Gardens of the Tuileries opposite you, and feast your soul on the -varied displays. - -But when all was said, there was nothing that could be compared with -the shops of the rue de la Paix. Here you came at once into a richer -atmosphere. Here, mainly, were jewel-shops, displaying tiaras and -necklaces--"rings and things and fine array." Dolls and gingerbread -and honey were delightful--let me not seem to undervalue them; but to -stand looking on while a master of his profession leaned over a velvet -counter to show my mother brooches of jewels, and diamonds set in -rings, was to know from the standpoint of childhood some of the true -elevations of life. - -While my mother considered jewels set thus or so, my eyes roved, -speculative, among the rich wares. I had been brought up in too -old-fashioned a way to make any mistake as to my limitations. Well-bred -children, it was understood, wore neither rings nor ornaments, unless -one or two of a most positive simplicity. But watches there were, a -bewildering variety--for we were in the shop of one Victor Fleury, who, -among other distinctions that I doubt not he had, was "Horloger de la -Marine." You can imagine whether he had watches! I called my mother's -attention to the beauty of them, some very small ones in particular. -She looked at them, but made no comment. I deduced that it was not -well-bred for a little girl of twelve to wear a watch. - -My birthday dawned at last. I was kissed and wished many happy returns, -and was told that there was to be a dinner that night especially for -me, and that I would then receive my gifts. The hotel was a small -one. Dinner would be served for the hotel guests a trifle earlier, so -that they might the sooner leave the way clear for me. This had been -proposed by Madame Blet herself, the proprietress, and was intended no -doubt for a fine piece of hospitality. For me the strict hotel rules -were to be slackened; the fine democracy of hotel life, where one guest -is as good as another, if he but pay his account, was to be overruled -in my favor; for me the sun was to be advanced, and the moon set at a -new pace in the heavens! - -It was very grand in anticipation, I can assure you. To be twelve -was of itself no inconsiderable glory, but to be twelve under such -flattering conditions! I resolved to write an account of all this to my -two chums in America. Little girls they were, of my own age, but of a -less colored experience. They should have news of these matters. They -should be enlightened as to the importance of her with whom they had -commonly played visiting-lady and jackstones. - -Yet, as the evening drew near, old stirrings of uneasiness made -themselves felt dimly, dimly--something, I cannot tell you what, -moving on the face of undiscovered waters; a distrust, a shyness -and embarrassment that had nothing to do with timidity; a dim sense -of disproportion, I take it to have been, and of ancient human -questionings. - -We waited a little past the usual hour, and then there came a knock. -Joseph, our waiter, appeared and bowed gravely. "Mademoiselle, le dîner -est servi." - -My heart rose and fluttered. Presently we all went down the hall and -down the red carpeted stairs, I with my hand in my mother's. I can -still feel it resting there. Down the steps we went, my mother and -I--I with a little delighted pause and poise at each step, the rest -following like a court train. Twelve, and the youngest! Twelve, and the -well-beloved and proud! Blow, bugles, fine and high! and let those who -follow wear scarlet! What more could a little girl ask? - -I do not know; I cannot tell you. I only know that, though I would not -have admitted it for worlds at the time, when I found myself in the -midst of the happiness it was no longer happiness exactly. Not, you -understand, that I would have relinquished any of the splendor then. It -fascinated me, of course. - -Joseph held the door open; a fine heraldic gesture--the flat of his -palm against it, the fingers spread, his head flung back, his eyes -tributary ahead of him; his whole pose saying, "Stand back! She comes!" -Several of the other servants were there, grouped to see and to -attend. Madame Blet, in her black dress and perpetual shoulder-cape--a -sad-faced, very dignified woman, with the sadness set aside in my -honor for that evening and positive brightness shining from her kind -eyes,--stood there too, with welcoming glances. She had decorated the -table herself: there it was, a delight of soft lights and snowy linen, -wonderful possibilities and flowers. - -The dining-room was empty yet bright, as are the heavens for the -coming of the moon. Joseph stood, not back of my mother's chair, as -usual, but back of mine, to see me seated. Those faces, very beloved in -the soft light, were turned toward me, a little gay, and happy wholly -in my happiness. It was fulfillment of all the dreams of importance I -might ever have had. - -Then came the unfolding of the gifts. Any one who knew my mother must -know that, in the smallest of a nest of lovely little boxes,--just -enough of them to produce a certain curiosity and delay, to enhance -the final delight,--lay the most lovely little watch, silver-cased (to -render it more conformable to my age), and marked with the initials of -my name; while on its inner casing it bore proudly, as it still bears, -while it ticks here on my table, this inscription: _Victor Fleury, -Horloger de la Marine, 23, Rue de la Paix, 23, Paris_. - -After the other gifts were opened dinner was served, Joseph bringing -everything first to me, whose place it was usually to be served last of -all. There were special dishes, and the lamb chops had on particularly -fine cravats, and the _petits pois_ were so very _petits_ that it -seemed nearly a shame to eat them--like "good little Tootle-tum Teh" in -the ballad; and there were side dishes, very special, for the occasion. - -Then, as a crowning glory, a dessert not baked in a hotel oven at -all; no cabinet pudding of frequent occurrence, nothing that hinted -of rice or raisins; no, but something fetched particularly from the -_pâtisserie_. By the look of it, it might have been, and probably -was, concocted by a pastry cook in full regalia, in that superlative -_pâtisserie_ on the rue de Rivoli, opposite the Louvre. - -It was a tower made of a hard brown candy flecked with chopped nuts. -It had a door in it, and windows with embrasures at the tops to make -you think of King Arthur and his knights. It was decorated on its -platter by saccharine approaches. The tower was open at the top and -filled with a flavored whipped cream. Madame Blet, who had, I doubt -not, been directing forces from the kitchen, stood now in the doorway -beaming like another candle. This, which had the added flavor of being -a surprise even to my mother, was Madame Blet's gift to the little -American mademoiselle. Once more, on a most diminutive scale, France -and America were exchanging courtesies. - -But meanwhile,--oh, inevitable!--Joseph, that devoted ambassador, -beaming unfeigned pride in the behavior of his country, held the tower -at my left hand. I was to serve myself first. But how--I ask the -heavens to answer me this!--how is one to serve one's self to a feudal -tower? One desperate glance at my mother,--the quick dart of an alarmed -swallow,--then I took up the large spoon and laid it hesitatingly -against the tower's side. But the tower was nearly as hard as the rock -it represented. The approaches, also, were of one piece. With a mere -dessert spoon, what can be done as to a portcullis! Shall you, do you -think, carry off a drawbridge with a slight silver instrument to be -held in one hand? I was not meeting the emergency. I was not equal to -the occasion. This I knew, with quick intolerable shame. What was to -be done? At last, after what seemed to me ages, I accepted the only -possibility. I scooped from the top of the tower some of the fluffy -whipped cream, put this on my plate and the spoon back among the -approaches; and the tower, proud, unspoiled, unwon, was carried on to -the others, who served themselves, as I had done; or, when the cream -was at last too low for them to reach, suffered Joseph to scoop it out -for them and put it on their plates. - -I sat tasting the whipped cream on the end of my spoon, and oh, it was -insipid, that faint froth; not of itself, but by contrast with what I -would have wished--a portcullis at the very least. When we left the -dining-room, it still stood solid and invulnerable, that so desirable -tower, a delusion to the palate, a snare to the understanding, a subtle -but strong disappointment to the heart! Now that I look back on it, it -seems like an unintended symbol, an uninterpreted writing on the wall -of my childhood. - -These things called birthdays seemed for me to have been weighed that -night in subtle scales, and found wanting. Froth on the tip of your -spoon! The real anticipated glory, a chimera; the dreamed-of and -so-much-desired happiness, a thing which could not be won, a thing left -untouched while one slipped away unsatisfied, disappointed, into the -later years. - -No doubt I passed on to later years that very evening as I went out of -the lighted dining-room; for more and more this centralizing of power -and importance, even though it were for one day of the year only, -became to me incongruous and out of the real order of life. As I began -to gauge values and proportions better, it came to seem almost a gentle -buffoonery. The mild distrust I had felt for birthdays in my little -girlhood was beginning to take on the form of positive distaste. - -Doubtless I was beginning to have a larger vision of life. For one -thing, I had meanwhile seen dawns rise over the Alps, and day depart -from the fruitful purple valleys to ascend the heights, beautiful, like -the feet of those upon the mountains, who bring tidings of peace; and -had watched them pause in their glory for a last look upon the work of -their hands before going forth forever beyond the world's edge. And I -had stood since then by the incredible sounding sea; I had known that -sense of the waters in the hollow of His hand, and watched the night -bend like the face of infinity over it. - - - IV - -Out of the birthdays I have known, I have recorded but three--the three -made memorable, not so much by material as by spiritual gifts, and by -some vision of life itself vouchsafed me. It was as if, with a touch -upon my hand, Life summoned me to note, even though in some unrealized -way, when I was but a child of five, how inconsiderable may be these -our little personal joys and expectations and vanities of song, even -as were mine, in the face of the large solemnities and griefs and -remembered joys with which, that day, our home was visited. And on that -second birthday, it was as if Life bade me note how satisfying to the -heart is the gift of lovely and willing service. Not mine the day at -all; but I can remember, all woven in with the ravishing music of harps -and violins, a sense of my almost thrilled delight in the service that -others brought my sister, in whose honor we were glad, and a high joy -in my own eager and devoted homage. Dimly seen in all this, though I -could not have named it to you then, was a larger vision, no doubt, of -this same truth translated into lovelier and more solemn meaning; as -if in those lighted rooms, gay with their smilax and their laughter, -Life had suddenly laid a touch on my shoulder, and with her finger on -her lips had bade me note how sweet is the odor of spikenard, and how -thrillingly beautiful are the broken pieces of alabaster. - -And the third birthday? Perhaps it was then that Life put into my hand -a better gift than any--that larger knowledge, which all the coming -years were to corroborate, that to have special gifts and benefits for -one's self which are not for others, let the glamour be what it may, is -after all but froth and disappointment; and that only the blending of -one's life with other lives can ever really satisfy the heart. - -Since then I have seen birthdays of my own and others not a few, and -have looked on at those of many a child. Witnessing these, I have -sometimes been troubled to note how--materialists ourselves--we insist -upon making materialists of our children also. For who has not beheld -a little lad, triumphant as Jack Horner, in the midst of his birthday -packages, or a little Midas, among his heaped-up Christmas toys, -appropriating to himself, with our delighted consent, the Other Child's -birthday also. With what shameful abundance of material gifts do we -heap the little eager hands; but how few, how few, for the young and -growing spirit! - -Yet it is to be noted hopefully that our too personal celebrations are -apt to fall away, as it were of themselves, in our later years; and -doubtless with them many of our central egotisms, life correcting with -a patient hand our dull and ofttimes willful behavior. I cannot be -persuaded that it is solely a sensitiveness to the loss of youth that -prompts us to waive or disregard those birthdays which fall upon the -nether side of twenty. Our neglect of them is more often, I like to -believe, in the order of a gentle disavowal of old egotisms, as life -ripens and takes on in our regard an aspect larger and less personal; -even as to a nation or a religion which progresses, egotism and special -privilege become increasingly distasteful, and the idea of a chosen -people more and more intolerable to the pure in heart, as the world -matures. - -Mature life, like the mature heart, cannot endure a sovereignty -over its brethren, but longs for the old original levels; sheds its -singleness and its superiorities. We become, God be thanked, less -considerable under the moon as time advances; more of a piece with -life; better blended with the days; a part of all dawns and sunsets--we -who before had but one of each to our credit. - -"I own that I am disposed to say grace upon twenty other occasions -in the course of a day besides my dinner," says Lamb. "I want a -form for setting out upon a pleasant walk, for a moonlight ramble, -for a friendly meeting, or a solved problem. Why have we none for -books, those spiritual repasts--a grace before Milton--a grace before -Shakespeare--a devotional exercise proper to be said before reading the -'Fairy Queen'?" - -I own also to a disposition to celebrate many birthdays rather than -one, and am inclined to be thankful on twenty other occasions in the -course of the year besides that one which falls so personally for -me--even if so negligible--on a certain February morning. I confess -to a love of calendars that sometimes give me two or three great -names to celebrate in a single day; nor am I ashamed to admit that -the sun rises for me the statelier if it be upon an anniversary which -commemorates Camoens or Michael Angelo. It has long been my habit, to -celebrate quietly in my heart, when all the birds are singing, that day -in April when, it is said,--uncertainly enough,--Shakespeare came to -the earth; nor have I failed often to note that other day also, when, -impartially in the same April weather, it is said, he--and Cervantes on -the same day with him--departed from it. - -And if such remembrances as these may seem still to tend toward -egotism, yet I think that claim can hardly be proved valid. For -these,--celebrate them as personally as we may,--these are not men of -one season but of all time, blended with all days, impartially a part -of all weathers, and of the very fibre and lives of most of us; and, -even though we should forget them, yet memorably forgotten in those -unforgettable companionships that they have bestowed upon us. These are -our stars and moons, differing in glory one from another, with which, -in the midst of our mortality, we answer, not ignobly, the shining -challenge of the stars; these are they innumerable whose beauties and -nobilities, coupled with our own inconsiderable lives, lend at last -some glory to our days so frail, so ephemeral. - -As a child, I used to love to count the stars, beginning with the very -first one that pricked its way through the twilit blue, and by a pretty -conceit always called that first one my own, and put a most personal -wish upon it. For a long time it always stood single in the heavens, -and then another here or there, and there, and there, appeared, which -I counted with delight. But always the moment came when the count was -irretrievably lost; when stars bloomed, not by ones and twos, but by -myriads, no more to be counted than the unnumbered sands of the sea; -and over me was stretched the jeweled beauty of the infinite heavens, -just breathing with the breathing of the night; and I, looking up -glorified into that beauty, a little inconsiderable child, standing -beside the soft dark shadow of the cypresses. - - - THE END - - - - - Transcriber's Notes - -Errors in punctuation have been fixed. - -Page 172: "Superflous precaution" changed to "Superfluous precaution" - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE AND -OTHER ESSAYS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Adventures in indigence and other essays</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Laura Spencer Portor</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 27, 2023 [eBook #69882]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: hekula03 and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from images made available by the HathiTrust Digital Library.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE AND OTHER ESSAYS ***</div> - - - - -<h1><span class="big">Adventures in Indigence</span><br> -<span class="small">and</span> -Other Essays</h1> - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="center"><span class="xbig"> -ADVENTURES IN<br> -INDIGENCE</span><br> -<br> -<span class="small">AND</span><br> -<br><span class="big"> -OTHER ESSAYS</span><br> -</p> -<p class="center p2"> -BY<br> -LAURA SPENCER PORTOR<br> -</p> -<p class="center p2"><span class="figcenter" id="img001"> -<img src="images/001.jpg" class="w10" alt="Decorative image"> -</span></p> -<p class="center p4"><span class="big"> -The Atlantic Monthly Press</span><br> -Boston<br> -</p> - -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> - - -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by</span><br> -<span class="smcap">The Atlantic Monthly Press, Inc.</span><br> -<br> -<span class="smcap">All Rights Reserved</span><br> -</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr><td colspan="3"> -<a href="#ADVENTURES_IN_INDIGENCE"><span class="smcap">Adventures in Indigence</span></a></td> -</tr><tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#I">I.</a></td><td> -<a href="#I">Musgrove</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#II">II.</a></td><td> -<a href="#II">The Harp and the Violin</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#III">III.</a></td><td> -<a href="#III">Major Lobley</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#IV">IV.</a></td><td> -<a href="#IV">Mamie Faffelfinger</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#V">V.</a></td><td> -<a href="#V">The Lure of the "Chiffoneer"</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#VI">VI.</a></td><td> -<a href="#VI">Margaret</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#VII">VII.</a></td><td> -<a href="#VII">Margharetta</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#VIII">VIII.</a></td><td> -<a href="#VIII">The Powers of the Poor</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#IX">IX.</a></td><td> -<a href="#IX">Horatio</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="3"> -<a href="#GUESTS"><span class="smcap">Guests</span></a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#G_I">I.</a></td><td> -<a href="#G_I">Relations of the Spirit</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_129">129</a></td></tr> -<tr><td class="tdr"> -<a href="#G_II">II.</a></td><td> -<a href="#G_II">Kith and Kin</a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_155">155</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2"> -<a href="#THE_DISAPPOINTMENTS_AND_VICISSITUDES_OF_MICE"><span class="smcap">The Disappointments and Vicissitudes of Mice</span></a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_183">183</a></td></tr> -<tr><td colspan="2"> -<a href="#BIRTHDAYS_AND_OTHER_EGOTISMS"><span class="smcap">Birthdays and Other Egotisms</span></a></td> -<td class="tdr page"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> -</table> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="PREFACE">PREFACE</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It is doubtful whether the present volume should be looked on as a -collection of essays, or might not more aptly be called a book of -personal experience. The true essayist offers you fewer doubts and -peradventures. He comes with clear philosophies, to which he means -to convert you. He is well armed for controversy. He will cite you -Scripture, the Decalogue, and the statutes. You will find it difficult -to pick a flaw in his argument. Never hope to prove him wrong! He -leaves no man reasonable choice but to agree with him. He is a sworn -advocate. His essay is his brief. If he be a man of force, his cause -is won before the jurymen take their places. Be sure he will prove his -point before any just judge. The case, it seems when you come to think -upon it later, might almost have gone by default, so little is there -any argument left you.</p> - -<p>The papers in the present volume are not so forethought, nor are they -designed to be so convincing. There is more memory than doctrine in -them; more experience than authority,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</span> theology, or faith. In them -will be found little that is taught by the schools, upheld by the -courts, or propounded by the Fathers. Perhaps they contain not so much -what I believe, as what, because of persistent personal observation -and testing and proving, of my own, I have been at last unable to -disbelieve. These papers, in short, deal with none of the usual and -traditional theories of life, but rather with life as I have intimately -found it and lived it.</p> - -<p>It is one thing to uphold loyally an ancient faith which has from -the beginning been taught one, or to which one has, on the respected -authority of others, been converted; it is a wholly other thing to -uphold sincerely, and for what it may be worth, a belief which one has -but evolved and tested and proven for one's self. God forbid it should -be upheld arrogantly! For, as the first method is calculated to produce -devout believers, zealous to convert those whose beliefs differ from -their own, so does the other tend, rather, to make devout observers; -and as the passionate believer is to the last unable to understand how -others could believe differently than he does; the devout observer is -eager to mark where and how the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span> observations of others differ from his -own, or, it may be, happily coincide with them. He has a persistent -desire to know whether, given the same experience and facts, others -will approve of his findings.</p> - -<p>It is for this reason, no doubt, that I find myself wondering whether -the reader of this volume has discovered, as I have,—all tradition, -teaching, theory, and articles of faith to the contrary,—indisputable -evidence of the mysterious and imponderable powers of the poor. Has -Life the Educator revealed herself to another in such a fashion -as to me? Have you who read—you also—a secret belief in certain -unmistakable superiorities hidden away in the unwritten records and the -unadministered laws of lesser creatures than ourselves? Have you, like -myself, lost birthdays irretrievably, and found in their place that -larger nativity writ in a more universal horoscope?</p> - -<p>Though these papers do not claim to be more than personal records -of experience and adventure and consequent belief, yet there may be -those who will decry the persistent personality, who will condemn the -seeming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span> egotism. To these there is recommended—perhaps a little -wistfully—the paper, toward the last, which attempts to deal with this -rather widespread failing.</p> - -<p class="right"> -L. S. P.<br> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="ADVENTURES_IN_INDIGENCE">ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE</h2> -</div> - - -<h3 id="I">I<br> <span class="small">MUSGROVE</span></h3> - -<p>Both Stevenson and Lamb, writing of "Beggars," fall into what I take to -be a grave misapprehension. They both write a defense, and constitute -themselves advocates. Lamb brilliantly solicits our pity for these -"pensioners on our bounty"; Stevenson, though he characteristically -makes himself comrade and brother of his client, and presents the -"humbuggery" of the accused as a legitimate art, nevertheless thinks -himself but too evidently of a higher order, and the better gentleman -of the two. Here, and it would seem in spite of himself, are patronage -and condescension.</p> - -<p>I own that such an attitude shocks me and makes me apprehensive. Were -I superstitious, of a certain creed, I should cross myself to ward off -calamity; or were I a Greek of the ancient times, I should certainly -pour a propitiatory libation to Hermes, god of wayfarers, thieves, -vagabonds, mendicants, and the like.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span></p> - -<p>"Poor wretches," indeed! "Pensioners," they! "Ragamuffins! humbugs!" -They, with their occult powers! <i>They</i>, mind you, needing our -advocacy! I could indeed bear a different testimony.</p> - -<p>I think I began first to know the power of the poor, and to fall under -their sway, when I was certainly not more than six years old. It must -have been about then that I was learning to sew. This seems to have -been a profession to which I was so temperamentally disinclined that my -mother, to sweeten the task, was wont during the performance of it to -read to me. While I sat on a hassock at her feet scooping an unwilling -perpendicular needle in and out of difficult hems, my mother would read -from one of many little chap-books and children's tracts, which were -kept commonly in a flat wicker darning-basket in her wardrobe; little -paper books held over from her own and her mother's childhood. They -were illustrated with quaint woodcuts, and the covers of them were -colored. I was allowed to choose which one was to be read.</p> - -<p>One day—"because the time was ripe," I suppose—I selected a little -petunia-colored<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> one, outwardly very pleasing to my fancy. It contained -the story and the pictures of a miserable beggar and a haughty and -unfeeling little girl. He was in rags, and reclined, from feebleness -I fancy, on the pavement; she walked proudly in a full-skirted dress, -strapped slippers, and pantalets. She wore a dipping leghorn with -streamers. Just over this she carried a most proud parasol; just under -it a nose aristocratically, it may even be said unduly, high in the air.</p> - -<p>I think I need not dwell on the tale, save to say that it was one of -the genus known as "moral." There was only one ending possible to the -story: the triumph of humility, the downfall of pride and prosperity; -swift and awful retribution falling upon her of the leghorn and -pantalets. I believe they allowed her in the last picture a pallet of -straw, a ragged petticoat, bare feet, clasped hands, and a prayerful -reconciliation with her Maker. The story was rendered distinctly -poignant for me by the fact that I possessed a parasol of pink -"pinked silk," which was held on Sundays and certain other occasions -proudly—it also—over a leghorn with streamers which dipped<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> back -and front exactly as did the little girl's in the story. But never, -never,—once I had made the acquaintance of that story,—was my nose -carried haughtily under it, when by chance I sighted one of that race -so numerous and so ancient, so well known and so little known to us -all. From that day I began to know the power of the poor.</p> - -<p>I can remember delectable candies that I did not buy, delicious soft -cocoanut sticks that I never tasted, joys that I relinquished, hopes -that I deferred, for the questionable but tyrannous comfort of a penny -in an alien tin cup, and the inevitable "God bless you, little lady!" -which, remembering her of the leghorn and pantalets, I knew to be of -necessity more desirable than the delights I forewent.</p> - -<p>There was an old blind man there in my home town, whom I remember -very keenly. He used to go up and down, he and his dog, in front of -the only caravansary the place boasted,—the Hotel Latonia,—tap-tap, -tap-tapping. He had the peculiar stiff, hesitating walk of the blind, -the strange expectant upward tilt of the face. He wore across his -shoulder a strap on which was fastened a little tin cup.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p> - -<p>I used to see the drummers and leisurely men of a certain order, -their chairs tilted back against the hotel wall, their heels in the -chair-rungs, their hats on the back of their heads, their thumbs in -their arm-holes, their cigars tilted indifferently to heaven, and they -even cracking their jokes and slapping their knees and roaring with -laughter, or perhaps yawning, perfectly unaware of the blind man, it -seemed, while he passed by slowly, tap-tap, tap-tapping.</p> - -<p>But it was never thus with me. His cane tapped, not only on the -pavement, but directly on my heart. You could have heard it, had you -put your ear there. It may have seemed that his eyes were turned to the -sky. That was but a kind of physical delusion. I knew better. In some -occult way they were searching me out and finding me. I can give you no -idea of the command of the thing. Perhaps I have no need to. Your own -childhood—it is not improbable—may have been under a similar dominion.</p> - -<p>If I thought to experiment and withhold my penny, I might escape the -blind man for a while: I might elude him, for instance, while<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> the -other members of the family and the guests in that old home of my -childhood were gay and talkative at the supper-table; or afterward, -when laughter and song drowned the lesser sounds; or while I stood safe -in the loved shelter of my father's arm, listening to conversations -I enjoyed, even though I could not understand them; or while, in the -more intimate evenings, he took his flute from its case, screwed its -wonderful parts together, and, his fingers rising and falling with -magic and precision on the joined wood and ivory, played "Mary of -Argyll" until I too heard the mavis singing. But later, later, when -I lay alone in my bed in the nursery in the moonlight, or, if it -were winter, in the waning firelight and the creeping shadows, then, -<i>then</i> there came up the stairs and through the rooms the sound of -the blind man's cane, tap-tap, tap-tapping. He had come for his penny. -And the next time I saw him, with a chastened spirit and a sense of -escape I gave him two.</p> - -<p>But my own childish subserviency to the poor did not give me so great -a sense of their power as my mother's relation to them. She, it seems, -was perpetually at their service. Let<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> them but raise a hand indicating -their need ever so slightly, and she moved in quick obedience, although -it seemed she too must sometimes have wearied of such service. Guests -were many and frequent in that old home, as I have elsewhere told; but -these came either by announcement or by invitation; the poor, on the -contrary, came unasked, unannounced, and exactly when they chose, as -by royal prerogative. Indeed, many a time I have seen my mother excuse -herself to a guest, to wait sympathetically upon a man or a woman with -a basket,—it might be the queen of the gypsies, with vivid, memorable -face; or the Wandering Jew in the very flesh; or it might be Kathleen -ni Houlihan herself, all Erin looking out, haunting you, from her -tragic old eyes,—offering soap or laces at exorbitant prices, or other -less useful wares, tendered for sale and excuse at the kitchen door.</p> - -<p>There was one whom I especially remember—Musgrove. He was a fine -marquis of a man, was Musgrove, as slender as a fiddle and with as -neat a waist. He used to come to the front door and sit by the old -hall clock, waiting my mother's pleasure. He had a wife and seven -or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> nine children, and a marvelous multiplicity of woes. There was a -generosity and spaciousness about the calamities of Musgrove—something -mythopœic, promethean. Tragedies befell him with consistent abundance. -Four or five of the seven or nine had broken their arms, almost put -out their eyes, or had just escaped by a hair's breadth from permanent -blanket-mortgage disability when the floor of the cottage they lived -in fell through; or they had been all but carried off wholesale by -measles. Once all nine, as I remember it, were poisoned <i>en gros</i> -by Sunday-school-picnic ice-cream, which left the children of others -untouched. Only myths were comparable. Niobe alone, and she not -altogether successfully, could have matched calamities with him.</p> - -<p>By and by Time itself, I think, wearied of Musgrove. I think my -mother, sympathetic as she was, must have come to think the arrows of -outrageous fortune were falling far too thick for likelihood, even on -so shining a mark as Musgrove. She came from interviews with him with a -kind of gentle weariness. But Musgrove, I am very sure, had an eye for -the drama. He knew his exits and his entrances,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> and I have reason to -believe no shade of feeling in my mother's face was lost upon him.</p> - -<p>He came one day to say good-bye, his shabbiness heightened, but -brightened also, by a red cravat. It was safe now, no doubt, to allow -himself this gayety. He knew that my mother would be glad to hear that, -through the kindness of someone nearly as kind as herself, he had been -able to obtain a position in a large city. He lacked but the money to -move. After that—prosperity would be his.</p> - -<p>My mother did not deny him his chance, Musgrove himself, you see, -having contrived it so that the chance was not without a certain -advantage and privilege for her. So he made his fine bow, and he and -his fine marquis manners were gone.</p> - -<p>I think my mother must have missed him. I know I did. The other -pensioners came as regularly as ever—the gypsy with her grimy laces; -the Jew with his tins and soap; rheumatic darkies by the dozen, frankly -empty-handed; the little girl with the thin legs and with the black -shawl pinned over her head and draped down over the shy and empty -basket on her arm; and the old German inventor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> who always brought the -tragedy of old and outworn hopes along with some new invention; or, -at infrequent intervals, for a touch of color, there came an Italian -organ-grinder, and—if the gods were good—a monkey. But there were -times when I would have exchanged them all to see Musgrove again, with -his fine promethean show of endurance, his incomparable assortment of -unthinkable calamities.</p> - -<p>Another, it is true, came in his place, but he was of a wholly -different type. He had not the old free manner of Musgrove, yet he was -strangely appealing, too. He wore a beard and was stooped and spent and -submissive, a man broken by fate. He did not complain. He did not wait -rather grandly by the hall clock as Musgrove had done; no, but in the -kitchen, about breakfast-time, biding the cook's not always cordial -pleasure.</p> - -<p>In spite of my mother's sympathy,—which should certainly have made -amends for any lack of it in the cook,—he had a way of slipping in and -out with a little shrinking movement of his body, like the hound that -does the same to escape a blow. One would have said that body and soul -flinched. He limped stiffly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> and seemed always to have come a little -dazed from far countries.</p> - -<p>My mother took even a very keen interest in him. This man was more -difficult to reach, but by that very token seemed no doubt the more -worthy. He told no wonderful tales to tax your credulity. His very -reticence was moving and hard to endure; the death of nine or seven -children would have been less sad. He kept coming for quite a long -time. Then the day dawned—a day quite like any other, I suppose, -though it should have been dark with cloudy portent—when, by some -slight misstep, some trifling but old reference on his part when his -mind was off its guard, my mother discovered, as by a sudden lightning -flash, that this <i>was</i> Musgrove.</p> - -<p>I have known some dramatic moments in my life, but I would not put this -low on the list.</p> - -<p>He seemed to know for an intense arrested instant that he had spoken -a false line, that he had for a miserable moment forgotten his part. -He staggered into it again with what I know now was fine courage, and -managed in perfect character to get away. I can still see him as he -departed, bent and submissive (having most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> meekly thanked my mother), -and not forgetting to limp stiffly, going along under the falling -leaves of the grape-arbor, in the autumn sunshine, the shadows of the -stripped vines making a strange and moving pattern on his old coat as -he went; nor have I failed to see him in all the years since, thus -departing,—inevitably, irretrievably,—and have found my heart going -many a time along with him.</p> - -<p>My mother, and I with my hand in hers, went back into the quiet -comfortable rooms of that old house. But if you suppose we went in -any spirit of ascendency, or righteous indignation, or justification, -you are indeed mistaken. To be in the right is such an easy, such a -pleasant thing; what is difficult and must be tragically difficult -to endure is to be artistically, tragically in the wrong. I think it -likely that my mother remembered Musgrove, as I have done, through all -the years, a little as a survivor might remember one who had gone down -before his eyes. It is thus, you see, that Musgrove, bent and always -departing, still continues to sway others with his strange powers, as -it is fitting, no doubt, that one of his rare genius should do.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="II">II<br> <span class="small">THE HARP AND THE VIOLIN</span></h3></div> - - -<p>Besides those that I have mentioned, there were two especially of that -ancient race whose fortunes were bound in with my early memories.</p> - -<p>It was upon a day when I was a little more than fourteen that I came to -know them. I was alone at home, save for the maids in the house, and -was reading at my ease, as I loved to do, in that old verandah that -fronted the south. I remember well that the book I read was "Rasselas, -or The Happy Valley."