Yellow Book Volume IV

The Yellow Bo An

Illustrated

Quarterly

Volume IV January 1895

ndon: John Lane

Contents Literature I.

II.

Home

The Bohemian

III.

Vespertilia

IV.

The House

VI. Wladislaw

Girl

of

s

Shame

Amour

H. B. Marriott Watson Dolf Wyllardc

Advent

Menie Muriel Do\vie

The Waking

of Spring s Fore-

.

)

runner j IX. Red Rose

X. Margaret XI. Of One in Russia

A

Falling Car.

XV. Hor.

49

90 116

James Ashcroft Noble

121

Macdonald

C. S

H7

Richard Garnett, LL.D.

.

Victoria Cross

Out I.

53

87

Olive Custance

Leila

XII. Theodora, a Fragment XIII. Two Songs

\ i

12

.

VIII. Mr. Stevenson

XIV.

^ age

.

V. Rondeaux d VII.

By Richard Le Gallienne Henry Harland Graham R. Tomson

.

.

55

.

156

Charles Sydney

189

Kenneth Grahame Charles Newton-Robinson 202 .

5

Norman Hapgood

XVI. Henri Beyle XVII. Day and Night XVIII. A Thief in the Night XIX. An Autumn Elegy XX. The End of an Episode XXI. 1880 XXII. Proem to "The Won.

207

E. Nesbit .

Marion Hepworth Dixon C.

.

.

.

W. Dalmon

Evelyn Sharp

2 47

255

.

Max Beerbohm

.

234 239

275

j

derful

Mission

Earl Lavender

of!

John Davidson

.

284

"

Art

The Yellow Book

Vol. IV.

January, 1895

Art I.

II.

III.

IV.

Study of

A

a

Head

By H.

J. Draper William Hyde

Sussex Landscape

Hotel Royal, Dieppe Bodley Heads. No. i Mr. Richard Le

.

Page

7

45

:

Walter Sickert

80

Galliennc

V.

Portrait

of"

Mr. George

Moore VI. Rustem Firing the First Shot

Patten Wilson

A

W. W.

Westmorland Village VIII. The Knock-out VII.

IX. Design for a Fan X. Bodley Heads. No.

XI. XII.

XIII.

Lady

Portrait

in

S.

Hartrick

Charles Conder 2

118

H4 .

.

152 191

:

Mr. John Davidson PleinAir

A

A.

.

Russell

Grey of Emil Sauer

,

Will Rothenstein

203

Miss Sumner

2 35

J

.

P.

Wilson Steer

249

XIV. The Mysterious Rose Garden

XV. The Repentance

of

Mrs.

XVI.

Portrait of Miss

fred

Wini

Emery

XVII. Double-page Supple ment Frontispiece :

for

Juvenal

Aubrev Beardslev

273

The Yellow Book Volume IV

January, 1895

The

Editor

hold

himself responsible for unsolicited manuscripts

of

when, however, addressed

THE YELLOW BOOK they

envelopes,

are

every

secure their prompt return.

can

in

no case ;

accompanied by stamped effort

will

be

made

to

Book

The Yellow Book An

Illustrated Quarterly

Volume IV

London Boston

Agents

:

:

January, 1895

John Lane, The Bodley Head, Vigo Copeland

<y

Street

Day

for the Colonies

:

Robt. A.

Thompson

&f Co.

BALLANTYNE PRESS LONDON

&

EDINBURGH

a Study of

Head By H.

J.

Draper

Home... By TE RE going home

A 1

VV

They

"

heard two lovers say,

kissed their friends and bade

good-byes I

I

!

Richard Le Gallienne

them bright

;

hid the deadly hunger in

my

eyes,

And, lest I might have killed them, turned away. Ah, love, we too once gambolled home as they, Home from the town with such fair merchandise,

Wine

A

little

Yes

!

Its

and great grapes the happy lover buys cosy feast to crown the day.

we had once empty rooms

When Each day

the

last

I tread

a

heaven

still

we called a home, me like thine eyes

haunt

sunset softly faded there ; each empty haunted room,

And now and then a little baby cries, Or laughs a lovely laughter worse to bear.

:

The Bohemian

Girl By Henry

Harland

I

morning, and it took me a little that it had not while to bethink myself where I had slept IWOK.E I lay a-bed, with been in my own room in the Cromwell Road.

up very gradually

this

to the usual procession eyes half-closed, drowsily looking forward of sober-hued London hours, and, for the moment, quite forgot

the journey of yesterday, and how it had left me in Paris, a guest in the smart new house of my old friend, Nina Childe. Indeed, it was not until tapped on my door, and I roused

somebody

call out, Come that I noticed the strangeness of the wall-paper, and then, after an instant of perplexity, suddenly remembered. Oh, with a wonderful lightening of the spirit, I can "

myself to

tell

in,"

you.

A

white-capped, brisk young woman, with a fresh-coloured, wholesome peasant face, came in, bearing a tray Jeanne, Nina s femme-de-chambre. I she cried cheerily. bring monsieur her announcement was followed by a fragrance the softly-sung response of the coffee-sprite. Her tray, with its pretty freight of silver and linen, primrose butter, and gently"

"

Bonjour,

his

coffee."

monsieur,"

And

browned

By Henry Harland browned pain-de-gruau, she

set

down on

i

the table at

my

3

elbow

;

then she crossed the room and drew back the window-curtains, making the rings tinkle crisply on the metal rods, and letting in a

From where

gush of dazzling sunshine.

I

see the lay I could

house-fronts opposite glow pearly-grey in shadow, and the crest of the slate roofs sharply print itself on the sky, like a black line on a sheet of scintillant blue velvet.

been fancying myself

Yet, a few minutes ago,

I

had

Cromwell Road.

in the

take them

off Jeanne, gathering up my scattered garments, to and brush them, inquired, by the way, if monsieur had passed a comfortable night.

As

chambermaid makes your bed, so must you lie in And you know whether my bed was smoothly made." Jeanne smiled indulgently. But her next remark did it imply that she found me rusty ? Here s a long time that you haven t "

I

the

it,"

answered.

"

"

been in

Paris."

"

Yes,"

I

admitted

not

"

;

since

May, and

now we

re

in

November."

have changed things a little, have we not?" she de manded, with a gesture that left the room, and included the house, "We

the street, the quarter. "In

assented

effect,"

"Monsieur

I.

desires his hot

water?

"she

asked, abruptly irre

levant.

But "

I

could

be,

Mademoiselle "

Ah,

is

or

at

she up

yes, monsieur.

She awaits you

least

seem, abruptly irrelevant

too.

"

?

Mademoiselle has been up since eight.

in the salon.

La

voila qui

joue,"

she added, point

ing to the floor.

Nina had begun "

Then you may

to play scales in the

bring

me my

hot

room below.

water,"

I said.

The

The Bohemian

14

Girl

II

The

scales

continued while

was dressing, and many desultory

I

reminiscences of the player, and vague reflections upon the unlike lihood of her adventures, went flitting through my mind to their

Here she was, scarcely turned

rhythm. rich in her

own

right, as free in

thirty, beautiful, brilliant, own will

respects to follow her

all

any man could be, with Camille happily at her side, a wellgrown, rosy, merry miss of twelve, here was Nina, thus, to-day ; and yet, a mere little ten years ago, I remembered her .... ah, as

in a very different plight indeed.

her deserts

True, she has got no more than

she has paid for her success, every pennyweight of it, in hard work and self-denial. But one is so expectant, here below, to see

;

Fortune capricious,

that,

when

for

once

in

a

way

she

bestows her favours where they are merited, one can t help feeling rather dazed. One is so inured to seeing honest Effort turn

empty-handed from her door.

Ten must

little

tell

years ago

but no.

I

you something about Nina

must begin further back. s

I

father.

Ill

He was in Paris.

an Englishman who lived for the greater part of his life I would say he was a painter, if he had not been equally

a sculptor, a

musician, an architect, a writer of verse, and a A doer of so many things is inevitably suspect ; you will imagine that he must have bungled them all. On the university coach.

contrary,

By Henry Harland

15

contrary, whatever he did, he did with a considerable degree of

The

accomplishment. pleasing,

delicately

landscapes he painted were very fresh and coloured, with lots of air in them, and a

His brother sculptors declared dreamy, suggestive sentiment. that his statuettes were modelled with exceeding dash and direct ; they were certainly fanciful and amusing. I remember one that I used to like immensely Titania driving to a tryst with

ness

Bottom, her chariot a lily, of mettlesome field-mice.

daisies for wheels,

and

for steeds a pair

he ever got a commission but the staircases he designed, the fire I

doubt

if

complete house and other bits of buildings, everybody thought original and The tunes he wrote were lively and catching, the words graceful.

for a

;

places,

never stupid, sometimes even strikingly happy, epigrammatic he sang them delightfully, in a robust, hearty baritone.

;

and

He

coached the youth of France, for their examinations, in Latin and

Greek,

in history,

knows what not

;

in goodness mathematics, general literature and his pupils failed so rarely that, when one

circumstance became a nine days wonder. The world beyond the Students Quarter had never heard of him, but there he was a celebrity and a favourite ; and, strangely enough for a

did, the

man with

so

many

strings to his

bow, he contrived to pick up

a

sufficient living.

He was

a

creature

to

look

full-

at, tall, stalwart, splendid blooded, with a ruddy open-air complexion ; a fine bold brow and

brown eyes, humorous, intelligent, kindly, that always ; brightened flatteringly when they met you ; and a vast quantity In his dress he affected (very of bluish-grey hair and beard. nose

wisely, for they

became him excellently) velvet and wide-brimmed

jackets,

flannel

soft felt hats. loosely-knotted ties, Marching down the Boulevard St. Michel, his broad shoulders head chin in his his whole well thrown back, erect, air, high shirts,

person

1

The Bohemian

6

Girl

of person radiating health, power, contentment, and the pride he was a sight worth seeing, spirited, picturesque, pre them You could not have passed him without noticing possessing. :

-without wondering who he was, confident he was somebody without admiring him, and feeling that there went a man it

him

would be interesting to know.

He

was, indeed, charming to know ; he was the hero, the idol, sect of worshippers, young fellows who loved nothing better than to sit at his feet. On the Rive Gauche, to be sure,

of a

we

little

are,

for

the

most

part, birds

then departs.

tarries a little,

of passage

;

So, with the exits

seniors and nouveaux^ the personnel of old Childe

from season to season

but numerically

;

it

a student arrives, and entrances of s

following varied

remained pretty

much

He

had a studio, with a few living-rooms attached, somewhere up in the fastnesses of Montparnasse, though it was seldom thither that one went to seek him. He received at his cafe, the same.

the Cafe Bleu

the Cafe Bleu

which has since blown into the

monster cafe of the Quarter, the flamboyant.

But

ago oblong room years

;

waiters,

noisiest, the rowdiest, the

with

a

sanded

floor,

in

lofty

a

dozen

tables,

and two

Madame Chanve,

the

insulation behind her counter, reigned, if

you

Eugene and Hippolyte

patronne,

most

am

writing (alas) of twelve, thirteen, fifteen in those days the Cafe Bleu consisted of a single I

where

The please, but where Childe, her principal client, governed. bottom of the shop, at any rate, was reserved exclusively to his There he dined, wrote his letters, dispensed his hospitalities;

use.

he had

his

own

boxing-gloves

;

piano there, if you can believe me, his foils and from the absinthe hour till bed-time there was

his habitat, his den. And woe to the passing stranger who, mis taking the Cafe Bleu for an ordinary house of call, ventured, during that consecrated period, to drop in. Nothing would be said,

By Henry Harland said,

nothing done

we would

would

bolt

it.

17

not even trouble to stare at the

Yet he would seldom

intruder.

or he

;

stop to finish his consommation, feel something in the air ; he

He would

would know he was out of

place.

He would

fidget a

little,

frown

and get up meekly, and slink into the street. Human magnetism is such a subtle force. And Madame Chanve didn t

a

little,

mind

in the least

;

she preferred a bird in the hand to a brace in

From

half a dozen to a score of us dined at her long table every evening ; as many more drank her appetisers in the You see, afternoon, and came again at night for grog or coffee.

the bush.

it

was

of which Childe was at once the

sort of club, a club

a

chairman and the object. it must have begun

If

we had had

a written constitution,

The

purpose of this association is the enjoyment of the society of Alfred Childe." Ah, those afternoons, those dinners, those ambrosial nights :

"

!

If the weather was kind, of course, we would begin our session on the terrasse, sipping our vermouth, puffing our cigarettes, laugh ing our laughs, tossing hither and thither our light ball of gossip, vaguely conscious of the perpetual ebb and flow and murmur of

the Boulevard, while the setting sun turned Paris to a marvellous water-colour, all pale lucent tints, amber and alabaster and mother-of-pearl, with amethystine shadows. Then, one by people in

one, those of us who were dining elsewhere would slip away ; and at a sign from Hippolyte the others would move indoors,

and take their places down either side of the long narrow table, And presently Childe at the head, his daughter Nina next him. with what a clatter of knives and forks, clinking of glasses, and babble of

human

voices, the

Cafe Bleu would echo.

Madame

kitchen was not a thing to boast of, and her price, for I think we paid three rather high the Latin francs, Quarter, was wine included, which would be for most of us distinctly a prlx-

Chanve

s

de-luxe.

1

The Bohemian

8

But

de-luxe.

was so

delightful.

few, and could

When we for

good

Girl

Childe was such fun we were so young The fun was best, of course, when we were a word. sit up near to him, and none need lose it

oh,

all

;

;

were many there would be something

like a scramble

seats.

I ask myself whether, if I could hear him again to-day, Then should think his talk as wondrous as I thought it then.

I I

the verse of Musset, and linger lovingly over the prose of Theophile, I could laugh at the wit of Gustave Droz, and weep at the pathos .... it costs me a pang to own it, but

could

yes,

at

thrill

I

m

afraid

....

could weep at the

I

pathos

of

Henry

and these have all suffered such a sad sea-change since. Miirger So I could sit, hour after hour, in a sort of ecstasy, listening to the talk of Nina s father. It flowed from him like wine from a ;

full

measure,

easily,

smoothly,

abundantly.