</p> - -<p>The verandah was deep and long. Beside it ran a brick pavement, -delightful in color and texture. Over this, joining the verandah, there -curved a latticed grape-arbor of most gracious lines, on which grew, -in lovely profusion, a wistaria, a catawba grape-vine, moonflower, and -traveler's-joy. When the wistaria, like a spendthrift, had lavished -all its purple blossoms, and there were left but green leaves in its -treasury, then the grape bloom lifted its fragrance; and when this was -spent, the traveler's-joy, as though it had foreseen and saved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> for -the event, flung forth its abundance; and when at last its every petal -had fallen and nothing more remained,—for the moonflower had its own -prejudice, persistently refused the demands of the sun, and would open -its riches only to the moon and the night moths,—then the early autumn -sun, feeling through the thinning leaves, hardly expectant, would come -upon that best treasure of all, stored long, against this time, in the -reddening clusters of the grapes.</p> - -<p>All these things lent I cannot say what charm inexhaustible to that -old verandah, and made it a place of abiding romance and delight. The -pattern of the sunshine and of the moonlight on the floor of it, as -they fell through the lattice and the leaves, are things that still -haunt my memory with the sense of a lovely security, of a generous -abundance, and, as it were, of the lavish inexhaustible liberality of -life itself.</p> - -<p>There, secure against interruption, I read and pondered, with the -imaginative ponderings of fourteen, the strange longings of that Prince -who should have been so content in the Happy Valley.</p> - -<p>As I read, I was aware of a strange intrusion:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> a bent form in baggy -trousers and rusty coat stooped under the weight of an old and worn -harp; behind him, bent also, but by no visible burden, an old man with -a violin entered the gateway of the arbor. They came very slowly and -deliberately, yet without pause or uncertainty. They did not introduce -themselves, being, I knew instantly, quite above such plebeian need. -They asked no permission, nor solicited any tolerance. They spoke not -a word. It was as if they had long outgrown the need of such earthly -trivialities.</p> - -<p>He of the rusty coat and baggy trousers, having taken a slow look at -the place around,—as though to establish in his mind some mysterious -identity,—let the harp slip from his shoulders to the brick pavement, -adjusted it there very deliberately, and proceeded to pluck one or two -of its strings with testing fingers, still looking around carefully all -the while; then he adjusted his camp-stool, seated himself, pulled the -worn, yet delicate and feminine instrument toward him, so that her body -lay against his shoulder, and put his hands in position to play.</p> - -<p>The old violin, more lordly, made no concession<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> whatever to harmony; -he tuned or touched not a string, but with a really kingly gesture put -his instrument in the worn hollow of his shoulder, laid his head and -cheek over against it, as though lending his whole soul to listen, -raised the bow, held it for an immortal instant over the strings, -and then drew out a long preliminary note—on, on, on, to the very -quivering tip of the bow.</p> - -<p>My education had not been neglected as to music. There had always been -much of it in my home, where flute and voice and harp and violin and -piano spoke often, and my home town was near a great musical centre, -where, young as I was, I had heard the best that was to be heard. Had I -been in a critical mood, I should have noted how badly the long-drawn -note was drawn; I can hear still how excruciating it was, how horribly -it squawked; but rendered solemn, as I was, by the strangeness of their -appearance and their presence, and dimly, dimly aware of their immortal -powers, it thrilled me more than I remember those of Sarasate or Ysaye -to have done.</p> - -<p>The long note at an end, without so much as a consultation of the -eyes, they then began.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> With never a word, only with thrilling tones -horribly off the key, the violin spoke, say rather wrung its hands and -wailed,—"Oh, don't you remember"—("Oh, yes; I remember!" throbbed and -sobbed the harp)—"Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?"</p> - -<p>They played it all through, even to what must have been the "slab of -granite so gray," varying all the while from one half to one tone off -the key, the old violin lending his ear as attentively all the while to -the voice of his instrument as if she spoke with the tongues of angels; -his dim veiled eyes fixed on incalculable distances, like those of an -eagle in captivity.</p> - -<p>The old harp, on the contrary, kept his eyes lowered stubbornly on the -vibrating strings; and the harp, as he smote, quivered like some human -thing struck upon its remembering heart. From the painfully reminiscent -song they leaped without pause into that second most wailful melody in -the world,—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah, I have sighed to rest me,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Deep in the quiet grave,—</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="p0">and played that on to the end also.</p> - -<p>But though to the outward eye these visitors<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> played upon the harp -and violin, how much more indeed did they play upon me! Young, and -sensitive, and as yet unsounded, how, with dim compelling fingers -they searched and found and struck and drew from me emotions I had -never known! Old and worn and bowed with life, and weather-beaten of -the world, they played there in the mottled sunlight of that romantic -arbor, as might Ulysses have stood mistaken and unhonored by those who -had but heard of Troy. There was to me something suddenly overwhelming -in the situation. Oh, who was I, to enjoy so much, in such security; to -feast upon plenty, and to know the generous liberality of life, while -these, doomed to the duress of the gods, went through the world, day -after day, half-starved, playing miserable memorable music fearfully -off the key!</p> - -<p>Perhaps I was intense; certainly I was young; and as certainly I had -all the eager vivid imagination of youth. Moreover, this was, it should -not be overlooked, my very first adventure, all my own, with the poor; -my first piece of entirely independent service to those mysterious -powers. Meanwhile, the divinities<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> in disguise played on—a wild, -boisterous tune it was now, set to a rollicking measure and infinitely -more sad for that than the sighs of "Trovatore," or than sweet Alice -under the stone. Bent they seemed on sounding every stop. You may think -they were but a grimy pair, dull and squalid; probably embittered. -I can only tell you that they invoked for me that day, as with the -mournful powers of the Sibyl of Cumæ, love and life and death, and joy -irrevocable, and memory—these they called up to pass before me, and -bade them as they went, for one summoning moment, to reveal their faces -to me.</p> - -<p>Presently, I do not know with what dark thoughts, these two would have -departed, but I remembered and begged them to stay. I flew upstairs and -found my purse, and emptied it, and gave them what it held. They took -it without thanks, merely as lawful tribute exacted. Again they would -have departed, but I begged them still to remain. Should this ancient -Zeus and Hermes be allowed to depart without bread? I disappeared into -the house with a beating heart. I found bread and milk and meat. I -brought these and set them out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> for them, and drew chairs for them. All -this, too, they took for granted, with some shrewd glances at me; they -shuffled their feet about under the table, bent low to their plates -like hungry men, and shoveled their food into their mouths dexterously -with their knives, the better, no doubt, to disguise their divinity.</p> - -<p>While they ate, I went, with a heart troubled yet high, and gathered -for them grapes that hung immortally lovely in the sun. These too they -ate, with a more manifest pleasure, cleaning the bunches down to the -stems; and when they had made away with all they could, slipped the -remaining clusters in their pockets against a less hospitable occasion.</p> - -<p>I remember that then they went and left me standing there in a world of -dreams and speculation and adventure. They had gone as they had come -but me they left forever changed. As they departed, certain doors in -my young days swung and closed mysteriously. For me the channels of -life were permanently deepened. With them had departed my complacent, -inexperienced attitude of mind; with them had fared forth the care-free -child that I had been. This adventure all my own, conducted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> in my own -manner, had initiated me into vast possibilities, the more impressive -because but dimly seen. On me had depended for a little while these two -of God knows what ancient descent. I too had begun to know and taste -life. I too would begin to count my memories. Oh, strange new world! -And with strange people in it!</p> - -<p>On this world, enter, upper left stage, Leila the maid.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Miss Laura, honey, what you bin' doin'? Dey ain't nothin' but -no-'count beggars, chile. Don't you know dey mought 'a' come indo's -and carried off all de silver? Dat's just de kind would steal fum you -when you warn't lookin'. I ain't right sho' now dey ain't got some o' -de silver in dey pockets!" And she took savage stock of what lay on the -table.</p> - -<p>O Leila, ingenuous mind! Dearly as I loved her, how little she knew! -How far she was from understanding the habits and predilections of the -gods! Would they trouble, do you think, to take a silver knife or fork, -who can take away the priceless riches of childhood with them? Would -they pause to purloin a mere petty silver spoon, who can carry off an -entire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> golden period of your existence, and leave you with the leaden -questions and dull philosophy and heavy responsibility of older years?</p> - -<p>I should have asked their names, that I might set these in my prayers, -but I had not had presence of mind enough to do that; so, that night, -while I knelt by my bed, alone in the moonlight, a very devout little -girl, there stood there, shadowy in the shadows, and among my nearest -and dearest, on whom I asked the Lord's blessing, the old harp and -violin; while, with my head buried passionately in my hands, I begged -Providence to have an especial care of these new friends of my heart, -to bless them, to let its face shine upon them, and to give them peace.</p> - -<p>Musical beggars! I have seen them often since, in one guise or another. -Sometimes they trumpet on the trombone or cornet, or blow fearful -blasts upon the French horn; I have known them to finesse upon the -flute or flageolet. These differences are but inconsiderable. Always -I find them equally mighty. I have thought sometimes to get past them -with giving them only a great deal more than I could afford. Useless -frugality! futile economy!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> For still they will be laying ghostly hands -upon you; still will they be exacting a heavier tribute and demanding -that gold and silver of the soul which, as Plato is so well aware, is -how infinitely more precious.</p> - -<p>Though to outward appearance they are busy with their instruments, -how they lay ghostly hands upon your imagination. How they conjure up -before the inward eye themselves as they might have been, to levy a new -tax upon you. The man with the horn, he who plays always off the key, -and always a little ahead of the others, he, it is now mysteriously -revealed to you, had meant perhaps, at the very least, to play in an -orchestra. And the baggy battered old violin was to have wiped his -heated brow with a grand gesture, and bowed condescendingly over his -collar to metropolitan audiences, had not his dreams so unaccountably -miscarried. And the old thread-bare harp-player, his shabbiness and -his bitter face to the contrary notwithstanding, had meant, had really -meant, to pluck some sweetness out of life. And the harp itself (yes, -even so extensive is the occult power they wield) makes its own special -appeal to you,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> and with its taste for delicacy seems suddenly like -a dull tormented thing, swaying and trembling under the stiff sullen -fingers of its master, there on the garish pavement—an instrument -which, but for the uncertainty of life (ah, the uncertainty of life!), -might have responded how devotedly, in the tempered light of a -curtained alcove, to the touch of delicate fingers.</p> - -<p>All this they conjure up before the mind's eye, ere they stop their -excruciating playing. Then the violin, at the very moment that should -have been his gracious one, counts the miserably few pennies. The -sullen horn, his instrument tucked under his arm, goes on, still a -stave ahead of the rest, a sodden expression in his eyes. The old -harpist swings the harp rudely over his shoulder, and gives the strap -an extra twitch to ease the dull weight, and they are off to fresh -pavements and districts new. I have seen great tragedians. I have sat -through the sleep-walking scene in "Macbeth." I have heard Banquo -knock. I have seen Juliet waken too late in the Capulet tomb and call -for Romeo: "O comfortable friar! Where is my lord?" In my schoolgirl<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> -days I saw Booth in his great parts; but none of these master-scenes -and fine harmonies have stirred in me so intolerable an emotion of pity -or sense of fatality as an old horn, or harp and violin, grouped on a -garish pavement, their lives dedicated to cheap music fearfully off the -key.</p> - -<p>These are people of power, let appearances be what they may. You may -patronize them if you like, and look upon them as the downtrodden and -the dregs of existence. I am, indeed, not so hardy. I have read a -different fate in their groups and constellations.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="III">III<br> <span class="small">MAJOR LOBLEY</span></h3></div> - - -<p>There were other poor whose influence was potent in my childhood, but -I pass them by, to note but one more, of a curiously strong type, -who crossed my path when I might have been about sixteen. She was a -Salvation Army major,—Major Lobley,—and she had at her heels an army -of poor wretches, "flood-sufferers." That great river on which my -home town was situated had risen and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> overtrod its banks, spreading -devastation. As it happened, my mother had standing idle at that time -three or four small houses. Into these a large and variegated band -of "flood-sufferers" was assisted to move. They came, poor things, -bringing their lares and penates. One, whom I take to have been an -aristocrat among them, led a mule. Among them all, like a burst of -sunshine over a dark and variegated landscape, came Major Lobley and -the drum. It would make a better recital, I know, if I said that -she was beating it—but I am resolved to tell of things only as I -remember them. The drum, however, even though silent, was to the eye -sufficiently triumphant and sounding.</p> - -<p>My acquaintance with Major Lobley began the morning after her -installation. We had already, for the comfort of her clan, parted with -all the available covers we could spare. She came seeking more. The -maid brought me her name. I went into the parlor to receive her and to -learn her errand. I take the liberty of reminding you that I was young -and proud, with a traditional training and conventional pride.</p> - -<p>In that curtained and rather sombre room,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> there sat Major Lobley, like -a brilliant bit of sunshine. Before I knew what she was about, she was -on her feet, had hold of both my hands, had kissed me on both cheeks, -was holding me away from her a little,—a quick pleased gesture seen -oftener on the stage than off it,—and was saying dazzlingly, "Sister! -Are you saved?"</p> - -<p>They tell me that even the bravest at the Yser were demoralized by the -first use of poisonous gases and other methods of warfare unknown, -even undreamed of, by them; and a like panic is said to have seized -the Germans at earliest sight of the British armored monsters which -ploughed over the ground disdainful of every obstacle, taking their own -tracks with them.</p> - -<p>Major Lobley attacked me in a fashion I had never before even -dreamed of. She was carrying her own tracks with her. None of my own -aforethought invulnerable defenses were of the least use. She had -thrown down and traversed the most ancient barriers. She had attacked -me in the very intrenchments of my oldest traditions. Where were -dignity, convention, pride of place, custom of behavior,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> and other -supposedly impregnable defenses? Where were distinctions of class, -fortifications of good taste, intrenchments of haughtiness? Where were -reserve and other iron and concrete and barbed-wire entanglements? I -tell you, they were as though they were not! This glib inquiry about -my soul routed me, demoralized me so completely, that I do not even -remember what I said. I only know that I fled precipitately for safety -into the covert of the nearest subject. Was there anything she needed? -And how could I serve her?</p> - -<p>At this she was eager.</p> - -<p>"Well, I'll tell you! We need another comfort. Darius needs a comfort -for his mule. Darius is a good man and his soul is saved. Now couldn't -you lend another comfort to the Lord?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I, in what now seems to me a kind of hypnotized state. "I -think I can find another for you." And I went myself and took it from -my bed.</p> - -<p>She received it with hallelujahs and went away beaming, assuring me -as she went, and as on the authority of an ambassador, that I would -certainly have my reward.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span></p> - -<p>I make no apology for all this. I know well that I was the weak and -routed one. I know that this gypsy from nowhere, with her lack of -advantages and her Cinderella training among the ashes and dregs of -life, had me at an astonishing disadvantage. I know that, while I stood -by, in my futile pride, she went off unaccountably, in a spangled -coach, as it were, carrying with her salvation and all the satisfaction -in the world, and happily possessed of the bed-covers without which I -was to sleep somewhat chilly that night.</p> - -<p>But I think it due to myself to say that this weakness on my part -was not single. For weeks, months,—as long as she stayed in the -neighborhood,—Major Lobley swayed people as by a spell. One would have -sworn her drumstick was a wand. In theory, and out of her presence, we -younger ones declared her presuming and impossible, but were reduced -to serve her whenever she appeared. My mother and my elder sister, who -were experienced and better judges, continued to give her and her thin -ragged ranks daily help. Pans of biscuit, pots of soup, drifted in -that northwesterly direction as by some gulf stream of sympathy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> which -you might speculate and argue about all you liked, but whose course -remained mystical and unchanged.</p> - -<p>One point I must not fail to mention. I had worried somewhat concerning -Darius's mule. There was, I knew, no shelter for him save a tiny -woodshed just about half his size. I pictured him standing there, with -only his forequarters or hindquarters sheltered, and the rest of him -the sport of the elements and the biting weather. Needless anxiety; -futile concern! I might have read a different fate for him in Orion and -Pleiades! Such anxiety comes of thinking too meanly of life. Darius had -a better opinion of it, and it may be with better cause. Perhaps he -argued that a power that was able to save his soul was perfectly well -able to look after his mule; and rendered expectant by this belief, -Darius's eyes saw what my less faithful ones would certainly have -overlooked, namely, that the comfortable kitchen of the little house, -with its sunshine and its neat wainscoting, made an ideal abiding-place -for his friend. Here, therefore, positively benefiting by misfortune -and like an animal in a fairy tale, the mule of Darius abode,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> and, no -doubt, more comfortably than ever in his life before; and even if his -meals continued to be meagre, he was enabled to eke them out with a -generous attention to the wainscoting.</p> - -<p>You see! What can be said of a people like that, able to turn the most -unlikely things to strange and immediate uses, for all the world as the -fairy godmother did the pumpkin and the mice!</p> - -<p>What stands out most clearly, as I remember Major Lobley, is neither -her scoop-bonnet, nor the drum, nor her solicitude for my soul, but -rather the way she managed, say rather contrived, to have us to do -whatever she wanted us to do. This was not accomplished by tact, not -by craft, not even by intelligence, certainly, I think, not by pity. -It was rather, I am persuaded, something ancient and inherited, and -not acquired in Major Lobley's brief span; something, rather, dating -back to gypsy centuries, God knows how many æons ago—something that -had ruled and triumphed, with sounding and loud timbrel, on countless -occasions before now; some freedom, some innate self-approval; some -linking, it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> would almost seem, of the powers of poverty with the -powers of the Deity.</p> - -<p>Have it as you will, the finer appearance still clings to the -improvident. They give you color and incident without your asking; they -scatter romance and wonder with largesse, as kings. As mere memorable -characters, were not the old blind man and Musgrove and Major Lobley -worth the money and the anxiety they cost us? And who will contend -that Darius's tradition is not to be valued above a mere strip of -wainscoting and the cost of a few repairs?</p> - -<p>I have long believed that Æsop needs rewriting in many instances, -and very especially in that of "The Grasshopper and the Ant." What -should be told—since Æsop's creatures are intended to exemplify human -behaviors and draw human morals—is how the Grasshopper spent the -winter with the Ant, and ate up all the Ant's preserves and marmalades, -and fiddled nightly and gayly by the Ant's fire, and managed somehow -to make the Ant feel that the privilege had been all her own, to -have labored long for the benefit of so interesting and so gifted a -gentleman.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> - -<p>I can recall from time to time, all through my childhood and girlhood, -that I and mine made a kind of festival of a like circumstance, and -how gladly we toiled for the benefit of that class which might be said -to winter perpetually on our sympathies. I do not allude merely to -tableaux, fairs, private theatricals, musicales, and the like, given -for the benefit of those who neither sowed nor gathered into barns. I -would be afraid to say how many times, from my early years, I was for -their sake a spangled fairy, a Queen Elizabeth court dame, an "Elaine," -white, pallid, on a barge, dead of unrequited love, a Gainsborough -or Romney portrait, or a Huguenot lady parting from her lover, or a -demure "Priscilla," or a dejected "Mariana," or a shaken-kneed reciter -of verses, or a trembling performer on the piano. I remember that -there was a huge trunk in the old attic at home given over to nothing -but amateur theatrical properties. I remember coming home often from -dragging, wearisome rehearsals, how tired, but happy! What fun it was -to toil and practise and rehearse and labor until your little bones -ached "for the benefit of—!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> - -<p>"For the benefit of"! I tell you it is a magic phrase! I remember my -mother coming home again and again,—from some charitable conclave I -suppose,—radiant and eager, as she so often was, to announce that we -were once more to be permitted to labor in response to its magic. Once, -after her attendance on some missionary meeting, it was conveyed to us -that we were to be allowed to dress fifty dolls "for the benefit of" -as many gregarious little grasshoppers of Senegambia, to the end that -their Christmas and our own should be the happier.</p> - -<p>It had all the air of a fine adventure. It <i>was</i> a fine adventure. -I really would not have missed it. Yet unless you have dressed, let -us say, thirty dolls, and know that twenty more remain naked, you can -hardly guess how doll-dressmaking may hang heavy, even on the most -eager fingers. I can still see them all in their pretty and varied -dresses, ranged triumphant at last on top of the old square piano, -that we might behold the labor of our hands—their feet straight ahead -of them, their eyes fixed, staring but noncommittal, supposedly on -Senegambia.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p> - -<p>It seems to me now a gay, even though at the same time a somewhat -futile, thing to have done; but turn it as you will, the true privilege -was ours.</p> - -<p>We and our forebears, you see, had in perfect innocence laid by a -few stores through the generations. We had preserved and retained -certain standards and comfortable customs and conveniences of living; -certain traditions, too, of education and treasures of understanding; -by which token it became our privilege to entertain and provide for -those cicada souls who had followed the more romantic profession of -fiddling; and that we might have our privilege to the full, we were -graciously permitted to set out preserves, not merely for the swarming -grasshoppers of our own land: it was vouchsafed us to sustain and -supply with dolls and other delights the appealing little grasshoppers -of Senegambia.</p> - -<p>Recalling all my childhood and girlhood experience with the poor, I -am led by every path of logic to believe that they have some secret -power of their own—some divine right and authority by which they rule, -beside which the most ancient dynasties are but tricks of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> evanescence, -and the infallibility of the Pope a mere political exigency. The powers -they wield would seem to me unique. Show me a dictatorship, empire, -oligarchy, system, or a suzerainty, seignory or pashawlic, which -presides over and possesses anything commensurate with their realm; -which sways and commands anything comparable to their wide dominion!</p> - -<p>Will you show me any other people outside of the fairy-books who can -put the most fearful calamity on like a cloak and doff it at will, who -can augment their families to seven or eight children overnight, and -reduce them as readily to five or six the following day, if it but seem -to them advisable? Where outside their ranks is there any one capable -of persuading you that it is a privilege to sleep cold so that some -Darius you never saw or care to see shall, he and his allegorical mule, -go better warmed? Who else, being neither of your kith nor kin, has -such power over you that, with a mere bloodshot eye and shiver of the -shoulders, he can turn your automobile, your furs, your warmth, and all -your pleasant pleasures into Dead Sea apples of discomfort? Or, did any -of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> your own class, by merely playing "Ben Bolt," raggedly and horribly -off the key, under a grape-arbor, exercise so great a power over you -that, having given him what you had, you went awed and chastened of -all vanity, and set his name in your prayers that night as the Church -service does the king? Are these people of rank who can do this? Or -will you still cling to your aristocracies?</p> - -<p>It is likely that I shall be accused of sentimentality. Some will say -that to talk of the power of the poor is but cruel irony. If I would -speak wisely and not as one of the foolish women, let me live and work -among the poor, or better still, be of them. This is the only way -fairly to judge them.</p> - -<p>I am of a like opinion; and am therefore resolved to ask you to let -me speak of a later time when I myself was poor, and of the wider -knowledge of the powers of the poor which that circumstance afforded -me. For, in my advantageous days, I was permitted only to serve the -poor, the discouraged, the improvident; later, I was promoted to be, at -least in a measure, of their fellowship.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="IV">IV<br> <span class="small">MAMIE FAFFELFINGER</span></h3></div> - - -<p>The <i>nouveaux pauvres</i> are, I believe, as a rule, fully as awkward -with their poverty as the <i>nouveaux riches</i> with their wealth. -They have not the true grand manner. They are not a whit more born to -the rags than your suddenly prosperous parvenu to the purple. It is -difficult to be at ease with them. Their behaviors, their manners, -their speech, more often their silences, are forever reminding you of -their former mode of living.</p> - -<p>For these and other reasons, I willingly pass over those intervening -years, when, though distinctly poor, I was unaccustomed, and wore my -changed conditions, I do not doubt, awkwardly. I pass on to a later -and more fixed season when, thrown wholly now on my own resources, and -totally untrained and unfitted for such an emergency, I made shift to -support myself, to live meagrely, and to endure what I took to be a -well-nigh intolerable poverty.</p> - -<p>Poverty is a variable term and much subject to comparison. Some -will allow it only to those who have been born to it. To have -been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> always half-starved, these think, and to carry a basket from -door to door—<i>that</i> is to be poor. But it is idle to think -of cold and hunger to the point of beggary as the only cold and -hunger there are. Not alone are there degrees of cold and hunger -of the body,—discomfortable and ill-nourished living,—but there -are, as well, things which seem to me even more difficult to -endure—unsatisfied hunger of the mind and heart and a most cruel and -persistent chill of the spirit. The literal-minded may need to see the -open sore, the sightless eye, or the starved countenance, before their -pity is moved; but he who has ever touched the spiritual values will -know—with a tenderness that is mercy—that in one who never asked for -pity, one who perhaps even went outwardly gay, there may be hidden -hurts borne unflinchingly; intolerable darknesses not complained of; -crippled powers which once went proud and free; and a heart and mind -which have endured, it may be, starved hours. These are, I believe, -some of the most real poverties that the soul may be called on to -endure.</p> - -<p>Yet, God forbid that, having tasted some of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> them, I should not bear -true witness! There are some hidden springs in these also. Here also, -in what you would take to be so dry, so arid a land, there will have -been wells and fountains, and locusts and honey for those cut off from -their kind. But of these things I would speak later. I wish at present -to tell of my further adventures with the poor, when I myself had -become more nearly one of them.</p> - -<p>Under the conditions I have mentioned my life had of course changed -greatly. Most of the old fond bonds were broken; but there were new and -even closer ones to be assumed, newer and larger responsibilities to be -undertaken.</p> - -<p>In every circumstance of our lives lies the stirring knowledge that -one's own case, however strange, is far from being singular. There are -others besides myself with whom Poverty has taken up its abode; there -are others from whose cup Despair has daily drunk; who, looking up from -their daily bread, have found Sorrow's eyes forever on them. Those who -have known these cup-companions need not be told how the House of Life -can be darkened, or how these darker presences occupy the chambers of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -the mind. Nor need they yet be reminded how all this becomes bearable, -even enduringly precious to the heart, if Love but remains, and -consents still to sit at the board, and, though with brows bent, still -breaks bread with its white hands, and lifts in its unshaken fingers -the cup of bitter wine.</p> - -<p>We went to live in the deep country, on what had once been a beautiful -old estate. The house had not been lived in for years. It still -preserved an air of beauty and dignity, but its ancient pride and -fitness were turned toward decay. But if, like myself, it had fallen -on adversity and evil fortune, that was but the better reason I -should understand and love it. Wholly without what the world calls -comforts, yet how comforting it was in those chill and cheerless times! -Downfallen in the eyes of others, lowered from its proud estate, how -I have yet lifted my heart up to it under the stars, and paid it an -homage of love and thankfulness not matched, I think, in all its better -days.</p> - -<p>Our precarious means being entirely dependent on such writing as I -could do, it would have been extravagance and bankruptcy for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> me to -assume the domestic duties. There was no one else. I was the only -woman of the household. It seemed to me that a working housekeeper -might solve the difficulty; one of that variety which lays not so much -stress upon wages as upon a home. I found a surprising number with -this tendency. In answer to a most modest advertisement, I received -sixty-four answers. Those whom, in the course of time, I at last -engaged, were in each case women who had seen happier conditions and -were by their own affidavits capable of standing anything. But I found -them to be, without exception, shrinkingly susceptible to physical -discomforts, and of these there were in that old house many.</p> - -<p>These women were <i>nouveaux pauvres</i> of a middle-class order and -had all the crudities of their condition. Each of them carried with -her a remnant of her "better days," as an inveterate shopper carries -an out-of-date sample, resolved, yet unable, to find its match. One -of them could not forget, and had no mind to let you forget, that her -husband had made four thousand a year; another had been to school in -Paris; and one always wore rubber gloves,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> "because," she assured me, -"as long as I can have my hands white, I can stand a great deal." -Another insisted on the most fluffy and unsubstantial desserts, and -thought the rest of the meal mattered little, so long as the finale had -a grand air. Another could not endure the odor of onions and fainted -at the sight of liver. Yet another, from reverses and humiliations -unendurable, had turned Christian Scientist. I learned afterward that -she came hoping to convert me to the idea that there is no poverty. I -wish I could have spared her the futility.</p> - -<p>By and by I abandoned all hope of a working housekeeper. I knew that -what I needed was a "general houseworker."</p> - -<p>Those who in extremity have sought servants in city employment bureaus -need not be told what is too old a tale. When the array of imposing -applicants had all declined the discomforts of my home, and the honor -of being employed by me, the manager explained, what I was dull not to -have known myself, that it might be wise to try some of the employment -bureaus in the poorer quarters. I found one finally at the head of the -Bowery, and climbed its rickety stairs.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> - -<p>They were a strange and varied lot that I came upon now: weird old -flat-footed fairies, given to feathers and elaborate head-dresses, or -young heavy Audreys who looked at you out of dull eyes. I explained -elaborately the conditions under which they would be called on to live. -I omitted nothing, not even the screech-owls, or the night sounds -that might or might not be wild cats. They came eagerly or sullenly, -according to their dispositions. But apparently none of them had at -all grasped what I said. For when they saw the place, and felt the -loneliness of which I had so thoroughly warned them, they turned and -fled. The house might have been haunted.</p> - -<p>Finally I heard that one could engage servants of a certain order from -the Charities associations, such as the Society for Improving the -Condition of the Poor. To one of these I went.</p> - -<p>The matron, a full-eyed woman who gave the impression of having to -discipline an over-kind heart by an assumption of great severity, -questioned me curtly. What surroundings had I to offer? My heart sank, -but I went over<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> faithfully the disadvantages—the extreme loneliness -of the life, the necessity that those who entered on it should abandon -all hope of "movies." "Movies" there were not within twelve miles. -There were no conveniences, no department stores, no bargain sales, -nothing—only field and forest, stars and dawns and sunsets—nothing!</p> - -<p>She lifted explanatory eyebrows, a little displeased, I thought.</p> - -<p>"I mean the <i>moral</i> surroundings." Then, at my pause, "I mean, are -you yourself a Christian woman?"</p> - -<p>This was no Major Lobley. It is certain that she cared not a pin -whether I was "saved." She merely had it in mind to do her duty by her -flock. It was her duty to see that the poor, whose condition was to be -improved, were placed in Christian homes.</p> - -<p>Being perhaps the better satisfied on this point, for a rather -faltering answer on my part, she sent a mild-eyed assistant for "Mamie -Faffelfinger."</p> - -<p>She meanwhile explained in a businesslike way that Mamie was a -Catholic, brought up in an orphan asylum; her child was not a year<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -old; "the man"—(so the matron designated him curtly)—was not her -husband.</p> - -<p>"You mean she would wish a home for the child too?"</p> - -<p>The full-eyed woman ceased turning her pencil between her thumb and -fingers on the desk and gave me an aggressive look.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. Most of these people haven't a crust to live on. If you do -not wish to employ that kind, there are the employment bureaus."</p> - -<p>So they dawned on me like a blessing. These were not parvenu poor -who had been to school in Paris, who would insist on unsubstantial -desserts. Here were no head-dressy old fairies of questionable powers; -these were no exotic fruits of the "gardens of Proserpine"; here was -the good salt brine, here the ancient tides of reality—"the surge and -thunder of the Odyssey."</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the matron was speaking:—</p> - -<p>"The man is not her husband. But if you are a Christian, I am sure -you have no narrow scruples as to <i>that</i>. He drinks. She is -half-starved. I have told her we will get her and the child a place, if -she will promise to leave<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> him." She glanced at the open doorway of her -tiny office: "Yes, Mamie, come in."</p> - -<p>It was then that I first saw Mamie and Anne.</p> - -<p>Mamie looked her part. She was pallid, rather pretty; very slight, with -a skin of extreme fineness. She had heavy-lidded eyes, that looked to -have seen much weeping, and a smile the more pathetic for its great -readiness.</p> - -<p>As to Anne, a consistent story would require that she should be as -pallid as her mother, that her little hand, intent now on her mother's -hat-brim, should be a mere kite's claw; and there should have been -delicate dark rings under her eyes. But, far from being a kite's claw, -the hand on the hat-brim was as plump as ripe fruit, and her cheeks -were like smooth apricots perfect with the sun. But, after all, there -is no describing Anne. If you will look at the child held in the arms -of the Madonna of the Chair and then at the one in the arms of the -Sistine Madonna; then, if you will picture a child not quite a year -old, who might worthily be the little sister and companion of these, -you will have some idea, even though inadequate still, of what Anne -was, as she held tight<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> to Mamie's rakish hat-brim and gave me the -solemn attention of her eyes.</p> - -<p>I went over the requirements. I spoke of the loneliness. Not a town -within miles.</p> - -<p>"Well, what do you think of that!" Mamie replied. But she was -unfeignedly eager to come.</p> - -<p>"When could you be ready?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, right away," she said. "I've got Anne's clothes here." She glanced -at a small paper bundle under one arm.</p> - -<p>My good fairy, who pays me occasional visits, prevented my asking her -where her own clothes were.</p> - -<p>The matron interposed. Mamie could stay right there until I was ready -to take her, late that afternoon. Then, when Mamie had gone into the -outer room, the matron explained.</p> - -<p>"She hasn't any home to go to. He left her and raised money on her -furniture. They came and took it. She hasn't even a stick of it."</p> - -<p>Tragic as this was, my mind was for the moment intent on something else.</p> - -<p>"But she wears a wedding ring!" I said.</p> - -<p>The matron pulled a heavy ledger toward her.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> - -<p>"Oh, yes; they all do. They'd go starved, but they'd buy a wedding -ring."</p> - -<p>She pressed her lips together, shook her head, and began setting -down data,—my name, address, occupation, the names of two of my -friends,—they must be people of some standing, who could vouch for -me; then more as to Mamie, I suppose, in the interest of system and -statistics.</p> - -<p>I can give you no idea of the comradeship of that journey with Mamie -and Anne. Mamie looked delightedly out of the car-window, noting -the most trifling points of interest with enthusiasm, and saying -every little while, "Well, what do you think of <i>that</i>!" Or she -would excitedly point out some speeding bird, or flitting house, or -other flying object, to Anne, and Anne would lurch forward to look, -her little nose sometimes touching the pane, and then would turn -good-naturedly and look at me, with every air of asking me if that -probably so-interesting object had managed to escape me also.</p> - -<p>When we arrived at the house, Mamie was as cheerful as a sparrow. The -room on which flat-footed fairies and dull Audreys had looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> with -unconcealed contempt or disapproval, she flew to. She settled in it -like a bird in her nest, and chirped contentedly to Anne,—</p> - -<p>"Oh, Anne, look at the nice bureau! And the washstand! What do you -think of <i>that</i>!" Then she turned to me, with that winning -comradely smile: "I <i>like</i> bureaus and washstands—furniture, I -mean, and things. It makes you think of home." And she drew her hand -along the bureau.</p> - -<p>I did not know then, but I soon found out, that this was the top and -bottom of all her longings, and this the real hunger of her heart,—a -hunger starved enough, of course, in all her orphan-asylum years,—a -craving for a place of her own.</p> - -<p>Mamie talked much of "Bill." He filled her life and days, there could -be no doubt. If she swept, it was to his glory. If she scrubbed a -floor or kneaded dough, or bent affectionately over the scalloping -of a pie-crust, it was certainly for love of him that she lent these -her attention. She soon began sending him her weekly earnings. I -remonstrated, and suggested that it might be better to save her money -against another rainy day. She dusted her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> hands of flour and began -scraping the bread-board, vigorously, with the strength of her whole -body. I waited for my reply. At last it came.</p> - -<p>"Well, I will say you've been good to me, and Anne loves you—but I -think you've got a hard heart."</p> - -<p>Secretly I agreed with her. I retrenched and urged her to send only a -part of her money, saving the rest for furniture. Of course, I knew by -this time that the word "furniture" was to her like magic and a charm.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, fond as she was of Anne and proud of her, Mamie was bent on -not spoiling her. She used to put her in a wooden tub in the sunshine -on the floor of the kitchen, as Peter Pumpkin-Eater put his wife in the -pumpkin shell; and like Peter, there she kept her very well. And Anne, -more ingenuous and happier than Diogenes,—for she liked it and crowed -if people came into her sunshine,—would stay there perfectly happy and -delighted for the greater part of the day, playing with an apple or a -potato. I really never saw such a baby.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, although Bill was, it seems, drinking more than ever, with -the aid, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> course, of Mamie's earnings, Mamie herself contrived to be -above fact and experience, and was sure he was actively reforming. In a -sense she really lived a charmed life.</p> - -<p>It seemed that Fate and fact could deal her no blow which would finally -affect her. She knew Bill's failings better than the matron, by a -great deal; but if you suppose that these could spoil the pure romance -of life for her, or invalidate her dream of a home and furniture of -her own, cushioned chairs owned and sat upon by the reformed Bill and -herself, you are much mistaken.</p> - -<p>She was a firm believer in miracles. "I know you don't believe in -them," she would say; "but at the Orphan Asylum there was a statue of -Saint Stephen that used to turn around over night, it really did, if it -was pleased with what you did."</p> - -<p>Like so many of her class, Mamie had an incorrigible tendency toward -rumor. Knowledge comes not to these by laborious delving of their own, -but appears to be delivered to them out of the air as by bird auguries, -and by all manner of unauthenticated hearsay infinitely rather to be -trusted than fact. I take<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> this to be in their case a survival of what -was believed, in ancient times, to be speech with Divinity. However -it may shock the modern mind to read of the Almighty giving out to -Moses, not merely the majestic laws graven on tables of stone, but -commands and detail and measurement of great exactness as to the stuff -and manner of fashioning and trimming the High Priest's breeches, to -the minds of Mamie and her class there would be in this little that -was shocking, they themselves believing and delighting in Divine -collaboration in even the most homely matters.</p> - -<p>Anne wore on a string about her neck a little square of Canton flannel -which in the course of many months had become extremely grimy. I -suggested as tactfully as I could that this was not in keeping with the -laws of health, and might be, with a view to germs, a positive danger -to Anne.</p> - -<p>Mamie smiled happily, indulgently.</p> - -<p>"That's just where you're wrong! It's to <i>protect</i> her from -danger—specially danger by drowning!"</p> - -<p>Once I suggested that, if I were she, I would not feed Anne burned -bread-crusts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<p>"Oh, but they say they're good for a baby; they say they're splendid -for the digestion."</p> - -<p>Useless to argue. She had always heard so. "They" said so.</p> - -<p>So it is that knowledge comes to them, not laboriously, as does our -own, but by easy rumor, floating hearsay; and wisdom is brought to -them without effort of their own, as viands to a king. They are fed -by ravens. Their gourd grows overnight. Messengers still come and go -between heaven and earth to instruct them. There is not required of -them, the laboring class, that slavish mental toil exacted of the -world's great intellects. Angels and ministers of grace, however they -may have abandoned the wise, do still, it seems, defend them. They have -only to be of a listening mind and a believing heart, and they shall -know what is good for digestion, and what will save their children from -drowning.</p> - -<p>Mamie, further, was able to maintain a remarkable equilibrium between -respectful service as a servant and what might have been the gracious -democracy of a ruler. She taught Anne to call me "Honey," and had it as -a surprise for me one morning. I will not deny that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> it was a surprise. -But if you think that so sweet an appellation in Anne's bird-like -voice, her golden head leaning over into the sunshine as she heard my -step, seemed to me to be lacking in dignity, then you and I are of -contrary opinions.</p> - -<p>One day, when Mamie was dusting where hung a Fra Lippo Madonna, Anne -pointed a fat finger at it, demanding, "Honey?"</p> - -<p>Mamie did not even pause.</p> - -<p>"No," she said briskly, "that's not Honey. That's Lord and Lord's -mawma."</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="V">V<br> <span class="small">THE LURE OF THE "CHIFFONEER"</span></h3></div> - - -<p>One day, Mamie came to me, her face beaming.</p> - -<p>"I want to do the right thing, so I'm going to give you a whole month's -notice. Bill has rented some rooms. What do you think of that!"</p> - -<p>I told her gently, but firmly, what I suspected concerning it.</p> - -<p>She brought out his letter for proof.</p> - -<p>"He's to pay for the rooms, and I'm to send<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> him the money for the -furniture. He'll get whatever kind I like. You've always been kind to -me," she added, "but I think you've got a hard heart as to Bill."</p> - -<p>Well, perhaps I had.</p> - -<p>The month passed very happily. As his letters came, she would tell me -what he had bought.</p> - -<p>"It's a bureau with a marble top,—secondhand, Second Avenue,—but as -good as new. Besides, some people would rather have antiques. And I -<i>do</i> like bureaus!"</p> - -<p>Then it would be a table that set her singing her queer ragtime songs. -Once there came word of three cushioned chairs. One letter announced -a looking-glass. And once, as I went into the kitchen suddenly, there -was Mamie, one arm above her head, the other holding her skirt, dancing -for Anne to see, and to Anne's inexpressible wonder and delight. -She sat there in her tub, leaning forward, beaming, fascinated, and -holding tight to its sides as though we might all be personages in a -fairy-tale, and she and the tub might any moment fly away.</p> - -<p>At sight of me, Mamie stopped, flushing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> pink as a rose, apologetic, -but unfeignedly happy.</p> - -<p>"I couldn't help it! He's bought me a <i>chiffoneer</i>!"</p> - -<p>A moment later, as I passed through the hall, I could hear Mamie -singing, "And she's going back to her Daddy, and her home, home, -<i>home</i>!"—to some impromptu rigmarole tune of her own.</p> - -<p>Soon after this she took the train to the nearest town and came back -laden with packages—all manner of cheap household stuff picked up at -the five-and-ten-cent store. It occurred to me that she might as well -have a small empty trunk of mine that there was in the attic. She was -delighted with the gift, and wore the key of it on a chain around her -neck.</p> - -<p>"I'd rather have that key than a locket!" she said, putting her hand -over it affectionately. It was so that she repaid you tenfold. "It's -wonderful," she would say, every little while, in joyful anticipation, -"having your own home!"</p> - -<p>For myself, despite many unmitigated realities, I could not help -feeling that I was living<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> in something of a wonder story. Who knew -but that, with those extraordinary powers of hers, which so readily -rose above fact, who knew but that she might rub that key some day as -Aladdin his lamp, and turn us all into triumphant heroes and heroines.</p> - -<p>Mamie did not forget, as I said good-bye to her in the big city -terminal where I finally left them, to give me parting advice, sisterly -sympathy:—</p> - -<p>"Now, don't you go and get discouraged. I know you've had troubles. -Well, I've had trouble enough, too. You just keep right on, and hold -your head high. There's no telling what'll come to them that holds -their heads high. Look at me!"</p> - -<p>I looked at her and could have felt convinced. Then we said our -good-byes, and away they went. The last I saw of them in the crowd was -Anne's hand still waving loyally to me over Mamie's shoulder quite a -long time after her eyes had lost me.</p> - -<p>I missed them exceedingly; and the blue-birds of that second spring -hardly made up to me for the absence of Anne's birdlike voice. The new -maid, Margaret, was interesting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> enough, but no one could ever quite -take the place of those others.</p> - -<p>With all this in mind, you will realize with what a sinking of the -heart I found that there was more than Mamie to be missed. There could -be no doubt in the matter, for there had been no outsider in the house -at all of late; therefore it could be due to no other magic than hers -that there was a grievous lessening of my scant stores of household -belongings—sheets and pillow-cases, towels and a pair of blankets, -napkins and, I think, a table-cloth, and some muffin-rings and kitchen -conveniences, and I do not know what else.</p> - -<p>Little bits of reality came drifting back to me—the key kept so -faithfully always around her neck; my own gift of the trunk; and the -sentiment—say now, if you like, the sentimentality—with which I had -noted the fact that even that rather small trunk was too large for her -poor belongings.</p> - -<p>Then suddenly, the whole episode read to me like an Uncle Remus "Br'er -Fox and Br'er Rabbit" tale, and I was not too discouraged to laugh—as -the "Little Boy" is recorded always to have done—at the turn of the -story,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> at the inevitable triumph of the cleverer of the two.</p> - -<p>Yet for Mamie's sake, not to speak of my own, such an ending was not -to be permitted. I had asked her to come to see me in town on one of -the days of the week that I was always there, and to be sure to bring -Anne to see me. She had assured me that she would, and that she would -never forget me. Now I knew it would be necessary, rather, for me to -go and find her. I rehearsed the scene mentally. I meant to tell her -that she could keep all the things she had stolen. (Let them remain -in the manner of coals of fire in her trunk!) I would first reduce -her to powder in a solemn and serious manner, and then strew her upon -the winds of my righteous indignation! <i>She</i> whom I had treated -with unfailing kindness! <i>She</i> whom in sickness I had nursed! -<i>She</i> whose many faults had been forgiven her, and in whom I had -placed trust! <i>She!</i>—</p> - -<p>Strangely enough, she did come to see me, that very next day I was in -town. She seemed eager to get to me; nervous, too, like one whipped -of her conscience. I felt my heart suddenly softening, and as quickly -hardened<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> it. I really had not expected quick penitence of her, but -even so, she must take the full punishment of my disapproval. There is -a duty we owe in such matters. I would make nothing easy for her.</p> - -<p>She sat down heavily, then suddenly put her hand over quickly on mine. -I made no sign. Not even that should move me. Then in a hoarse whisper, -a really hoarse whisper, almost a moan, she said,—</p> - -<p>"Oh, how shall I tell you? <i>How</i> shall I tell you?"</p> - -<p>Stony pause. I looked coldly at her. It seemed, for a moment, that the -irresistible force really <i>had</i> met the immovable body. Then all -at once, she put her head down on her arm, sobbed, and spoke.</p> - -<p>"There <i>wasn't</i> any bureau! There <i>wasn't</i> any chiffoneer! -There wasn't <i>even</i> any rooms!"</p> - -<p>An instant of time swirled past. Then I knew, as of old, that the power -of the poor is an irresistible force, never—never—not even by the -immovable body of our strongest determinations, to be withstood. My own -iron resolves I saw converted suddenly into the flimsiest fiction—rent -gossamer floating wide.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> - -<p>Oh! Oh! I could have put my face in my hands and wept. All her dreams -gone! All her hopes! her pride! her cherished plans! her money! her -faith—everything! How small the theft of a few pillow-cases and towels -looked now that, at Fate's hands, she, poor thing, had had all this -stolen from her! This was no time to reduce her to powder, when she was -already reduced to floods of tears and I by no means far from the verge -of them.</p> - -<p>The story is too obvious to tell. Mamie's miracle had failed. The -unreformable Bill had not reformed. But neither,—I hasten to -add,—neither, it seems, was Mamie's ineradicable desire for a home -eradicated. I have mentioned before my belief that Fate cannot finally -affect the people of this extraordinary class. I believe them all to -have been plunged more effectually than Achilles in some protective -flood.</p> - -<p>Mamie, with the help of the perpetually severe, perpetually -tender-hearted matron, went out to work again. But there may be those -who would be more interested to know what I did with my resolves, my -righteous indignation, and, above all, with my conscience.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> As to my -conscience, I cleared that. I wrote to the matron, warning her that in -assigning Mamie to any place, it should be remembered that, valuable as -Mamie was in many ways, she had a light-fingered tendency to collect -household goods. From my later knowledge, I believe that the matron may -have smiled at the ingenuousness of that. It might readily be thought -superfluous to warn the expert physicist that water does not run -up-hill.</p> - -<p>As to my righteous indignation, it may seem to you a poor thing, but it -never came back. Somehow I never quite forgot the grip of Mamie's hand -on mine that day, and her hoarse voice as it announced the total ruin -of her hopes; or the memory, by contrast, of her little singing dance -before Anne at a happier season, with Anne leaning forward holding -delightedly to the sides of the tub.</p> - -<p>He is not apt to be the most severe in correction who has suffered -much discipline at the hands of Fate. It should be remembered by the -unrelenting and conscientious disciplinarian who judges me, that I -had seen the ruin of some of my own hopes. Joys that I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> planned -for full as eagerly as Mamie, delights that I had reared on more -likely foundations, had been swept away, and almost as suddenly. I am -entering here on no philosophy, I am merely stating facts; and I may -as well confess that I took comfort in the thought, that, though the -bureau, the washstand and the "chiffoneer" had fallen in the general -ruin, Mamie still had the sheets, the pillow-cases, the towels, the -muffin-rings, and the rest. It was even turning out a little like a -fairy-tale after all, for I really now wanted her to have these, and -in view of my own very meagre circumstances and my duties to others, I -could not with a clear conscience have afforded to give them to her. -She, as with a magic foresight, had contrived to relieve me of all -embarrassment.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, I heard nothing more of Mamie. Then one day, I had this -letter from her (I omit the independent spelling):—</p> - -<p>"I thought I'd write to tell you that Anne has a good Papa. He's a -farmer. I'm married again." (Since she was not married before, the -"again" may refer to a second wedding ring.) "He's got a nice house. Do -come<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> and see me." (Here followed very careful directions.) "I'd like -you to see our animals. We've got five chickens, one rooster, a cat and -a dog. He had a house already furnished. It's good furnished too. The -bed has got shams on the pillows."</p> - -<p>It was not long after this that I had a letter from an old aunt of -Mamie's, of whom Mamie had several times spoken to me, and to whom she -used sometimes to write. The aunt said that, though she had always been -too poor to do anything for Mamie, still she took an interest in her. -She knew I had been good to her. If it wasn't too much trouble, would -I write and tell her how Mamie was, or would I send her her address if -she was not with me.</p> - -<p>I wrote her with a good deal of pleasure that Mamie was happily married -(I did not quibble at the word) to a well-to-do farmer; that she had a -nicely furnished house, some animals, and that her husband loved Anne -devotedly; and I gave the desired address.</p> - -<p>Then I wrote to Mamie and sent her her aunt's letter; and I told her -that I thought it would be a kindness if she would write to the old -lady.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p> - -<p>In reply I had the following: "I know you meant to be kind. But I'm -sorry you wrote to my aunt. It wasn't my aunt at all. It was Bill."</p> - -<p>Here also—I know it well—fact is less satisfactory than romance. -There should, no doubt, be the telling scene of a sequel. I never saw -Mamie again, however, and the unfocused waving of a fat, lovely little -hand in that crowded terminal is my last memory of Anne.</p> - -<p>You who read this may be in some uneasiness as to Mamie. I confess -that I am not. I cannot forget the angels of grace that do undoubtedly -attend on such. If you will simply review what I have told you, I think -you will see that we need not be too anxious. One who can set aside -social customs and laws which the less privileged of us do not dare to -ignore; who can be married without clerk or benefit of clergy—rather, -after the manner of the owl and the pussy-cat, by the mere procuring -of a ring; who can protect her child from drowning by a canton-flannel -charm; improve health and digestion by a diet of burned bread-crusts; -rise above all fact and experience<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> as successfully as if she were a -witch on a broomstick; and preserve her faith unspoiled, despite the -most blasting circumstances; who hob-nobs on such easy terms with the -Deity, and who can speak of her whom the poets prefer to name "Star of -the Deep," and the devout, "Queen of Heaven," as the Deity's "Maw-ma"; -one who can, like a prestidigitateur, by a mere turn of the hand, make -your conscientious resolves vanish—and draw pity out of the place -where solemn indignation should have been, as magicians rabbits out of -a silk hat; who can carry off your much needed linen, and have it look -like a favor.—Need we worry about such a one? Need Pharaoh, having -seen the wonders, be anxious, do you think, as to how the departed -children of Israel would be maintained in the desert places where he -would so easily have perished?</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>But lest you should, nevertheless, have Mamie's welfare at heart, and -should entertain, with some misgivings, thought of what may have become -of Anne, there are yet other signs and wonders of which I shall ask to -be allowed to speak.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span></p> - -<h3 class="nobreak" id="VI">VI<br> <span class="small">MARGARET</span></h3></div> - - -<p>Margaret, Mamie's successor, was a woman in the middle forties. There -were little shadowy modelings in her brow which made you think of the -smooth hollows of a shell. She gave one the impression of something -cast up from the sea and dragged back into it many times. She came of a -large family, and although her people had treated her badly (according -to her own story), she took pride nevertheless in speaking of them. "Me -brother Pat," I may say, was never spoken of without her head going up. -She had a taste for distinction, and pride of race was strong in her. -She was a born teller of tales. One of the best was of a wake to which -she was taken as a child.</p> - -<p>"It was a grrrand wake! The folk from all arroond were there! And -they'd baked meats such as you'd have only in the rrrichest houses -here. I was eight year old. I went with me brother Pat. The dead man -had been a mean old man, savin' and hoardin', not spendin', even for -the poor. They do say the dead'll come back if ye worry them enough; -and it's<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> likely it worried him something terrible to see all that -spendin' of his money, and all the neighbor folk he hated so, crowded -so close in his room and the dhrrrink goin' round. Anyway, however be -it, as I was lookin' at him from my corner, all eyes, for I'd never -seen a dead man before, God save us! up he rose from the dead, right -among all the candles, upsettin' some of them; and he screamed, yes, -screamed, too, like he'd just escaped from hell, with the devil's -fingers still hot on him! Some went by the windys, some by the door. -Five got broken legs gettin' out, and the priest, God save us! fell -down dead, and him a good man, too!"</p> - -<p>This was but a small piece of ore from a rich mine. Give her but the -chance—she had a story for every occasion.</p> - -<p>She went on a tour of inspection when she had been with us a few hours. -I felt sure that the beauty and meaning of the old run-down place, of -necessity hid from the profane, would never be lost on one of her keen -and psychic temperament. She came back glowing, and I thought really -reverent.</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's a noble place," she said. "You<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> can see plainer nor your -eyes, it's been lived in by the gentility! Look at them gables and -them chimneys! That house has the air of a grand lady, ma'am, sittin' -quiet with her hands folded. And them elms, too, like the grand slow -wavin' of a fan. Them parlors with their long windys have got the air -of havin' seen folk. Me brother Pat worked for a place like this once." -This with her head up and looking all round. "There's a rich squire -lived here at the least,"—with her eyes narrowed shrewdly and her head -nodding, I can give you no idea how knowingly. "Yes; and belike maybe -a lord. And there were ladies (seems I can see them, God save me!) and -little childer, I'll give warrant, little childer that knew how to -behave themselves in the like of these rooms. Don't it look dreamin' -now, ma'am? Wouldn't you say it was thinkin'?" This with her head on -one side, listening, it seemed, for the unseen presences to go by. By -and by she brightened, and came back to the present:—</p> - -<p>"There's but one thing about it all I don't like, ma'am. It's the way -ye keep your pig. A sty way off from Christian fellowship is no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> place -to keep a pig. They're the childer of God, the way we are. We kept our -own, ma'am, in the old country as clean as your hand, so we could have -it friendly in the kitchen with us. I'm fond of animals, ma'am—the -puir things that can't talk!"</p> - -<p>Besides her great fondness for animals Margaret had an extraordinary -understanding of them. She had a way of talking with bird and beast -that lent reality to the legends of St. Francis. The "Sermon to the -Birds" is no more intimate, nor that to the fishes more appropriate, -than the daily admonitions she gave the pig, the counsel she tendered -the chickens, to which they listened with grave attention, the pig as -if hypnotized, his two fore feet planted stolidly, his eyes fixed upon -her; the chickens with their heads turned consideringly, now on this -side now on the other, and with little guttural comments of question -or approval. The wolf reputed to have put his paw in the saint's hand -seemed infinitely less legendary to me after I had seen the pig, -released from his pen, follow her to the kitchen stoop, and, with -manners as gentlemanly as he could counterfeit, eat out of a pan she -held<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> for him. When he had finished, she offered him her hand, as if to -pledge him to further good manners; and he made a clumsy pawing motion -and managed with her help to get a hoof into her palm. She gave it a -grave shake and released it.</p> - -<p>"You're improvin'," was all she said; while the pig, delighted, no -doubt, with his new accomplishment, took to his four feet, with squeals -of delight, around the corner of the house.</p> - -<p>One day there came from about her person a strange chirping, a trifle -muffled, like the chirping of a tiny chicken. She absolutely ignored -it. She held her head stiff and high, as she was wont to do when she -served us or when she referred to "me brother Pat." But when she saw -that the day could not after all be carried by a mere haughty ignoring -of facts, she spoke.</p> - -<p>"Poor little uneducated abandoned fowl, ma'am, to cry out against its -own interests! I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave it in the cold. So, for -the love of its mother and God's mother, I'm carryin' it in me bosom -to keep it warm. And I'd think you'd be offended if I didn't<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> believe -you're a follower of Him that carried the lambs there too!"</p> - -<p>It was in such ways that she left you no argument, disarmed all -objection, and pursued her own way and predilections, as the saints, -the poor, and other chosen of the Lord have, I believe, always done.</p> - -<p>Loyalty was, perhaps, the largest part of her code; but it was based -rather on the assumption that you were hers than that she was yours. -Guests came seldom to that old house; but the welcome she gave them -when they did come was a thing to warm the heart.</p> - -<p>She assumed a devoted possession of me and my affairs. When these fared -ill, she was as Babylon desolated; when they went comparatively well, -she was overjoyed, her step lightened, her head went up; she was as a -city set upon a hill, that cannot be hid. But it was toward those whom -she took to be my enemies that she really shone. By shrewd guesses and -by dint of a few downright questions, she figured out that a deal of -sorrow and calamity had come to me through the selfishness of others. -That was enough for her! Might the Lord<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> smite them! Might a murrain -seize them and their cattle!</p> - -<p>"But they have no cattle, Margaret! They live in a very large city."</p> - -<p>(It was always a temptation to see how she would right herself.)</p> - -<p>"Then may devastation befittin' them fall on their basements and their -battlements! May their balustrades burst and a sign of pestilence -be put upon their door-sills! And—now God forgive me—whenever -He's willin' to take them—for it's He would know what to do with -them,"—this with a fierce knowing nod,—"He has my willin'ness they -should go! I'd think it a fairer earth without them, and I'd greet the -sun the friendlier in the morn'n' for knowin' he'd not set his bright -eye on them."</p> - -<p>Many batter-cakes were stirred to rounded periods of this sort, and -omelettes beaten the stiffer for her indignation.</p> - -<p>Once it came to her in a roundabout way that illness had fallen upon -one of these whom for my sake she despised. She looked shrewdly at -something at a very long distance, invisible to any but herself, winked -one eye very deliberately,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> with incredible calculation; then nodded -her head slowly, like a witch or sibyl.</p> - -<p>"<i>What</i> did I tell ye! The currrse is beginnin' to work!"</p> - -<p>Funny as it was, there was something awful in it too.</p> - -<p>"But, Margaret, I don't wish them any ill. I don't believe people make -others suffer like that if they are in their right minds. Perhaps they -think they are doing right."</p> - -<p>"Of <i>courrrse</i> they do! If they ever could think they were wrong, -there'd be salvation for them! But you see how clear it is that they're -doomed to destruction!"</p> - -<p>"It's slow waitin' on the Lord," she said one day wearily. "And oh, -it's meself would like to stir them up a little cake befittin' them!"</p> - -<p>I know she thought me a weakling as to hate. But for the insuperable -difficulty of several centuries, I believe she would have left me, to -ally herself with the Borgias.</p> - -<p>When she had been with me some time, she had a serious illness. She had -been subject to periodical attacks of the kind, it seems, since her -girlhood.</p> - -<p>"I didn't tell you," she said simply, "for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> if I had, ye wouldn't have -engaged me; and I liked the looks of ye." Then, triumphantly, "Nor was -I mistaken."</p> - -<p>This was the beginning of a system of appeals, searching and frequent, -which yet never took the direct form of appeal.</p> - -<p>"It's I can't be sayin' how I love this old house," she would say -irrelevantly one day; and the next, "Me brother Pat has been very kind -to me at times—at <i>times</i>!"—here a slow wink and nod at the -invisible,—"but it's not your own, God save me, that'll do for you in -misfortune! No, ma'am, it's not your own!"</p> - -<p>She began giving me little presents, a lace collar first. I insisted -that I would rather she kept it herself.</p> - -<p>"God save us! And all you've done for me!" Her tone was almost despair. -"And you wouldn't let me do that for you! A bit of a lace collar!"</p> - -<p>The next time it was a strange mosaic cross; and the next, a -queerly contrived egg-beater; again, a very fine and beautiful -handkerchief—all of these produced from her trunk. She always had some -ingenious tale of how she had come by them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> - -<p>Meanwhile her attacks were becoming more frequent. At such times she -was like one possessed by some spirit. Her mind would wander suddenly, -always to her childhood and the Green Isle. She would be calling the -cows home at evening, or talking to the pig. When the "spirit" left -her, she would be trembling and almost helpless for days, and needed -much care.</p> - -<p>When she was well enough for me to leave her, I went to see her doctor -and her people. The first suggested the almshouse: the others thought -that they were not called on to keep her unless she would agree to do -exactly as they bade her do, and would renounce her proud ways.</p> - -<p>Of course I kept her with me. There are extravagances of poverty -which may be allowed, as well as of wealth. Something, too, must be -conceded to the spirit of adventure and recklessness. It may be at -this crossroads that the provident will bid me adieu. I am sorry to -lose their company, for, despite their lesser distinction and certain -plebeian tendencies, I like the provident. But before they determine to -depart, I may be allowed to wonder whether<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> they have ever been in such -close relation with the poor as I was then. Have they ever felt the -persistent appeal of a Margaret, I wonder, or seen her eyes go twenty -times a day to them as to one who held her fate in their keeping? I -think perhaps they will not have over-heard her say to the pig in a -moment of half-gay thankfulness, "Arrah! God save us! are ye glad as -ye should be ye're with people that have got a heart?" Or perhaps the -provident will scarcely have been vouchsafed a terrible understanding, -as I had at that time, of the dark possibilities of life, or have known -what it was to wonder where the next meals would come from.</p> - -<p>"But," argue the provident, "could she not have gone to her people?" -Which, being interpreted, means: "Should she not have taken thankfully -the grudged and conditioned charity, with dominion, offered her by -those in more fortunate circumstances?"</p> - -<p>And to that I answer, "If you think so, then I can only judge that -you know little 'how salt is the bread of others and how steep their -stairs'; and I can but refer you to one who has spoken immortally of -these matters."</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p> - -<p>One day, when she had been ill for more than a week, I told her that -she might stay on with me and be cared for, and have a certain very -moderate wage, and do only such little light work as she felt able to, -all the heavier being taken over by a stronger woman.</p> - -<p>She pricked her head up and spoke from a white pillow, equal to fate -once more:—</p> - -<p>"Now, God save us! If it isn't always good that be growin' out of evil! -I'll be yer <i>housekeeper</i>! And who'll ye have for a cook? 'Tis -I'll be keepin' the keys of things! Bring along the cook! Black or -white, I don't care. <i>I</i> kin manage her!" (This threateningly.)</p> - -<p>This was alarming, but I counted upon inspiration and ingenuity when -the time came.</p> - -<p>I found a West India darky, whose condition also needed improving. She -was a fine type. She might have walked out of the jungles of Africa; -magnificently powerful, a little old. She was as irrevocably Protestant -as Margaret was Catholic. I urged each of them privately to remember -that they were both the Lord's children and therefore sisters. Augusta -accepted this in solemn religious spirit,—such a speech on my part -bound her to me forever,—but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> Margaret took it with a chip on her -shoulder.</p> - -<p>"She can call herself a Christian if she likes, but it is an insult to -the Lord, for she's nothin' better nor a heathen! Black like that!"</p> - -<p>"But, Margaret, you said you would not object to a black woman."</p> - -<p>"No, ma'am, nor I don't!" said Margaret, veering swiftly after her own -manner; "it's her pink lips I can't shtand."</p> - -<p>This was the beginning of their warfare; which, not inconsistently, -was made infinitely more bitter by Augusta's fixed resolve to be a -Christian.</p> - -<p>Augusta had a predilection for hymns, one in particular, whose refrain -could be heard wailing and poignant and confident at odd moments:—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, what a Father, oh, what a Friend!</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He will be with you unto the end.</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Oh, what a Father, oh, what a Friend!</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">He will be with you unto the end.