He

had

a

ripe,

genial voice, and an enunciation that made crystals of his words ; whilst his range of subjects was as wide as the earth and the sky.

He would new

talk to

you of

God and man,

of metaphysics, ethics, the

murder, or change of ministry ; of books, of pictures, specifically, or of the general principles of literature and of people, of sunsets, of Italy, of the high seas, of the painting last

play,

;

of what, in fine, you pleased.

Paris streets

you yarns,

sober,

farcical,

veridical,

or

Or

invented.

he would spin And, with

transitions infinitely rapid, he would be serious, solemn, jocose ribald earnest, flippant logical, whimsical, turn and turn about.

And wrap

in

every sentence, in

a surprise for

you

its it

form or in its substance, he would was the unexpected word, the un

expected assertion, sentiment, conclusion, that constantly arrived.

Meanwhile

it

would enhance your enjoyment mightily

to

watch

physiognomy, the movements of his great, grey, shaggy head, the lightening and darkening of his eyes, his smile, his frown, his

his

By Henry Harland his occasional this, that

slight

he could take

rare

talent in a

who

could

as well as give

Indeed,

monologist.

make

you

feel so

19

But

shrug or gesture. ;

I

the oddest thing was he could listen surely a

have never

known

a

man

interesting.

After dinner he would light an immense brown meerschaum and smoke for a quarter-hour or so in silence ; then he

pipe,

would play a game or two of chess with some one and by and by he would open his piano, and sing to us till midnight. ;

IV I speak of him as old, and indeed we always called him Old Childe among ourselves ; yet he was barely fifty. Nina, when I first made their acquaintance, must have been a girl of sixteen or

seventeen figure

if

though tall, with an amply rounded, mature-seeming one had judged from her appearance, one would have

;

For

fancied her three or four years older.

then very

much

now

she looks

as

;

I

that matter, she looked

can perceive scarcely any

She had the same dark hair, gathered up in a big smooth knot behind, and breaking into a tumult of little ringlets over her forehead the same clear, sensitive complexion ; the alteration.

;

same rather

large, full-lipped

mouth,

tip-tilted nose, soft chin,

and

She moved in the same way, with the merry, mischievous eyes. same leisurely, almost lazy grace, that could, however, on to an alert, elastic vivacity ; she had the same occasions, quicken voice, a trifle deeper than delicately nasal, fresh, ready little

most

which made

laughter.

it

There

women

s, and of a quality never so racy and characteristic ; the same was something arch, something a

sceptical, a little quizzical, in

The Yellow

Book,

Vol. IV.

B

her expression, as

if,

perhaps, she

The Bohemian

20

Girl

she were disposed to take the world, more or less, with a grain of salt ; at the same time there was something rich, warm-blooded, its luxurious, suggesting that she would know how to savour

But if you felt that she pleasantnesses with complete enjoyment. was by way of being the least bit satirical in her view of things, you felt too that she was altogether good-natured, and even that, at need, she could show herself spontaneously kind, generous,

And

devoted.

that

you inferred

if

her

temperament inclined

rather towards the sensuous than the ascetic, believe me,

it

did not

lessen her attractiveness.

At

the time of which

reigned

between

was chiefly an her

esprit-de-corps.

but for the present were united to her by a at

am

writing now,

Nina and Old Childe

;

celebrants

I

Later on

s

the sentiment that

voung men

retinue of

we

all

fell

in

love with

We

we were

simply amiably fraternal. common enthusiasm we were fellow;

her ancestral altar

or,

rather, she

was the high

we were

her acolytes. For, with her, filial piety did in very truth partake of the nature of religion ; she really, One only needed to watch her for literally, idolised her father. priestess there,

three minutes, as she sat beside him, to understand the depth and ardour of her emotion how she adored him, how she admired him and believed in him, how proud of him she was, how she :

rejoiced

in

him.

"Oh,

you think you know

my

father,"

I

remember her saying to us once. Nobody knows him. No If people knew him body is great enough to know him. they would fall down and kiss the ground he walks It is certain she deemed him the wisest, the noblest, the handsomest, the most That little gleam of mockery in her gifted, of human kind. eye died out instantly when she looked at him, when she spoke of him or listened to him there came a tender instead, light of love and "

on."

;

her face grew pale with the

fei

vour of her affection.

Yet,

when he

By Henry Harland

21

he jested, no one laughed more promptly or more heartily than In those days I was perpetually trying to write fiction ; and she. Old Childe was my inveterate hero. I forget in how many

manuscripts, under what various dread disguises,

ineffectual

was afterwards reduced to ashes scandalous distortion of

sometimes

ill-advised

;

I

;

am

him got abroad

afraid,

in

he

one case,

a

Publishers are

in print.

and thus the indiscretions of our youth may The thing was in three

become the confusions of our age.

and of course the fatuous volumes, and called itself a novel author had to make a bad business worse by presenting a copy to I shall never forget the look Nina gave me when I his victim. ;

asked her I I

she had read

if

it

;

I

grow hot even now

as

I

recall

had waited and waited, expecting her compliments ; and at could wait no longer, and so asked her ; and she answered

with a look

!

was weeks,

It

before she took

me back

was magnanimous inscribed

head,

in

;

he sent the

I

to her

me

am a "

corner,

not sure

good graces.

it

it.

last

me

wasn t months, But Old Childe

pencil-drawing of his Frankenstein from his

little

To

Monster."

It

was

a

queer

life for

a girl to live, that happy-go-lucky

life

of

the Latin Quarter, lawless and unpremeditated, with a cafe for her and none but men for comrades ; but Nina liked it

school-room, He was a Bohemian, and her father had a theory in his madness. not in practice only, but in principle ; he preached Bohemianism ;

as

the

most rational manner of existence, maintaining that

it

s character, developed what was intrinsic and authentic in one saved one from the artificial, and brought one into immediate contact

The Bohemian

22

contact with the realities of the world

a human being "What would not hurt my son, because of her sex. It will make a man of had one, will not hurt my daughter. without making her the less a woman." So he took her

no reason why

see

Girl

and he protested he could should be "cloistered and ;

contracted if I

her

"

with him to the Cafe Bleu, and talked in her presence quite as had she been absent. As, in the freely as he might have talked greater

number of

his theological, political,

and

social convictions,

he was exceedingly unorthodox, she heard a good deal, no doubt, that most of us would scarcely consider edifying for our daughters The ears but he had his system, he knew what he was about. "

;

question whether you can touch pitch and remain undefiled," he said, depends altogether upon the spirit in which you approach "

The God s

it.

of

them or

?

realities

of the world, the realities of what have we eves for,

universe

Do

the real things not to envisage

life,

if

so fearlessly, honestly, with a clean heart, and,

woman, you can only

be

the

better

for

man his

Perhaps

it."

system was a shade too simple, a shade too obvious, for this but he held to it in all sincerity. It was in complicated planet ;

pursuance of the same system, I daresay, that he taught Nina to fence, and to read Latin and Greek, as well as to play the piano, and turn an omelette. She could ply a foil against the best of

us.

And I

then, quite suddenly, he died. it was in March, or April ;

think

spring-like day, and he had he went to the Odeon, and

left

anyhow,

it

off his overcoat. after the

was

a

premature

That evening

he joined us for supper at the Bleu, he said he thought he had caught a cold, and ordered hot grog. The next day he did not turn up at all so

when,

play,

;

several of us, after dinner, presented ourselves at his lodgings in found him in bed, with Nina Montparnasse. to him.

We

reading

He

By Henry Harland He was

feverish,

and Nina had

He would

home.

be

insisted

23

that he

He

right to-morrow.

all

should stop at scoffed at our

he was one of those men suggestion that he should see a doctor who affect to despise the medical profession. But early on the ;

morning

following

Nina.

"My

He was

"

once

?

eyes,

is

much

very

delirious.

moved about

me a note from Can you come at

commissionnaire brought

a

father

like

one

worse.

Poor Nina, white, with frightened We sent off for Dr. distracted.

Renoult, we had in a Sister of Charity. Everything that could be done was done. Till the very end, none of us for a moment doubted he would recover. It was impossible to conceive that life could be extinguished. And even the end had come, the end with its ugly suite of material I don t think of us realised what it meant. It circumstances, any

that strong, affirmative

after

was

as if

become pale

we had been

thing in

told that

one of the forces of Nature had

And

Nina, through it all, was like some marble, that breathed and moved white, dazed,

inoperative.

:

with aching, incredulous

helpless,

eyes,

everything,

suffering

understanding nothing.

When

it

came to the worst of the dreadful necessary businesses some of us, somehow, managed to draw her from

that followed,

the

death-chamber into another room, and to keep her there,

was snowing that afternoon, I snowstorm, with large moist down irresolutely, and presently disintegrated

while others of us got

remember,

flakes, that fluttered

into rain

;

it

over.

It

a melancholy, hesitating

but

we had not

far to go.

Then we

returned to Nina,

leave her. You days and nights we never dared to will guess whether the question of her future, especially of her In the end, immediate future, weighed heavily upon our minds.

and

for

many

however,

it

appeared to have solved

that the solution

was exactly

all

we

itself

though

I

can

t

pretend

could have wished.

Her

The Bohemian

24

Girl

Her father had a half-brother (we learned this from his papers), incumbent of rather an important living in the north of England.

We

also learned that the brothers

had scarcely seen each other

twice in a score of years, and had kept up only the most

fitful

Nevertheless, we wrote to the clergyman, de scribing the sad case of his niece ; and in reply we got a letter, addressed to Nina herself, saying that of course she must come at

correspondence.

once to Yorkshire, and consider the rectory her home. need to recount the difficulties we had in explaining to

don

t

her, in

have known few more painful moments than Gare du Nord, half a dozen of us established benumbed, bewildered child in her compartment, and

persuading her. that

I

I

the

at

when,

the

poor, sent her, with our godspeed, alone upon her long journey to her strange kindred, and the strange conditions of life she would have

among them.

to encounter

parsonage

own

;

she had convictions, aspirations, traditions, prejudices,

which she would hold

with

enthusiasm because they had been because her father had taught them to her ; and she the manners, habits, tastes. She would be sure to

her father

had

the Cafe Bleu to a Yorkshire

Nina s was not by any means a neutral nor her mind a blank sheet of paper. She had a will

personality,

of her

From

And

!

to

s,

people she was going to

;

horrify she would be sure to resent their criti

cism, their slightest attempt at interference. Oh, my heart was she had no money, she was eighteen full of misgivings ; yet old what else could we advise her to do r All the same, years her face, as

way

it

looked

down upon

us

from the window of her

carriage, white, with big terrified eyes fixed

in

a

rail

gaze of

blank uncomprehending anguish, kept rising up to reproach me for weeks afterwards. I had her on my conscience as if I had personally

wronged

her.

It

By Henry Harland

25

VI was characteristic of her

It

that, during her absence, she hardly too hasty and impetuous a nature to take kindly to the task of letter-writing ; her moods are too incon her thoughts, her fancies, supersede one another too stant ;

wrote to

us.

She

is

of

far

Anyhow, beyond the telegram we had made her promise announcing her safe arrival, the most favoured of us got nothing more than an occasional scrappy note, if he got so much ; while the greater number of the long epistles some of us felt in

rapidly.

to send,

duty bound to address to her, elicited not even the semblance of an Hence, about the particulars of her experience acknowledgment. quite in the dark, though of its general features we were informed, succinctly, in a big, dashing, uncompromising hand, she hated them. that

we were

"

"

VII I

am

Nina

not sure whether

left us.

home from

it

was

late in

April or early in

May

that

But one day towards the middle of October, coming the restaurant where

letter-box in the concierge

s

I

had lunched,

room two

with the corners turned down, and

I

found in

my

half-sheets of paper, folded,

my name

superscribed in pencil.

im handwriting startled me a little and yet, no, it was Then I hastened to unfold and read, and of course it possible. was the impossible which had happened.

The

"Mon cher, I am sorry not to find you at home, but I ll wait at It is now midi juste." the cafe at the corner till half-past twelve.

That

The Bohemian

2.6

Girl

I have waited till a The second ran Now I am going to the Bleu for luncheon. I quarter to one. And each was signed with the initials, shall be there till

That was

the

"

first.

:

three."

N. C. was not yet two, so

It

believe that I didn

t

loiter

I

But you will had plenty of time. I dashed out of the

on that account.

down the Boulevard St. Michel At the far end Nina was seated before with Madame Chanve in smiles and tears beside her.

logeinto the

into the

street

a marble

Bleu, breathlessly. table,

I

heard a

myself seized and enveloped for a moment by some oh, but a very pleasant whirlwind, warm and thing like a whirlwind I received two vigorous kisses, one on fresh, and fragrant of violets little

cry

;

I felt

;

either cheek

by

a pair of

And

;

and then

I

was held

a crisp edge to

and

at

arm

s

length, and examined

it,

that

rather a deep voice for a

might have been

was agreeable and individual

Come

oft"

laughing eyes.

at last a voice

a

woman

s,

with just

called slightly nasal, but

voice said

"

:

En

voila

assez.

sit down."

She had finished her luncheon, and was taking coffee the whole truth must be told,

I

m

afraid she

was taking

;

it

and

if

with a

She wore an exceedingly simple black petit-verre and a cigarette. frock, with a bunch of violets in her breast, and a hat with a

Her dark luxurious sweeping black feather and a daring brim. hair broke into a riot of fluffy little curls about her forehead, and thence waved richly away to where

it

was massed behind

her

;

cheeks glowed with a lovely colour (thanks, doubtless, to Yorkshire sweet are the uses of adversity) ; her eyes sparkled breezes her in a perpetual play of smiles, lips curved letting her delicate little ;

show themselves

;

and suddenly I realised that this whom I had never thought of save as one might think of girl, one s younger sister, suddenly I realised that she was a woman and teeth

furtively

;

By Henry Harland

27

I perhaps even a dangerously handsome woman. saw suddenly that she was not merely an attribute, an aspect of another, not merely Alfred Childe s daughter ; she was a person

and

a radiantly,

age in herself, a personage to be reckoned with. This sufficiently obvious perception came upon

me

with such

me

and brought

such emotion, that I dare say for a little while I sat vacantly staring at her, with an air of preoccupation. Anyhow, all at once she laughed, and cried out, Well, when you force,

"

"

get back

"

and, Perhaps," she questioned, think it polite to go off wool-gathering like that I recovered myself with a start, and laughed too. .