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Margaret, like most of those of her creed, had a small opinion of -hymn-singing, and haughtily indulged in none of it. Moreover, she had -in very strong essence that secure<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> sense of election and special -grace common with some of her faith. Let others attend mere temples -and mitigated meeting-houses, and presume to call them churches if -they like; let others take dark risks of undoctrinal salvation! Such -spiritual vagabondage must by contrast give but the greater assurance -of security to those elected since the beginning—a peculiar and a -chosen people. It can be seen, therefore, how Augusta's confident -appropriation of the Deity, with her reiterated boast of friendly -intimacy, wore upon this daughter of antique distinctions and ancient -privileges.</p> - -<p>There was, of course, soon established a strongly vicious circle; for, -when Margaret became excessively trying and difficult to deal with, -Augusta would console and fortify herself with the reassurances of this -particular refrain; whereas, at the same time, this particular refrain -having the effect of rousing Margaret to still worse and worse moods, -these, in turn, made the consolations of the refrain even more than -ever indispensable to Augusta.</p> - -<p>I do not know, I am sure, what would have been the final result of it -all save for the pig.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> When Margaret's limit of endurance was reached, -she would come out of the house, sometimes with her hands over her -ears, and make off at a kind of trot in the direction of the pig's -habitat. There, I am inclined to believe, she was able, after her own -manner, to find consolation and assuagement in her unrivaled place -in his affections, as well as in the friendly, grave, and undivided -attention which he always gave her.</p> - -<p>Impossible as Margaret was, I could see that her appealing and lovable -qualities played on Augusta as they had long played on me.</p> - -<p>"The poor afflicted soul!" said Augusta; "look at the poor thin -temples. You don't know, ma'am, how I pray for her every night!"</p> - -<p>Margaret, passing by unexpectedly, over-heard this and cried out,—</p> - -<p>"Oh, God save us! Then I am lost! The Lord will abandon me now for -sure! He'll never forgive me such company! That's the wurst yet!"</p> - -<p>Then she went off for another of her long conversations with the pig. -When she came back she was in a changed mood.</p> - -<p>"Don't mind what I say," she said to me.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> "If God can forgive me, I -don't know I'm sure, why you can't!" Then she put a rosy-cheeked apple -beside Augusta. "And I think you'll find this pleasant to the taste."</p> - -<p>Remembering the Borgias, I should have been loath to taste it; but -Augusta bit into it with immediate Christian forgiveness. Yet late that -afternoon the wind had shifted again into the old quarter. Happening to -go into the woodshed, I found Augusta there crying.</p> - -<p>"What in the world is the matter, Augusta?" I asked.</p> - -<p>"I'm crying," she said, anticipating Shaw and Androcles, "because I'm a -Christian and I can't strike her!"</p> - -<p>She raised her old bloodshot eyes, not to me, but to heaven. I have -seen the same look in the eyes of an old dog teased by a pert mongrel, -and crippled and rendered helpless by rheumatism as was Augusta by her -Christianity.</p> - -<p>It was Margaret herself at last, who announced that she would be -obliged to leave me. She spoke with a dignity which she had held over, -I suppose, from regal years submerged but not forgotten.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> - -<p>"It's I will have to be goin'; I've stayed as long as I can. I've stood -a great deal,—for ye'll stand a terrible lot for them ye're fond -of,—and I've been terrible fond of you, more than of me own—and am -to this day. But I can't honest say it's of your deserving! There's -a sayin' that we love best them that mistreat us most, and I'm for -thinkin' it may be true. I'd have stayed to help you, but I must be -havin' <i>some</i> thought of meself! Though you've treated me as I -wouldn't treat me own,"—this tellingly,—"and asked me to live under -the roof with one of them the Lord has abandoned, yet I've a kindly -feelin' in me heart still for ye, and if ye were in need and ye'd come -to me, maybe I wouldn't say ye nay—I don't know. I'm a forgivin' -disposition, more than is for me own good, God knows! I've hated yer -enemies and doomed them to desthruction!"</p> - -<p>I patted her hand good-bye between two perfectly well-balanced desires -to laugh and to cry. She was so funny, so incredible, so bent, since -the foundation of the world, on proving herself right and everybody -else wrong. She was not Margaret, merely, whom chance and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> trouble had -brought into my path—she was a very piece of humanity, decked out in -unaccustomed bonnet and unlikely feather, best petticoat and a grand -pair of black kid gloves—humanity, the ancient, the amusing, the -faulty, the incredible, the pathetic, the endeared. And it was as that -that she rode away in the funny old jolting farm wagon, her chin in the -air, her eyes glancing around haughtily, scanning the old place she had -loved and clung to, but scanning it scornfully now, as if she had never -laid eyes on it before, and were saying, "Ye puir thing!—with yer air -of delapidation! Who—God save us—are you?"</p> - -<p>I went back into the kitchen and caught Augusta wiping her eyes with -her apron, and was not altogether gay myself—while Margaret jolted -away fiercely, our two scalps at her belt.</p> - -<p>"You mustn't worry too much about her, ma'am," said Augusta soothingly; -"the Lord is her friend, and He'll take care of her."</p> - -<p>From incontrovertible precedent I felt sure that He would, with a -sureness I had never had as to my own less considerable destiny.</p> - -<p>All this was some years ago. By a curious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> chance,—which has the air -of being something more considerable,—it was while I was writing these -very paragraphs about Margaret that I had a letter from her, the first -since she rode away. It was very characteristic, written in a scrawly -and benevolent hand:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>"Will you please let me hear, ma'am, whether you're dead or alive. -I've had you on my mind, and for six weeks I can't sleep night or day -for thinking of you.</p> - -<p class="right"> -"Your old servant,<br> -"<span class="smcap">Margaret</span>."<br> -</p> -</div> - -<p>Let no one tell me that this is mere coincidence. New proof it is, -to one who has long dealt with the poor, of strange powers of which -they are possessed. Here is a sister, I tell you,—"plainer nor your -eyes,"—to the old blind man, who used to come tap-tap, tap-tapping up -the shadowy stairs and into the nursery for the penny I had withheld.</p> - -<p>Margaret had come back also. Useless to suppose that I could hide from -her in the silence and shadows of the intervening years. She had with -her shrewd eye found me out. She had come, like the blind man, not -to exact<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> money of me, no; but like a witch disembodied, and through -the mail, she had come to levy a more precious tax—to collect as of -old the old sympathetic affection; the old toll I had paid her so -often before; the tribute she had demanded and received times without -number—not for labors rendered, no, nor for accountable values -received, but rather by a kind of royal prerogative. Indeed, I take it -to be a thing proved, to which this is but slight additional testimony, -that these are, how much more than kings,—and it would seem by the -grace of God,—sovereigns and rulers over us.</p> - -<p>But there is still further testimony, of another order, which I feel -called on to bear.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="VII">VII<br> <span class="small">MARGHARETTA</span></h3></div> - - -<p>When we first went to live in the country, in the old house of which I -have written, we had a sufficiently large task merely to make the house -itself livable. But as time went on, we attempted to do a very little -farming.</p> - -<p>How greatly did this broaden and extend<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> my experience as to the poor! -There were the boys from ten to sixteen who came (again, these were -those whose condition needed improving) to do work on the farm for the -summers: Joseph, the Hebrew, who from his long and elaborate prayers -should have been at least a priest of the Temple; Lester, so practised -in picking locks and purloining that it was sheer waste of genius to -place him in a home like ours, where jewelry and other returns for his -skill were so slender. He did the best he could with the circumstances, -but how meagre they were, after all!</p> - -<p>There was the little girl, too, who could dance and recite and sing -ragtime, having done so in vaudeville. Our home offered her neither -audience nor stage, nor was there a footlight in the house. And there -was the young Apollo, who at the least could have shepherded the sheep -of Admetus; we had no sheep—only one cow.</p> - -<p>Then there was Ernest, capable of really heroic devotion. How far did -our possibilities fall short of his gifts! I did not engage him—he -engaged me. I was setting out the disadvantages as usual, when he -blurted out generously,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> "I like you, and I am going to take this -position!" He was blond, German, of the perfectly good-natured type, -and of heroic proportions. But, like the ancient heroes of his race, -he was fond of the cup that both cheers and inebriates. I used to -remonstrate with him and received always one answer, given stubbornly: -"You know I'd jump in the river for you!"</p> - -<p>I tried my best to show him that what was desirable was, not that -he should fling himself into the river, only that he should refrain -from the cup! Useless, useless! He wanted a more royal opportunity. -To be sober, trustworthy, honorable, daily dependable—these were too -trifling! Give him something worthy of his powers! The unlikely and -surprising were pleasing to his temperament. He would how generously -neglect his work to bring home from the field rabbits, which he shot -with an old muzzle-loader, requiring days of toil before it could be -got to work at all. Once he produced a pheasant. Lacking the Nemean -lion, he butchered a pig, and smoked the pork for me, by an incredibly -laborious method, under two barrels, one on top of the other.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> He hewed -down trees with terrible strokes, and built me with Herculean effort a -corn-crib of gigantic size to hold a handful of corn he had raised.</p> - -<p>All these things, while I appreciated them, left his grave fault -uncorrected. But to rebuke him on this score was to quarrel with -Hercules for some trifling mistake in his spinning. "You <i>know</i> I -would jump in the river for you!" he would reiterate.</p> - -<p>There really is something ample in their conceptions of life which -goes beyond our small bickerings as to honor and honesty. There is a -largeness about them which makes our code look small indeed.</p> - -<p>After Ernest's departure, another came for a few months, who had -surprising resources. He made a practice of bringing me gifts from I do -not know where—strawberries, asparagus, and other delicacies, given -him presumably, and for the most part, by gardeners of gentlemen's -estates in the outlying land—"friends of his."</p> - -<p>I suggested, with misgivings as to ethics, that I ought to pay for -these things; but he smiled benevolently, as a king on a subject,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> and -with a manner as bounteous. I had the impression that the world was his.</p> - -<p>In the face of his generosities, I felt my behaviors to be feeble and -inadequate. These were bounties of a kind to which I was unaccustomed -and parvenu, I who had none of the ancient quarterings which would -have entitled me to such gratuities; I who had been brought up to the -deplorably plebeian idea that one must pay for what one takes.</p> - -<p>These are occasions, when, frankly, I am at a loss how to deport -myself. I do not know the behaviors befitting. My etiquette does not -go so far; and Chesterfield, who covers so many points, stops short of -this: he says nothing on the subject.</p> - -<p>Oh, royal ways! Oh, fine prerogatives! What hope have I, who am but -descended from the founders of a mere country, from men who fought -and poured out their blood rather than pay for what they did not -receive—what hope is there that I shall ever attain to that gracious -and lordly company which receives, as a right, that for which it does -not pay!</p> - -<p>I have named but a few of these princely characters and their -deportments; but remembering<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> them all and weighing all their -values, I believe that "the brightest jewel in my crown wad" still -be—Margharetta.</p> - -<p>I have never been entirely certain that Margharetta was not descended -from the Bourbons. Her husband was in jail for theft, and was a poet. -"I will show you some of his poetry," she promised me in the first five -minutes of my acquaintance with her. "Some of my friends say he is as -great a poet as Shakespeare."</p> - -<p>Like Marie Antoinette, she had three children. Her husband's misfortune -had made it necessary to put these under the care of others. She talked -of them incessantly, and assured me that no heart could bleed like a -mother's.</p> - -<p>As we drove up from the station, she looked all about her, with the air -of a Siddons.</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't Ethel enjoy this scenery!" she remarked, still very grand, -but almost awed, it seemed. "She's such a poetic child!" (Ethel was the -oldest, a little girl of ten.) "And these trees!" she said solemnly, as -we entered the grave lordly shadows of the hemlocks. "Wouldn't Richard -enjoy them, now!" (Richard was the Dauphin, aged six.)</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></p> - -<p>When we at last got to the house, and she entered the kitchen in her -grand manner, it seemed to grow large—as the lintels and chambers -of the Greeks are said to have done when the gods visited them. The -walls seemed to widen out, and the pans and kettles took on a shining -stateliness. I have difficulty when writing of her to keep myself to -fact, so gracious, so spacious, was her manner. I know, for instance, -that her dresses all dipped a little at the back, yet I have the -greatest temptation to say she wore a court train, so much was that -the enlarging impression that she at all times conveyed. She was the -most dominating personality, I believe, that I have ever known. Like -a French verb, she seemed to cover and account for all possibilities. -She reminded you of the infinitive, the subjunctive, the future, the -indicative, the <i>plus-que-parfait</i>. Entering the dining-room, her -handsome hands bearing—always a little aloft—the corned beef or pot -roast that should have been a peacock at the very least, she conveyed, -silently, time and tense and person, passive and active: "I am"; "let -us love"; "let us have"; "thou hast"; "I have <i>not</i>"; "<i>if</i> I -had!"</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span></p> - -<p>Early in her career, I asked her what desserts she could make.</p> - -<p>She turned her full Bourbon eyes on me. She had no need to lift her -head: it was constitutionally, structurally high.</p> - -<p>"I can't make any," she said, with firmness and finality. "We bought -all <i>our</i> desserts at the delicatessen."</p> - -<p>So, without anger, only with dignity, she managed to put me in my place.</p> - -<p>Added to the many unconscious appeals that Margharetta was forever -making to me, she finally made a direct one. Informing me once more -that no heart could bleed like a mother's, she begged to be allowed to -have, if it were only one of her children with her, the little girl -aged ten. I consented, and went myself to fetch her.</p> - -<p>She was a beautiful child. She had a great deal of Margharetta's own -handsome, insolent beauty, but she had in addition a craft and ability -for lying and deception astounding in one so young. Ten years old by -the calendar she no doubt was; but by sundry other reckonings, she -might have been ten thousand—a strange, pathetic, puzzling little -girl.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> - -<p>For a time Margharetta's heart was staunched. But ere long it -began to bleed afresh for the one who was, it was now clear, her -dearest—Richard, the little Dauphin. She would stand looking out of -the window, the picture of wretchedness. "He is such an angelic little -fellow! I can't begin to tell you! Oh, if I could only see him! If I -could only have him in my arms once more!"</p> - -<p>I make no apology. I only tell the event, perhaps a little -shamefacedly. It was not long after this that I went and fetched -Richard also.</p> - -<p>If his sister was ten thousand, Richard was, I think, of prehistoric -origin. He had carried over from the Stone Age a strange ability for -having his own way at heavy cost. He had never been in the country. His -passion for flowers would have been a hopeful and poetic thing, had -it but been accompanied by a knowledge of what flowers were. He would -appear in full rapture, bearing a huge bouquet of young bean-plants or -a large nosegay of freshly planted cabbages. Never, despite my faithful -efforts, did he lose his passionate love of flowers, and never, despite -my equally faithful endeavors, did he learn to know what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> flowers were. -I think that they were to him anything that could be gathered with -greatest ease in largest bunches. With this definition in mind, it will -be seen that a vegetable garden offers superlative opportunities.</p> - -<p>Margharetta could see in all this nothing but a newly interesting phase -of her darling. I was there when he brought her his third generous -bouquet. She took it into her gracious handsome hands, held it off a -little, then appealed to me for appreciation:—</p> - -<p>"Now, isn't that his mother's boy? He brings everything to <i>me</i>."</p> - -<p>I had explained to Margharetta before, that, right as filial affection -undoubtedly is, the gathering of young tomato-plants from the garden -had come to be fearfully wrong. I now repeated this severely, then -addressed the Dauphin direct.</p> - -<p>"You are never, <i>never</i> to gather anything from the garden again; -do you understand?"</p> - -<p>Back went the Dauphin's head suddenly; his face became a purple mask of -tragedy; his eyes rained intolerable tears; he broke forth into a most -wild and tragic wail.</p> - -<p>Margharetta stooped, gathered him to her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> bosom with one of her finest -gestures, lifted him sobbing in her arms, laid his head against her -shoulder, held it there with a possessive queenly hand, and with a -colder look thrown at me, I am sure, than ever the Bourbons threw at -the mob, carried him upstairs.</p> - -<p>Later she explained to me haughtily what the Dauphin had meanwhile -explained to her—he had been <i>told</i> to gather those plants.</p> - -<p>"<i>Told</i> to gather them?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Come, lamb, tell just what Tony said to you."</p> - -<p>"Tony said," began Richard, a little breathless, but resolved, and -twisting and braiding his fingers as he spoke, "Tony said, 'You can -have <i>all</i> the flowers you want, <i>every</i> day, and I think -your mother would like the tomato-plants best.'"</p> - -<p>This sudden opera-bouffe turn of affairs really took me off my feet. -When I suggested that it was quite certain that Tony would contradict -Richard's statement, Margharetta's reply was perfectly consistent. Did -I suppose she would take the word of "a no-account Eye-talian" against -that of her darling?</p> - -<p>So I found myself once more face to face<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> with that total disregard -of fact and probabilities which I had now come to know as one of the -leading characteristics of her class. It was for me to remember that -miracle waits upon them; that nothing is improbable to them if it but -coincide with their desires; that truth shall not serve them unless it -goes dressed in their livery. Nothing could be done about the matter. -We were at a deadlock. What were mere logic and reason? What are they -ever, in the face of a faith chosen and adhered to?</p> - -<p>Margharetta stood firm in an unshaken faith in her own, while I -departed, to wonder why it is that humanity deports itself as decently -as it does, with these dark powers, not only at work in it, but hugely -at work in it, all the while.</p> - -<p>The days went on. In the course of becoming acquainted with the -country, the little Princess and the Dauphin underwent, of course, many -tragic adventures. Though they had me so well in command that I ran to -do their bidding, or flew to their rescue, at a mere summoning shriek, -wind, water, fire, cats, dogs, cows, horses, poison ivy, snapping -turtles,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> and sundry other folk were not so biddable.</p> - -<p>This recalcitrancy led to tragedies innumerable. When either or both -children were hurt by some fact or reality which by mere royal habit -they had haughtily ignored, and when they were beaten in the fray and -wounded, Margharetta was as one bereft of her senses. Panic seized -her. She flung herself upon my mercy and my intelligence. She wrung -her hands. She was distraught. She could do nothing herself for her -darlings, but was wild with gratitude, and watched with tragic animal -eyes everything that I was able to do for them. How wonderful I was at -such moments! How could she ever thank me! Then from my ministrations -she would receive into her arms the battered Princess or dilapidated -Dauphin, as it might have been from the hands of a relented Providence.</p> - -<p>My own glory lasted only during the danger, however. Her darlings -secure, she was not long in reascending her throne, and continued to -behave with entire consistency as to her probable ancestry. She was -the only real queen, with all a queen's regality and insolence,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> that -I have ever dealt with. It is clear to me now that I was hypnotized -by her manner to think it a privilege to be of use to her in the -calamities of herself and her family. It is true I did at last make a -fearful revolutionary stand for liberty, and bundled her and the young -Princess of ten and ten thousand and the little prehistoric Dauphin -off one day, and began as best I could to reconstruct life; but not -before I had come fearfully near, in the Versailles manner in which -Margharetta had conducted herself and our kitchen, being a "condition" -myself.</p> - -<p>It is now five years ago, "of a sunny morning," since they left us, -and the post brought me the other day a short letter from Margharetta -enclosing a "poem" by her husband, on the death of the little girl. -She "wanted me to know." I feel quite sure that the letter was divided -between sorrow for her loss and pride in her husband's performance.</p> - -<p>The circumstance touched me more than I would have supposed possible. -I thought of course of a mother's "bleeding heart." Poor Margharetta, -for all her queenliness and all her disregard of fact, brought at last -with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> humblest of us to face the one supreme reality; and weaving -as best she could some fancy about that, too, and turning away her face -from it toward some consolation of reunion which (the verses promised -this) was to be given her in another life, and, I doubt not, also -toward the pride in this life of being wedded to a man (let us waive -the matter of the jail) who could write poetry, and was, some thought, -"as great as Shakespeare."</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="VIII">VIII<br> <span class="small">THE POWERS OF THE POOR</span></h3></div> - - -<p>That the poor have strange, one might almost say occult, powers, seems -to me proved. The downtrodden with whom I dealt were, so far as I could -judge, the very pies and daws of existence, who, one might reasonably -suppose, would be grateful for whatever hips and haws and other chance -berries the bleak winter of their calamities left them. Nothing could -be further from the truth. They lived, rather, it would seem, on canary -seed and millet, maize and sesame, not obtainable in the open markets<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> -of the world. I fell under the strange delusion that they were to labor -for me, and that, for a wage agreed upon, they were to relieve me of -care. Again, how wide of the mark was this! They expected to be looked -after like queen bees, and they <i>were</i>! I myself laboring from -flower to flower for them, and filling their cells with honey.</p> - -<p>You may think them as stupid as you like, and as inconsiderable. Deal -with them but long enough, and you shall have strange suspicions. You -shall begin to note a growing and undeniable likeness in these to -"Cinderella" and "The Youngest Brother." Nor are these fairy tales, -mind you, safe and unbelievable, shut up there in your Grimm and -Andersen on the shelf, to be taken down only at pleasure; no, but fairy -tales potent and indisputable, hoeing your potatoes, walking about in -the flesh in your kitchen, and hanging out your clothes of a Monday.</p> - -<p>There is, indeed, some royalty about this class that bodes as ill for -us to ignore, as it is alarming for us to contemplate. If the Lord be -for them,—and there is every reason, historical and romantical, to -suppose that He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> is,—who then can be against them? Turn, Fortune, -turn thy wheel, but these can never be lowered! These, I take it, are -in their own manner imperial spirits, let kings and royal successions -be what they may. Here, without cabinets or ministers, or executive or -administrative cares to weigh upon them, yet with what authority they -go clothed!</p> - -<p>It is astounding, if one only becomes poor enough,—I say it in all -soberness and sincerity,—how rich and powerful one may become. And -perhaps just here it is my duty to submit a testimony I have up to this -time withheld. I have said that I myself have been poor, but I have -as yet said nothing of the strange unlooked-for loftiness that this -circumstance lent me. While I was of the wealthy, I strongly maintained -that these, and what we are wont to call the "upper classes," have the -very considerable advantage, and believed it with all my heart. But no -sooner was I downright poor, uncertain even where the next meals were -to come from, than the potion, the charm, the necromancy, the delusion, -or the truth,—have it which you will!—began to work, and I myself to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> -have a subtle suspicion, and at last a positive sense, of superiority.</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Who never ate his bread with tears,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">He knows ye not, ye heavenly powers!</span><br> -</p> - -<p>The wealthy, the advantageous began to dwindle in my eyes. How poor -they were in real experience, in sympathy, in understanding; how -wanting in fine feeling; how destitute, for the most part, of that -only wealth worth acquiring,—wealth of the heart!—whereas, the -poorer I was, the greater the wealth of understanding that was mine; -as my moneys dwindled, I was made rich of the universe; a new sense -of love and bounty was given me as by an unlooked-for legacy. The -vast tired multitude going home at night, all these suddenly were my -own—my brothers and my sisters; further, it may be noted, I acquired -the wealthy also. These too became my brothers, more chill and starved -sometimes (I knew this now) in their luxuries than the "poor" in their -destitution. Could one, indeed, knowing any of the real values, feel a -bitterness toward such? or could one fail to experience, having known -any of the true humilities of life, a love for these also?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> - -<p>Let it sound as paradoxical as it may,—I do not say it -unadvisedly,—poverty is an enrichment, and often enough a grandeur. -Here, indeed, in this fact—I think it by no means unlikely—may lie -the explanation of many a humorously high behavior and lordliness in -those of whom I have more particularly told. If this be truth, as I -take it to be, then it lends consistency, even if a little quaint, to -what threatened to seem but unwarrantable chaos.</p> - -<p>Is it not probable, remembering my own experience, that Musgrove, -Mamie, Margaret, and the others had with their very indigence acquired -a compensating fortune and, by reason of their very destitution, -inherited, as by lofty bequest, the universe? It should not be -forgotten, moreover, that I had come to these distinctions only after -years of comfortable living, whereas those I have told you of had been -born to the purple of their poverty. I, in serving others, have never -yet been able to give myself the ample airs of a Margharetta. I have -never found it possible to pull pennies out of people's pockets by the -Æschylean tragedy of my condition, or to draw pity at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> will out of -their hearts. I am smitten with silence when trouble and difficulty -assail me, and I have an intolerable instinct against asking for the -sympathy and commiseration of others; whereas those better accustomed -than myself,—as I have shown you,—how readily are they able to -requisition your sympathy, to appropriate wholly your pity, and to -confiscate your possessions, your theories, and your ethics!</p> - -<p>Yet we, mind you, in the face of these abilities, have assumed them to -be our inferiors, and have organized for them frankly a society for the -improvement of their condition! That we can mitigate their sufferings -and inconveniences, lessen their cold or their hunger, I willingly -admit; but I am not of so bold an intellect as to believe that we can -improve their condition, or that their condition, take it for all in -all, can be improved upon.</p> - -<p>If you doubt such testimony as I have borne, and think it too personal, -there is other more general and considerable. Were not Egypt and all -her power despised and triumphed over by "a colony of revolted Egyptian -slaves"? Did not proud Rome go down,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> also, to a like downtrodden -people? Picture what Rome was in her might—Rome tracing her ancestry -to the gods! And then look upon her bowed down in slavish subserviency -to kiss the shoe of a poor fisherman!</p> - -<p>And the poor then, who called themselves Christians—as now you would -have called them underlings, menials, subalterns. Yes, and so they -were. And they lived precariously in caves and catacombs under the -surveillance of the emperor's guards, as our most scurvy poor under the -police. Yet see them to-day, with dominion over palm and pine, and with -control of the earth's continents. And where now are the Roman emperors?</p> - -<p>History teems with such instances. With what scorn do you suppose the -mighty Persians in their glittering armor might have looked upon those -few youths who in the dawn "sat combing their long hair for death" -before Marathon? When the nameless poor murmured outside the gates of -Versailles, what would any of us have given for the brief lineage or -trumpery royalty of a Marie or a Louis? It would not have sold for a -franc to any one with a head for business. Even as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> these poor people -shook the gates, almost the haughtiest queen of history was already on -her way, then, and at their bidding, to become the Widow Capet. And -that, too, for only a little while, and by sufferance, before they -hurried her on to the last level of all.</p> - -<p>There may seem to be about them at first a marked futility. Only wait, -and you shall see what a power they have! Is there need that they -should pique or plume themselves or strut? They have no need to cut -a dash. The herald's office could add nothing to their stature. Here -is no newness or recency, no innovation; here rather are tradition, -custom, something time-honored, however little you may think it -venerable. Here is immemorial usage, "whereof the memory of man runneth -not to the contrary."</p> - -<p>And have these continued in the world in predominating numbers, despite -misfortune, calamity, catastrophe? No; mind you, rather because -of these! Think of a race with that ability! Since Cain fell into -misfortune and was shielded of the Almighty, and Lazarus, for a like -reason, lacked not a divine advocate, have these not had the special -protection of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> God? Can you show me any people of lands and property, -of thrift and saving habits, of full granaries and honest provident -stores laid by, who were guided by a pillar of cloud by day and of fire -by night? who had manna and quail supplied them; and an entire land -swept clean of its rightful owners by the Lord's hand, so that they -might come into it instead, to enjoy the wells they had not digged, and -the fruits thereof which neither had they planted?</p> - -<p>Were it not of too great a bulk, the testimony of literature could -be brought to corroborate that of history. When you read "The Jolly -Beggars," you are informed without squeamishness which is the most free -and powerful class in the world; and when you have read that other -document by the same hand, "The Twa Dogs," you have perused a fine bit -of testimony as to which is the happiest. Or if there lacked these, -and there were left us but Arden and its gentle beggars—who could be -in doubt? How they triumph over the rich and the successful and lord -it felicitously in their poverty! What would you look to find these -but broken and saddened—these who are not only beggars, mind you, but -wronged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> men: the Duke, Orlando, Rosalind, all suffering injustice; -Adam starving; Touchstone, Jaques, Amiens, and for the most part all of -them, too well acquainted with the rudeness of the world; men who had -known but too well the unkindness of man's ingratitude, the feigning of -most friendship, the bitterness of benefits forgot. And yet, turn only -to that first scene in the forest. If ever I set eyes on independent -gentlemen, here they are! And who doubts too, reading of these, that -Shakespeare wrote of them out of his own Arden, out of the enrichment -of his own poverty, and the splendors of his unsuccessful years!</p> - -<p>The powers of the poor! This is a matter to which I have often lent -my speculation, and have striven to perceive by what rights, as of -gods in exile, they have maintained their dignity and their supremacy; -and I have wondered whether one of these may not be that necessity -laid upon them to touch more nearly than we the realities of life. -We have set guards at our gateways, to turn away Poverty or Misery -or Cold or Hunger, yes, and Human Brotherhood and Life and Death -themselves. Death, it is true, and some others, will not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> be altogether -gainsaid, but enter at last into the lives of all of us, bringing -invariably—this is to be noted—a great dignity to the house which -they have visited. But to the poor the "heavenly powers" come, whether -welcome or no, and like the gods visiting mortals, they do not depart, -save from the entirely unworthy, without bestowing enrichment.</p> - -<p>I have sat at the table of an old Philemon and Baucis, whose condition -of poverty appeared not to be bettered by their entertainment of the -great realities of life; whose pitcher poured as scant as ever it did, -though Death and Calamity had but lately visited them. But when you -thirsted for a better draught, a draught not to sustain the body, but -the spirit—then, then the miracle was evident enough! They filled your -cup to its trembling brim, nor, pour as they would, could they empty -their hearts of love and understanding.</p> - -<p>These are, indeed, good gifts, and of the gods, and there are many -others; and it would take little to prove how much more bountifully the -poor receive of them than the wealthier classes.</p> - -<p>Another possession, which I have noted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> often among the poor, is that -gayety, that lightness of heart, that almost inconsequent gayety, so -often seen, amazingly, among them. Where you and I might be crushed by -calamity, they can raise their heads and be glad, and that over some -trifle. Where you might have gone sad and sober for weeks, Mamie could -dance her little ragtime songs; Margaret could be gay with the pig; and -Margharetta, fresh from a new downfall, could gather the children of -her heart to her as a hen its chickens, and in blissful content think -nothing of the morrow. This I have seen again and again. They are as -recuperative as King David. Let them sin and blunder and suffer and -be cast down, it is but for a brief season; soon you shall hear the -plucking of their harp and the sound of their psaltery, and a new song -unto the Lord.</p> - -<p>As further testimony, this is, I believe, the place to confess that it -was not in the days of my prosperity and happiness, but in the days -of my poverty and sorrow, that I myself became possessed of this good -gift of the gods. The laughter and gayety of heart of prosperous years, -though they may be of no mean<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> order, seem to me but pallid things -compared with those of a more tested season. To have seen the total -wreckage of one's hopes, to have known despair and the bleak winds of -the heath of the world, and to delight still, and more than ever, in -the little and the gay, and to taste with a keener relish than ever -before the fine-flavored humor of the world, this is to be rich, though -one were in tatters; this is to be gifted, though to the last farthing -one has been robbed.</p> - -<p>But there is another endowment besides all these, even more precious—I -mean that unconscious grace and dignity of spirit possessed by some of -the poor; I mean that quiet and gracious acceptance of a lot which, to -our reckoning, seems but bare and difficult; that gentle and persistent -kindliness of men and women toward a world which, it seems to us, has -so roughly and despitefully used them.</p> - -<p>This I take to be the greatest of the gifts that the gods confer -upon the poor; and being so, it is fitting that it should not be -indiscriminately bestowed. You shall not meet it commonly or often; -yet here or there will be found some true ruler of his kind, looking -out<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> on the world with this kindly and gracious spirit. I have known -some few such myself, and one notably; though my acquaintance with him -was but of short duration, yet it summed up for me and made whole the -fragmentary virtues of the poor, and set a lasting seal upon my love -and understanding of them.