.

.

?

"

perhaps you

?"

But say that you went on.

"

she

Surprised! glad! about ? "

I

are glad, at

you

What was

mean?

it

t

least,"

it

all

stand

"

c est bon,

And

"

did

it any longer, that s all. I have come home. que c est bon, que c est bon England ? Yorkshire ? your people ?

couldn

Oh, que

are surprised, say that

But what

Whereupon

!

"

It was a bad dream. It is over. It speak of it. I have I am brings bad luck to speak of bad dreams. forgotten it. here in Paris at home. And she smiled Oh, que c est bon "Don t

"

!

blissfully

Don

tell

me

filled

with

that happiness

will, to flee before us

you

we

t

through eyes

tears.

is

an

and elude us

illusion. ;

It

is

her habit,

if

but sometimes, sometimes

catch up with her, and can hold her for long

moments warm

against our hearts. It is enough to be here, where he lived, Oh, mon pere where he worked, where he was happy," Nina murmured afterwards. She had arrived the night before ; she had taken a room in the "

!

Hotel d Espagne, in the Rue de Medicis, opposite the Luxem I was as yet the only member of the old set she bourg Garden. had

The Bohemian

28

had looked up. Of course but not to cry to kiss

Girl

knew where

I it

to

place

she

had

flowers

on

gone

first

it.

She

could not cry not now. She was too happy, happy, happy. Oh, to be back in Paris, her home, where she had lived with him, where every stick and stone was dear to her because of

him "

!

Then, glancing up at the clock, with an abrupt change of key, Mais allons done, paresseux You must take me to see the !

You must

camarades.

And

take

in the street she

nous croira

saying, "On she all but danced

the

Chalks."

I

me, chattering joyously in alternate the men, could stop and kiss them all

Oh, these good, Oh, Paris very pavement. Look at the sky look at the view down the sunlight and shadows on the houses, the door-

the

women,

gay, kind

"

to see

put her arm through mine, laughing and She did not walk, she tripped, fiances."

beside

French and English.

me

!

Parisians

that impasse

!

!

wavs, the people. Oh, the air! Oh, the smells! Oue c est bon Et dire que j ai passe cinq mois, mais que je suis contente Ah, veinard, you you don t cinq grands mois, en Angleterre. !

know how you

re blessed." Presently we found ourselves labour ing knee-deep in a wave of black pinafores, and Nina had plucked her bunch of violets from her breast, and was dropping them

and rosy cherubic smiles. And it was con s Madame Chose in her kiosque. Bonjour, Vous allez toujours bien ? and old Oh, look

amongst eager "

stantly,

fingers

Tiens, there

madame.

"

"

!

Perronet standing before has stood years.

at

this

Bonjour,

shop in his shirt-sleeves, exactly as he hour every day, winter or summer, these ten

M

sieu

his

Perronet."

And you may

be sure that

the kindly French Choses and Perronets returned her greetings

with beaming revoir ainsi.

faces.

"

Que vous

Ah, mademoiselle, que c est bon de vous avez bonne mine!" It is so "

strange,"

she

By Henry Harland To think

she said, to find nothing changed. has gone on quietly in the usual way. "

And

"

eternity in exile

!

As

at the corner of

29 that everything

if I

one

hadn

t

spent an

street, before a vast

with a prodigality of tawdry Oriental wares flaunting bazaar," exhibited on the pavement, and little black shopmen trailing like "

and out amongst them, she cried, the Mecque Oh," du Quartier To think that I could weep for joy at seeing the du Quartier Mecque By and by we plunged into a dark hallway, climbed a long,

beetles in

"

"

!

"

!

unsavoury corkscrew voice

staircase, "

having

with his back towards us

two

after

our

arrival,

in a sort of grunt,

out pausing in his

"

Eh

work

;

we

A

Chalks

entered

gruff

s

bare,

He was working

(from a lay-figure) and he went on working for a minute

bleak, paint-smelling studio.

or

and knocked at a door.

Trez!"

answered,

Then

without speaking.

he demanded,

"

always with bien, qu est ce que c est ? or looking round. Nina gave two little

and slowly, indifferently, ahemS) tense with suppressed mirth Chalks turned an absent-minded face in our direction. But, next ;

instant, there

was

a shout

and

middle of the floor

a rush

a

confusion of forms in the

I realised that I

be honoured by a kiss and an embrace.

was not the only one "

Oh, you

to

re

covering and indeed he had

me with paint," Nina protested suddenly and great dabs of colour forgotten to drop his brush and palette, While he was doing penance, were clinging to her cloak. in turpentine, he kept soaked scrubbing the garment with rags ;

his head, and murmuring, from time to time, as he Well, I ll be dumned." glanced up at her, It s very nice and polite of you, Chalks," she said, by and by, sex. But, if you think it very graceful concession to my would relieve you once for all, you have my full permission to

shaking

"

"

"a

pronounce

it

amned."

Chalks

The Bohemian

30

Girl

Chalks did no more work that afternoon

Madame Chanve s

quite twenty of us dined at like old times.

;

;

and that evening it was almost

and

VIII )h, yes," she explained to me afterwards, my uncle is a good man. aunt and cousins are very good women. But for me, "

"

(

My

them pas possible, mon cher. Their thoughts were They thoughts, we could not speak the same language. disapproved of me unutterably. They suffered agonies, poor

to live with

not

my

Oh, they were very kind, very patient. But things. father gods were their devils. my great, grand, splendid

My

My

was

father

vous

?

people

Are you

poor uncle Alfred.

poor Alfred,

And then who came to

the

the society the houses where

?

Oue

voulezthe

parishioners

we sometimes

dined

!

?

!

de cette expression-la.)

homesick

The

In In the preservation of game ? Olala (C est bien le cas de s en servir, And then have you ever Olala, lala

interested in crops

the diseases of cattle

!

life,

tea

!

I pined, for Paris, as one Enfin, I could not suffocating would long, would die, for air. stand it any longer. They thought it wicked to smoke cigarettes.

been

Oh,

?

My

poor aunt

when

Oh,

her face

I

!

end of the garden,

longed,

she smelt cigarette-smoke in my bed-room had to sneak away, behind the shrubbery at the !

for stealthy whiffs.

get French tobacco. fled.

I

It will have

At

last

I

And

it

was impossible

to

took the bull by the horns, and for them. But better

been a terrible shock

one good blow than endless instalments with interest."

But what was she going

little

to do

?

ones

;

How

better a

lump-sum, than

was she going

to live

?

For,

By Henry Harland For, after air

all,

much

31

Paris, she couldn

as she loved

subsist

t

on

its

die

of

and sunshine. never

"Oh,

hunger,"

fear!

I

ll

manage somehow.

I

ll

not

she said confidently.

IX And, lessons

sure enough, she managed very well. She gave music to the children of the Quarter, and English lessons to

clerks and shop-girls

now and

then

;

she did a

a painter

for

of Norton

little

translating

friend

she

she would pose

;

was the

original,

for

which you know. thanks to the employment by Chalks of what he called She even his she even contributed a weekly column of Paris inyftwence instance,

s

"Woman

Dancing,"

"

"

gossip to the Palladium, a newspaper published at Battle Creek, Put in lots about Michigan, U.S.A., Chalks s native town. "

me, and talk as if there were only two important centres of civilisation on earth, Battle Crick and Parus, and it ll be a boom," used to have great fun, concocting those Chalks said.

We

columns of Paris gossip. deciding vote

;

but

we

all

Nina, indeed, held the pen and collaborated.

And we

put in

cast a

lots

about

With perhaps rather more than he had bargained for. an irony (we trusted) too subtle to be suspected by the good their illustrious fellowpeople of Battle Creek, we would introduce Chalks

citizen, casually,

between the Pope and

Republic ; we would sketch him as he arm-in-arm with Monsieur Meissonier,

the

strolled as

President in

of the

the Boulevard

he dined with the Per

French Academy, or drank his bock in the petual Secretary of the afternoon with the Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honour ;

we

The Bohemian

32

we would compose solemn which almost made

Girl

descriptive criticisms

us die of laughing

we would

;

of his

works, interview him

about any subject we would give elaborate bulletins Sometimes health, and brilliant pen-pictures of his toilets.

at length

of his

;

we would betroth him, marry him, divorce him sometimes, when our muse impelled us to a particularly daring flight, we would insinuate, darkly, sorrowfully, that perhaps the great man s ;

But no

morals

The

falsely.

!

We were persuaded that rumour accused him

story that he had been seen

with the notorious Duchesse de ?

Z

-

Oh, we were nothing

Unprincipled our pleasure was so exquisite, and suppose you think it s funny, don feint of superior scorn

Look out, or you ll vulsed member present. "

it

dancing

was

Bullier

s

And "

I

"

t

he used to ask, with a fine flower to our hilarity.

you

?

which put its he would warn

bust," "

at

a baseless fabrication.

not unprincipled. worried our victim so. if

By gum, you

re

us,

the only uncon-

easily

We

amused."

we always wrote of him respectfully as Mr. Charles K. Smith would have rewarded never faintly hinted at his sobriquet. ;

We

liberally,

stood

at that time,

for.

We

any one

yearned

who

could have told us what the

to unite the cryptic

word

to his

K

surname

by hyphen ; the mere abstract notion of doing so filled us with Chalks was right, I dare say we were easily amused. fearful joy. And Nina, at these moments of literary I can see her a

;

frenzy her head bent over the manuscript, her hair in some dis array, a spiral of cigarette-smoke winding ceilingward from between the fingers of her idle hand, her lips parted, her eyes

now

:

gleaming with mischievous inspirations, her face pale with the intensity of her glee. to listen to somebody to

be

"

silent, crying,

can see her as she would look up, eagerly, suggestion, or as she would motion to us Attendez I ve got an idea." Then her

I s

pen would dash swiftly,

noisily, over her paper for a

little,

whilst

we

By Henry Harland we

all

waited

and

at

she

last

33 would

lean

back, drawing a long breath, and tossing the pen aside, to read her paragraph out to us.

expectantly

;

In a word, she managed very well, and by no means died of She could scarcely afford Madame Chanve s three-franc

hunger.

table d hote,

it

is

true

but

;

we

could dine modestly at

Leon

s,

over the way, and return the Bleu for coffee, though, it must be added, that establishment no longer enjoyed a monopoly of it and the our custom. patronised Vachette, the Source, the

We

Or we would sometimes spend She lived in a tremendously our evenings in Nina s rooms. swagger house in the Avenue de 1 Observatoire on the sixth Ecoles, the Souris, indifferently.

be sure, but

floor, to

had a charming

"

little

there was a carpet all the way up." She salon, with her own furniture and piano

(the same that had formerly of books, pictures, draperies, her father or presented by her By this time the inevitable

embellished our cafe), and no end

and pretty things, inherited from friends.

had happened, and we were all in love with her hopelessly, resignedly so, and without internecine rancour, for she treated us, indiscriminately, with a serene, im partial,

tolerant derision

;

but

we were

savagely, luridly, jealous

If we could and suspicious of all new-comers and of all outsiders. not win her, no one else should ; and we formed ourselves round

her in a

ring of

fire.

Oh,

the

mock-sympathetic face she would to sigh to her of his passion

brows, and gaze at you pensively, and

!

maddening mock-sentimental, pull,

when one

The way

of us ventured

she would

lift

her eye

with a travesty of pity, shaking her head "

Mon

pauvre ami

Only fancy the imp, lurking in the corners of her eyes, with to conceal would of barest the himself, trying pretence only She had lately read a peal of laughter suddenly leap forth in

And

then

murmuring,

!

!

how

!

Mr. Howells

s

The Bohemian

34 Mr. Howells

"Undiscovered

s

Shakers paraphrase for love

and

had adopted the "

"

Feeling pretty she inquired, mimicking the guess you just ain t feeling any

Feeling

:

Girl

Country,"

foolish."

"

foolish to-day, air ye,

of Chalks.

dialect

more

foolish than

but

anything

potentialities

"Well,

you look

And

!

seriously

?

gentlemen I

If she would but have taken us

"

!

worst of

the

it

we

Chalks

she

was

formulated

the

when he remarked,

divined in her,

wistfully, as he often did,

was that we knew

cold.

temperamentally

could love

"She

like

regretfully,

Hell."

Once,

moment, he even went so far as to tell her this pointshe remonstrated, shaking her Oh, naughty Chalks him. Do you think that s a pretty word But I

in a reckless

"

blank.

"

!

"

ringer at dare say I could." All the same, "

?

Lord help the man you

marry,"

Chalks con

tinued gloomily. k

don

Oh,

I

shall

never

marry,"

Nina

cried.

"Because,

say

So capricious, and flighty, and tantalising, and unsettling,

wife.

and disobedient, and exacting, and everything. wife I

I

first,

And then as you approve of matrimony as an institution. Lord help my husband. I should be such an uncomfortable

t

No,

!

shan

t

I

shall

never marry. if I

but, marry She placed two fingers upon her ;

Marriage

ever meet a lips,

is

Oh, but

a horrid

quite too out-of-date. love him ah

man and

"

!

and kissed them, and waved

the kiss to the skies.

This fragment of conversation passed in the Luxembourg Garden and the three or four of us by whom she was accom ;

panied glared threateningly at our mental image of that notimpossible upstart whom she might some day meet and love. were sure, of course, that he would be a beast we hated him

We

;

not merely because he would have cut us out with because he would be so distinctly our inferior, so

her,

but

hopelessly

unworthy

By Henry Harland unworthy of think

35

her, so helplessly incapable of appreciating her.

we conceived

of

him

with drooping

as tall,

and contemptibly meticulous in his dress. not be of the Quarter he would sneer at us.

fair

I

moustaches,

He would

probably

;

not respect her. Take her she gets them. But he he ll despise her for them, at the very time he s profiting by em,"

not understand her, he

"He ll

peculiar views.

some one

Her

We

said.

peculiar views of the institution of

meant.

She had got them from her

the sexes should be as free as a

man and

their

ll

know where

own.

a

woman

feudalism,

Law

no

it

is

"

The

relations of

he had taught.

nobody

s

"

If

business but

nor Society can, with any show interfere, is a survival of

That they do

a survival of the

the subject, had

friendship,"

love each other,

Neither the

of justice, interfere.

matrimony, the speaker

father.

liberty,

system under which the individual, If a man and a woman rights.

no

love each other, they should be as free to determine for themselves the character, extent, and duration of their intercourse, as two

If they wish to live together under the same If they wish to retain their separate domiciles, let If they wish to cleave to each other till death severs them them. let if they wish to part on the morrow of their union But the couple who go before a priest or a them, by heaven.

friends should be. roof, let

them.

themselves in ceremonial marriage, are magistrate, and bind the dignity of human serving to perpetuate tyranny, are insulting Such was the gospel which Nina had absorbed (don t, nature." for goodness sake, imagine that I approve of it because I cite it), felt that the and which she professed in entire good faith.

We

coming man would misapprehend both it and her though he would not hesitate to make a convenience of it. Ugh, the cynic

!

The Yellow Book

Vol. IV.

c

We

The Bohemian

36

We

formed ourselves round her the

frighten

beast

away.

of

we were

But

anxious, suspicious, jealous.

Girl

in a ring

We

fire,

hoping

to

miserably, fiercely of everything in

were jealous

the shape of a man that came into any sort of contact with her of the men who passed her in the street or rode with her in the :

of the little employes de commerce to whom she gave I English lessons of everybody. fancy we were always more or Who could less uneasy in our minds when she was out of our sight.

omnibus

;

;

tell

what might be happening

?

With

those

lips

of hers, those

Chalks had said oh, we knew how she could love eyes of hers Who it. could tell what might already have happened ? She was could tell that the coming man had not already come ? :

Who

entirely capable of concealing

him from

us.

Sometimes,

in

the

How could we be evening, she would seem absent, preoccupied. sure that she wasn t thinking of him ? Savouring anew the hours Or dreaming of those she had passed with him that very day ? If she took leave of us she had promised him for to-morrow ? If she might he not be waiting to join her round the corner ? spent an evening away from us

And

she only laughed ; laughed at our jealousy, our fears, Not as she laughed at our hankering flame.

she

our precautions, a

reassured us, though an inscrutable, enigmatic might have covered a multitude of sins. She had

that

laugh

that

laugh,

;

taken to calling us collectively Loulou Ah, le pauv Loulou so now he has the pretension to be Then she would be jealous." interrupted by a paroxysm of laughter ; after which, Oh, qu il "

"

est

drole,"

she

would gasp.

"

Pourvu

qu

il

ne

devienne

pas

"

genant

!

was

very well to laugh ; but some of us, our personal equation quite apart, could not help feeling that the joke was of a precarious quality, that the situation held tragic possibilities. It

all

A

young

By Henry Harland young and ceptible,

attractive

37

by no means constitutionally insus

girl,

and imbued with heterodox ideas of marriage

alone in

the Latin Quarter.

I

have heard

in his heart

it

maintained that the

of hearts,

if

man

has yet to be born,

he comes to think the matter over,

who,

won

t

himself at something of a loss to conceive why any given woman should experience the passion of love for any other man find

;

woman

that a

Nina still

s

feel,

choice, to

all

as

we

as

all

ordinarily obscure.

thing

;

befell.

He

men

save the chosen, is, by its very the postulates of Hegel. But, in incomprehensible case, even when I regard it from this distance of time, I s

nature, as

felt

We

the only thing

We

then, that the mystery was more than had fancied ourselves prepared for any

we weren

had expected

"

him

t "

prepared for was the thing that to be offensive, and he wasn t.

He was a South American, was, quite simply, insignificant. member of the School of Mines a poor, undersized,

a Brazilian, a

pale, spiritless,

:

apologetic creature, with rather a Teutonic-looking His father, or uncle, was Minister of

name, Ernest Mayer.

Agriculture, or Commerce, or something, in his native land ; and he himself was attached in some nominal capacity to the Brazilian Legation, in the Rue de Teheran, whence, on State occasions, he

person meagre enjoyed the privilege of enveloping He was beardless, with vague very gorgeous diplomatic uniform. a bluish anaemic skin. In features, timid light-blue eyes, and his

manner

he

little

was nervous, tremulous, deprecatory

in a

perpetually

bowing, wriggling, stepping back to let you pass, waving his trouble. hands, palms outward, as if to protest against giving you

And

The Bohemian

38

Girl

speech upon my word, I don t think I ever heard him compromise himself by any more dangerous assertion than that For the most the weather was fine, or he wished you good-day.

And

in

mutely, with a flickering, perfunctory smile. time to time, with an air of casting fear behind him and dashing into the imminent deadly breach, he would hazard an

part

he listened

From

"

Ah,

or a

oui,"

"

Pas

mal."

For the

rest,

he played the piano

enough, wrote colourless, correct French verse, and was what we reputed to be an industrious if not a brilliant student called un scricux. prettily

It

was hard

to believe that beautiful,

sumptuous Nina Childe,

with her wit, her humour, her imagination, loved fellow yet she made no secret of doing so.

this neutral little

We

;

a theory that

would account

for

"

it.

It

s

tried to

the maternal

frame

instinct,"

It s her chivalry," said another ; she s the sort suggested one. of woman who could never be very violently interested by a man of her own size. She would need one she could look up to, or "

else

"

one she could protect and pat on the

"

head."

God

be

thanked, the meanest of His creatures boasts two soul-sides, one to face the world with, one to show a woman when he loves her,

quoted a "has

third.

"

luminous

Perhaps Coco qualities

that

we had nicknamed him Coco we don t dream of, to which he

"

when they re a deux" we were mortified that she should have preferred such a one to us, we were relieved to think that she hadn t fallen into the clutches of a blackguard, as we had feared she would. That Coco was a blackguard we never guessed. We made the best of him, because we had to choose between doina: that and C in time, I am afraid such is the influence seeing less of Nina of habit we rather got to like him, as one gets to like any innocuous, customary thing. And if we did not like the situation gives the rein

Anyhow,

if

*

1

;

for

By Henry Harland for

none of

us,

39

whatever may have been our practice, shared

Nina s hereditary theories anent the sexual conventions we recognised that we couldn t alter it, and we shrugged our shoulders resignedly, trusting it might be no worse.

And be

then, one day, she announced,

"

Ernest and

I

are

going to

And when we cried out why, she explained that own conviction that marriage was a barbarous institu

married."

despite her

she felt, in the present state of public opinion, people owed So Ernest, who, according to both legitimacy to their children. French and Brazilian law, could not, at his age, marry without tion

his parents sail

next

He would consent, was going home to procure it. he would be back before three months. Ernest

week

;

and the post, a day or two after he was safe letter from him. It was a wild, hysterical,

sailed

from Lisbon

at sea,

brought Nina a

;

remorseful letter, in which he called himself every sort of name. He said his parents would never dream of letting him marry her.

They were Catholics, they were very devout, they had prejudices, Besides, he had been as good as they had old-fashioned notions. iffianced to a lady of their election ever since he was born. He was going home to marry

his

second cousin.

XI

it

I had to go to London, and Shortly after the birth of Camille Nina was a year before I came back to Paris.

was nearly

looking better than old self

pale and

when

I

had

left,

but

nowise

like her

a smile that

was the

still

worn and worried, with

in

She had been waiting for my return, I have made a little plan. to have a long talk with me.

ghost of her former one. she said,

"

I

want

The Bohemian

40 want you

I

to

to advise

Of course

Girl

you must advise

me

to stick

it."

And when we "

It

salon,

explained.

me

for

had

had reached her lodgings, and were alone

in the

about Camille, it is about her bringing-up," she The Latin Quarter ? It is all very well for you,

is "

I

me.

but for a growing child ? Oh, my case was different ; But Camille ? Restaurants, cafe s, studios, the father. little do they form a wholesome and this Miche, garret ;

my

Boul

I am not a renegade. I am a no, no But my it is bred in the bone. always be daughter ought she not to have the opportunity, at least, of being You see, I had my father different, of being like other girls ?

environment

Bohemian

;

Oh,

?

shall

I

;

;

have only me. And I distrust myself I have no Shall I not do better, then, to adopt the system of the system. world ? To give her the conventional education, the conventional

she

will

;

*

advantages

A

?

Then, when

home,

what

they

call

home

influences.

has grown up, she can choose for herself. the question of francs and centimes. I have Besides, been able to earn a living for myself, it is true. But even that is

she

there

more

difficult

And we

is

now

;

I

can give

less

time to work

;

am

I

in debt.

and our expenses must naturally increase from And I should like to be able to put something year to year. aside. Hand-to-mouth is a bad principle when you have a growing are

two

;

child."

After a

little

pause she went on

:

"So

my

to earn our livelihood, and, secondly, how to a home for Camille, something better than

problem

is, first,

make something this

but I have considered

examined myself,

my own

it

You

from every point of view.

capabilities.

I

like

tobacco-smoky, And I can

absinthe-scented atmosphere of the Latin Quarter. see only one way of accomplishing the two things. smile

how

I

have weighed

all

will

have the

chances.

By Henry Harland chances.

I

wish to take a

near the Etoile or the Pare is

my

that, as I

however

Nina

in

much

Monceau, and

my

own, but of

knew, she would hear nothing. I did not smile at hers, though I confess it was not easy to imagine madcap the role of a landlady, regulating the accounts and pre ;

But

success. is

There

open a pension.

simpler and pleasanter plan of

siding at the table of a boarding-house. believed there was the slightest likelihood

she

41 of the town,

in another quarter

plan."

had a

I

flat,

I said

I

nothing to discourage her

rich to-day proves

how

little I

can

of her ;

pretend that

t

it

filling

and the

I

with

fact that

divined the resources of her

For the boarding-house she kept was an exceedingly she showed herself the most practical of prospered amazingly. Jeanselme, whose had recently died, leaving him a fortune, lent her what

character.

good boarding-house and she mistresses

;

;

father

money she needed to begin with Avenue de PAlma ; and I personage when I remember that

she took and furnished a

;

the

I

flat in

quite like an historical was her first boarder. Others

I

feel

followed me, though, for she had friends amongst all the peoples of the earth English and Americans, Russians, Italians,

soon

Austrians, even

Roumanians and

Servians, as well

as

French

;

and each did what he could to help. At the end of a year she overflowed into the flat above ; then into that below ; then she

She worked tremendously, acquired the lease of the entire house. she was at it early and late, her eyes were everywhere ; she set an excellent table ; she employed admirable servants ; and if her she gave you your money s worth, and It was comfortable and quiet ; the You could street was bright, the neighbourhood convenient. dine in the common salle-a-manger if you liked, or in your

were

prices

there

a bit

were no

private

stifF,

"surprises."

sitting-room.

And you

never saw your landlady except for

The Bohemian

42

Girl

She lived apart, in the entresol, alone purposes of business. There was the with Camille and her body-servant Jeanne.

for

"

home

"

she had set out to make.

Meanwhile another

sort

of success was steadily thrusting

itself

upon her she certainly never went out of her way to seek it she was much too busy to do that. Such of her old friends as remained ;

in

Paris

came frequently

to

see her,

and new friends gathered

She was beautiful, she was intelligent, responsive, In her salon, on a Friday evening, you would meet entertaining. half the lions that were at large in the town authors, painters,

round

actors,

Red

her.

actresses,

ribbons and

deputies, red

even an occasional Cabinet minister.

rosettes

shone from every corner of the

She had become one of the oligarchs of la haute Boheme, she It would be tiresome had become one of the celebrities of Paris. room.

to

count the novels, poems, songs, that were dedicated to her, the

portraits

of her,

Mirlitons or the

painted Palais

or

de

sculptured, 1

Industrie.

that

appeared

at

the

Numberless were the

who asked her to marry them (I know one, at least, who has returned to the charge again and again), but she only laughed, and vowed she would never marry. I don t say that she has never had her fancies, her experiences but she has consistently

partis

;

scoffed at marriage.

At any

rate, she has

never affected the

least

fault." Her repentance for what some people would call her ideas of right and wrong have undergone very little modification. She was deceived in her estimate of the character of Ernest Mayer, "

you please but she would indignantly deny that there was anything sinful, anything to be ashamed of, in her relations with And if, by reason of them, she at one time suffered a good him. deal of pain, I am sure she accounts Camille an exceeding great That Camille is her child she would scorn to compensation. make a secret. She has scorned to assume the conciliatory title if

;

of

By Henry Harland Madame.

As

43

with a daughter, you must take her or leave her. And, somehow, all this has not seemed to make the faintest difference to her clientele, not even to the

of

plain Mademoiselle,

primmest of the English. I can t think of one of them who not treat her with deference, like her, and recommend

did

her house.

But her house they need recommend no more, for she has sold it. when I was in Paris, she told me she was about to do

Last spring, so.

"Ouf

have lived with

I

!

am going

I

enough.

"

to

retire.

my nose to the grindstone What money she had saved

long from

season

to

season, she explained, she had entrusted to her friend

Baron

C

* * *

I

am

a rich

*

for

woman.

I

three thousand pounds,

wizard, and so

have an income of something

shall

mon

a

is

"He

speculation.

cher

Oh, we

!

will roll in

like

have

I

it.

had ten bad years ten hateful years. You don t know how I have hated it all, this business, this drudgery, this cut-and-dried, moi, enfant de

methodical existence

Now we

obligatory.

will

change

Boheme

all

But, enfin, it was reviendrons a

!

Nous

that.

nos premieres amours. I shall have ten good years ten years of Then I will range myself perhaps. There barefaced pleasure. is

the darlingest

little

house for

sale,

a sort of chalet, built of red

pointed windows and things, in the Rue de Lisbonne. I shall buy it decorate it. furnish it Oh, you will see. I shall have my carriage, I shall have toilets, I shall entertain, I shall brick, with

give dinners

olala

responsibilities.

emerging from servitude.

To

!