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX<br> <span class="small">HORATIO</span></h3></div> - - -<p>I saw him first selling papers by a subway entrance. The day was -cold, and he had that peculiarly pinched look of those who are both -ill-nourished and ill-clad; and yet you could not without presumption -have called him pitiful. There was a kind of simple grandeur about -him which I am at a loss adequately to describe: a thing rather to be -embodied in myth and legend.</p> - -<p>The "envy of the gods" has been variously set out in tale and story. -Prometheus defying divinity is a moving enough figure, hurling curses -back at his superior, and visited by Asia, Panthea, and the nymphs and -Oceanides. But it would need a new legend, it seems to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> me, to embody -that loftiness which, in a similar bondage, hurls no curses, breathes -no complaint, nor asks even to be spared, if that be possible; a -gentleness which, without the least leaning to humility, preserves a -generous outlook, triumphant in its persistent kindliness as Prometheus -in his unconquered might; unbroken, unlowered; bound, yet attaining -somehow to a continued generosity and bestowal.</p> - -<p>It might seem, by the look of this man, that Fate had come to hate one -she could so little bend; for not only was he ragged and pinched, but -there was about his delicate face and the great slenderness of the -body, only too certainly, the mark of some physical ravage, and of an -overborne endurance. To the casual observer, he was but a man selling -newspapers at the entrance to the subway; to those of thoughtful and -speculative observation, he was a man standing within a few feet of -his grave, and likely at almost any moment to feel on his shoulder, -or dimly on his chilly hand, the summoning touch of Hermes, Leader of -Souls.</p> - -<p>There was about him a most amiable patience and courtesy which had -not at all the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> color of resignation. Indeed, to speak of resignation -in his case would have been to impute to him riches and hopes he had -not. I can give you no idea how much more courteous he seemed than his -destiny. The only Asia who ever visited him, I am sure, was a woman, -fat and comfortable looking, who sold papers also, at the other end of -the subway entrance, behind the shelter of its glass. She used to come -over sometimes while I was buying my paper of him, to ask him to make -change, blowing on her hands in a wholesome manner, or beating her arms -like a cabby. That she never sympathized with him, I felt sure, not -alone because of the general look and contour of her, but because—as I -have tried to show you—he was not the man to whom one would presume to -tender sympathy.</p> - -<p>As I came to know him better, I began to take the keenest pleasure in -his smile, which was always ready. He never let the salutation go at a -mere "good-morning." To my banal "Pretty cold to-day!" he would reply -smiling, and even while turning his shoulder to receive the cut of the -wind less directly, "Yes, but bracing"; or, while his blue fingers -fumbled<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> for change, "Not quite so cold as yesterday"; or it was, -"Well, the children like snow for Christmas"; or, "This snow will give -work to the poor, cleaning the streets"; or, if the white flakes turned -to threads of rain, "This will save the city a great deal."</p> - -<p>There never was any bravado in this, only the incomparable gentleness -and the winning smile. If Fate lingered about, malicious, hoping -to hear him at last complain, she might as well have given over -her eavesdropping. I, going to him for the daily "Times," and not -infrequently with a tired spirit and a heavy heart, would find that, -in return for my penny, he had given me, not only the morning paper, -but a new courage, or a heartening and precious shame of my own -discouragement, or, oftener still, a new faith in the world. So it was -that he stood there, day after day, in the freezing weather, dispensing -these benefits, a peculiar and moving royalty legible in his person.</p> - -<p>If those who read of him here pity him, it can only be because my words -give but such a poor idea of his great dignity. Those who saw him with -a clear eye, could they pity him, do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> you think? And I—I who had cried -out more than once, under how much less provocation, against the duress -of fortune—was it my right to give him commiseration? Marry, heaven -forbid! Again and again, as I went from him, my mind suggested, rather, -noble likenesses, and sought to find some simile to match him. Once it -was, "The gods go in low disguises"; again, "Great spirits now on earth -are sojourning"; and once the words of Amiens, addressed to the Duke, -seemed to me to blend in with his behaviors:—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 7em;">"Happy is your Grace,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That can translate the stubbornness of fortune</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Into so quiet and so sweet a style."</span><br> -</p> - -<p>And again, I thought once that the royal Dane, addressing Horatio, -offered me words befitting:—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 8em;">"For thou hast been</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing;</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">A man that fortune's buffets and rewards</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Has ta'en with equal thanks; and blest are those</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To sound what stop she please."</span><br> -</p> - -<p>One day I bought him a pair of woolen gloves, and all the way to his -corner I kept rehearsing an absurd speech of presentation,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> designed -to relieve both him and me of embarrassment. He must not know that I -had bought them for him! I wanted to spare myself that! So I concocted -what is currently known as a "cock-and-bull" story; but, as I look back -on it and its results, I lean to believing that I never perpetrated a -finer bit of fiction. I give it now without shame.</p> - -<p>"My husband," said I, fumbling for my penny, "has been very ill—a long -while."</p> - -<p>"Well, now, I'm sorry!" said Horatio gravely, and without the least -wonder, apparently, why this should have been proffered.</p> - -<p>"And the doctors think," I stumbled on, digging in my purse, "there's -no likelihood in the world at all he will be out of his bed before the -summer."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that's very hard for a man if he's active," said Horatio, speaking -with full sympathy, as of one who knew.</p> - -<p>"And <i>so</i>," said I, putting my penny in his hand, taking the -"Times," and mentally beshrewing me the clumsiness of language, "and -<i>so</i>, you see,"—here I brought them forth,—"there's a pair -of gloves of his he won't have even the chance to wear; and they're -<i>almost</i><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> as good as new, and—I just thought—may be—"</p> - -<p>Here words deserted me. I appealed directly to his eyes. These were -fixed, kind and gray, on the gloves. He was already taking them.</p> - -<p>"Indeed, I'd like very much to wear them," he said, "but I'm sorry he -can't be wearing them himself. May be he'll be well sooner than you -think, though. Sickness is a bad thing. These are very warm,"—this -with his delightful smile, and he began drawing one of them on,—"I'm -very much obliged. But may be he'll be well sooner than you think. I'm -sure I hope so."</p> - -<p>It was a busy morning. The early subway was pouring forth its crowds -as an early chimney, just started, its smoke. I was glad to mingle and -fade among them.</p> - -<p>The next morning, he was ready, may be even a little eager, as I -approached. He had my paper doubled and waiting for me, and waiting -too, his gentle inquiry, "Is he better?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said I, "I think so—a little."</p> - -<p>Some one else wanted a paper and we said no more. But each day after -that he asked me, and I gave him a cautious, not too enthusiastic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -report, for my patient must remain indoors till sharp weather and all -possible need of gloves were past. So, he was only a <i>little</i> -better. I took pains once to add, "A long illness is very discouraging."</p> - -<p>"That it is," Horatio assented. "But you'll forget that when he's well."</p> - -<p>So we continued in our courtesies and our sympathies; I very pleased -and hardly conscience-stricken, to have been able to give him what -I knew he must have cherished a good deal more than the gloves, -something, indeed, for the warming of his heart—the chance, say rather -the right, to extend his so experienced sympathy, and the opportunity -to give, to one in need of them, some of the stored-up riches of his -spirit. So, his own days growing short, and the shadow of his own cares -lengthening, he yet smiled daily, as he gave me of these riches, and -wished me a happy sunrise of my hopes and a good-morrow.</p> - -<p>One day he was not there. His fine spirit had fared forth. I can still -feel the shock and sudden loss it was to me. I went over to Asia, or -Panthea, selling her papers, and questioned her. Was he ill?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span></p> - -<p>"He went very sudden, ma'am, I believe. His wife came to say so. I'm -selling his papers now. What will you have? The 'Times'?"</p> - -<p>Hermes, the kindly, had beckoned him from his "undefeated, undishonored -field," and he had gone, eager and gentle there, too, I have no doubt.</p> - -<p>It was but a little while that I knew him, but the influence of him -abides. He has lent something to life which even the least noble cannot -take from it. The sorry old derelict, his poor old red lantern eyes -looking out of his dark face, when I give him a dole, receives it, not -from me, I think, after all, but from some gentleness which Horatio -lends me as a legacy.</p> - -<p>He was, of course, supreme of his class; but by that very supremacy -he made plain to me many things concerning those less than himself, -but of his same lineage. It is by no means unlikely, I think, that -Musgrove, Mamie, Margaret, Margharetta, and the rest, so much less -worthy than Horatio, yet glimpsed their heritage also, though in some -dim adumbrated manner of their own, and were unconsciously affected and -aggrandized by it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span></p> - -<p>Although I have spoken of them throughout with lightness, and have -laughed at their amazing follies, yet I know well that there is a -solemnity forever attendant upon the poor. There is without doubt -some unexpected endowment in suffering and privation, some surprising -enrichment in the common lot. Have it as you will, there is no honor so -high, or distinction so covetable, as to be a sharer of human joys and -sorrows, and an intimate, even though it be in misery and solitude, of -the hearts of men; and to this brotherhood, sharing the common lot, the -poor undeniably contribute by far the greater numbers.</p> - -<p>There is, to the very end, something tinsel and tawdry in the trappings -of special privilege. The splendors of the wealthy are but a brief -pageant—stage properties, donned for a little while to lend some -height and dignity to those of but human stature after all. The beggar -who looks on, as did Horatio, at this pageant, without envy, and who, -looking on, gives a gentle patronage to the rich, does so not without -warrant. The greater splendors and possessions are his own. Let them -decorate their stately halls; let them transport, as I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> have known them -to do, entire ceilings from Venetian palaces, tapestries from chambers -of those who also, long ago, once were great—the glory of the sun will -not be subsidized, the halls of the morning are lit with unmatchable -splendors, and the palace chambers of the night are hung by mightier -ministrants with tapestries of a finer weave, and ceiled with stars -for the mere vagrant and the vagabond who shall sleep some day beneath -them, without monument and unremembered.</p> - -<p>Do not these know life more nearly? Who has flattered them? Who has -shielded them from infancy, from the great powers? Who has defended -them? Have not these, like Œdipus and other kings' sons, been -exposed upon the very rocks of time; and have they not survived that -circumstance? Have these not dealt more intimately with the elements? -Who had enabled them to avoid the cut of the winter, or to evade -the stroke of the summer? to elude the arrows of sickness that fly -by night, or the pestilence that walks in the noonday? Sorrow and -Death have dealt with them more nearly, and without ambassadors. They -have had audience with reality; they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> have talked with Life without -interpreters.</p> - -<p>He who loves this world, and has found it good on such terms, may be -allowed his reasonable preference; he who speaks fondly still of life, -who has had such communings, may speak with some authority. Horatio's -smile was worth the pleasantness and optimism of a thousand who have -never made change with blue fingers, or shrunk from the cut of the cold.</p> - -<p>There are those who would patronize and pity such as Horatio. It -can only be, then, that they know this world but little, and still -childishly count riches to be but money, and poverty to be but lack of -it.</p> - -<p>And if you tell me that none but a sentimentalist would call poverty -an enrichment, then I can only assume that you have never been poor; -and if you tell me that the high behavior of Horatio is at the best but -endurance, even then, could I grant you so much, the argument still -would hold. Even so, Horatio endured life with a noble grace, and -helped others to do so; even so, he was able still to find pleasure -in a fate from which the wealthy would shrink in horror, and lovable -traits in one they would have called his bitterest enemy. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> had -blessed the life which had cursed him, and had loved it though it had -despitefully used him.</p> - -<p>So he triumphed—yet without pride; nor did one hear in his spirit's -victory any hint of animosity, or talk of reprisals, or bitterness, -or demand for indemnities, or hidden hate. Rather, he was to be found -each day undefeated in his impregnable gentleness, that still unfallen -province in which he dwelt. His were some incalculable riches of -the spirit which Poverty had heaped up and amassed for him through -those years when his fingers handled without complaint the miserable -pennies; his was some towering strength under the disguise of the weak -and broken body; like that Olympian glory fabled inevitably to appear -some time, under the mortal humility of gods in exile. There was about -him, for all his slenderness, something grand, something epic, and -allegorical. He might have stood as a symbol of a downtrodden people, -such nations as the world (be it said to our shame) sees still, and -that not in small numbers—crushed, oppressed by the arrogant, the -strong, yet still surviving and giving to the other nations their gifts -of gay song or heroic endurance, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> out of an incredible bounty still -bestowing love and kindness and beauty on the world which has behaved -toward them without mercy.</p> - -<p>Look, if you will, at the beggar nations of the world, and search the -heart of the poor among peoples, and I am convinced that you will -find in these also corroborative evidence of truths I have tried here -to touch upon but lightly. Let be their follies and their mistakes -and all their incredible assumptions: who shall declare that poverty -has not enriched them likewise? And among them, shall you not find -high and royal and single spirits, who, like Horatio, have both known -and loved the world and triumphed over it without animosity? To have -known and yet to have loved the world! Is not this the real heart of -the matter? Is not this the true test after all, and the indisputable -mark of a king's son? And shall you not find it oftener among the poor -than elsewhere? For he cannot be said to know the world who has never -been at its mercy; even as only he can be said to have triumphed over -it, who, having suffered all things at its hands, yet loves it with -unconquerable fidelity.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="GUESTS">GUESTS</h2> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="G_I">I<br> <span class="small">RELATIONS OF THE SPIRIT</span></h3></div> - - -<p>In his essay on "Character" Emerson points to the mutation and -change of religions and theological teachings, and then thunders -characteristically, "The moral sentiment alone is omnipotent." Now, -Emerson never takes away anything traditional and cherished, but he -puts something nobler into your hands in place of it. Hear him: "The -lines of religious sects are very shifting, their platforms unstable; -the whole science of theology of great uncertainty. No man can tell -what religious revolutions await us in the next years." Then with -thundering assurance he gives us the coveted reassurance. "But the -science of ethics has no mutation. The pulpit may shake, but this -platform will not. All the victories of religion belong to the moral -sentiment."</p> - -<p>I wish it were given me to speak with some such force and truth of -what we are wont to call education. Theories are very shifting; the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> -whole science of instruction is of great uncertainty. No man can tell -what pedagogic revolutions await us. But the educational value of life -has no uncertainty. Schools may come and go; this, the school of life, -remains—the greatest of them all. The highest attainments of mankind -are due to its teachings.</p> - -<p>In still another essay, Emerson, depicting, we suppose, the ideal not -the academic scholar, declares with the same tonic forcefulness that -"his use of books is occasional and infinitely subordinate; that he -should read a little proudly, as one who knows the original and cannot -therefore very highly value the copy." Always, life is to Emerson the -greater art, and learning, literature, and all other arts whatsoever, -but lesser things. "You send your child to the schoolmaster," he flings -out, "but it is the schoolboys who educate him."</p> - -<p>Precisely. When shall we have taken wholly to heart the so obvious -truth? It cannot be but the author of the "Greatest Show on Earth" -was right. The world <i>likes</i> to be humbugged; else why all this -elaboration of educational systems and theories, educational forms and -creeds, this multiplication of modern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> methods and "didactic material"? -These are, indeed, but things that change and fluctuate, and already -are on the way to being superseded. Meanwhile the older and larger -schoolroom of Life never closes its doors, makes no bid for patronage, -retains its old teachers, changes its methods not at all, and still -turns out the best pupils.</p> - -<p>My own education is generally thought to be above the average. It is -my belief that it would be far less considerable but for those various -circumstances which in my childhood denied me much schooling, and -accorded me a good deal of staying at home.</p> - -<p>The home of those days had, it is true, a far greater educative value -than can be claimed justly for the home of the present day, owing -mainly—I hold it almost beyond dispute—to the fact that it was more -given to the practice of hospitality and the entertainment of guests.</p> - -<p>Of the homes of my day my own was, I believe, fairly typical. Though a -full description of it and of the men and women who frequented it would -make a colored recital, so would a like description of the homes of -many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> others besides myself, who were children also at that time. I do -not mean that such homes were entirely the rule; yet there were enough -of them certainly to constitute a type. They were not likely to be -luxurious; those of people of less position nowadays are far finer.</p> - -<p>The old house of my childhood was a large and comfortable one, with -low-ceilinged, well-proportioned rooms, and wide verandas. Its -furnishings were in taste, and contributed greatly to its character. -The big Holland secretary, with its bulging sides and secret drawer, -was a very piece of romance; the tall clock, with its brass balls and -moon face, the old clawfoot mahogany tables, the long scroll sofa, -the heavy scroll mahogany sideboard, were as mellow in tone as the -old Martin guitar on which men and women, beaux and belles of a past -generation, had played; or the harp that stood in a corner, all gold in -the afternoon sunlight; or the square Steck piano of the front room, a -true grandee in its day. Several really well-painted portraits looked -down from the walls, and added a certain stateliness to the warmth of -every welcome.</p> - -<p>Many people, recalling that home, have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> spoken to me since of a -peculiarly warm and beautiful light which on sunny days was present -in the three lower rooms—parlor, sitting-room, and dining-room—that -opened one into another.</p> - -<p>This light, which had first to make its way past maples and a few -pear trees, entered, it seemed, with an especial graciousness, -touching softly and lingeringly the old mahogany as it went; and from -morning until late afternoon abode in the rooms with a kind of mellow -gentleness hardly to be described. There was something well-mannered, -unobtrusive, in its coming and going, as though it were conscious of -being a guest there; a kind of gracious enjoyment it seemed to take in -the place, noticeable in its gentle behaviors among the dark colors -and the old books, and in its manner of moving about delicately from -object to object, and pausing at last, as it always did, before the -tall pier-glass, as though it pleased it to reflect on the three long -rooms, doubled to twice their length, before it slipped away again past -the western windows and departed across the hills.</p> - -<p>I have mentioned carefully the perpetual coming and going of the -sunlight because it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> seems to me symbolical of that coming and going -of guests which perpetually lighted the old house, lent it its chief -charm, and gave me my most memorable schooling. The educative value -of life has no uncertainty. These men and women who came and went as -guests were my first memorable lessons of life, and, as I take it, they -were lessons marvelously well adapted to the understanding and needs of -a little child.</p> - -<p>I would not seem to undervalue the silent influence and worth of that -material loveliness which was often found in the old houses of that -day, and was evident in my own home; but I believe this alone could -have done little to educate me. Such loveliness was but a means to an -end. I would be loath to give great credit for my education to the -furniture, old and interesting as it was. The real credit is due, -first, to the customs of that time, which made hospitality one of the -first virtues; and, second, to the guests who, coming there, furnished -the house with its best opportunities, and incidentally—I beg you to -note that word—afforded me, there can be no doubt, the better part of -my education.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> - -<p>How far have we gone, "progressed," as we say, in a short span of -years! I am still a young woman, yet guests are not indeed what they -once were. There were poverty and riches in those days, too, but the -"high cost of living," that phrase forever turning up nowadays, was a -bad penny not yet coined, and guest-discouraging "flats" were anomalies -that my old home town rejected.</p> - -<p>Guests came and stayed then as they do not now. Visiting was still in -those days one of the accomplishments of life; a gracious habit not -yet broken up by ubiquitous hotels, ten, fifteen, twenty stories high; -not yet rendered superfluous by trains every hour on the hour, or -old-fashioned by scudding automobiles which, like Aladdin Abushamut's -magic sofa, snatch up whole parties of people, and in the twinkling -of an eye set them down in new lands with hardly time for greeting or -farewell.</p> - -<p>Life may be more provident, compact, convenient nowadays. I am not -prepared to dispute it. But of one thing I am certain: the modern child -in this almost guestless age has no such chance to acquire a broad -education out of school hours as had I, whose childhood<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> flourished -when guests were the rule and the tinkling of the doorbell was more -likely than not to be a summons to a fine adventure in visitors.</p> - -<p>Ah, there was an education! An education indeed! Its A B C was that -every child of the house should be delighted to be turned out of his or -her bed, to sleep four in a four-poster, or on a mattress on the floor, -so that one more guest might be given welcome. Its simple mathematics -were concerned mainly with the addition of guests, the eager -subtraction of one's own comforts, the multiplications of welcomes, and -the long divisions of all delights and pleasures, which by some kind -of higher calculus miraculously increased the meaning and richness of -life. Its geography, if any, was no geography at all, beyond the fact -that the guest-room was the sunniest and largest and best in the house, -and that exports from all the other rooms flowed into it and rendered -it the most desirable and the "most important city." As to history, it -consisted of people at all times and of all ages, and the traditions -of men and women of many types. It concerned itself, not with the -succession of kings and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> durations of dynasties so much as with a -succession of visitors and the probable length of their stay.</p> - -<p>I cannot say what enlightenment or learning or benefit the guests -themselves derived from these visits; though, if measured by -the frequent length of their sojourn, these must have been very -considerable; but I do know that we, the children of that household, -gained high benefits immensely educative; I know that we assimilated -much knowledge, and attained to much learning of a very high order, -intellectual and spiritual; and what is best of all, I know that in -that old home, antedating and long anticipating Madame Montessori and -her "Houses of Childhood," we learned with neither desk, blackboard, -nor semblance of schooling, and never for a moment so much as dreamed -that we were being taught.</p> - -<p>This is not the place to enter on a discussion of the Montessori -method. Briefly Madame Montessori's chief tenets may be stated thus: -Liberty for the child; a careful education of the child's senses, -resulting in an extraordinary sense-control to which the child attains -without consciousness of learning.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span></p> - -<p>The "didactic material" (frankly so called by the author of this -distinctive system of education) is material by means of which the -child's senses are trained. It consists of many parts. To name only a -few—there are one hundred and twenty-eight color-tablets; thirty-six -geometrical insets; three series of thirty-six cards; the "dimension -material" consists of nine cylinders, each differing from the rest in -height and diameter, ten quadrilateral prisms, ten four-sided striped -rods, and so on. This and much more is the equipment daily used in the -"Houses of Childhood."</p> - -<p>The home of my childhood was bare, bare of such things. Neither cubes -nor cylinders were there that I remember, nor thermatic tests, nor -color-tablets, nor quadrilateral prisms; and yet—</p> - -<p>What was there of especial value? There was, first of all, the -household. "The household," to quote Emerson further, "is a school of -power. There within the door learn the tragi-comedy of human life. -Here is the sincere thing, the wondrous composition for which day and -night go round. In that routine are the sacred relations, the passions -that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> bind and sever. Here is poverty and all the wisdom its hated -necessities can teach; here labor drudges, here affections glow, here -the secrets of character are told, the guards of man, the guards of -woman, the compensations which, like angels of justice, pay every -debt; the opium of custom, whereof all drink and many go mad. Here is -Economy, and Glee, and Hospitality, and Ceremony, and Frankness, and -Calamity, and Death, and Hope."</p> - -<p>Didactic material enough, if one chooses to call it that. But, besides -all this, there were guests—guests who came and lingered, guests of -an almost incredible variety. By recalling a few of them I can best -explain somewhat of their influence on my life.</p> - -<p>The first one I remember very clearly was a beautiful young -lady,—beautiful to me,—who spent I believe about six months with us. -I might have been a trifle over five years old. I remember her with -great exactness. Certain sparkling characteristics that she wore as -noticeably as the several heavy rings on her white hand, shine still -with surprising clearness in my memory.</p> - -<p>She was slender. She affected overskirts.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> She wore elbow-sleeves, and -trains, though she could hardly have been over eighteen or nineteen. -Her hair was plastered on her fashionably high forehead in what were -then known as "water-waves."</p> - -<p>On a collar of box-plaited lace she often wore a jet necklace, set in -gold, a kind of jewelry much in fashion at that time, I believe. Also I -remember that she had a pair of lemon-colored kid gloves; and on dress -occasions she wore heavy gold bracelets.</p> - -<p>But these were all as trifles to the fact that she sang. That was -her crowning glory. My mother sang sweetly, too, the beautiful songs -of "her day": "Flow Gently, Sweet Afton," "Lightly the Troubadour," -"Ye Banks and Braes," "The Gypsy's Warning," "Roll On, Silver Moon," -"Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms"—and many more. When -she sang them, she played on the old Steck piano or softly plucked the -strings of the old Martin guitar—simple and trill-less accompaniments.</p> - -<p>But you, Miss Lou Brooks! You, oh, you!—compounded of every creature's -best,—could sing the old and simple songs, if you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> chose, and very -graciously, for any one who asked for them; but better still if, left -to your own preference, you could take your seat how languidly at -the piano, how gracefully play a prelude in which the white jeweled -hands followed each other up and down the keyboard over and under, in -what moods and fancies, in what rippling runs and rapid arpeggios; -now lighting to flutter in a twinkling trill, with jewel-flash, like -whirring hummingbirds; now resting humble, two meek white doves, in the -long and waited-for preliminary pause. <i>Then</i>, you could break -forth at last into what burst of passion and fire of song!</p> - -<p>I can close my eyes still and see her. I have not a good memory, but -the words come to me almost unerring across the past (and I have to -remind you that I was a little over five years old):—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The stars shine o'er his pathway!</span><br> -<br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">[<i>Long pause, with the white hands quivering on the pressed keys!</i>]</span><br> -<br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The trees bend back their leaves,</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">[<i>Languid softness</i>]</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"To guide him to the meadow</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Among the golden sheaves;</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">[<i>Trills and expectancy!</i>]</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Where stand I, loving, longing,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And list'ning while I wait</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To the nightingale's sweet singing,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sweet singing to its mate.</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Singing!—Singing! [<i>The last, soft like an echo</i>]</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Swe-e-eet singing to-oo its mate!"</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="poetry">[<i>More trills and arpeggios to send shivers of delight over you—then -in a new measure.</i>]</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"Come, for my arms are empty,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Come for the day is long.</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Turn the darkness into glory;—</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">The sorrow into song!"</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="poetry">[<i>More pauses of which you were glad—then a beginning again of all -delight.</i>]</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"I hear his footfall's music;</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">I feel his presence near,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">All my soul responsive answers</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And tells me he is here!</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">O stars, shine out your brightest!</span><br> -<br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">[<i>This with eyes cast to where the stars should have been</i>]</span><br> -<br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">"O nightingale, sing sweet;—</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To guide him to me waiting</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And speed his flying feet;—</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">To guide him to me waiting,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">And speed his flying feet!"</span><br> -</p> - -<p>This was what they did in a world outside the walls of my childish -experience!—they sang like that!—of such things! I did not know what -it meant save in some incomplete<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> half-lunar way; but its effect drew -me, and, like the seasons and tides of the moon, changed the face of -the earth for me.</p> - -<p>Further, it should be noted that I heard this song, not only on one -occasion, not detached, isolated, as at a concert. Here was nothing -paid for cold-bloodedly at a box-office; here was something all woven -in with the daily chance of life. I heard the song many a time. I might -come upon it unexpected when I woke from my nap. I might be drawn from -my toys by it to the more desirable pleasure of standing big-eyed by -the piano while such glory as this rolled around about me; or eat my -bowl of bread and milk in the early evening to the accompaniment of it; -or try to keep the Sandman on my pillow from throwing the last handful -of sand until the final note of it was sung.</p> - -<p>Miss Brooks was, I believe, the daughter of an army officer. She had -lived in various parts of the world; common on her lips were tales of a -life wholly different from that which I knew.</p> - -<p>To my eyes, water-waves and all, she was incredibly beautiful. -Moreover,—and here you see the fine discriminating points which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -children make,—she was engaged; already selected; chosen; set apart! I -cannot tell you what glamour that lent her in my eyes. Child-psychology -is not a thing that always can be reduced to measurement of reflexes -and the like. I responded to all this by some unmeasured law of the -soul. This knowledge and appreciation of her—or of her type, if you -prefer—was as distinct and yet intangible a thing as the light of the -prism. The sun fell on her and was changed to color. I could not touch -or define her charm, but it was there; and the color and wonder of it -seemed to fall across me too as I sat near her, and upon my sun-browned -hands, if they touched her, until I could see colored jewels of rings -on them too, as there might be, and as I hoped there would be some day.</p> - -<p>I thought then that I was fond of her. Certainly her word was law to -me. I know that I used to run my little legs tired to wait upon her. -Her smiles and favors were precious to me as only the favors of the -beautiful and the gifted can be to a little child. The tap of her fan -on my cheek or my hand satisfied me altogether with life.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> - -<p>But I was too near her then to judge of her fairly. I know now -the truth of the matter. I have never seen her since. The glamour -of her presence no longer colors and impedes the white truth. She -was <i>not</i> the most beautiful young lady in the world, as I so -generously took her to be. She was <i>not</i> the only person in the -world who could play dazzling accompaniments, and sing to melt one's -soul, and make one a stranger to one's self. She was not the only one -in the universe who knew the dim and lovely secret chambers of a little -child's nature. She was after all, only, indeed, by courtesy, Miss Lou -Brooks. For she was less and more than all this: she was a guest; a -passing influence; an ineffaceable impression; a glorious experience; a -far adventure in new lands; a glimpse into other worlds unknown; a new -planet swum into my ken. She was a magic mirror held up to me—one in -which I could for the first time clearly see myself as I might be; she -was a glass of fashion, a mould of form. In her I saw moving evidences -of a world more wonderful than any of my fancy; she was a passing -guest in the house, yes, but a permanency in the scheme of things—a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> -very piece of life itself; and the knowledge of her, an acquirement in -learning and an acquisition in education. The educative value of life -has no uncertainty.</p> - -<p>Let Montessori children in "Houses of Childhood" feel of wooden circles -and quadrangles and be taught with care the words "round," "square"; -let them touch sandpaper and know thereby "this is rough," or linen and -apprehend "this is smooth." I, a child of the same age, needed nothing -of such information. I knew smooth and rough more nearly by the mere -chance touch of my play-roughened hand on her fine satiny one; I, of a -like age, wholly lacking in cubes and cylinders and color-slabs, was -learning nevertheless to discriminate between short and long, heavy -and light, were it but by dread of her departure, or the length of her -train.</p> - -<p>Put beside Miss Lou Brooks and all that she taught me and revealed to -me any didactic material you may choose, and I wonder if it compares -with her. Place beside her most of the lessons learned from books. The -rule of three is useful, but I would not exchange her for it. I might -do without my multiplication-tables,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> and indeed do get along without -them fairly well, never having learned the seven, eight, and nine -tables properly. But these I take to be but subordinate things—pawns, -or, at the very best, but bishops and knights of the game, limited to -move in certain lines without deviation, and not to be compared with -a queen, who can move here or there at will, taking, disconcerting, -winning, and setting the whole of life into new relations.