No

Only, ten

more

years

boarders,

friends

my

in

the

the Pension Childe

and

no more life!

ten

galleys,

I

bores, feel

years

cares,

like

one

of penal

"

bonsoir

!

That s all very well for you," her listener complained sombrely. But for me ? Where shall I stop when I come to Paris ? "

"

"

"

With me.

You

shall

be

my

guest.

I

will kill

you

if

you ever

The Bohemian

44

Girl

You shall pass your old age in a big chair in ever go elsewhere. the best room, and Camille and I will nurse your gout and make herb-tea for "

And

I

Yes,

we

"

you."

shall sit ll

and think of what might have

indulge

all

your

little

from dawn to dewy

feel foolish

foibles.

been."

You

shall

sit

and

eve."

XII If you had chanced to be walking in the Bois-de-Boulogne this afternoon, you might have seen a smart little basket-phaeton flash past,

a a woman bays, and driven by with sparkling eyes, a lovely colour, great quantities of dark hair, and a figure

drawn by two glossy

woman soft

"

Helas, a

mon

pere, la taille d une de esse

"

smiling woman, in a wonderful blue-grey toilet, grey drivingand a bold-brimmed grey-felt hat with waving plumes. in the man beside her you would have recognised your

gloves,

And

servant.

You would

have thought

would have envied me. as enviable as I looked.

But

esse,

me

in great luck, perhaps

quam

vi fieri

!

I

would

I

you were

A

Landscape By William Hyde

Vespertilia By Graham R. Tomson

the late

autumn

s

dusky-golden prime,

IN When sickles gleam,, and rusts the idle plough, The time of apples dropping from the bough, And yellow leaves on sycamore and lime.

O er

grassy uplands far above the sea

Often

And

at twilight

met

would

my

footsteps fare,

a

stranger-woman there Who stayed and spake with me Hard by the ancient barrow smooth and green, Whose rounded burg swells dark upon the sky oft I

:

Lording it high o er dusky dell and dene, We wandered she and I.

Ay, many

And I

a

the red

time

as

moon

came

rose

the evening hour up behind the sheaves,

found her straying by that barren bower,

Her fair face glimmering like a white wood-flower That gleams through withered leaves Her mouth was redder than the pimpernel, Her eyes seemed darker than the purple air Neath brows half hidden I remember well :

Mid

mists of cloudy hair.

And

50

Vespertilia

And

all

about her breast, around her head,

Was wound Woven like

a

wide

veil

shadowing cheek and chin,

the ancient grave-gear of the dead

:

A

twisted clasp and pin Confined her long blue mantle

Of splendid Faded

With

s

heavy fold

dropping to decay, some rich raiment worn of

tissue

like

old,

rents and tatters gaping to the day.

Her sandals, wrought about with threads of gold, so worn were they, still, Yet sewn with winking gems of green and blue,

Scarce held together

Where pale as pearls her naked feet shone through. And all her talk was of some outland rare, Where myrtles blossom by the blue sea s rim, And life is ever good and sunny and fair ;

"

she sighed,

sought this island grey. Here where the wind moans and the sun is dim,

Long

When For

since,"

his

love

beaked galleys

I

followed

"

I

cleft the

ocean spray,

him."

Once, as we stood, we heard the nightingale Pipe from a thicket on the sheer hillside, Breathless she hearkened, still and marble-pale, turned to me with strange eyes open wide

Then

"Now I "

"

I "

Love

And

remember

will be life

thou

.... Now .... ah, Love !

thou lovest

me

I is

know Life

!"

"

!

said she,

she cried,

?"

took her chill hands gently in mine own, Dear, but no love is mine to give," I

said,

"

My

heart

is

colder than the granite stone

That

By Graham R. Tomson That guards my

My

true-love in her grassy bed faith and troth are hers, and hers alone,

Are

hers

....

and she

Weeping, she drew her

And "

faint her accents

Poor Vespertilia

5

1

j

is dead."

veil

about her

were and

dull

face,

with pain

;

gone her days of grace, doth she plead for love and plead in vain

*****

Now

None

!

praise her beautv

now, or woo her smile

Ah, hadst thou loved me but I

:

!

a little while,

might have

Then

lived again. slowly as a wave along the shore

She glided from

me

to

yon

sullen

mound

;

frozen heart, relenting, smote me soreToo late I searched the hollow slopes around,

My

Swiftly

I

followed her, but nothing found, heard her more.

Nor saw nor

And now, Even

alas,

my

true-love

s

memory

dream of night-time half-forgot, Fades faint and far from me,

And I

as a

all

my

thoughts are of the stranger I loved her not

Yea, though loved her not

still,

:

I fain would see, and yet the wind-swept hill, dark veil fluttering in the autumn breeze

Upon Her

Fain would Soft as the

And watch

I

;

hear her changeful voice awhile,

wind of spring-tide

in the trees,

her slow, sweet smile.

Ever

52

Vespertilia Ever the thought of her abides with me Unceasing

When When

as the

the round

murmur of the sea moon is low and night-birds ;

flit,

sink the stubble-fires with smouldering flame, er the sea-wind sighs her name,

Over and o

And "

Poor

"Poor

the leaves whisper

Vespertilia"

Vespertilia"

it.

sing the grasses sere, moans the surf-beat >hore

Almost I feel her very presence near Yet she comes nevermore.

;

The House of Shame By H. was no immediate response

THERE rapped

again, Farrell turned

the street.

The morning

B. Marriott Watson

to his

knock, and, ere he

stupidly and took in a vision of

sunshine streamed on Piccadilly

;

a

shook the tree-tops in the Park and beyond, the greensward sparkled with dew. The traffic roared along the road but the cabs upon the stand rode like ships at anchor on a way, snap of

air

windless ocean.

;

Below him flowed

the tide of passengers. The dishim by contrast with his own

passion of that drifting scene affected warm flood of emotions ; the picture

the trees, the sunlight, and

His glance flitted the faces, and wandered finally to the angle of the crossway, With a shudder he by which his cab was sauntering leisurely. For a wheeled face-about to the door, and raised the clapper. the roar

imprinted

itself

sharply

upon

his brain.

among

moment yet he stood in hesitation. The current of his thoughts ran like a mill-race, and a hundred discomforting impressions flowed together.

The

house lay so quiet

;

the sunlight struck the

He put his window-panes with a lively and discordant glare. hand into his pocket and withdrew a latchkey, twiddling it his fingers. With a thrust and a twist the door restlessly between He would slip softly open, and he might enter unobserved. entertained the impulse but a The Yellow Book Vol. IV.

moment. D

He

dared not enter in that

The House

54 the eye of

as

all,

of

Shame

he would prefer admittance publicly, in one with nothing to conceal, with no black

that nocturnal fashion

;

shame upon him. His return should be ordinary, matter-of-fact he would choose that Jackson should see him cool and unperturbed. In some way, too, he vaguely hoped to cajole his memory, and to ensnare his willing mind into a belief that nothing unusual had ;

happened.

He knocked the door

fell

with a loud

open.

clatter, feet

Jackson looked

sounded

at

in

the hall, and

him with no appearance

of surprise. "

step.

Good morning, Jackson," he said, kicking his feet He entered, and laid his umbrella in the stand.

mistress up yet "

Yes,

room,

sir,

I

"

Is

your

he asked.

?

said

sir,"

against the

the servant, placidly;

"she

s

in

the morning-

think."

There was no emotion

in

the

man s voice his face wore no somehow Farrell felt already ;

aspect of suspicion or inquiry, and

To-day was

relieved.

Ah

as yesterday,

unmarked byany grave

event.

At the foot of the and passed down the hall. stairs he paused again, with a pretence of dusting something from his coat, and winced at the white gleam of his dress-shirt. "

"

!

Nothing

said,

stirred in the

for a while

wife,

he

he lingered.

house save a maid brushing overhead, and He still shrank from encountering his

his room for refuge until he had put on a quieter His clothes damned him so loudly that all the

and there was

habit of mind.

world must guess at a glance. And then again the man resumed his manliness he would not browbeat himself for the mere know ;

own shame and, passing rapidly along the pushed open the door of the morning-room. A woman rose on his entrance, with a happy little cry.

ledge of his

;

hall,

he

"

"

"

George

!

she said,

Dear George,

I

m

so

glad."

She

By H. She

shivered

her face

lifted

the invitation repelled

;

Watson

B. Marriott

up her arms and

put

him

55 him.

Farrell

moment

the

in

;

to

of that

innocent welcome the horror of his sin rose foul before him.

He

touched her lightly on the cheek and withdrew a little distance. I not a nice object, Letty," he faltered ; see what a mess

m

"

"

mud has made He laughed with

the beastly clothes."

And look constraint. You d of me.

at

my

think

"

fine dressI

lived in

them." "

Oh,

was so

dearest, I

But

ever so late for you.

disappointed,"

I

was so

said the girl I

tired.

m

;

I

sat

up

always tired now. have you been ?

And at last I yawned myself to sleep. Where ever The colour flickered in Farrell s face, and his on the

"

"

fingers

trembled

table.

"

Oh,

couldn

I

t

there after the club,

get

away from Fowler

and

lost

my

s,

train like a

Went

you know.

fool."

His uneasy eyes rose furtively to her face. He was invested with morbid suspicions, suspicions of her suspicion ; but the girl s gaze rested frankly upon him, and she smiled pleasantly. "That dreadful club You shan t go there again for a week, I so glad you ve come. I was darling. nearly being very !

m

I ve been so She took him by frightened about you. lonely." the arm. Poor dear, and you had to come all through London "

with those things on. "

"

I will

What

"

t

people stare

?

them,"

"

I

She threw her arms about his neck. seen you for so long." For God s sake No, no, Letty, don t touch me," he broke

haven "

"

!

Didn

he said abruptly, and turned to leave. Would you go without and she said archly,

change

t

out harshly.

The "

You

I

d

girl

mean soil

s "

lips parted,

and a look of pain started into her

he explained quickly,

your pretty

"

I

am

face.

so very dirty, dear.

frock." "

Silly

!

The House

56

of

Shame

I she returned smiling, "and it isn t a pretty frock. can t wear pretty frocks any longer," she added mournfully. He dropped his eyes before the flush that sprang into her cheeks, and left the room hurriedly. "

!

"Silly

all day, dogging him like a Some corners and leaped out upon him. and hovered in the remoter distance ; he had

His shame followed him about

shadow. times

It lurked in

it

crept away forgotten its attendance ; and then in the thick of his It laughing conversation it fell upon him black once more.

almost

call, dwindled at times, grey and insignificant. he stopped to exchange a sentence in the street, it slid he moved on solitary, and it ran out before him, dark

skulked ever within

When away and

;

Remorse

portentous.

certain

fear

bit

The

of discovery.

deep into him, remorse and a hours with his wife were filled

with uneasy thoughts, and he would fain have variegated the monotony of his conscience by adding a guest to his dinner-table. But from this course he was deterred by delicacy

cheerless

;

suggestion, Letty looked at him, winced a little, smiled ever so faintly, and, with an ineffable expression of tender em for, at his

He barrassment, drew her dressing-gown closer round her body. could not press the indignity upon her young and sensitive mind.

But the

fall

of night, him a O O J which he had so dreaded,7 brought The table was stocked with the fine fruits of a

change of mood.

rare intelligence all

the

comforts

;

the plate

waited

shone

upon

his

with

the white linen

appetite.

It

;

and

was no gross

content that overtook him, but the satisfaction of a body gently His sin had faded wonderfully into the distance, had appeased.

grown science.

colder,

He

equanimity.

and no longer burned intolerably upon his con at times regarding it with reluctant He stared at it with the eyes of a judicial stranger.

found himself

Men

By H. Men

Was

and their history. science had taught the world ?

their nature

him

;

he could watch

reason and debate of

And

women

yet he

it,

they

;

If this were a pity,

another code of morals.

before

Watson

B. Marriott

were so wide apart from

but

the

still

still

then the affair would dismiss

least

of

shame

flickered

up

impertinently persistent. To-morrow the discom

was more certain of himself.

very proper remorse for some time

suffer a

at

appearances more calmly, could

was

would return, no doubt, but with enfeebled

fort

fell

not this the prime lesson

But

its it

it

57

were ruled by

and

itself,

spirit

perhaps a

;

he would

week

and

memory would own

his

no longer. As the meal went forward his temper smiled upon his wife with less diffidence ; he conversed But strangely, as he mended, and the first horror effort.

the dirty blot

He

rose.

with

less

of his guilt receded, he had a leaning to confession. Before, he had felt that pardon was impossible, but now that he was come within range of forgiving himself, he began to desire forgiveness

from Letty it

also.

The

inclination

moved him towards the subject

himself wondering, with a throb his admissions, sentence in his ears.

receive

was vague and formless, yet in

in

and awoke

an aimless way.

m

I so glad the servants have gone. alone with you, George." "

"

Yes,"

he

murmured

"

absently,

He

found

blood, how she would with the tail of her last his

I

they re

much a

prefer

nuisance,

being aren

t

"

they

.?

She pushed the claret to him, and he filled his glass abstractedly. Should he tell her now, he was thinking, and let penitence and At her next words he looked up, pardon crown a terrible day ?

wondering. "

Had Mr. Fowler any news

The

of

Edward

"

?

direction of her thoughts was his

;

she asked idly.

he played with the

thought

The House

58

of confession

thought

;

Shame

of

mind itched

his

to

be

of

freed

its

burden. "

is,

Oh

you

we were

no,

too

Letty dear

see,

he laughed uneasily. have a confession to make-

"

busy,"

I

The

fact

He had taken She regarded him inquiringly, even anxiously. own knowledge the words refused to frame

the leap without his

;

upon his tongue. Of a sudden the impulse fled, screaming for its breathless and scared, upon the brink life, and he was brought up, of a giddy precipice. "

What

some

"

confession, darling

?

she asked in a voice which showed

fear.

The current of his ideas stopped in full flow ; where a hundred explanations should have rushed about his brain, he could find not one poor

lie

for use.

What

do you mean, straightened with anxiety. "

Farrell child,"

paled and

flushed

"

dearest

warm.

he said with a hurried laugh "

"

"Oh

;

"we

she cried reproachfully.

George you had promised ? I don t know," he stumbled on !

said

?