</p> - -<p>I have named Miss Lou Brooks first because she made the first strong -impression on me; but she was only one of many not less memorable. She -was indeed but one star in a certain notable constellation of guests, -which shone in one quarter of my heavens.</p> - -<p>Belonging to the same constellation, though of a different magnitude, -was the young German army officer, for instance, who came all the way -from Germany, where my brother in his <i>Wanderjahr</i> had met him. -His visit was short, but the glory of it enduring. I was not yet seven. -I remember how he rose out of respect for me when I entered the room; -how he clicked his heels together and stood formal and attendant; how -he drew out my chair for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> me at the table, and saw me seated with all -the respect due an empress. To be allowed to come and sit in my brief -piqué dress at table with him and his shoulder-straps was an essay in -form and a treatise on self-respect.</p> - -<p>As brilliant a star, but of a steely blue radiance, was the -physician-scientist, Doctor Highway. He would be classified readily -now as a Christian gentleman of highest honor, brilliant gifts, and -scientific attainments. But the name scientist was not in those days -worn so easily. Huxley and Darwin were old but yet alive, as were many -who still believed them to be emissaries of the devil.</p> - -<p>Doctor Highway loved truth, he hated falsehood, and this with so much -fervor and so little compromise that he was pointed out by some as an -atheist. He was perpetually inviting argument, but he, or she, had -courage who accepted the invitation. Once, when he expatiated on the -marvels of mechanical music-boxes, an older sister of mine, in her -early teens, ventured boldly into the open with the tentative remark -that, wonderful as such music might be, might it not nevertheless lack -soul?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> - -<p>I can see him still. He jerked sharply in his chair. He flung -his penetrating glance at her and at her only. He said, with a -sharpness that had all the effect of anger, "<i>What do you mean by -<span class="allsmcap">SOUL</span></i>!!"</p> - -<p>You have seen a too bold rabbit scuttle into a hole at the near sound -of a gun. My sister to outward appearances was still there; but to -outward appearances only. She was indeed gone, vanished, obliterated, -annihilated—disappeared as effectually as though the earth had -swallowed her up. I have no record of the time when she again ventured -into the open, but I would be willing to think it was not for years.</p> - -<p>I remember supper-tables at which his conversations and brilliancy -presided. I remember sharp revolutionary statements that fell from him -as to Jonah and the whale, the flood; geological testimony as to the -length of time consumed in the creation of the world; all given with -his fine clear face lit up with a kind of righteous indignation, and -his hand brought down at last so that the glass and silver and myself -jumped suddenly.</p> - -<p>No thunderbolt fell on the house those nights, though I watched for -it with anxious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> waiting. Sometimes I think his was the beginning of -my own courage; for whatever moral bravery was in me rose, I think, -to honor this greater courage of his—a subaltern saluting a superior -officer. When he was by I listened, fascinated. In these long years -since he is gone, I too have loved truth; and I could wish for him now, -sometimes, that the too-complacent guests and cutlery and glassware -of our modern dinner-tables might be so startled and shocked by the -thunder of as righteous a sincerity.</p> - -<p>There was also—how warmly contrasted with Doctor Highway!—the young -Byronic musician with the extraordinary tenor voice. He was the pride -of his family, and to their dismay was resolved to go on the opera -stage. He treated me as an equal and, dispensing largesse, wrote in -my autograph book one day, in a fine stirring hand: "Music my only -love, the only bride I'll ever claim." Later, it is true, he seemed to -have repented his resolve and forgotten the album, for I believe that -he claimed some two brides besides music; but this did not alter his -educational value; that remained unspoiled.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> - -<p>There was, too, that great flashing fiery star, Mrs. Rankin, at work -at the time of her visit on a drama, "Herod and Mariamne." She had a -mannish face; she wore heavy rings on somewhat mannish hands, and was, -no doubt,—it is now revealed to me,—an unclassified suffragette, born -untimely, denied, cut off by the custom of those days from the delights -of militancy, foredoomed to pass out of life with never the joy of -smashing a single window.</p> - -<p>She talked much of injustice. She had a big voice and a small opinion -of men. This it is not unreasonable to suppose they reciprocated with a -still more diminutive opinion of her.</p> - -<p>One might think from all this that she should have been a pamphleteer. -She was not. She was by all odds and incongruities a poetess, driven by -the inexorable muse to daily sessions with Mariamne. Mariamne! Ah, what -a subject for her—for <i>her</i>!</p> - -<p>She must have absolute quiet. She must be undisturbed. During her stay -we would romp in from our play to find my mother with a finger on her -lips. Above stairs Mrs. Rankin might be pacing her room, declaiming, to -the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> hearing of her own judicial ear only, the speeches of Mariamne, -delivered in the voice of Herod, and the speeches of Herod, in a voice -that should have been that of Mariamne. I can still hear the long pace -and stride overhead.</p> - -<p>Lest her type seem too strange, perhaps, it was explained to us, what -Plato explained long ago, that a poet is rapt wholly out of himself and -is as one possessed of the gods.</p> - -<p>Then, too, which brought her nearer to our sympathies, my mother -conveyed to us the more homely knowledge that Mrs. Rankin had had much -unhappiness in her life; some Herod of her own, I believe. This secured -to her our more willing respect and laid on us more than the ordinary -obligation of courtesy. This virtue on our part was obliged to be its -own reward, for there was no other that I can recall.</p> - -<p>These people, you will note, were not bound to us by ties of blood. -They were rather relations, rich or poor relations, of the spirit. I am -bound also to tell of other guests than these: of those who by virtue -of tradition and blood we more wontedly call "our own"; men and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> women -of my mother's and father's families; aunts and uncles and "relatives," -as we say.</p> - -<p>But before I pass on to these, there is need to mention one more, at -least, of the relations of the spirit—that one to me most memorable -of them all; the young dramatist-poet, with his flying tie and his -heavy hair, to whose romantic name—Eugene Ashton—I would how gladly -have prefixed the title "Cousin" had I but been entitled to it; who -was nevertheless cousin-german to the spirit of me, or closer still, a -kind of brother-of-dreams. He had been into distant countries of the -soul—that was clear by a far-away look in his eyes. I used to sit -wordless and well-behaved in his presence, but I slipped my soul's hand -in his, very friendly, the while; I wandered far with him into realms -of fancy, and counted his approval and the merest glance he gave me as -very nearly the most desirable thing I could attain to.</p> - -<p>I can see him still, and those gray eyes of his, as young as the young -moon and as many centuries old; I can still hear his very noble voice, -reciting from time to time, as he was wont to do, some of his own -verses. Or I can<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> see him leaning forward, his gracious body bending -into the firelight, to talk over with my sympathetic mother his plans -for recognition and fame.</p> - -<p>How little we guessed that his life was even then near to its setting! -When one sees the morning star in the dawn, or Hesper in the twilight, -hanging limpid, golden, one does not wonder will its glory be long or -short; so much it holds one with its immortal loveliness, that little -thought is given to the near-by day, or the night which shall quench it.</p> - -<p>The other stars, Miss Lou Brooks, Mrs. Rankin, and the rest, shone long -and high in the firmament of my childhood; but the mellow light of -the gifts of Eugene Ashton, like the more splendid Hesper, hung low, -already low on the horizon.</p> - -<p>I shall not forget that morning we heard of his death. "Eugene Ashton -is dead!" The news was not kept from us children. Yet I remember, too, -that beyond the first sorrow and shock of such news lay a pardonable -pride. He had loved our home; he had found comfort and rest of spirit -there. I could still see his gray eyes looking into the firelight,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -and the bend of his gracious body, every inch of him a poet. There, -with us, he had dared to be his best and had shared his gifts; his -personality had lighted up those very rooms and his voice had sounded -in them there where still my daily lot was cast. He had been our -guest—to me the most memorable of them all. And now he was gone. -Where? A kind of glory followed the thought. He was gone down over the -rim of the horizon of life to the land of Death, as splendid there as -here. We had lost him, whereas he, you see, had only lost us. It was -our lives that were darkened, not his. It was on our lives, not on his, -that the night fell. So he also, having been as a "morning star among -the living," now, having died, was</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">... as Hesperus giving</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">New splendor to the dead.</span><br> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h3 class="nobreak" id="G_II">II<br> <span class="small">KITH AND KIN</span></h3></div> - - -<p>So far, in mentioning the many guests who frequented the old home of -my childhood, I have named only such as were relations of the spirit. -Often these seemed to me more truly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span> my kindred than those whose -kinship was based upon ties of blood. Yet, as my memory brings before -me those men and women of my mother's and father's families, I find -myself aware that the bonds of blood are strong, strong.</p> - -<p>These came bearing valid claim of right and title; these were not -to be gainsaid or denied; these were accompanied by silent, but how -indisputable, witnesses of feature and form. Whether I liked them or -not, these were "my own."</p> - -<p>But their chief power over me lay in this—that they linked my life -openly to all that of the past which I could call mine. The older of -them, who sometimes laid their hands on my head, touched with the other -hand, as it were, the generation already gone. They still carried vivid -memories of the dead in their hearts; spoke familiar words of them; -or, perhaps, wore delicate pictures of them still in lockets at their -throats. The invisible past was theirs visibly.</p> - -<p>The Greeks, that people of sound ideals and of incomparable taste -for living, did not consent to or admit of the departure of the -older<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> generation. To the invisible hands of the <i>lares</i> and -<i>penates</i> was delivered the sacredness of the house itself. -The spirits of the "departed" commemorated its lintels, kept clean -and bright the fires of the hearth, guarded the home from evil if -so might be, and gathered into a sweet influence those traits and -characteristics and deeds long gone in the flesh and surviving in the -spirit in some fine aroma of living.</p> - -<p>It was, I believe, somewhat in the manner of the <i>lares -familiares</i> that the clan of our older "blood-kin," both those of a -past and those of a very nearly past generation, added meaning to that -old home of my childhood.</p> - -<p>My great-aunts and great-uncles brought with them the spirits of -ancestors, were, in a sense, abodes of ancestors themselves. An older -generation looked out of their eyes; the spirits of men and women long -gone still lingered with them. It lent a dignity to life.</p> - -<p>We children stood aside while they passed by in front of us. We saw -them served at table and elsewhere to the best of everything. To them, -too, as to the <i>lares</i>, were given the first and best portions of -viands. We listened to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> them as though to oracles speaking. It was for -us to allow the rivers of their broader wisdom to flow undisturbed by -that kind of stone-throwing, pebble-skipping curiosity so noticeable in -the average liberated child of to-day. Into their fine flowing streams -of narrative we flung no big or little stones of our questions or our -egotism. Their talk rippled on or flowed stately.</p> - -<p>"We were under full canvas,"—I can see the fine-featured old gentleman -yet,—"we were in a zone of tempests, sailing round the Horn"—a wave -of the hand here, and a pause.</p> - -<p>What is "full canvas"? What is a "zone"? What is "Horn"? Indeed, we -did not know. Be sure we did not interrupt the narrator to ask—not -more than the audience arrests the ghost in "Hamlet" for exact -definitions when it mouths out the sorrowful hollow words, "unhouseled, -disappointed, unaneled."</p> - -<p>The words defined themselves well enough for all practical and -spiritual purposes. The mere sound of them was much, and the manner -of saying them was much more. We got no definitions of "full canvas," -"zone," or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> "Horn," for future reference; but what we did get was -a present sense of some of the great allied human experiences—the -unpitying power of the sea, the dread of a soul brought face to face -with shipwreck and death, the quick awful moving of the "imminent hand -of God," the cry of a coward, the fierce bravery of a brave man ready -to fling life away for the sake of his fellows; then, the sense of a -great deliverance and what we take to be the mercy of God. And beyond -all these, for good measure, pressed down and running over, we had -added unto us additional respect for those older and more experienced -than ourselves, and the sense of a fine tale told tellingly.</p> - -<p>But I would not have you suppose that I found all the old ladies and -all the old gentlemen delightful. Some of them I disliked and wished -gone. A sense of justice compels me to believe, however,—putting -aside all question as to whether they charmed or disappointed us, and -considering them only as purely educative mediums,—that these visitors -of an older generation are not surpassed, indeed, are rarely equaled, -by any theory or practice of modern pedagogy.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> - -<p>If Miss Lou Brooks and Eugene Ashton and Dr. Highway taught us much of -foreign lands and strange worlds and spiritual astronomies; if they -instructed me besides in the poetry and romance of life, these others -gave me a knowledge and love and understanding of other times, other -manners; they were a kind of incarnate treatises in history and ethics, -philosophy, and comparative philology.</p> - -<p>What a lesson in history and manners was my great-aunt Sarah for -instance!</p> - -<p>She was tall and stately, a kind of reproof to the shallowness of later -days. There was about her the refinement and delicacy of a rare old -vase. She had been young once; this my reason told me, for, in her -home, a large stone house called "Scarlet Oaks," hung a very beautiful -portrait of her, a delicate, very young, translucent face, rising above -the shimmering satin of a low-cut wedding gown. But for this I should -have taken her to have been always old, in the sense, I mean, in which -the piping forms of youth, the "brede of marble men and maidens," -on Keats's Grecian urn are "forever young, forever fair." There was -such a finality and finish about her,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> like something arrested in its -perfection; such achievement, such delicate completeness, it seemed, -as could not change! It appeared that, when old age should waste our -own generation, that delicate loveliness of her would remain untouched. -She seemed already to live above, to survive, what was perishable and -trivial in her own day and ours.</p> - -<p>She affected cashmere shawls and cameos, and wore long and very -elaborate mitts, and was always spoken of as "delicate." "Aunt Sarah is -very delicate." That, indeed, she was!</p> - -<p>We all waited upon my aunt Sarah, from the greatest to the least. She -was very fond of my father, and to hear her address him as "William," -and treat him with the condescension one gives to a child,—he who -had iron-gray hair,—and to see his eager and affectionate and wholly -respectful response, was to see time flow back.</p> - -<p>My great-aunt had two brothers, my uncle Hays and my uncle William, who -still wore great pointed collars, and black stocks that wound around -the throat several times, and broadcloth coats. But my great-uncles, -unlike my great-aunt, seemed passing by. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> was in their somewhat -careful, sometimes feeble step a suggestion of treaty and capitulation, -and from time to time, in their glance or actions, the pathos of -childlikeness so much more frequent in the old of that sex than of the -other.</p> - -<p>Such types were rare, even in my day. There were only a few, a very -few such men and women left then, guests of a twice older generation, -visiting still, with a kind of retained graciousness, in the house of -life from which they were soon finally to depart. By an enviable fate -some six or eight of these men and women belonged to me. An air of -grandeur came to the house with them as with the coming of the gods -and goddesses in the old days; the human dwellings expanded, and the -lintels grew tall.</p> - -<p>You can guess, perhaps, whether we children ventured a word! Glory -enough to be permitted to come as silent as mice to supper, while they -were there!</p> - -<p>Yet I would not be misleading. Even those of a twice older generation -were by no means inevitably stately and imposing. History is not -given over entirely to kings and queens.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> There was, for instance, -my great-aunt Henrietta, of the "other side of the house." She was a -wholly different type. She was little. She wore three puffs at either -side of her face. These were held in place by little gray combs. She -knew everybody's affairs, and her chief delight was in recounting them. -She was a living chronicle, an accurate, if inglorious, historian; -an intimate and personal account, with a mind for little happenings -and a prodigious memory for events; a sort of Pepys in petticoats and -neckerchief.</p> - -<p>She was the oldest survivor of my mother's people. The family tree -was in her keeping. But she cared little enough to dig about its deep -roots. She took no delight, apparently in the dignity of its stem, or -pride in the wide spread of its branches. Her entire pleasure, rather, -was in the twittering and whispering of its leaves. There was something -bird-like and flitting in her character, and she gossiped like a -chaffinch.</p> - -<p>In her flowed together the great strains on my mother's side, Spencer -and Halsted, names to conjure with. She had, certainly, not less to be -stately about than my great-aunt Sarah.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> She had plenty of ancestors -to be proud of, and for a touch of romance, had danced the minuet -with Lafayette, when she was a slip of a girl and he a guest in her -grandfather's house; but she never appeared in the least proud of her -people, only unfailingly entertained by them.</p> - -<p>It was at an early age that I resolved to model my life after my aunt -Sarah rather than after my aunt Henrietta; yet recalling my aunt -Henrietta's memorable characteristics, and that about Lafayette, and -the delightful side-puffs, and her searching comments on humanity, -I am willing to admit that she was perhaps the more vivid lesson of -the two. And if one counts the lasting distaste for gossip which I -acquired by being obliged to listen respectfully, hours at a time, it -seemed, while she continued to profess her little astonishments and -"you-don't-say-so's!" to my mother, with the best end of her sentences -always finished, inaudible to me, behind her fan, I am even prone to -believe her to have been the more influential and educative of the two.</p> - -<p>In those days, those days when visits were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> long and frequent, the -bond of kinship was firmly established, and family characteristics -were strong and vivid. These were <i>Halsteds</i>, <i>Spencers</i>, -<i>Hamiltons</i>, <i>Ogdens</i>, <i>Portors</i>, and not to be -mistaken, any more than you mistake now your reader for your speller, -your history for your geography.</p> - -<p>It seemed, it is true, that they were there but to visit; but how much -were they there, though how little were they aware of it, to teach, to -enlighten, to admonish! With them came the Halsted or Spencer or Portor -imperiousness or graciousness or brains; the Halsted eyes, which were -beautiful, and the Halsted tempers, which were not; with them came -those obstinate egotisms, those devotions and ideals, those headstrong -weaknesses, those gentle fortitudes which, strong in themselves, -survived vividly from generation to generation.</p> - -<p>My aunt Henrietta, my aunt Sarah and the rest, it was plain to be -seen, were the earthly abodes of strong antecedent family spirits; -and now, these bodily abodes doomed to decay, had not those spirits, -strong and nimble, already begun to frequent the available lives<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> of -the younger generation, resolved on living yet in the day-lighted -world, and visiting still the glimpses of the moon; hopeful, perhaps, -in the younger generation, to correct some old folly; or willful, -and determined, it might be, to pursue in some younger life the old -fatality and mistakes?</p> - -<p>This was what it meant, this and not less, when, often a little -wistfully, the passing generation remarked certain likenesses. "Mary, -how <i>much</i> she is getting to be like William!" or, "Do you know, -she reminds me of her great-grandmother Ferguson"; or, "She has the -Portor eyes"; and sometimes, cryptically, so that I might not guess too -clearly what it meant, "Very like the Halsteds."</p> - -<p>All those things were, I believe, far more influential and educative -than the unthinking will admit. They gave me much food for thought. -They roused in me commendable emotions, or salutary dismays. Might I -some day be like my aunt Sarah? Was I really like my father? Could -I worthily be classed with these others? And traits not to be proud -of—was I in danger from these? So cautions and hopes and worthinesses -grew up in me under<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> the fine influence of what might be called a -study in "Comparative Characteristics." There is not alone a dignity, -but a tenderness as well, lent to life by such a study of former and -passing generations. The results of living much of my childhood in -the presence of the past, serving tea to it, offering it the required -courtesies, putting footstools under its feet, were, I believe, a -certain abiding reverence for human nobility, and a pity for human -faults and weaknesses, and more, a desire and hope for nobility in -myself, and a haunting dread that some family weakness might reappear -in me; and these, as valuable assets to education, I would not rank -below the dates of the battles of Crécy and Poitiers, and the siege of -Paris—none of which dates, though I once learned them carefully, have -remained with me.</p> - -<p>There is not space to tell of that nearer constellation of warm and -bright stars, guests who were my mother's and father's intimate friends -and contemporaries. Even if there were nothing else to recommend them, -these were men and women who had lived through the Civil War in their -prime. To sit on the knee of my ex-soldier uncle, and know that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> where -my head leaned he carried in his breast-pocket a little Testament, with -a bullet-hole in it but not quite through it—the Testament having -saved his life and stopped the bullet from reaching his heart; and to -sit on the knee of another uncle, who actually carried a bullet from -Antietam about in his body, yes, and for all that, was the very gayest -of the gay—these experiences were spelling-books of a higher order and -readings in life not to be looked down on.</p> - -<p>There were other uncles, who visited the house only in tradition, but -were entertained there how warmly of my eager fancy,—their adventurous -lives having ended before mine began,—who were memorable lessons in -daring, in courtesy, and in spirit!</p> - -<p>There was my uncle Robert, for instance, who, to escape, for his part, -from my Chancellor grandfather's stern requirement that all of his -seven sons should study law, ran away and went before the mast at -eighteen, and at twenty-one came sailing home again, master of his own -vessel.</p> - -<p>She was called the Griffin. Ah, the Griffin! the Griffin! Though I -never set foot upon her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> deck, how well I knew her, masts, spars, -canvas, tar, and timber! How often I had stood in dreams, a little -figure at the prow, my skirts and hair blown back by the wind, while -we sailed the seas, she and I and her gallant crew, under the wise -direction of my sailor uncle! How often had we sought and found, across -the pathless ways, those places, vague, vague and far away, but known -and endeared to me by the wonder and the romance of their names—China -and Celebes, Madagascar and Gibraltar, the Azores and Canaries and -Shetlands, Hebrides, Bermudas and the Spice Islands, Ceylon and the -Andamans, Marseilles and Archangel and Valparaiso! How possible all of -them were, how sure of access, without regard to limiting geography! -Let but the Griffin weigh her anchor, and her sails be set! How far! -how far!</p> - -<p>Never mind that the Griffin's master was dead and buried in the sea he -loved, before I was born! I contrived to live above these facts, as I -did above geography. Could it be possible, do you think, that this my -best-loved uncle did not know me when I knew him so well? Was I not, -somehow and notwithstanding,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> one of his close kith and kin, on whom he -looked fondly? His favorite niece, perhaps with a spirit of adventure -to match his own?</p> - -<p>There were other uncles besides, with lives full as romantic. I mention -only this one, because I loved him best.</p> - -<p>There was, further, my mother's youngest sister, who was better -than any legend. I would rather have inherited, as I did then, that -love-story of hers, than very considerable worldly riches.</p> - -<p>Another of my mother's sisters was mistress of a home on Fifth Avenue -and of a very lovely country place on the Hudson. She had maids at -every hand to wait upon her, and footmen whose eyes looked straight -ahead of them, and who wore cockades in their hats. I liked her for -herself: her beauty and her spirit and commandingness always stirred -me, and she liked and approved of me, besides. Moreover,—let me be -frank,—I liked her too, in those days, for the footmen as well. One -of my sisters had visited her for nine months, and had, on her return, -entirely revolutionized all my ideas of the world.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> - -<p>But that, rather, which confirmed and stablished me and my ideals as on -a rock, was the love-story of my youngest aunt.</p> - -<p>She and her husband had only the most moderate means. They lived in -what I like now to believe must have been a rose-covered cottage. But -oh, the love of them! She had a mass of wonderful hair which it seems -he loved to unpin at night, to see it fall at either side of her lovely -face, down to her knees and beyond; and a tiny foot, whose slipper he -would allow no one but himself to put on. All reports of every member -of the family agreed: these were a pair of perfect lovers; like "Rose -in Bloom" and "Ansal Wajoud"; no harsh word was ever spoken between -them; they lived wholly for each other, in a blissful world apart, rich -in their own manner; where neither poverty, nor distress, nor discord -could find them; and where no hand could ever fall upon the latch to -bring them sorrow—save only one.</p> - -<p>That hand fell—the hand of him gently termed by Scheherazade and other -tale-tellers of the East, "The Terminator of Delights, and Separator of -Companions."</p> - -<p>She came to be with us the winter that she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> was widowed. It was thought -the change of air, and perhaps the brightness of our household, -might be of some little help. We children were admonished to be very -gentle—not to be noisy. Superfluous precaution! She was to me sacred!</p> - -<p>She used to walk up and down the upper veranda, taking the air -slenderly, a light shawl about her shoulders, her tiny foot pausing now -and then for greater steadiness, when the wind swayed her frail body -too rudely. I have known many faces since then; I never knew one with -a lovelier look. Heartbroken though she was, the depth of her love was -daily attested, for there never came complaint or bitter word across -her lips; and you went to her, without question, for quiet and comfort, -as to a sanctuary.</p> - -<p>At first, it seems, she had been pitifully rebellious, had longed and -prayed to die (we children knew these facts); but, having been denied -so much as this, she rose delicately, and lived on worthy of him, -binding and unbinding her hair, fastening her little slippers anew for -the daily road and routine of life. Sometimes, with tactful or tactless -devotion (I do not know<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span> to this day which), I would offer to fasten -them for her; and she would smile and let me do it, and usually kissed -me afterward.</p> - -<p>There were years and years when I never saw her. She grew more frail, I -am told, and her cheek withered; but to me she was always incomparable, -and always "Rose-in-Bloom"; and like Rose-in-Bloom, looking always to -one thing only—reunion with her beloved.</p> - -<p>"Will fortune, after separation and distance, grant me union with -my beloved?" sighs the lover of Rose-in-Bloom. "Close the book -of estrangement and efface my trouble? Shall my beloved be my -cup-companion once more? Where is Rose-in-Bloom, O King of the Age?"</p> - -<p>It might have been her lover who so questioned a mightier king, while -she waited far from him, there even in our very house. And the reply of -the king in the story would still have been fitting: "By Allah, ye are -two sincere lovers; and in the heaven of beauty two shining stars, and -your case is wonderful and your affair extraordinary."</p> - -<hr class="tb"> - -<p>It were indeed impossible to explain all that these, the vivid lives of -my own, meant to me,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> and what effect they had on what I like to call -my education—how much indeed they were my education.</p> - -<p>It is usually assumed that, the sooner we get at books, the sooner we -shall become educated. I think it a pale assumption. The order might -more happily be reversed. I am convinced that it was mainly by my -reading of these men and women, with whom the world of my childhood was -peopled and whom the gracious habit of visiting brought within my ken, -that I came later to recognize and enjoy the best authors and the best -literature. I had known Lear and Othello and Hamlet in my own circle, -though without Shakespearean dramatization or language. I have already -told you how well I knew "Rose-in-Bloom," so much better than the -"Arabian Nights" could ever tell me of her. "The poet's eye in a fine -frenzy rolling" was familiar enough to me. I had had it rolled on me by -the author of "Herod and Mariamne." I was continually recognizing in -books fragments of life, but glorified by the art of phrase or symbol. -When I came one day upon the incomparable scene in Capulet's orchard, -and those lines,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span></p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">"By yonder blessed moon I swear,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops,"</span><br> -</p> - -<p class="p0">was I, do you think, a stranger to it? Had I not in real life heard -Miss Lou Brooks sing with a full heart and a quivering voice,—</p> - -<p class="poetry"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"The stars shine o'er his pathway!"</span><br> -</p> - -<p>It will, without doubt, be objected that my childhood was an -exceptional one, even for my day; that the average child of the present -would certainly have no such characters and types from which to draw -knowledge. But this is, I am sure, a false premise. Humanity is a -very ancient stuff, and human beings are to be found to-day quite as -interesting and vivid as ever human beings were. But there lacks to the -modern child the quiet opportunity for knowing and studying humanity -at first-hand. In place of long and comfortable and constant visits, -we have a kind of motion-picture hospitality soon over, a film on a -roll soon spun out; and instead of life with its slower actions and -reactions, a startling mere picture of life flashing by.</p> - -<p>A short time ago I watched a party of married people and children -receive an automobileful of guests at a country house. The guests<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -remained something over twelve hours, which is a long visit in these -days.</p> - -<p>When they came, it was explained by them how many miles they had come -that day and over what roads. An hour was now devoted to getting the -dust off and to a change of clothes. After this there was much chatter -among host and guests, talk of mutual friends, and much detail as to -journeying; what roads had been found good, what ones uncomfortable for -speeding, with a comparing of road-maps among the men. Then there was -luncheon; after that, siestas; after these, a spin to the polo grounds -in the host's "auto"; after this, tea on the country-club veranda, -and another spin home. Another half-hour was now again given to the -removal of dust, then an hour to an exceptionally well-served supper; -more chatter, with rather high laughter; then the summoning of the -original "auto"; good-byes, some waving of hands, a little preliminary -chugging of the machine; then a speeding away, a vanished thing. Gone -in a flash! A clean sheet once more! The moving-picture visit was over; -the host and hostess returned to the chairs on their own veranda; -the handsome, long-legged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> bronzed children looked bored; and the -<i>lares</i> and <i>penates</i> inside, if there were any, shivered, I -am sure, with what "freezings" in the midst of "old December's bareness -everywhere."</p> - -<p>"And yet this time removed was summer's time." There were in that -flashing speeding automobile six people: there was an old gentleman -(very trig and alert) who had hunted tigers in India and had buried -three wives; there was a woman who was one of the most proud and vain -women in the world, as well as one of the most beautiful; there was -a man who had carried through a great panic in Wall Street, and who -wore an invisible halo of prayers of widows and orphans; there was a -middle-aged woman with a broken heart, whose lover had been buried at -sea; there was a fresh-looking young girl chained to the rock of modern -conventions, and a square-jawed handsome young Perseus, who was in love -with her and determined to rescue her and carry her away to dwell with -poverty and himself on a claim in eastern Idaho.</p> - -<p>Flash, flash! They are moving pictures, they are gone! What might they -not have been, what might they not have contributed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> very especially -to the host's children, in the way of lessons and knowledge and -education, had they remained long enough to be guests! What? Education? -But the children all go to school, and to the best to be had; and the -little one there is just starting in under the Montessori method. You -should see how amazingly, from fifty-seven varieties, she can select -and grade the different shades and colors.</p> - -<p>Madame Montessori recommends that children be under the care of a -"directress" (note the name) in the "Houses of Childhood," each day, -the day to begin at eight and to last until six, in a schoolroom -where the Montessori "method" is practised by means, mainly, of the -"didactic material"! The thing revolts me. I do not say, "What time -for arithmetic and geography, and the sterner realities of schooling?" -No, nor do I complain as does Sir Walter Scott when he touches on -Waverley's education, you remember, that "the history of England is now -reduced to a game at cards." I say to myself more solemnly, "But what -time is left for life? What time for guests?"</p> - -<p>They have a great care of children's education<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> nowadays. We were -neglected to a higher learning and abandoned to a larger fate. There -were guests coming! We made off to don our best dresses and behaviors. -We hoped to be worthy the gracious occasion. We meant to try. Life was -at the door.</p> - -<p>It was not mere shrewdness in St. Paul, surely, when he recommended the -Romans so earnestly to be "given to hospitality"; but a wistfulness as -well, and a certain longing for a high education to be given unto them; -and it was his correspondents' welfare he had in mind, you remember, -rather than the welfare of their guests, when he bade the Hebrews that -they "be not forgetful to entertain strangers"; for—now note carefully -the sequel—"for thereby some have entertained angels unawares."</p> - -<p>I have an old friend who is on his way, I am told by those in -authority, to be one of our great modern psychologists. He gives -anxious thought to the education of his children. Lately, he approached -me seriously in the matter of his boy's educational needs. Would I -talk them over with him? He wished to consult me. I looked for a -careful discussion of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> "methods," and was ready with all my arguments -concerning the Montessori teachings. Instead, he inquired, "Now when -will you come and visit us? a real visit, I mean? That is what I wanted -to ask you. It is with that that I am most concerned. That is exactly -what Jack needs."</p> - -<p>I am needed as a guest in their house, for the sake of the children! My -heart rises at the thought! Cheered, I seem to see ahead, clearly, a -time when, if we do not provide them with guests, we shall think that -we have shamefully neglected our children's education; when we will no -more deny them visitors, than we would now neglect to have them taught -to read.</p> - -<p>To love life for ourselves and others; to be forever interested in it; -to be loyal to it, and that down to the grave; to dwell helpfully and -appreciatively with one's kind; to understand others as generously as -is possible to faulty human nature, and to make ourselves understood -as much as is consistent with courtesy; these are, I take it, the fine -flower of culture; here is all that I would dare call education, or -presume to think of permanent importance.</p> - -<p>And by no means, I feel sure, can youth be<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> led to all this so readily, -so happily, so effectually, as by means of the age-old virtue of -hospitality. These things are things which guests bring with them, -knowing it not, and bestow on those who are not aware of the bestowal.</p> - -<p>And our most advanced ideal, that of "universal brotherhood" and a -"federation of the world"—what is this, I ask you, but a glad sharing -of life in a society to which all will be welcome, with bread and wine -and greeting denied to none, and guest and host fulfilling an equal -obligation?</p> - -<p>This is the old manner of entertaining, and—I ask your patience—it is -God's manner, not less. The gentle sympathy, the unfailing hospitality -of my mother,—how gentle and understanding she was of all types which -frequented the old house!—her patience and hospitality had in them, -I like to think, some resemblance to that larger patience of Him in -whose House of Life we do but for a time visit, some of us how gayly, -how romantically, some how fretfully and inconsiderately, lingering -past our time; some contributing but idle gossip; some lending to the -hearth-fires the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> glow of poetic dreams; some adding truth or dignity -of our own; some possessed of foibles and accomplished in failures; -some shining with hopes of final successes that shall never be ours. -Yet all of us, by the grace of God, and God be thanked, even so, adding -somewhat to the meaning of life, edifying when we least know it, -teaching when we are wholly unaware; helpful, instructive, even in our -blunders, profiting others by the often profitless lessons and fables -of our lives; enlightening when we are most ignorant of so doing, and -even when our own lives are darkened. In a word, <i>guests</i>; and -what is of even sweeter import, all of us understood, condoned, valued, -pitied, loved, by the Master of the House; welcomed by his world that -has long looked for our coming; served by his servants; waited upon by -wind and wave and those others who do his bidding; afforded the bread -of life to eat, given the wine of life to drink; warmed by the shining, -welcoming sun; lighted by no less candles than the stars; and with rest -and peace, and a bed at last for every one.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_DISAPPOINTMENTS_AND_VICISSITUDES_OF_MICE">THE DISAPPOINTMENTS AND VICISSITUDES OF MICE</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>There is, I am persuaded, a tendency in many of us to reckon too -absorbedly our own difficulties and to give but scant regard to the -difficulties of others. This I have observed frequently, not only in -our associations with those of our own kind, but very especially in our -relations with creatures that we assume to be of a lower order than -ourselves.</p> - -<p>I believe my own opportunity for observing the difficulties and -disappointments of certain members of the animal kingdom to have been -somewhat exceptional. It first came to me by way of residence in a very -delightful house in the country, in which it was my privilege to live. -It is an old house, as age goes in America, eighty or more years having -passed over the oldest of its low gables. Before we came to it, the -owner had not lived in it for many years. People had camped there from -time to time; it had served during one summer as sanctuary<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> to some -episcopal nuns, who set up a chapel in one of its twenty-two rooms, and -tinkled matins and vespers in and out of its twilit chambers; but they -remained a short two months only and then went on again, they and their -chanted services, leaving it voiceless and tenantless—tenantless, that -is, as to human kind.</p> - -<p>When we came to it there were many problems, difficult enough, -certainly, to be met before the beautiful old rooms of pleasing and -aristocratical proportions could be made comfortable and livable. But I -know now that I reckoned these problems far too curiously, and with too -scant regard for the far greater difficulties that our advent must have -put upon all the shy creature-folk who had up to that time found the -old place convenient and habitable enough.</p> - -<p>In front of the house a wide brook brawls, or pauses in little pools, -to meditate under the hazel light of the birches and maples of a most -lovely woodland. Into this woodland the long veranda, running the -length of the house, faces directly. It is but a step—say, rather, -the mere dip of a wing—from the branches of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> trees to the -more sheltered safety of those cornices and crevices of pillar and -window-frame where nests may be built so commodiously, away from storm -and uncertainty of many kinds; so, too, it is but a step, or let us say -a mere flying-squirrel-leap, from the drooping wood branches to the -mossy veranda roof, and thence a swift squirrel-run, of no distance -at all, along the varied eaves, and under them where secret openings -offer, and then but a flash of four-footed speed, to the inviting -safety and quiet of the old rafter attic—an ideal place to raise baby -squirrels.</p> - -<p>When we arrived that day, the house was occupied, at its edges and -corners, and even between its closed attic shutters, by birds of every -householding and houseloving variety; and in between its many walls, -and in its upper rooms and closets and air-chambers and low, long -attic, by squirrels and chipmunks; and here, there, and everywhere, as -we learned later, in all manner of unobservable but plainly audible -places, by mice.</p> - -<p>At the time I was not aware of the completeness of this occupancy; but -looking back now with full knowledge, I have a sense of shame<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> and -crudeness as I think what our coming must have meant to all those many -denizens of that long, rambling, quiet old mansion. I had then, it must -be remembered, not a thought of them. We were reckoning so absorbedly -all our own difficulties and discomforts of moving attendant on our -arrival, that we gave not so much as a thought to their calamities of -withdrawal.</p> - -<p>The birds were the first to go. I remember the frightened dart of one -of them close to my face when I first stepped from the front hall on -to the veranda. Such a frightened whirr and clipping and cutting of -the air to get through it and away, as if a panic had seized her. And -another on the branches just beyond the veranda, on her way, no doubt, -back to her nest on the window-casing, where now she dared not alight. -Such incredulous flitting from branch to branch, such twitching of -tail and wings, such anxious twitterings and turnings of the head, -such bird exclamations! Then she spread her wings and flew away, no -doubt to circulate the news. What Huns and Vandals had entered on her -possessions and threatened the country of her safety!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> - -<p>I think the first week, certainly the second, at most, saw all the -birds gone. The squirrels and chipmunks, too, though they stayed on -a trifle later, were not long in departing. There were councils and -hurried scamperings, hushed pauses, and now and then—when I got an -actual glimpse of one of them—an attitude of intent listening, a tiny -paw held dangling in front of a visibly beating heart; then the quick, -noiseless drop to all-fours, the drooped tail, the flash of speed; -then the leap into leafy invisibility—only the branches left swaying, -remembering.</p> - -<p>We had an Irish cook, who called all this tribe—red squirrels, gray -squirrels, and chipmunks,—indiscriminately "the munks."</p> - -<p>"God bless us! Look at the munks, mum! How they do race and carry on!"</p> - -<p>She came to me the second morning, after what I take to have been a -sleepless night. "Did you hear last night, mum? 'Twas a shame to any -decent house. And but for its bein' here in this heathen country, at -the back of God's field, and not a Christian locomotive to be had for -miles, I'd pack up and be gone before I'd stand another night of their -riotin'!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> I can't stand the rakish things, mum." The last in a high, -nervous key.</p> - -<p>"What is it you cannot stand?"</p> - -<p>"The munks, mum!"</p> - -<p>It was she, a devout daughter of the Church, who had said it. I made no -amendment; I only, I am sorry to say, offered her as consolation this:—</p> - -<p>"Don't worry about them. They will not stay now we are here. They will -find other homes for themselves."</p> - -<p>Yes, I said just that, and gave it to her for consolation.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>So much for the birds and squirrels, those altogether shy denizens -given to quick abdication. But the mice, being, I suppose, of a -somewhat more reasoning and philosophical order, more given to -treaty and capitulation, remained, after I know not what cautious -considerations and watchful consultations among themselves. That these -must have been sufficiently serious, I am convinced, for we heard at -first very little indeed of their doings; as if they intended to wait -and study this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> phenomenon of our usurpation before taking any risk -with powers so unlikely and unknown.</p> - -<p>But as time passed, their attitude toward the heavens and their -horoscope must have altered. Doubtless there was some hope that matters -were not so bad as the old and experienced among them had prophesied. -Appropriately quiet in the day, in the night they began to dare, and -to recover what was, I suppose, some of their erstwhile freedom, or -old-time happiness. They began cautiously to come and go; to advance -creepingly; to explore; to inquire and pry; to examine and study; and I -think, no doubt, to report.</p> - -<p>The usurpers, it seems, had a strange way of lying quiet at night (of -all times!), and pursuing their busy activities in the day, when all -good mouse citizens were in bed and asleep! Well, so far so good. -Perhaps the mice set this down to a special providence. However that -may be, it is certain that they acted on the intelligence; for at -night, having now become well informed as to our habits, they began -to come and go, if still a little cautiously, yet with more and more -freedom.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p> - -<p>I used to lie awake listening to them. One would scurry across the -floor wildly overhead, forget something, and run back for it. Another, -carrying a burden, would in fright or haste drop it, scamper away as if -terrified (oh, good gracious!) and then would dare to go back for it, -and roll it away soundingly into safety. I am inclined to think that a -certain pleasure was attendant on these dangers, and that among them, -as among ourselves, the brave were the gay; for there were among them -now—oh, bead-eyed, venturesome spirits!—certain delicate squeakings -that had all the effect of laughter. I could have sworn their feet -tittered; there was—I do assure you I am speaking the truth—something -giggling in their gait.</p> - -<p>They were not, I am sure, without their Colchases and Cassandras; but, -despite these, they began ere long to have certain celebrations. Go to! -Let old White-Whiskers, who foretold calamity, take himself off and lie -with his nose on his paws! There are better things in the world than -prudence!</p> - -<p>Celebrations there certainly were, though of what exact kind I am -unable to state; weddings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> very likely; town meetings, it may be, -with the ladies present and welcome; picnics, in all probability; and -christenings, I lean to believe, at which I make little doubt they -drank deliriously of dandelion wine. One must not demand too curiously -where they got it. I really have no idea. I keep my own well corked. -I only know that circumstantial evidence is strongly in favor of the -belief that they had it, and that in large quantities. How else is -it conceivable they could so far forget our presence and their own -risk? For I heard them coming home late one night between the rafters, -shortly before dawn, in an openly riotous manner. Prudence they had -flung to the winds. Their behavior was wholly ramshackle and reckless. -Such squeakings! such tumblings and titterings and scramblings as could -only have occurred among those totally oblivious to all danger! Such a -drunken dropping of acorns and other picnic viands! with little shrieks -from the ladies! Too evidently they had determined to eat and drink and -be merry, let come what would.</p> - -<p>I could not help laughing myself with them, yet I sobered, too, at such -recklessness on their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> part. This was no mere indiscretion; it was -sheer folly.</p> - -<p>I have no way of knowing whether any Daniel rose to warn them. If so, -he was not heeded. The feast went on uninterrupted. Or, it is possible, -too, they had not the requisite education or conscience to enable them -to read the moonlight on the rafter wall for writing of an ominous -character.</p> - -<p>When I wakened in the morning, not a sound or evidence. Like Bottom, it -seemed to me that I had had a most rare vision, for daylight had laid a -hushing and dispersing hand on them also. Then, suddenly, I knew it all -for reality. Not a beady eye among them, of course, that was not closed -now; in the daytime twilight of old rafters, all of them, without -doubt, slept, dandelion deep, their noses and their whiskers on their -tails.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, time and events went forward. Miss Layng, a North-of-Ireland -woman who kept house for us, while I attended to the work required of -me in my study, appeared before me with a white and sleepless face.</p> - -<p>Miss Layng had ominous colored hair, which she heaped each morning in -an exact manner<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> above a face in which delicate health, gentleness, and -unalterable determination were composite. She stood before me now, like -an allegorical figure of Justice, or Commerce, or Law, bearing in one -outheld hand a magenta "Dutchman's head" cheese.</p> - -<p>"You heard them?"</p> - -<p>She spoke with quiet severity.</p> - -<p>I looked inquiring, innocent.</p> - -<p>She disregarded this, as a person too much above a lie herself to -recognize one.</p> - -<p>"I think we shall need six traps, at least. Cook says she will not stay -unless they go. She says one ran across her face last night!"</p> - -<p>(Oh, the riotousness of them! More than I had suspected!)</p> - -<p>At this moment the cook herself appeared, far less allegorical, -comfortingly real, a lemon-squeezer in one hand.</p> - -<p>"Oh, mum, I can't be saying exactly whether it did or not. Maybe it -did, belike it didn't. But they do get me that nervous with what they -<i>might</i> do!"</p> - -<p>"You can see from this," antiphonied Miss Layng, solemnly.</p> - -<p>She turned the Holland cheese toward me.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> In its side was eaten what -could only be called a cavern. She stood there exhibiting it, eloquent, -without need of words.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, my own mental processes were busy, delightedly. Of course! -of course! Here was a revelation and an accounting! It was this, -undoubtedly, that had been the occasion of so much merriment and -wild celebration. And how altogether natural! For days they had been -fearful, and oppressed with dark anxiety. What harm might not such a -race as ourselves bring them! Other powers had fled before us. They -had remained! But who dared tell the outcome? Dark prophecies! Sombre -forebodings! Unthinkable possibilities! And then,—then,—when the -dark-minded and old among them pointed out optimism as the sheerest -folly,—then came this proof of unlooked-for benevolence! Age and -pessimism received their due. Caution and timorousness were flung -to the winds. Old wives and grandfathers were flouted, and their -cautiousness set down to sheer envy and crabbedness. The day and the -victory were in the hands of the young, the optimistic, the full of -faith! Come, ladies; come gentlemen! Pay no heed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> these pessimistic -aged people. Preserve your faith in life! Here is good warrant! -Quick! uncork the bottles! Bring the baskets along! This is a day for -feasting, for feasting! Look upon this magenta miracle of benevolence, -and be convinced. Life is kind!</p> - -<p>Where is a man with heart and imagination so dead who would not -understand, by the light of all this, why the night had seen such -celebration? How well understood, now, was the daring of the gentlemen, -the almost hysterical gayety of the ladies!</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Miss Layng waited.</p> - -<p>"I thought I would get six traps, but wished to speak of it first, -otherwise you might wonder to see so many on the bill at the end of the -month."</p> - -<p>In this cryptic yet crystalline fashion the problem of their fate was -presented to me. There was put before me a choice, a clear choice, -between the proper maintaining of an honorable household, the retaining -of a housekeeper and a cook with all that this implied as to my own -comfort, and—a whole community of I know not how many fathers, -mothers, children, step-children, brothers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> half-brothers, uncles, -aunts, cousins, first cousins once removed, prophets, sibyls, lawgivers.</p> - -<p>Need I say which I felt constrained to choose?</p> - -<p>Six were caught the first night.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>Six the first night! In the very midst of their rejoicings and the -apparent favor of their divinity—six! What a subject for a rodent -Æschylus! How they must have set themselves to ponder it! How and by -what neglect or unintentional disrespect had they offended the gods, -who but a while before had shone so kind! Six! And, as in the reapings -of war among ourselves, these were bound to have been the best and most -adventurous spirits. I paused to look at only one of them. What a sleek -and likely fellow he was! What a bead of an eye! What a father of a -family he would have made, nay, perhaps was!</p> - -<p>After that I asked Miss Layng to spare me all bulletins and statistics; -but by the frequency with which I came across her in the halls, or just -emerging from closets, holding far from her, between horrified fingers, -a small<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> magenta trap rigged with wires and a dangling tail, I knew the -number was large.</p> - -<p>I knew, too, by signs other and quite as authentic. The riotous -junketings had indeed ceased. The community was without doubt sobered, -and, it may be, led to think of its sins, its gods having turned -against it. There was less frolic and gladness in the world than there -had been.</p> - -<p>I confess, all this seemed to me a loss, or, more exactly, a kind of -waste. The wiser and the brooding East does not throw such things -away. Are there not many folk in India, of tawny skin and gentle eye, -who regard the humbler orders as sacred? There in that land are not -the monkeys (and I cannot believe them to be a less destructive or -garrulous race) welcome to the temples? There does not Kim's sacred -bull go about and select the best vegetables for himself?</p> - -<p>I was discontent with our order of things, not to say -conscience-stricken, and thought much about it. How we patronize and -humiliate and rout and exterminate these humbler folk! With how marked -an arrogance we deal with them! How we impose our morals upon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> them, -and bid them live up to our laws or be gone! They must exist in the -presence of a perpetual ultimatum. No court is held for their benefit. -There is no appeal possible save to mouse-traps with their inevitable -death-penalty. There is no more chance of getting their case correctly -stated before us than before the White Queen. Who ever listened to even -their most able and eloquent attorney?</p> - -<p>"My lords," he begins, with nervous whiskers, "the case of my client is -one that especially commends itself to human clemency. Six little ones -at home, my lords, and not a mouthful to eat! If this, my lords, if -this be not—"</p> - -<p>"Off with his head! Sentence first" (the inevitable sentence!), -"verdict afterward!"</p> - -<p>So we behave ourselves atrociously toward these, who, though of a -humbler order, are yet susceptible, I doubt not, of sensibilities and -sorrows and enjoyments; we, who in turn are so ready to abuse our own -order for their atrocities when we do not happen to be a party to them.</p> - -<p>These things are disturbing to philosophy and troubling to the heart. -How shall we with a conscience justify ourselves in the eyes of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -animal creation? Humbler folk than ourselves, yet I cannot think -that mice suffer by a comparison. I have attended to them with much -speculative attention, and I have found them a peaceable people without -malice. The worst offense that I have to record against them is the -demolition of several fine books in my library; but it was done (it -is not fair to hide this testimony) with the high intent of providing -a comfortable nest for the birth and early tending of the tender -young. As much cannot be said for the destruction of Louvain, for the -shelling of Rheims. They have purloined my cheese and been sly as to -my soap and tallow candles, but not, you will note, that they might -grow disproportionately fat and sleek thereon; no, nor for the sake of -banking these riches, to exchange them later for horseless carriages in -which to loll lazily or to pursue madly some unwholesome excitement; -no, nor yet to lay such things by in hoard and stores in such a -manner as to make it difficult or impossible for others to have the -same pleasure as themselves. No; they took only what hunger rendered -legitimate, a few satisfying nibbles at the candle, then leaving it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> -free, with a fine democracy, for the next man to take whatever was his -need.</p> - -<p>Where shall you find me a millionaire, or even a moderately -conscientious business man among us, with as generous and as democratic -a tendency? We who are so sharp with them, so eager to give them the -death-penalty, would we have thieved as little as they? Nor have I -ever, for all my listenings, been able to hear any quarrelings or -recriminations among them. Solicitous cautions, dangerous adventure, -frolickings and gigglings and squeaking laughter I have heard, but -nothing to compare with our harshnesses, spoken and unspoken; nor do -I believe them capable either of our sullenness or our spites. I have -met, as have most of us, with days of such from honorable men and -women, which I do not believe a mouse—of a so much lower order!—would -for a moment be capable of.</p> - -<p>In the face of uncertainties and disappointments such as theirs, what -would become, I wonder, of our philosophy? Yet they would appear to -maintain their gentleness unspoiled. We who take offense so readily; -we who would boast if we forgave a man seven times seven!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> They, it -would appear from easily collected data, do, in all likelihood, forgive -seven hundred times seventy, and make no ado about it at all. They seem -always ready to try life anew, and to give you another chance to be -generous.</p> - -<p>I was sitting once in the library of the old house, of which I have -written, reading. Stillness and the stars were out; a fire burned on -the hearth, for the night was cold. I read by the light of a lamp -a book that I loved. At my feet slept Commodore, my collie, his -pointed nose resting on his paws. On the rug by the fire was the old -tortoise-shell cat, Lady Jane, a spoiled but endeared companion. Both -had had their supper so bounteously that the dish of milk lay unemptied -still on the hearth, and, like the Giant in the fairy tale, they slept -"from repletion."</p> - -<p>They slept and I read, and for comfort of mind and body you might -have gone far to find three so comfortable as we that night. And then -presently I became aware of a little timorous shadow, that was not -a shadow, after all, but a tiny, tiny mouse. It put up its nose and -sniffed the air nor'-nor'-west, sou'-sou'-east. It tasted the possible -danger with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> its whiskers. It tasted and made sure, delicately, like a -connoisseur. Could the great adventure be risked?</p> - -<p>I can give you no idea by what sensitive soundings and testings and -deliberations and speculations it at last crept into the flickering -firelight. I wish I could convey to you the delicacy of its behavior: -manners to make those of Commodore and Lady Jane (they with their -sounding titles!) seem crude and greedy and plebeian. Its little -pauses said, "May I?" Its delicate deliberations conveyed, "If I am -troubling no one?" Its hesitations offered, "If I may be so bold?" And -then, after these preliminaries, it took its place how politely on the -brim of the flat dish of milk, and drank, and raised its head, and -drank, paused and drank again, daintily. Once, I thought, it offered a -courteous toast to me and my silence.</p> - -<p>Commodore and Lady Jane slept on! Oh, if they had known! Oh, the mews -of disappointment and the terrible barkings and the <i>Fi-fo-fum</i> -there would have been! But no, they slept on; and at last, having -supped but lightly, the little mouse took itself away, carrying<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> with -it neither money-bags nor marvelous hen, nor golden harp. A true story -and a fairy tale all in one, if you like—and without the questionable -ethics of its more famous prototype.</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>What do they make of life? Their stoicism, their gentleness, their -never-jaded curiosity perpetually tempt my speculation. That they are -a people of vicissitudes and disappointments due largely to ourselves -needs no arguing. What opinions have they of us? What effect have our -behaviors on them? A consistently gentle people, they are treated -with unvarying severity. What have they in lieu of logic to make life -bearable? And what reward is there for their virtues? Or, are they too -simple at heart, as yet, to ask for reward at all beyond the hope of a -mere precarious existence? Is life as dear to them as that? And what, -if any, in the way of religious speculation of a crude and early order, -might they be supposed to entertain? I would like to be delegated to -investigate and report upon mouse mythology.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span></p> - -<p>I can hardly rid myself of the idea that in their present is, as it -were, some dim glimmering of our own past. They seem to me testing -the world, as we ourselves must have done when we too were less -established, when we also were in a position scarcely less precarious, -eons before any written records were kept, long before man had -learned to remember at will for the quick purposes of convenience and -comparison—in a dim, dim foretime, when to us, in some early Caliban -existence, the outward world was as Prospero, unaccountable, and -possessed of strange whimsies and quick with unwarrantable revenges.</p> - -<p>"When a tree," says Frazer, tracing in his "Golden Bough" the -beginnings of mythology, "comes to be viewed no longer as a body of the -tree spirit, but simply as its abode, which it can quit at pleasure, -an important advance has been made in religious thought. Animism is -passing into polytheism."</p> - -<p>I cannot help wondering from time to time, whimsically, whether those -quiet denizens of that old house had made "an important advance -in religious thought"; was "animism," with them, "passing into -polytheism"? Were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> mouse-traps deceptive and evil gods with terrible -snapping jaws, or but the abodes of these evil deities? And for -philosophy and metaphysic, what had they? In that dim attic world -was this perhaps an entire people in its mythopœic age, their gods -descending and ascending miraculously, leaving a magenta cheese as -incontrovertible evidence, or as unaccountably visiting them with swift -and crafty destruction?</p> - -<p>I am inclined to think their world is a colored one, fertile in -fables. It would not surprise me to find that a small wooden object, -known to us of a different development as a mere "mouse-trap," is -to them some Dis or Ahriman, a terrible deity of dark powers and -multiple personalities. That there are other gods besides,—the great -and awful <span class="allsmcap">CAT</span>, the less omnipresent but not less terrible -<span class="allsmcap">TERRIER</span>,—I am not disposed to doubt; nor do I think they lack -the shining ones also, as quiet as the others are full of movement, -as conducive to life and well-being as the others to death and -destruction—bright, effulgent ones of the godlike color of cheese, -or silver sheen of tallow and paraffine; and back of all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> these, it -may be, some elder deities,—ourselves,—the older gods with Olympian -powers, who can establish earthquakes; who can wipe away entire -communities; gods and goddesses whose heads are in the clouds, whose -movements are terrific, who shake complete creation when they walk, and -with unthinkable besoms sweep with horrible sweepings, and periodically -visit the world with awful scourges and hellish visitations of order -and cleanliness.</p> - -<p>I would not pretend to be acquainted with mouse literature, but I -would venture a wager that their "Arabian Nights" outdoes ours as -cheese, chalk. Djinns, genii, and affrites—can it be thought that -they lack them? If the unaccountability of the world be, as it would -seem to me, the basis of all literature and the origin of all fable, -philosophy, entertainment, and speculation, can it be denied that they -have extraordinary inducement? If our own world seems full of chance, -and forever breaking away from bonds and probabilities, I only ask you -to compare it with theirs!—in which the unaccountable is the sole -certainty they possess.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p> - -<p>I awoke one morning in the late fall, and began to dress, giving no -thought whatever to them and their problems. When I came to put on my -shoe, however, I could no longer ignore them. In the toe of it, stowed -away safely, were three hickory-nuts!</p> - -<p>Some sleek-coated citizen, with a winter house in mind, had wandered in -those purlieus, thinking to begin the arduous labor requisite to the -building of a home suitable to the long, dark season nearly at hand, -when lo, this prudent necessity was suddenly, by a miraculous bounty, -waived! Mark you and observe! Here was provided for him a home such as -his best skill could never have contrived. A place how warm, how neat, -how conformable! That his acceptance was immediate, was testified by -his already accumulated stores.</p> - -<p>I paused and took them in my hand: one, two, three. There was a saint, -I am told, who allowed the birds to build in his two palms, and did not -rise from his knees until the fledglings were ready to fly from the -nest. Neither was I a saint, nor could I afford such beneficence. I was -pressed for time, as God's<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> saints, I believe, never are, and I needed -my shoe. I slipped it on as I had slipped on its mate; I tied its lace -neatly, gave the bow an efficient pat, and walked away in it. It is -true, I did put the three hickory-nuts on the bureau. I am not sure -what I meant to do with them, but I never saw them again. Miss Layng, -the terrible goddess of order, probably flung them out of the window -with mutterings.</p> - -<p>But I ask you only to picture the romance, and it may be the -terror, of the thing to the one who had laid such delightful plans, -who had enjoyed such anticipations! House, stores, hopes, social -aggrandizement, everything—gone! carried off entire, by God knows what -spirit! and not so much as a vestige left to tell the tale!</p> - -<p>I do not forget that it is the custom to speak of mice as -<i>destructive</i>; yet may not that word be used, after all, with -something of a bias? I picture one of them on his way to seek a few -bits of newspaper for the lining of a nest, and I imagine him suddenly -endowed with the ability to read the inky characters. He pauses in -amaze. His eyes bulge and devour the news<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> beadily. And what news it -is! Statistics! Staggering statistics of the men and officers killed -since our great war's beginning; and of aged and innocent citizens -shot, women violated, little children sacrificed, noble cities -destroyed!</p> - -<p>His hand goes over his heart to quiet its violent beating. Ah, what -a race of gods they are! Or, he reads this from a recent account of -the bayonet practice at Plattsburg—whatever "bayonet" may mean, and -whatever "Plattsburg"; for these accessories of civilization lie ahead -of him some eons.</p> - -<p>"Aim for the vitals," he reads. "Do not fire until you feel your -bayonet stick. Thus you will shatter the bone, and you can then -withdraw the blade. At the same time, try to trip your enemy with your -left foot, so that he will fall forward."</p> - -<p>None of this is clear to him. This is the deportment, without doubt, of -the immortal gods! Fancy the consequences of <i>his</i> attempting to -trip <i>his</i> enemy, the mouse-trap, or the cat, or the terrier, with -<i>his</i> left foot!</p> - -<p>No; these are powers and potencies to which he can only look forward -in dim futures, when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> the mouse tribe shall have attained, eons hence, -perhaps, to a higher order of being, and to these godlike practices. -But that, however glorious, is but a far dream! Meek and gentle and -forgiving, in his inferiority, he lends himself devotedly once more to -his labors, and nibbles the newspaper, carrying off small pieces of it, -very destructively, to build that near-by nest in which soon are to be -born tiny creatures as gentle and inferior and destructive as himself.</p> - -<p>To one who has studied mythology with a reverence for its revelations, -it must often have seemed that man is kinder than his conception of -the mighty powers that try him. Job would seem to be, rather than the -Deity, the hero of Job's tragical story; and how much nobler, to cite a -most obvious instance, is the ancient Greek than his deities!</p> - -<p>However impious this may appear to the pious, yet to me the thing -looks hopeful. Dread and powerful as are our own gods,—Authority, -Mammon, Sentiment, Public Opinion, Superstition, Fear,—and many as -have been our sacrifices offered up to them, yet may it not be that -humanity, frail, and so largely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> at their mercy, retains some sovereign -nobilities still unvanquished by them?</p> - -<p>Have we not had our own disappointments and vicissitudes? Have not our -conceptions of our duties and privileges and rights and gayeties been -but poorly adjusted to those powers whose awful retributions we have -tempted? Yet I am inclined to hope that, notwithstanding all this, we -shall still preserve some gentleness that cannot be conquered; shall -still retain some virtues which, let these terrible powers descend upon -us as they will, cannot be obliterated, that we shall be, till the end, -something better than our fate, something more kind than our destiny.</p> - -<p>I have but speculated widely concerning mouse mythology. Truth compels -me to state that it is to me, after all, but dim and debatable -territory. I can give you nothing authoritative as to their philosophy. -But this I know: they have maintained their gentleness, and are a -reproach to those whom I take to be their gods.</p> - -<p>All else is but speculation and possibility, but this is the evidence -of their lives. They are a meek and a forgiving people. Think<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> only -what they endure at our hands, who justly make so great a matter of a -Belgium violated, and forget, in a god-like manner, when it so pleases -us, a violated Congo, or a divided Persia, or a Poland outraged and cut -to pieces, but not defended! How gentle, how consistent, how without -spite, ill-will, or grudge, they remain toward those unalterably -hostile to them! With what mildness not matched among us do they -conduct themselves! How they preserve their cheerfulness, their good -nature, their kindliness! Have you not heard with what gayety they -roll hickory-nuts away? Has your ear not witnessed their gigglings and -rejoicings?</p> - -<p>But their virtues go deeper than this. It may be told of them above -all, that, however provident in other matters, they store up no malice, -they preserve no hate.</p> - -<p>Once I lay ill in that house of which I have here written. I had been -very wretched, but my physician, seated now by my bed, promised me I -would soon be well. After that we spoke together, as we were wont to -do, of matters of a philosophic kind, then paused. At the bottom of -my bed, on the footboard, was a tiny<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> mouse. No; it was not the same -adventurous spirit who had visited the giant's castle and drunk from -the plate of milk; this one was smaller and more slender. We did not -speak. He came down cautiously, very gently, to the coverlet, then -delicately up one fold, down another, pausing, listening, waiting to -take note; pausing, waiting, foot delicately lifted, until he had -got as far as the tray. He went very carefully about this, smelling -and inspecting it; yes, I would have sworn, inspecting. It had every -air of his wanting to know whether they had brought me the right and -well-cooked food. He tasted nothing save a tiny crumb on the tray -itself, and then, as though satisfied, was gone.</p> - -<p>I hoped for another visit, but waited for him in vain. He was a little -fellow, sleek of skin, with a black, beady eye, and very delicate -whiskers. I never saw a daintier foot.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="BIRTHDAYS_AND_OTHER_EGOTISMS">BIRTHDAYS AND OTHER EGOTISMS</h2> -</div> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>Charles Lamb, in his "Grace Before Meat," protests—very endearingly, -it seems to me—against the custom of particular thankfulness for food. -He suspects that it had its origin in the "hunter state of man, when -dinners were precarious things, and a full meal was something more than -a common blessing; when a bellyful was a windfall and looked like a -special Providence.