"

his

wife,

nothing, played

How

her

my

face

darling

baccarat."

could you,

when

:

"

"

feverishly.

I

was weak,

I

God knows I ve never done it suppose, and they wanted it, and before, since I promised, Letty," be broke off sharply. The girl said nothing at the moment, but sat staring at the table-cloth, and then reached out a

hand and touched

his

tremulous

fingers.

u

There, there, dear

"

boy,"

she

murmured

"

soothingly,

I

won

t

only please, please, don t break your word again," muttered the man. No, I won t, I won I daresay it was hard, but it cost you your train, George, and

be cross

;

t,"

"

you were punishe

by losing

my

society for one

whole night.

So there

By H.

B.

Marriott Watson

59

She pressed the hand softly, her face glow ing under the candle-light with some soft emotion. Farrell withdrew his arm gently. there

it s all

right."

Have some more wine, dear," said his wife. She raised the bottle, and was replenishing his glass when he "

pushed "

The

roughly aside. no more." he said shortly, wound broke open in his conscience, red and raw.

it

No

"

more,"

The

he was shaken into peace which had gathered upon him lifted fears and tremors, and that devilish memory, which had retired so ;

far, came back upon him, urgent and instant, proclaiming him a coward and a scoundrel. He sat silent and disturbed, with his

eyes upon the crumbs, lessly.

Letty

How

rose,

dark

among which

his fingers

were playing

rest

and passed to the window. "

she said, peeping through the I not out. blinds, "and the rain is pelting so hard. glad I How cold it is Do stir the fire, dearest." "

it

has

fallen

!

m

m

!

Farrell rose, and went to the chimneypiece. He struck the poker through the crust of coal, and the flames leapt forth and roared about the pieces. The heat burned in his face. There came

upon him unbidden the recollection of those days, when he and Letty had nestled side by side, watching

a year ago, for fortunes

She had seen palaces and stately domes ; her richer imagination culled histories from the glowing embers ; while he, searching and searching in vain, had been

in the masses of that golden core.

content

sit by simply with his arm thought touched him to a smile as he mused in

to receive her fancies and

about her.

The

the flood of the

warmth.

stood peering out upon the street, and her voice came to him, muffled, from behind the curtain. How cold and how wet they must those poor creatures "Oh,

Letty

still

!

bef

The House

60 be

!

Look, George,

the rain

Shame

of

Why

dear.

don

t

they go indoors out of

"

?

Farrell, the smile

still

his

upon

lips,

turned his face towards

her as he stooped. "

Who,

"Why,

child

"

?

those

women,"

said^his wife, pitifully,

"why

don

t

they

go home ? They keep coming backwards and forwards. I ve seen And they look so bleak and the same faces pass several times.

No

wretched, with those horrid tawdry dresses. out to-night."

The

from Farrell

hand

with

one ought

to be

clatter

upon the

he cried, in a fierce, harsh voice. The girl pulled the curtain back, and looked at him. she said, plaintively, what is it ? Darling,"

Why

do you

stood

staring

poker

fell

s

a

fender. "

Damn

them

"

!

"

"

"

say such horrible things ? Farrell s face was coloured

with

passion

;

he

angrily at her.

George, George," she said, coming to him, "why are you so Oughtn t I to be sorry for them ? I can t help angry with me ? I know they re not nice it it seems so sad. people. They re "

;

dreadful, dear, of course. face against his breast. this

I "

wretched night, even

She pressed against him

A

response.

fearful

ve always heard that," and she laid her it can t be good for them to be out

But

if

they are

wicked."

sympathy, but Farrell made no tension held his arms and body in a kind of as for

but presently he patted her head softly, and put her gently from him. in a very bad temper I he said, slowly. I to-night, dear paralysis

"

;

m

"

"

m

better." suppose I ought to go to bed and hide myself till I She clung to him still. Don t put me away, George. I don "

t

mind

By H. mind

if

you

dear, kiss

A

me

I love

get so frightened

I

;

Watson

B. Marriott

are in a bad temper.

spasm contracted

his features

61 Kiss me,

you, dearest.

now."

he bent over and kissed her

;

;

then he turned away. "

will

I

go and

She ran still

and

after

won

alone now.

he said

read,"

him.

"

Let

disturb you.

t

can

I

t

"

;

understand

be better

I shall

me come You can t

too,

think

Do

it.

know I must go to bed early, I was up The pleading words struck him like

let

will sit

I

how I hate being me come, for you

so late last a

then."

George.

blow.

night." "

Come,

then,"

he answered, taking her hand. "

And you may

swear

if

you want

she whispered,

to

very much," laughing, as they passed through the door. The sun rose bright and clear ; the sky, purged of

shone

as fine as

on

the weather Farrell sensitive as

it

was

a s

its

vapours,

midsummer day. With this complaisance of blacker mood had passed. His weak nature,

to the touch of circumstances, recovered easily

Sleep had renewed the elastic qualities of

from their influences.

mind, and the smiling heaven set him in great spirits. Letty, too, seemed better, and ate and talked with a more natural gaiety. The nightmare of the previous evening was singularly dim and his

characterless.

He

tried to recall the terror of

it,

and wondered

had so affected him, with every circumstance of happiness around his smiling wife, a comfortable house, and the pleasant

why

it

The gulf that opened between Letty distractions of fortune. He had but flung and himself was there by the will of nature. It was a horrid gap, but aside the conventions that concealed it. he had not contrived himself, in

all

it.

likelihood,

The

sexes kept

came nearer

to

different laws,

and he

what she would require of

him than any other man. He assured himself with conviction that he would forget altogether in a few days.

The

The House

62 The

day was pleasantly

filled,

of

Shame

but not too

full for

the elaboration

of these arguments. They soothed him ; he grew philosophic ; he he even broached discussed the conditions of love with himself ;

For the problem in an abstract way over his coffee at the club. the first time he thought that he had clearly determined the nature of his affection

for

It

Letty.

was integral and

it

single,

was

pack of sentiments, it was very tender, and it would wear extremely well ; but it was not that first high passion which built

he

a

upon

had

once

The

supposed.

exaltation had deceived

was none such

in

him

unfamiliaritv

of

that

earlier

There There were

into a false definition of Love.

circulation

among human

bodies.

degrees upon degrees of affection, and Letty and he stood very but to conceive of their love as something emanating high in rank ;

from

a superior sphere outside relation to the

world and other

human

beings was the absurd and delightful flight of heedless passion. He had laid his ghost, and came home to his dinner in an

humour.

excellent

brightened chattered

a

in

The

good deal on quite

girl

looked

his return.

a sparkling

forlorn

With

temper.

and

weary,

but

her for audience he

Letty

said

little,

but

He looked up some regarded him often with great shy eyes. times to find them upon him with a wistful, even a pleading, gaze. She watched every movement he took jealously. But she was He did not obviously content, and even gay in a sad little fashion. understand, but his spirits were too newly blythe to dwell upon a He noticed with scarce a wonder little starts of pettishness puzzle.

which he had never seen

before. They flashed and were gone, and the large eyes still followed him with tenderness. She rested her arm across the table in the middle of a story he was telling, and

rearranged his "

a

You must

bad

omen."

silver.

not cross your knives," she said playfully. He laughed and continued his narrative.

"

That

s

Left

By H.

B. Marriott

Left to himself, Farrell The current of his wine.

lit

Watson and

a cigarette

filled

had passed, but he

spirits

63 his glass felt

with

extremely

comfortable, and very shortly his mind stole after his wife, who was playing softly in the further room. He could see the yellow fabric of the distant curtains gleaming softly in the lamp-light.

He

had a desire for a certain

An

interrupt.

air,

leaned back lazily in his chair.

Surely there was happiness with

its

low

for justice.

was touched with higher

it

light,

to

him

easily.

serene domestic

this

He

had

set

Letty

s

It held a sweeter

than the

commoner

A

common people. genial warmth flooded his soul, heart nestled into the comfort of desire. He was hot

affections of

and

came

Reflections

no greater comfort than pleasant round of change.

love and his in a place too

fragrance,

but could not bring himself to

atmosphere of content enwrapped him, and he

his

with wine, and his whole being thrilled with the content of his own reflections. He asked no better than this quiet ecstacy, repeated though a suave untroubled life. The personal charm of that fine body, the intimate distinctions of its subtle grace, the flow of that sweet attention of that devoted human soul these

soft voice, the

his lot by fortune. They conducted him upon a future which was strangely attractive. He had loved her for some months more than a year, and earlier that day he had summoned his

were

but how in this hour of bridal thoughts down to a pedestrian level sudden illumination, flushed with the kindly influence of his wine, his afternoon fancy seemed to him ungenerously clipt and tame. ;

what was noble

Letty stood

for

him upon

high

it

a

ideal

was she who would

him

in his

narrow

life

;

she invited

If he were framed of grosser clay, The thought struck refine the fabric.

way.

He had learned to dispose his error in its proper the sins, and he was not going to assign penalties but the bare fact came home to him that he was

sharply.

place,

among

unduly

;

unworthy

The House

64 unworthy of

woman

this

of

love, that

s

Shame no man deserved

it.

Ht

had evilly entreated her, but he would rise to a new level in her company and with her aid. She should renew in him the faded qualities of

innocence and pure-heartedness which

a child he

as

had once possessed. He would ask her mercy, and use her help. Her pardon should purge him of his dishonour ; she should take him to her heart, and perfect faith should rest

The seemed

between them.

drew his attention strongly ; he measure was, ennobled by this aspira

vision he had conceived

and

to himself,

in a

Out

of the fulness of his penitence he now desired the confession he had feared but a little time before. And, as he tion.

reflected,

a

the

notes of the piano changed, and Letty shot into The trilling softly over the sharp little runs.

gay chansonncttc,

careless leisure

of the

took

air

off his

thoughts

with

it.

It

which they might not be happy. The indeed, he could conjure before story would hurt her, he was sure him the start of pain in her eyes. But after the shock she would resume her trust, and forget, as he was forgetting. He was entirely would be

a bad

world

in

;

certain of her love, and, that secure, nothing could divide them. Perhaps she were better left to herself till she recovered from the

blow ; he would go away for a day or two. It might even take her worse than he expected, and he would have dull faces and tearful reproaches for a week or more. If this fell out, it was his punishment, and he would bear it in humility. As his thoughts ran he had not noticed that the music ceased, and Letty s voice broke on his reverie. "Mayn

in the big

t

with you,

I sit

room

dear,"

she pleaded.

"It

s

so solitary

"

!

Why, of course, sweetheart," said Farrell gently and close the door we ll be snug for a little while in "

;

Letty stood by

his chair

and stroked

"

;

come

in,

here."

his head. "You

By H. You

reproachfully. Farrell put

his

up

hand and took

me

last

65 she said

night,"

hers.

Dearest, you must forgive me.

"

a

Marriott Watson

B.

never came to say good-night to

I

I

was very

tired,

and had

headache." "

Ah,

that

was the penalty

for

staying up

so

she replied

late,"

playfully.

Farrell smiled and patted her hand. "

But you

will come she urged. to-night, won t you ? heart, of course I will," he said, smiling indulgently. come and have a long talk with "

"Dear "

I

ll

you."

His wife sighed, in part, as leaned her chin upon his hair.

it

seemed, with satisfaction, and "

Life is very curious, isn t it, George ? her eyes gazing in abstraction at the wall. "

things

we don

t

know.

Farrell patted her "

I

couldn

t

have

I

she said meditatively, There are so many "

never dreamed

hand again, guessed,"

affectionately, reassuringly. It went on, dreamily.

she

"

so strange and painful, and yet not quite painful.

you understand, "

I

I

is all

wonder

if

George."

think I do,

said

dear,"

he

softly.

Do

Ah, but how can you

Girls are so ignorant. quite ? I shouldn t have liked to be you think they ought to be told ? so been have I should afraid, but now somehow I told, though. "

m

not

not afraid

A

quite."

note of pain trembled through her voice

;

she drew a sharp

breath and shivered. "

George, you don

think

t

I

shall die,

do you, George

?

Oh,

his

face

"

George, if She fell with

I

should die

on

searching

her eyes

!

knees that

at

his

pleaded

feet,

for

looking comfort.

into

He drew

her

head

The House

66 head

towards

him,

a

in

gulp

of

Shame

his

caressed

and

throat,

her

hair. "

There,

child, there

Of course

yourself.

"

!

he said soothingly,

"

not, silly one, of course

She crouched against

his knees,

you are frightening

not."

and he stroked her hair tenderly.

Pity pulled at his heart, and at the touch of her he was warmed He had no means of consolation save this with affection.

smoothing motion of the palm, but he yearned for some deeper In the silence his thoughts expression of his love and sympathy. turned to their former occupation, and he felt nearer than ever

He would

to his wife.

tell

when

her

she had recovered.

length and looked at him. think I not brave" she said tremulously, "Oh, you will It is only sometimes that I "but I am brave indeed, George.

She raised her head

at

m

get this it

of depression, and

fit

it

But

overbears me.

something quite foreign within me

is

:

I

it

isn

was never

t

me

;

a coward,

dear."

he answered, of course you are not a coward. She very brave ; you re mv dear brave wife." smiled at him faintly. And you know, Letty," he went on, "

"

No,

You

re

darling,"

brave,

"

hand upon her head. I think we ve been verv happy together, and shall be very happy together, always. There is so much that binds us to one another. You love me, dear, with

still

don

t

you

his

?

"

and you could never doubt that

I

love

vou,

could

"

you

?

He

Letty shook her head.

cast

down

his

eyes,

patting

the

tresses softly.

And

think you know that well enough and are certain If I enough of that not to misjudge me," he resumed quietlv. have made a mistake, Letty, it is not you who will be hardest "

I

"

on me,

I

am

sure.

It

is

I

myself.

If I have

fallen

into

a

seeming

By H. seeming

disloyalty,

Watson

B. Marriott

67

and understand, you just now, quite foreign within me.

not

it is

will believe

I, as

but something, as you said For I could only be true and loyal and

He hesitated, raising his shameful What what is it, George

"

"

?

have you done

He

head. task "

?

parted his

is

right"

openness

confession

him

lips

he said slowly,

To

common.

this

;

what

"

that

should have no secrets

we

should bear

No,"

spent

it

things

us."

once he took

"

"

want

I

"

spent

it

gambling

?

he said with a groan,

to confess

That night

I

something was away

to I

it

she asked, in a low voice.