—"It is not otherwise easy to be understood," he -avers, "why the blessing of food—the act of eating—should have had -a particular expression of thanksgiving annexed to it, distinct from -that implied and silent gratitude with which we are expected to enter -upon the enjoyment of the many other various gifts and good things of -existence."</p> - -<p>I find myself like-minded and similarly protestant as to birthdays. I -cannot discover why the blessing of these should be hailed with any -very particular delight, distinct from that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> implied joy with which we -might be expected to welcome the many other various days of the year.</p> - -<p>It cannot be said that it was because I was abnormally shy throughout -my childhood that I found birthdays embarrassing, for I had no more -than the usual shyness of the average child. Moreover, my surroundings -and training gave me easy confidence in others and in myself. The -tragedies of my little girlhood were not exceptional: dead cats or -canaries, broken dolls, the inability to make myself always understood -by grown-ups, and certain moral and spiritual failures and cataclysms -known only to myself and what I took to be my fearfully disappointed -Maker. But barring these things, incident and customary, my early years -may be said to have been especially bright and reassuring. What was it, -then, which could have caused this early distrust of birthdays?</p> - -<p>If I am to trace the growth of what perhaps seems so unwarranted a -thing, I shall have to ask indulgence for what may appear to be some -of that very egotism I decry: I shall have to ask to be allowed a -discussion of several of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> my own birthdays, and their celebration when -I was a child.</p> - -<p>My fifth is the earliest that I remember. I had been promised a -cake with candles. Moreover, I had learned, by dint of the patience -of Mademoiselle Cinque, our queer old French governess, a little -French song, which I was to sing as my own share toward the festive -celebration. From the shelter of my father's arm, I was to sing it for -the rest to hear:—</p> - -<p class="poetry" lang="fr" xml:lang="fr"> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">"<i>Frè-re Jac-ques! Frè-re Jac-ques!</i></span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Dor-mez vous? Dor-mez vous?</i></span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;"><i>Son-nez les matines; son-nez les matines;</i></span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>Den, din, don!</i>"</span><br> -</p> - -<p>The cake, then, and the song were, from my point of view, the -extraordinarily important and sufficient events of the day—these and -the fact that on that day I would be five years old. It is certain that -I chattered about these things a great deal, and laid deep plans. But, -as it happened, it was neither the cake nor yet my ripe years that -were to make that day so memorable. I can close my eyes and go back -to it unerring, and find myself in the old surroundings, familiar yet -strange—strange that day with an unwonted, unaccountable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> strangeness. -Where was everybody? The house was, indeed, still—as still as the -February day outside, which lay quiet as death under a sheeted -whiteness that had been drawn over it silently in the night.</p> - -<p>I can seem to feel myself actually as little as I was then, and with -my doll under one arm going up the silent stairs, laboriously but -determinedly, pulling one leg resolutely after the other, up the -length of them, with the aid of one hand on the banister spindles, to -investigate for myself the strangeness.</p> - -<p>An older sister of mine, whom I loved dearly, had been ill, and for -several days past I had been cautioned to gentleness and had played -apart, so that quietness of a certain kind I understood. But the -quietness now was of a different order. In the upper hall some one -opened a door, at the patter of my investigating steps, I suppose; held -out a hand, stopped me in mid-search—stopped me and kissed me and told -me. My sister had died in the early hours of that day, before the dawn -was come.</p> - -<p>I do not remember who it was who told me. I remember, however, pushing -myself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> away from the embrace a little, demanding whether I might see -my mother. I was told with great gentleness that this was impossible. -My father? No; him, also, I might not see—not yet. All this sobered -and puzzled me. I reached for the next, and perhaps on that day even -dearer, possibility. Might I see the cook? Yes.</p> - -<p>That, for a time at least, righted matters, and restored my world to -me. I pattered down the stairs, down the lower hall, then more steps; -found the cook and demanded my birthday cake; and in place of the cake -received a most shocked look, delivered in the manner of unthinkable -rebuke. When I insisted, words came to her tongue, but not concerning -the cake. They dealt wholly with myself. They conveyed the impression -that I had done some dreadful and wicked thing. They did not explain. I -was expected to understand and repent.</p> - -<p>I remember feeling only thoroughly outraged at having my reasonable -request received in that manner. This was <i>my</i> day, and, in -honor of it, there was to have been a birthday cake. As to larger -matters, they were extraneous to the subject. Of death, it should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> -be remembered, I had absolutely no knowledge. I loved my sister to -the full bent of my simple but ardent little nature, and she had been -peculiarly devoted to me; but ask some one who has never seen the -stars or spoken with one who has seen them, what he knows of the deep -firmament: so much I knew of that night which had fallen upon our -house—nothing!</p> - -<p>What I did know presently—the information being conveyed to me in -unmistakable terms by the cook—was that my birthday celebration was -not to be; that it was not only jeopardized, it was clean wiped out, -by an event of immensely greater moment. I have little doubt I wept -sufficiently over my personal disappointment, and it may have taken -especial tact on the part of the gentle person upstairs to pacify me; -but by and by, with that easy forgetfulness which is the better part of -childhood, I must have relinquished all hope of appropriating that day -as my birthday, and accepted, in place of it, life as it was.</p> - -<p>My parents, who twice before had been summoned to bear acute -loss,—once when, before I was born, a little baby brother of mine -died, and once when the life of a little baby<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> sister had flickered out -before the flame got well started,—tasted now of what must have been a -far deeper bitterness. She who had gone now was their "extreme hope."</p> - -<p>She was twenty-one when she died, and within a few months of her -graduation at the University. She was brilliant above any promise -given by the rest of us. I remember her very clearly—her sensitive -and beautiful face, her great delicacy of body, her ready, very gentle -laugh, and her unfailing understanding of all a little child's desires -and moods. She was exquisite, sensitive as a mimosa in a garden of -sturdier growth. Above us all she seemed to stretch delicate and -flowering branches, in which the wind moved more mysterious; and lovely -winged and songful things, that we could never have hoped to harbor, -seemed to have made their home in her. There was in her something rare -and unlooked for (I do not exaggerate), like the sudden call of a -thrush in the twilight, or delicate and darkling, as in starlight the -song of the nightingale. She was the one reckoned to be most like my -father, and by the generous, and, I think, even proud consent of all of -us, was by him the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> beloved. She was as devoted as Cordelia, and -with lesser cause, bringing to the happiness and fullness of his life -what Lear knew only in his desolation. Since I have grown into what is -at least some slight realization of what her loss must have meant to my -father, I cannot touch without a trembling of tears the memory of his -taking me in his arms as he did, to look upon her as she lay, white and -final, delicate and done with life, there in the still and shuttered -room.</p> - -<p>But, incredible though it seems to my present knowledge, I had then no -feeling of sadness whatever. She might have slept. Nor did the days -that followed lay heavy hands upon me. There was a quiet stir and -hushed preparation toward what I did not know, and I was looked after -by neighbors or relatives to the extent of believing that a certain -pleasant distinction accrued to me. In all that followed, I know that I -contributed no sadness, only a child's frank observation in the face of -unusual behavior of its elders.</p> - -<p>But to return to the birthday. It was a remarkable one, you see, linked -with all these things, allied to such large sorrows—a sad<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> one and -disappointing enough, you will say, for a little child. Yet I did not -find it so. I was, as I have told you, indignant as to the cake, and -disappointed, no doubt, that there was no happy and devoted family -now gathered to hear me sing my gay little song. But to offset these -there was a kind of reassurance in the day which I find it difficult -to describe very exactly. It was as if, at one and the same time, this -were and were not my birthday. It was my day by the calendar, but in -no other way. For a birthday is one whose dawn and sunset are one's -very own, a day when one's importance is admitted very gladly by a -certain intimate circle. But on no day of my life, I am sure, was I -of so little importance as then—a very inconsiderable little person, -playing alone in the sunshine and with my song unsung. Yet something -in that day shines now across the years, as distant as a star, as -silver, as satisfying. That something is not to be ascribed to any -one mere incident: it was compounded, no doubt, of the best of every -relationship which I felt that day for the first time. The extreme -gentleness of the grown-up of whom I have told you was one element;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span> -for the rest, the companionship with my father in that strange still -moment in the shuttered room; the wordless love given me by my mother, -of a different sort from any she had given me before; the quietness, -giving me an impression as of remote spaces never dreamed of before; -and, over all, the sense of something strange and of a great dignity, -as of presences that moved, dread, but not unkindly.</p> - -<p>And the little song which I had practised so faithfully, and which -I was to have sung! Little as I was, and without ever being told, I -believe, as the day wore on, I must have had a dim realization of how -inconsiderable it was in that house where Death had taken up Life's -lute, and, brows bent above it, remembered the songs that Life had sung.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>The birthdays that followed on this one were curiously unsatisfying, -though they were celebrated appropriately enough, and with the fullest -respect for my importance. The anticipation and approach of them, -as nearly as I can remember, were clear joy. But the days, when -they arrived, overwhelmed me unaccountably.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> There was something -disproportionate in them, so that I was glad to escape from their too -personal glory to the more comfortable commonplace of the impersonal. -It was as if I guessed dimly, without being in the least aware, that -this display in my honor had in it something almost a little cheap—an -egotism (though I had not then so much as heard the word) which -contrasted unfavorably with the large and gracious and forgetful ways -of Life itself.</p> - -<p>I believe my embarrassment, my wholly unanalyzed sense of -disappointment and disproportion, may have been, on a very diminutive -scale, something akin to that which I am sure Joshua must have -experienced,—not, mind you, at the moment of his extraordinary -and flattering command,—no, but afterwards, afterwards, in the -disappointed watches of the night, when he must have reflected, with -disappointed amazement, that, if his senses deceived him not, he, -Joshua, had made the great luminary to stand still over Gibeon, and -the moon in the valley of Ajalon. Something, too, of what Joseph must -have experienced,—not in the enjoyable dream of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> his brothers' sheaves -bowing down to his sheaf, and the sun and the moon and the eleven -stars making their obeisance to him; nor in those long anticipatory -years, when his greatness was approaching, and the scroll of the future -hung loose in his hands for his remembering eye to read,—no, but in -the actual moment of overwhelming fulfillment, when, from Judah to -Benjamin, his brothers actually did bow down to him as ruler over all -those great granaries of Egypt, and, as we are told, his mature spirit -could not consent to endure so much, but "he sought where to weep, and -entered into his chamber and wept there."</p> - -<p>These are, I believe, no mere extraneous or personal experiences, but -are rather of the fine weave and fabric of humanity; and the uneasiness -I felt in my complacent little soul, I now believe to have been a -stirring of old things, of ancient memories under the moon, which -linked my little inconsiderable life, as they link all lives, to Egypt, -Nilus, Babylon, and the ages that are not.</p> - -<p>But lest this seem but vague argument and debatable territory, I would -like to speak of other childhood birthdays of my own which,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> it seems -to me, bring to the case clear evidence and important testimony.</p> - -<p>I have said that I was one of a large family. Happily we could not -make too important a matter of birthdays in our home; it would have -kept us celebrating most of the time, and would have tended to make -the whole year frivolous. For obvious reasons, then, birthday parties -were not many. But I remember one of a most lasting glory, which had -as its excuse that one of my sisters was fifteen upon the fifteenth. -My mother, who by mere warmth and gayety of sympathetic temperament -was forever on the watch for a reason to celebrate something, could -never have missed so valid an occasion. Furniture was therefore moved -out, ferns were moved in, smilax was twined about the chandeliers and -strung along the portraits, a linen dancing-cloth was stretched the -length of the three rooms. I can still feel the smooth glide of my -strapped slippers over it. Musicians were concealed in a bosky corner. -At the top of the stairs was a room known as the conservatory, whose -plants had been all winter in my keeping, their condition testifying -rather sadly to that fact. But now, by a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> lovely bounty, my sins of -negligence were all wiped out. Florists came bearing pots of flowers in -full blossom, and more of them and more of them. There were primroses -such as my own care could never have hoped for, and fuchsias and -candytuft and daffodils in full abundant bloom, even while the March -winds outside yet blew so chill. In the day or two just before the -fifteenth, how often I ran up into that little room and stood wordless -and satisfied among them, or stooped and touched my cheek to them! Oh, -the sweet heliotrope! oh, the mignonette!</p> - -<p>On that wonderful evening there bloomed among the flowers little lights -with dark red shades, and here and there comfortable seats were placed, -where you could hear the music at a muted distance. We children all -wore new gowns, my sister—she of the birthday—having of course, by -generous consent, the filmiest and the loveliest.</p> - -<p>That was a happy gathering if ever I saw one; and were I brought to -believe that a birthday celebration is ever an affair of unmixed -loveliness, I should perhaps be brought to say it concerning one for -fifteen on the fifteenth.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> Fourteen on the fourteenth lacks flavor, -is a little unripe, like fruit imported before the real season is -at hand. Sixteen on the sixteenth is a little over-mellow, a little -late; already childhood is gone, and youth, however lovely it may be -in the receiving of homage and favors, should already have its hands -outstretched rather to bestow them. But fifteen on the fifteenth! There -is a golden mean and a time for all things, as the Scriptures and the -fairy tales tell us. This was the time to dance, that King Solomon -talks about. Like the "Tuney Bear's" soup in the old tale, this party -to celebrate fifteen on the fifteenth seems to me as nearly right as -things can be contrived in a world of chance like our own.</p> - -<p>Through a maze of years and smilax I am still aware of the delicious -mystery of concealed music wailing forth the Sirens waltzes (no dances -were given then without the Sirens waltzes). I can see the children -moving about, gay and a little fluttery; and the grown-ups, quieter, -but still gay, who came to add the dignity and charm of their greeting -to the celebration; and I can see my sister,—fifteen that day by a -delectable distinction,—lithe<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> and poised and gracious, and flushed -and very pretty, standing beside my mother, her eyes looking out like -stars under her dark hair, and her flying eyebrows that had just the -slight lift of a bird's wing; and my next younger sister and I, of a -less vivid coloring, no more than attendant sisters, and rich enough in -that, with our new sashes and our new delight in graciousness; and my -oldest sister of all, moving about with a lovely homage to us younger -ones, a gracious bending down of her life to ours for a little while.</p> - -<p>And every one, old and young, even some with gray hairs, came and bowed -over the hand of fifteen. That impressed me most. And some who were a -little more than guests—intimates—brought my sister gifts—one that -lies here now on the table as I write: a beautifully bound small copy -of Shakespeare's Sonnets, with the Dowden introduction. I did not know -it then for what it was. I only loved it for its red and gold binding; -but later, I grew up to it in my girlhood, as a young vine climbs at -last to a trellis that is placed above it and awaits its growing. On -its first leaf, in an exact hand, is written the date, my sister's<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -name, and that of the donor. Then follows this wish, suitable to the -day:—</p> - -<p>"May each succeeding birthday find you as light-hearted as you are -to-day."</p> - -<p>Oh, time! time! that brings us our blunders and our tears! Was he so -inexperienced himself, he who brought her that? Or did he set that down -in a mere spirit of carnival and bravado, just because she <i>was</i> -fifteen on the fifteenth, and nothing else was for the moment to be -admitted of any importance?</p> - -<p>I do not know how beautiful a birthday it was for her, but oh, for -me! How I loved it! How good it was to bring her my homage! How -glad and willing and eager I was that she should stand first! Play, -play, concealed musicians! I can still catch the plucking of the -harp-strings, and the sweet gay wailing of the violins, across the -years.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>One other birthday of my childhood stands out vividly in my memory: -that one on which I was twelve years old. My mother had taken us all -abroad, to widen our horizons and promote our education. After a -preliminary few<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> months in England, we were established in Paris, in -a comfortable apartment in a little hotel which they tell me is still -there, and which went then, and still goes, by the name "Louis le -Grand"—nothing less.</p> - -<p>From the moment of our arrival, in January, I began to think even more -of my birthday than was my wont. This was, no doubt, largely due to -the fact that, at the distance of a few blocks one way or another, -anything in the world, so it seemed, could be bought. Shops! Shops! -The rue des Petits Champs, the avenue de l'Opéra, the boulevard des -Italiens, were full of them. The rue des Petits Champs had innumerable -<i>boutiques</i> of all kinds—one given over to nothing, mind you, -but honey and gingerbread, like a shop in a fairy tale. If you went -across the Place Vendôme and followed the rue Castiglione, you came to -the most romantic shops of all, there under the arcades of the rue de -Rivoli, beginning with the most delectable pastry shop in the world on -the very corner. You could walk there on a sunny day, disdainful of the -weather, with the Gardens of the Tuileries opposite you, and feast your -soul on the varied displays.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p> - -<p>But when all was said, there was nothing that could be compared with -the shops of the rue de la Paix. Here you came at once into a richer -atmosphere. Here, mainly, were jewel-shops, displaying tiaras and -necklaces—"rings and things and fine array." Dolls and gingerbread -and honey were delightful—let me not seem to undervalue them; but to -stand looking on while a master of his profession leaned over a velvet -counter to show my mother brooches of jewels, and diamonds set in -rings, was to know from the standpoint of childhood some of the true -elevations of life.</p> - -<p>While my mother considered jewels set thus or so, my eyes roved, -speculative, among the rich wares. I had been brought up in too -old-fashioned a way to make any mistake as to my limitations. Well-bred -children, it was understood, wore neither rings nor ornaments, unless -one or two of a most positive simplicity. But watches there were, a -bewildering variety—for we were in the shop of one Victor Fleury, who, -among other distinctions that I doubt not he had, was "Horloger de la -Marine." You can imagine whether he had watches! I called my mother's -attention to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> the beauty of them, some very small ones in particular. -She looked at them, but made no comment. I deduced that it was not -well-bred for a little girl of twelve to wear a watch.</p> - -<p>My birthday dawned at last. I was kissed and wished many happy returns, -and was told that there was to be a dinner that night especially for -me, and that I would then receive my gifts. The hotel was a small -one. Dinner would be served for the hotel guests a trifle earlier, so -that they might the sooner leave the way clear for me. This had been -proposed by Madame Blet herself, the proprietress, and was intended no -doubt for a fine piece of hospitality. For me the strict hotel rules -were to be slackened; the fine democracy of hotel life, where one guest -is as good as another, if he but pay his account, was to be overruled -in my favor; for me the sun was to be advanced, and the moon set at a -new pace in the heavens!</p> - -<p>It was very grand in anticipation, I can assure you. To be twelve -was of itself no inconsiderable glory, but to be twelve under such -flattering conditions! I resolved to write an account of all this to my -two chums in America.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> Little girls they were, of my own age, but of a -less colored experience. They should have news of these matters. They -should be enlightened as to the importance of her with whom they had -commonly played visiting-lady and jackstones.</p> - -<p>Yet, as the evening drew near, old stirrings of uneasiness made -themselves felt dimly, dimly—something, I cannot tell you what, -moving on the face of undiscovered waters; a distrust, a shyness -and embarrassment that had nothing to do with timidity; a dim sense -of disproportion, I take it to have been, and of ancient human -questionings.</p> - -<p>We waited a little past the usual hour, and then there came a knock. -Joseph, our waiter, appeared and bowed gravely. "Mademoiselle, le dîner -est servi."</p> - -<p>My heart rose and fluttered. Presently we all went down the hall and -down the red carpeted stairs, I with my hand in my mother's. I can -still feel it resting there. Down the steps we went, my mother and -I—I with a little delighted pause and poise at each step, the rest -following like a court train. Twelve, and the youngest! Twelve, and the -well-beloved<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> and proud! Blow, bugles, fine and high! and let those who -follow wear scarlet! What more could a little girl ask?</p> - -<p>I do not know; I cannot tell you. I only know that, though I would not -have admitted it for worlds at the time, when I found myself in the -midst of the happiness it was no longer happiness exactly. Not, you -understand, that I would have relinquished any of the splendor then. It -fascinated me, of course.</p> - -<p>Joseph held the door open; a fine heraldic gesture—the flat of his -palm against it, the fingers spread, his head flung back, his eyes -tributary ahead of him; his whole pose saying, "Stand back! She comes!" -Several of the other servants were there, grouped to see and to -attend. Madame Blet, in her black dress and perpetual shoulder-cape—a -sad-faced, very dignified woman, with the sadness set aside in my -honor for that evening and positive brightness shining from her kind -eyes,—stood there too, with welcoming glances. She had decorated the -table herself: there it was, a delight of soft lights and snowy linen, -wonderful possibilities and flowers.</p> - -<p>The dining-room was empty yet bright, as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> are the heavens for the -coming of the moon. Joseph stood, not back of my mother's chair, as -usual, but back of mine, to see me seated. Those faces, very beloved in -the soft light, were turned toward me, a little gay, and happy wholly -in my happiness. It was fulfillment of all the dreams of importance I -might ever have had.</p> - -<p>Then came the unfolding of the gifts. Any one who knew my mother must -know that, in the smallest of a nest of lovely little boxes,—just -enough of them to produce a certain curiosity and delay, to enhance -the final delight,—lay the most lovely little watch, silver-cased (to -render it more conformable to my age), and marked with the initials of -my name; while on its inner casing it bore proudly, as it still bears, -while it ticks here on my table, this inscription: <i>Victor Fleury, -Horloger de la Marine, 23, Rue de la Paix, 23, Paris</i>.</p> - -<p>After the other gifts were opened dinner was served, Joseph bringing -everything first to me, whose place it was usually to be served -last of all. There were special dishes, and the lamb chops had on -particularly fine cravats, and the <i>petits pois</i> were so very -<i>petits</i> that it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> seemed nearly a shame to eat them—like "good -little Tootle-tum Teh" in the ballad; and there were side dishes, very -special, for the occasion.</p> - -<p>Then, as a crowning glory, a dessert not baked in a hotel oven at -all; no cabinet pudding of frequent occurrence, nothing that hinted -of rice or raisins; no, but something fetched particularly from the -<i>pâtisserie</i>. By the look of it, it might have been, and probably -was, concocted by a pastry cook in full regalia, in that superlative -<i>pâtisserie</i> on the rue de Rivoli, opposite the Louvre.</p> - -<p>It was a tower made of a hard brown candy flecked with chopped nuts. -It had a door in it, and windows with embrasures at the tops to make -you think of King Arthur and his knights. It was decorated on its -platter by saccharine approaches. The tower was open at the top and -filled with a flavored whipped cream. Madame Blet, who had, I doubt -not, been directing forces from the kitchen, stood now in the doorway -beaming like another candle. This, which had the added flavor of being -a surprise even to my mother, was Madame Blet's gift to the little -American<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> mademoiselle. Once more, on a most diminutive scale, France -and America were exchanging courtesies.</p> - -<p>But meanwhile,—oh, inevitable!—Joseph, that devoted ambassador, -beaming unfeigned pride in the behavior of his country, held the tower -at my left hand. I was to serve myself first. But how—I ask the -heavens to answer me this!—how is one to serve one's self to a feudal -tower? One desperate glance at my mother,—the quick dart of an alarmed -swallow,—then I took up the large spoon and laid it hesitatingly -against the tower's side. But the tower was nearly as hard as the rock -it represented. The approaches, also, were of one piece. With a mere -dessert spoon, what can be done as to a portcullis! Shall you, do you -think, carry off a drawbridge with a slight silver instrument to be -held in one hand? I was not meeting the emergency. I was not equal to -the occasion. This I knew, with quick intolerable shame. What was to -be done? At last, after what seemed to me ages, I accepted the only -possibility. I scooped from the top of the tower some of the fluffy -whipped cream, put this on my plate and the spoon back among the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> -approaches; and the tower, proud, unspoiled, unwon, was carried on to -the others, who served themselves, as I had done; or, when the cream -was at last too low for them to reach, suffered Joseph to scoop it out -for them and put it on their plates.</p> - -<p>I sat tasting the whipped cream on the end of my spoon, and oh, it was -insipid, that faint froth; not of itself, but by contrast with what I -would have wished—a portcullis at the very least. When we left the -dining-room, it still stood solid and invulnerable, that so desirable -tower, a delusion to the palate, a snare to the understanding, a subtle -but strong disappointment to the heart! Now that I look back on it, it -seems like an unintended symbol, an uninterpreted writing on the wall -of my childhood.</p> - -<p>These things called birthdays seemed for me to have been weighed that -night in subtle scales, and found wanting. Froth on the tip of your -spoon! The real anticipated glory, a chimera; the dreamed-of and -so-much-desired happiness, a thing which could not be won, a thing left -untouched while one slipped away unsatisfied, disappointed, into the -later years.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span></p> - -<p>No doubt I passed on to later years that very evening as I went out of -the lighted dining-room; for more and more this centralizing of power -and importance, even though it were for one day of the year only, -became to me incongruous and out of the real order of life. As I began -to gauge values and proportions better, it came to seem almost a gentle -buffoonery. The mild distrust I had felt for birthdays in my little -girlhood was beginning to take on the form of positive distaste.</p> - -<p>Doubtless I was beginning to have a larger vision of life. For one -thing, I had meanwhile seen dawns rise over the Alps, and day depart -from the fruitful purple valleys to ascend the heights, beautiful, like -the feet of those upon the mountains, who bring tidings of peace; and -had watched them pause in their glory for a last look upon the work of -their hands before going forth forever beyond the world's edge. And I -had stood since then by the incredible sounding sea; I had known that -sense of the waters in the hollow of His hand, and watched the night -bend like the face of infinity over it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span></p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>Out of the birthdays I have known, I have recorded but three—the three -made memorable, not so much by material as by spiritual gifts, and by -some vision of life itself vouchsafed me. It was as if, with a touch -upon my hand, Life summoned me to note, even though in some unrealized -way, when I was but a child of five, how inconsiderable may be these -our little personal joys and expectations and vanities of song, even -as were mine, in the face of the large solemnities and griefs and -remembered joys with which, that day, our home was visited. And on that -second birthday, it was as if Life bade me note how satisfying to the -heart is the gift of lovely and willing service. Not mine the day at -all; but I can remember, all woven in with the ravishing music of harps -and violins, a sense of my almost thrilled delight in the service that -others brought my sister, in whose honor we were glad, and a high joy -in my own eager and devoted homage. Dimly seen in all this, though I -could not have named it to you then, was a larger vision, no doubt, of -this same truth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> translated into lovelier and more solemn meaning; as -if in those lighted rooms, gay with their smilax and their laughter, -Life had suddenly laid a touch on my shoulder, and with her finger on -her lips had bade me note how sweet is the odor of spikenard, and how -thrillingly beautiful are the broken pieces of alabaster.</p> - -<p>And the third birthday? Perhaps it was then that Life put into my hand -a better gift than any—that larger knowledge, which all the coming -years were to corroborate, that to have special gifts and benefits for -one's self which are not for others, let the glamour be what it may, is -after all but froth and disappointment; and that only the blending of -one's life with other lives can ever really satisfy the heart.</p> - -<p>Since then I have seen birthdays of my own and others not a few, and -have looked on at those of many a child. Witnessing these, I have -sometimes been troubled to note how—materialists ourselves—we insist -upon making materialists of our children also. For who has not beheld -a little lad, triumphant as Jack Horner, in the midst of his birthday -packages, or a little Midas, among his heaped-up Christmas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> toys, -appropriating to himself, with our delighted consent, the Other Child's -birthday also. With what shameful abundance of material gifts do we -heap the little eager hands; but how few, how few, for the young and -growing spirit!</p> - -<p>Yet it is to be noted hopefully that our too personal celebrations are -apt to fall away, as it were of themselves, in our later years; and -doubtless with them many of our central egotisms, life correcting with -a patient hand our dull and ofttimes willful behavior. I cannot be -persuaded that it is solely a sensitiveness to the loss of youth that -prompts us to waive or disregard those birthdays which fall upon the -nether side of twenty. Our neglect of them is more often, I like to -believe, in the order of a gentle disavowal of old egotisms, as life -ripens and takes on in our regard an aspect larger and less personal; -even as to a nation or a religion which progresses, egotism and special -privilege become increasingly distasteful, and the idea of a chosen -people more and more intolerable to the pure in heart, as the world -matures.</p> - -<p>Mature life, like the mature heart, cannot<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> endure a sovereignty -over its brethren, but longs for the old original levels; sheds its -singleness and its superiorities. We become, God be thanked, less -considerable under the moon as time advances; more of a piece with -life; better blended with the days; a part of all dawns and sunsets—we -who before had but one of each to our credit.</p> - -<p>"I own that I am disposed to say grace upon twenty other occasions -in the course of a day besides my dinner," says Lamb. "I want a -form for setting out upon a pleasant walk, for a moonlight ramble, -for a friendly meeting, or a solved problem. Why have we none for -books, those spiritual repasts—a grace before Milton—a grace before -Shakespeare—a devotional exercise proper to be said before reading the -'Fairy Queen'?"</p> - -<p>I own also to a disposition to celebrate many birthdays rather than -one, and am inclined to be thankful on twenty other occasions in the -course of the year besides that one which falls so personally for -me—even if so negligible—on a certain February morning. I confess -to a love of calendars that sometimes give me two or three great -names to celebrate in a single<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> day; nor am I ashamed to admit that -the sun rises for me the statelier if it be upon an anniversary which -commemorates Camoens or Michael Angelo. It has long been my habit, to -celebrate quietly in my heart, when all the birds are singing, that day -in April when, it is said,—uncertainly enough,—Shakespeare came to -the earth; nor have I failed often to note that other day also, when, -impartially in the same April weather, it is said, he—and Cervantes on -the same day with him—departed from it.</p> - -<p>And if such remembrances as these may seem still to tend toward -egotism, yet I think that claim can hardly be proved valid. For -these,—celebrate them as personally as we may,—these are not men of -one season but of all time, blended with all days, impartially a part -of all weathers, and of the very fibre and lives of most of us; and, -even though we should forget them, yet memorably forgotten in those -unforgettable companionships that they have bestowed upon us. These are -our stars and moons, differing in glory one from another, with which, -in the midst of our mortality, we answer, not ignobly, the shining -challenge of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> the stars; these are they innumerable whose beauties and -nobilities, coupled with our own inconsiderable lives, lend at last -some glory to our days so frail, so ephemeral.</p> - -<p>As a child, I used to love to count the stars, beginning with the very -first one that pricked its way through the twilit blue, and by a pretty -conceit always called that first one my own, and put a most personal -wish upon it. For a long time it always stood single in the heavens, -and then another here or there, and there, and there, appeared, which -I counted with delight. But always the moment came when the count was -irretrievably lost; when stars bloomed, not by ones and twos, but by -myriads, no more to be counted than the unnumbered sands of the sea; -and over me was stretched the jeweled beauty of the infinite heavens, -just breathing with the breathing of the night; and I, looking up -glorified into that beauty, a little inconsiderable child, standing -beside the soft dark shadow of the cypresses.</p> - - -<p class="center p4">THE END</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter transnote"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber's Notes</h2> - - -<p>Errors in punctuation have been fixed.</p> - -<p><a href="#Page_172">Page 172</a>: "Superflous precaution" changed to "Superfluous precaution"</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN INDIGENCE AND OTHER ESSAYS ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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