I spent it in spent it in shame." He breathed the better for the words, even At least the silence reigned in the room. was penalty was undergone, for the explanation "

all

man and wife, and to love each other, calls for He stumbled on the threshold of his between be

you, and I want your forgiveness. I spent did not spend with Fowler.

You

we

necessary, dear, that

the pain of this slow progression suddenly unnerved he cried it with a rush. Darling,"

;

all at

it is

quickly and on a sharper note,

"

"

mechanically upon her The with an effort, and continued. fell

was harder than he had thought. It

from one another; in

eyes to her. she asked anxiously,

His hand rose and

"

"

another house

I

I

But when she spoke he

realised,

though

a terrible

worst part of his over.

with a sense of dread, that he

had not passed the ordeal. I don t understand, George," she said in a voice thick with "

trouble.

The

"

What

strain

is

it

?

Where

was too great

for

did

you stay

his

weak

?

nerves.

"

For God

s

understand me and forgive he broke out, try to dined too well ; I was almost drunk. I left the club with "

sake,

me.

Letty,"

I

Fowler very

late.

Oh,

it s

hideous to have to

tell

you.

I

met some

The House

68 some one

I

had never seen since

could not pass her.

make me

The

explain so

Shame

Oh, long

God

can

!

t

before I loved you.

you understand

I

Don

?

t

horribly."

him

ran from

tale

O

I

of

in

short and broken sentences.

His

fingers twisted nervously about a wisp of her hair ; his gaze had nowhere rest. She looked full into his face with frightened eyes. "

Do

you mean

those

women

we saw

"

?

she asked at

low that he hardly heard. he whispered ; and then again there was

last,

in a voice pitched so "

Yes,"

agony of the suspense was me,"

He she

"

intolerable.

You

silence.

will

The

never forgive

he muttered. her trembling hands grow cold under his touch ; and as kept silence, he dropped his slow, reluctant glance to meet At the sight of the terrified eyes he put his hands towards

felt

still

hers.

her quickly. "

Letty,

Letty,"

Speak to me She rose as

say

;

he cried,

God

"for

you forgive me.

s

sake,

don

t

look like that.

Dearest, darling, forgive

me."

unconscious of her action, and, walking slowly to

if

the fireplace, stood looking at the red flames. "

Letty,"

he

"

called,

don

t

me

spurn

like

this.

Darling,

"

darling

!

His attitude,

he waited for her response, there in the centre of His mouth was wried the room, was one of singular despair. with an expression of suffering ; he endured all the pangs of a sensitive nature

pain.

But

as

which has been always wont to shelter itself from she made no answer. And then she seemed

still

her body trembled and suddenly taken with a great convulsion shivered ; she wheeled half-way round with a her eyes shone cry with pain. ;

;

"

"

George, George

!

she screamed on a horrid

note of agony, and

By H. and swaying

Watson

B. Marriott

second to and

for a

fro, fell

69

hard across the fender and

against the live bars of the grate. Farrell sprang across the intervening space and swung her head away from the angry flames. She lay limp and still upon the

hearth-rug, a smear of black streaking her white arm from the elbow, the smell of her frizzled gown fusing with the odour of Her face was set white, the mouth peaked with a burned hair.

spasm of pain

the eyelids had not

;

fully

fallen,

and a dreadful

unconscious eyes. He stood, struck weak and silent for a moment, and then flung himself upon the floor, and hung over the body.

glimmer of

light flickered

"

"

Letty, Letty

have a

I killed

moan

The

from her

a slit in the

Oh, my God Letty, Letty twitched upon the drawn face, and

"

!

flesh

Farrell leapt to

lips.

!

bell-rope and

the

and away in some distant depth the peals jangled in servant threw open the door and rushed into the room. Get a cried Farrell, vehemently. doctor, a doctor ;

A

A

"

"

!

Your

doctor at once.

God, man, don

As

he cried.

you?"

issued

pulled fast

alarm. "

!

from

t

mistress

stare at

is

Do

ill.

you

hear, Jackson.

"

me.

Go, go

!

His glance stole back to the floor. breath came fast as he contemplated the body. It lay there as It though flung by the hand of death, and wore a pitiful aspect. forbade him ; it seemed to lower at him ; he could not associate it with

the door closed Farrell

life,

still

less

s

with Letty.

It

The

owned some

separate and

mounting in the fire threw out great flashes upon the recumbent figure, and the pale Hours seem to pass as he flesh took on a moving colour.

horrible

existence of

itself.

flames

stood beside her, and not until the quivering eyelids denoted a With that return of life did he gain courage to touch her. she

became somehow

eidolon of a

woman.

The Yellow Book

familiar again

He

;

she was no more the blank

put his arms beneath her and slowly lifted E Vol. TV.

The House

jo

of

Shame

The blood reviving body course in the arteries, and she opened her eyes dully and closed the

lifted

them

to the

renewed

sofa.

its

again.

The

entrance of the doctor dispelled for a while the gloomy The man was a stranger, but was

thoughts that environed him. welcomed as an intimate. has had a

"She

It

was

my

The

doing,"

said Farrell.

shock,"

"You

sharp change from the dreadful

turned Farrell to a different creature. action

;

will

understand.

he added.

he bustled about on errands

;

reveries

of his solitude

He was

animated with

he ran for brandy, and his

him everywhere, hardly with his knowledge. And as the examination proceeded he grew strangely cheerful, watching the face of the physician and drawing inferences to his fancy. He legs bore

laughed lightly at the doubt If she could be Yes, of course," said he.

lifted to

her room.

"

The stairs He smiled,

"

are steep,

sir,"

said

Letty

s

maid.

and drew back the cuffs from his strong wrists. Stooping, he picked up his wife lightly, and strode upstairs. As the doctor was leaving, Farrell waylaid him in the hall, and took him to the door. The visitor drew on his gloves and spoke of the weather

;

the sky threatened rain again and the night

was growing black. Farrell agreed with him hurriedly, adding a few remarks of no interest, as though to preserve that air of un concern which the doctor seemed to take for granted ; and then, with his hand on the door, abruptly touched his subject. "

Is there

"

any danger

?

he asked.

The "

doctor paused and buttoned his glove. She is very sensitive," said the doctor.

"It

was

my

doing,"

said Farrell after a

moment, dropping

his

eyes to the floor. "It

By H. a dangerous

is

"It

do damage.

He

We

Watson

the doctor.

said

be too careful in these

t

71

"Very

little

may

affairs."

finished with his gloves, and put out his hand.

stammered

"Have I,"

harm "

can

B. Marriott time,"

"have

Farrell,

I

done

irreparable

"

?

She

is

very

said the doctor.

delicate,"

mean ? asked the husband, lowering his voice. If you doctor smiled and touched him with his fingers. "

"What will it

The

"

were to cut your finger, my friend, a doctor would never prophesy. Events are out of all proportions to causes." He put his own

hand upon the

Farrell took his "

Is she

The

arm "

dying

doctor

?

the night.

"

Farrell,"

Farrell

I

I

to-morrow

will call

early,"

he

said,

once."

in a hard grip.

he asked hoarsely.

moved

he answered hastily.

Mr.

"

latch.

will send a nurse at

"and

impatiently.

"My

He threw open

dear

sir,

the door and

certainly

not,"

emerged into

would not

said he, as

walked down

distress myself with unnecessary fancies, he dropped down the steps. the hall to the foot of the stairs. He laid a

hand upon the balustrade uncertainly. The house was engrossed in silence ; then from the floor above came a sharp cry, as of a creature in pain, and a door shut softly. Trembling, he rushed Yet that into the dining-room, and hid his face in his hands. His weak device was no refuge from his hideous thoughts.

was crowded with fears and terrors ; in the solitude of that chamber he was haunted by frightful ghosts. The things stood upon the white cloth, like spectres ; the lamp burned low, and He rose and poured in the ashes. splashes of flame rose and fell brain

some brandy into a

glass.

The

muscles jumped in his hands, and stained his shirt, but the

the liquor spilled over the edges and

draught strung up

his nerves,

and brighter thoughts flowed

in his

mind.

The House

72 He

mind.

out

pulled

meditating more quietly. An hour later he was passage of feet along the in a

little

and

arrived,

down,

from his reflections by the His ears took in the sound with

disturbed hall.

;

a

A

The footsteps of relief pervaded him. within the arms of his chair and

feeling

He

passed upstairs. listened.

before the fire and sat

But it portended fresh horrors to him. anxiety he realised from the voices without that the nurse had

new

a fret of

Shame

of

chair

a

fresh

sat passive

hope of succour lay in those

The

feet.

doctor

in their and the nurse and the maid were doing what was vital It was as if he himself attentions was the promise of rescue. ;

took no part

in

the tragedy

;

he

sat

as a spectator in

and viewed the action only with the concern He filled another tumbler with spirit. visitor.

The

the

stalls,

of an interested

alcohol fired his blood, and raised him superior to the petty He drank and stared in the embers and con his nerves.

worry of sidered. it

Letty was

ill

in a

manner not uncommon

threatened the sacrifice of one

life

;

even though

the malady was not inevitably

mortal. He had been bidden to discharge his fears, and brandy had discharged them for him. He turned to fill his glass again

;

the fumes were in his head, but at that moment the recollection last excess flashed suddenly upon him, and, with an inarticu

of his

scream of rage, he dashed the bottle to the floor, and ground feet. Rising irresolutely he made his way up At his knock the nurse stairs, and paused before Letty s door. late

the glass under his

came out and greeted him

a

strange

tall

woman

with

hard

eyes. "

My

wife,"

he asked

"

is

Mrs. Farrell better

She pushed him gently away. The worst is over, perhaps.

"

see.

sleeping

now

at

last."

He

I

think

You

lingered

so,"

"

?

she said

understand.

still,

"

;

we

shall

Hush, she

is

and she made a gesture to

By H.

B.

Marriott Watson

to dismiss him, her voice softening. you best to-morrow." Farrell entered his

room and took

delicate to the merest suspicion,

73

Doctor Green

"

off his coat.

seemed

to

His

will tell

ears,

grown

catch a sound upon

the stillness, and opening the door he looked out. All was quiet ; the great lamp upon the landing swung noiselessly, shedding its

dim beams upon the pannelled walls. He shut to the door, and once more was in the wilderness of his own thoughts. The doctor came twice that next day. In the morning a white and anxious face met him on the stairs and scanned him eagerly. is

"She

going on, going the danger

"Then

with

vigour. doctor can say

"No

will she

Well

"Will

The

that,"

said

he deliberately.

cried

Farrell, his

heart beating

said the doctor slowly.

"

"

is

as

It

"began

exclaimed the doctor sharply.

?

she

live?"

doctor

said.

"She

was very difficult." Farrell, stammering.

expected to find her.

I

"But

he

on"

past?"

new

well as

"

is

s

eye avoided

You must

his.

"

I

hope.

Those things are never certain," know more than you, and I

hope." "

cried Farrell impatiently. But, "Yes, yes," he burst forth, will she die ? The doctor glanced at him and then away. he said gravely.

my God,

doctor,"

"

"

"

It

is

possible,"

back against the handrail and mechanically watched him pass the length of the hall and let himself out. Some one touched his arm, and he looked up. Farrell

leaned

You musn t give way. Come, sir, come," said the nurse. I ve seen weaker Nothing has happened. She is very weak, but "

"

folk pull

through."

He

The House of Shame

74 He

descended the

stairs

and entered the drawing-room.

The

room looked vacant the inanimate furniture seemed to keep silence and stare at him he felt every object in that place was privy to his horrible story. They regarded him sternly he seemed to ;

;

;

which they had talked together, ere he entered. He could not bear the condemnation of that silence, and sat down at the piano, softly fingering the notes. But the voices of those chords cried to him of Letty. It was her favourite instru feel the

hush

in

ment, the purchase of her own means, and every resonance reminded him of her. It was by her hand that melodies had been framed and fashioned from the strings his was an alien touch. ;

underneath his fingers ; he struck at random, and melancholy cadences mourned at him. They knew With a horrid, miserable his secret, too. laugh he got up, and putting on his hat, went forth and down to his club.

They wept

for their mistress

The change did not distract his thoughts ; the burden lay as heavy upon his mind, but at least the walk was an occupation. He came back with a bundle of letters which his indolent nature had allowed to accumulate with the porter, and, retiring to his

smoking-room, made

a

With

the hour of lunch, the time passed until the He heard the arrival, and, putting down his

this

doctor

s

work and

second

visit.

manful

eftort

to re-engage his attention.

pen, waited in a growing fever for the sound of feet descending on the stairs. The smoking-room lay back from the hall, but Farrell flung open his door and listened. The day was falling in and the shadows were deepening about him, but still the doctor made no sign. At length he left his chair and called Jackson.

The him

He must have left without noise, for gone. not heard him it was a maid who had seen

doctor had

Jackson had

;

The

discovery threw Farrell into fresh agitation ; his He had wanted a report of the illness ; anger mingled with terror. go.

he

By H.

Watson

B. Marriott

75

he would have the doctor back at once tions to put.

Rushing up the

stairs

he had a thousand ques ; he rapped at the door of the

When the nurse presented her he burst out impetuously. He must come in ; he would see his wife he was persistently held in ignorance of her condition, and he demanded admittance as a The nurse stood aside sick

room,

and feverishly.

softly

self

;

right.

and beckoned him forward without a word. harder than ever

;

Farrell entered softly, "

You may

Her

face

was

set

worn and weary. and with furtive fears.

she looked

stay if

you

be

will

still,"

the nurse.

said

Farrell

looked at her she added, "you No," inquiringly, beseechingly. will not disturb her. She has been put to sleep. She suffered a "

good deal. It is a bad case." Will she live ? whispered The nurse shook her head. "

"

Farrell. "

She will not suffer

She will sleep. But the doctor will come have done everything."

The lamp

and drew near the bed.

Farrell shuddered,

much more.

upon the dressing-table, and the chamber was

low

He

We

the morning.

in

in

burned a

soft

not see her face, but her dark hair was A slow slight breathing filled scattered over the white pillows. the room. The window rattled with a passing noise. Farrell sat twilight.

down upon

could

a chair

beyond the bed, and the nurse resumed her

*****

by the fire, warming her hands. with low and distant rumbling. place

At opened "

It

the

sound

the

nurse

stole

Outside, the

stealthily

to

traffic

the

passed

door

and

it. is

your

dinner,"

He shook his head. You had better

she whispered, turning to Farrell. "

"

go,"

I will stay

here,"

she urged.

"

said

You

he in a monotone. will

want

it.

You can

The House

76

Shame

of

yawned, closed the door, and,

She head again, impatiently. with a little sigh of weariness,

retraced her steps to the hearth.

Farrell rose and followed her.

can do

"

rest in

call

you. doubt.

shook

his

you are very tired. Go bending over her, I will the next room. There is nothing to be done. She looked at him in Let me watch. I wish

Come,"

and

He

nothing."

he

"

said,

it."

"

Yes,

yes,"

he pleaded.

you want sleep." She glanced round the room,

"

Don

t

see

you

?

I

must be

here, and

was nothing to require "

Very

well,"

she

as if to assure

herself that there

her.

assented

"

;

but

call

me

soon."

And

she

vanished through the doorway like a wraith. Farrell took his seat and regarded his wife. The breathing gently ; masses of dark hair swarmed over the head

came that

crouched low upon the pillow ; one arm, crossing the face with The room glowed with a shadow, lay reaching toward the brow. luminous gloom rather than with light. The figure rested upon its

and the

side,

soft rise

of the hip stood out from the hollows of the

In the grate the ashes stirred and clinked ; the street mumbled without; but within that chamber the stillness hungheavily.

coverlet.

Farrell

him,

He

as

seemed

to hear

it

deepen, and the quiet

air

spoke louder to

though charged with some secret and mysterious mission. mind half-vacant and wholly irrele

followed the hush with a

vant.

But

senses,

and he sprang to

presently the faintest rustle came with a roar upon his his feet, stricken with sudden terror.

The body moved

slightly under

its

wrappings

;

the

arm dropped

down

the pillow into the darker hollows of the counter pane ; the hair fell away ; and the face, relapsing, softly edged into the twilight.

slowly

Farrell stood staring,

piece of poor humanity.

mute and Its

distracted,

this

piteous

woman

he had

upon

contrast with the

known

By H. known and

B. Marriott

loved appalled

scored into his palms, his face rested,

Watson

77

him.

His jaw fell open, his eyes bulged beneath his brows.

nails

The

white and withered, among the frillings of her gown lines picked out the cheeks ; the mouth was ;

unaccustomed

drawn

Even as he pitifully small and pinched with suffering. looked she seemed to his scared gaze to shrink and shrivel under This was not the repose of

sleep, releasing from the surely he could see her face and body pricked over with starts and pangs under his eyes. It seemed to his

pain.

burden of sickness

;

morbid thoughts that he could read upon her moving features the horrible story of that slow disintegration in his very sight the flesh appeared to take on the changing colours of decay. He ;

withdrew aghast from the proximity

;

he blanched and was wrung

with panic. In what place within that breathing human fabric was death starting upon his dreadful round ? She respired gently, the heart beat softly, the tissues, yet instinct with life, were rebuilded piece by piece. Wherein lay the secret of that fading life ?

The counterpane stirred faintly, and drew his attention. His wandering glance went down the length of that swathed body. The limbs still beat warm with blood, and yet to-morrow they must stretch out in was horrible

stiff

obedience to strange hands.

a cry burst

from him and rang

in

The the

fancy

still

and

The sound terrified him anew, breaking thus He feared that she would awake, and rudely upon the silence. And yet he he trembled at the prospect of her speechless eyes. changeless chamber.

had withal a passionate desire to resolve her from this deathly calm, and to see her once more regarding him with love. She hung

upon the verge of that great darkness, and one short would bring her sharply back. He had but to bend to her and whisper loudly, and that hovering spirit would return. still

stood, a coward,

call

ears

He

by the bed.

And

The House

78

of

Shame

And now

the lips in that shrunken face parted suddenly, the It flashed quickened, and the throat rattled with noises.

bosom upon him

that this at last

strove

call

to

for help

;

should not so dissolve at

would give her

was the his

article

voice

least

;

of death, and vainly he in his mouth. She

stifled

she

should

breathe

freely

;

he

and, springing with an effort to the window, he flung it back. The cool air flowed in, and, turning quickly, he looked down upon the bed.

The

air

eyes had fallen open, and were set upon him, full and wide. as he was, the change paralysed him, and he

Unnerved already stood for a lit

moment

stark and motionless.

to

see

into their

The

fire flared

up and

the eyes shone brightly, and he seemed Tiiere was that in them deepest corners.

the face with colour

from which he recoiled

;

at

length slowly and with horror.

They

upon him mutely, pleading with him for mercy. They were like the eyes of a creature hunted beyond a prospect of defence. Dumbly they dwelt on him, as though in his presence they had surrendered their last hope. They seemed to wait for fastened

him, submissive to their fate, yet luminous with that despair. He tried to speak, but the wheels of his being were without his present rule, and he might only stand and shudder and give back He looked away, but his fascinated gaze glance for glance.

returned again to those reproaching eyes. it was as if they dared not lose their sight of a recognised him

as

their butcher.

They

did not

pitiless

enemy.

Even through her

waver

;

They

sleep this

poor weary soul had come to understand his proximity, and had

woke

up, in fright at his unseemly neighbourhood. sputtered, a tongue of flame shot up the chimney, the rank smell of smoke stole the room. Farrell

The lamp and

through

retreated to the table, and dressed the

The act

relieved

wick with trembling fingers. the strain, but when he turned the eyes were watch ing

By H. ing

their

They

B. Marriott

Watson

79

bereaved him of his powers, and under the spell of strange and horrible attraction he sweated in cold beads. burned upon him from the distance, two great hollows of

They

still.

light, like

shining

stars,

There was no room

But

mind

for

to

of sad expectation died slowly away. light.

It

;

;

away and some hour was struck. And suddenly him that the lustre of those great eyes grew dimmer

far

fear.

any sensation save the one

he had no reckoning of the time his agony outside, at last, the bell of a clock-tower boomed

he could not think endured.

holding that awful look of wistful

in his

was

his

fancy, perhaps,

They but

at

seemed

it

;

the look

kinder

stared with a least

it

seemed that

no strange creature now regarded him with unfamiliar terror, but own dear Letty watched him again with soft affectionate eyes.

his

His limbs grew laxer under him, and, with a little sob of relief, stole forward, an uncertain smile of greeting growing round his

he

mouth. "

"Letty

He drew

he whispered, "my darling, are you better? near the bed, and put out his arm eagerly

gently ; but in an eyes kindled with

repulsive gesture of the hands she shrank deeper into

A

and

instant a start rose quickly in her face, the a horrible Jook of panic, and with a faint

the

wrap

and sigh followed ; the limbs fell slowly back, the eyes, with their dreadful terror, stared vacantly into Farrell s pings.

little

ghastly face. The coverlet

went on

rustling as the bed-clothes settled

down.

Three Pictures By Walter

I.

II.

Sickert

Hotel Royal, Dieppe

Bodley Heads.

III. Portrait of

No.

i

:

Mr. Richard Le Gallienne

Mr. George Moore

Rondeaux d Amour By Dolf Wyllarde

I

the night come, and the day expire, redden with the sun s desire

The blossoms BEFORE Only

the passion-flowers are colourless,

Burnt up and wasted with

And

Look down and

To

their

own

excess,

tinted like the ashes of their fire.

see the reddest rose aspire

touch your hand he climbs the trellis-wire, Burning to reach your indolent caress,

Before the night.

Ah, Love, be wise

When

!

for all too

soon

we

tire,

once the longed-for guerdon we acquire. that we think not to possess,

The wonder Once

Nay

in

our keeping, holds us less and nor all too much inquire, Before the night.

less.

let us love,

During

Rondeaux d Amour

88

II

During the night I felt you breathing deep Against my heart and yet I did not weep

With

One

perfect passion

golden

The

sacred night that

The

stairs

of

life

Midway between But

let us

!

fearing only this,

moment of the

night to miss

was not made

stretch

And

this

is

my the

!

upward, dim and steep,

a grief and joy I creep

just for

once have tasted

During the Strained to

for sleep

bliss,

night.

breast I felt your pulses leap,

remembrance

I shall

keep

When all the serpents of oblivion hiss Of two who only clung too close to kiss.

We

sowed

in love

in passion

do

During

we

reap,

the night.

Ill

After the night Love wearied of his powers,

He

fell

A

among the passion-flowers. the darkness solemnly withdrawn.

asleep

I felt

dewy whiteness glimmered on

Day weeping

for this dear dead

the lawn, night of ours.

Vague

By Dolf Wyllarde Vague, greyish

89

had threatened showers, the rosy hours

lights, that first

Deepened to golden, till Trembled with tender passion

to the

dawn,

After the night.

Wan

in the daylight looked our crystal towers,

Rising above the blossom-tinted bowers. The world looked strangely on us in the morn.

Love shuddered Poor Love

!

who

in his sleep as

one forsworn-

trembles at himself, and cowers, After the night.

Wladlislaw

s

Advent By Menie

Muriel Dowie

I

saw Wladislaw he was

sitting on a high tabouret near a hot iron sheet that partially surrounded coke stove ; the arches of his feet were curved over the I

first

WHEN the

tall

top bar, toes

and

heels both bent

down, suggestive of

a

bird

This position brought the shiny knees of his clasping its perch. for he was bending old blue serge trousers close up to his chest and the charcoal dust on the knee far forward towards his easel over which he occasionally sharpened his fusaln was making a dull

smear upon the grey flannel

waistcoat exposed. He wore no coat

:

it

shirt

which

his

half-opened

was hanging on the edge of the iron

screen, and his right shirt-sleeve, rolled up left a strong, rather smooth arm bare.

for

freedom

in

his

work,

He always chose a corner near the stove the coke fumes never It was supposed that he felt the gave him a headache, it seemed. cold of Paris severely ; but this can hardly have been the case, ;

considering the toughening winters of his youth away in Poland there. My observation led me to believe that the proximity was

courted on account of the

facilities

it

afforded for lighting his cigarette

By Menie Muriel Dowie When

cigarette.

he rolled a

new one and had

91

returned the

flat,

shabby, red leather case to a pocket, he would get up, open the stove door and pick up a piece of coke one whose lower half was scarlet and its upper still black between his finger and thumb, and, holding

it

calmly to the cigarette, suck in a light with a coke to its place and re-seating him completely unaware of the amused pairs of

single inhalation, tossing the self

his tabouret,

upon

eyes that watched quizzically to see his himself.

Wladislaw was

his

first

name

;

brow pucker

naturally he had

which he was generally known, but

it

is

useless

if

he burnt

another by record a

to

second set of Polish syllables for the reader to struggle with, so I leave it alone. His first name is pronounced Vladislav as nearly write it ; and this is to be remembered, for I prefer the correct spelling. He had been working quite a the studio before the day when I strolled in and fortnight noticed him, and I do not think that up till then any one had the

as

to

one

may

retain

in

excitement of

One splashes

his

acquaintance.

two sketch-books contained hasty and furtive pencil which essayed the picturesqueness of his features but he or

;

was notably shy, and if he observed any one to be regarding him with the unmistakable measuring eye of the sketcher, he would frown and dip behind the canvas on his easel with the silly

At

sensitiveness of a dabchick.

the dingy cremerie where he ate

the curious glances of a knife chiefly with herrings marines other dejeuneurs annoyed him extremely ; which was absurd, of to being made the victim of a course, for as a rule no artist objects brother girl,

Louise,

such

s

brush.

He would

colour

as

I

was going to write,

like a

when the lively why not like the boy that he was who changed the plates, or swept the knife and fork of did not know the habits of the place back on the crumby

but

The Yellow Book

?

Vol. IV.

F

marble

Wladislaw

92 marble table

M

s

Advent

sent a smile accurately into his long eyes. He didn t know how to respond to Louise, or any other glances of the same sort in those days ; but ir

with a

"Via

sieu,"

darted

I

am encouraged

to tell

his initiation, for it

am

I

further of him,

bold to say none

I

can give the history of

knows

it

better

unless

be Louise herself.

What puzzled me about his face, which was a beautiful one, of the pure and refined Hebrew type so rarely met with the type that was a little commoner, let us hope, in the days when God what puzzled me about it was that it singled out His People should seem so familiar to me, for, as I say, the type is seldom found. When I came upon Wladislaw, hurrying down the street to the studio with the swiftness of a polecat no sort of it would flash upon me that surely I knew the joke intended face, yet not as one feels when one has met some one in a train

or sat near

The

him

myself exactly seen

it

when

in a tramcar.

mystery of before.

was explained before ever I had analysed to the face affected me and where I could have

this

how It

was

at

the eleven o clock rest one morning,

the strife of tongues was

let

loose and I

was moving among

the easels and stools, talking to the various students that I knew. One of them, her book open, her eyes gleaming and her pencil avid of sketches, was lending a vague ear to the model, who had

once been in England, and was describing his experiences with a Royal Academician. They were standing near the stove, the model, careless of the rapid alteration which the grateful heat was in his skin tones, steadily veering from the transparent purple which had gratified an ardent impressionist all the morning,

effecting

to a dull, hot scarlet

was talking

who ranged

to

upon the

the model,

my

fronts of his thighs. While she friend was sketching Wladislaw,

remotely at the cold end of the room.

The

impres sionist

By Menie Muriel Dowie

93

group to remonstrate in ineffectual French with the model, and glanced into the sketch-book in passing. the church-window said this flippant "Just type, isn t he ?

sionist joined the

"

person, alluding to the Pole;

"and

I

have seen him behind the

painted on the wall with a symmetrical arrangement of background, and his feet on a blue air-balloon."

altar too,

stars in the

The

sketcher nodded, and swept in a curved line for the coat collar just as a controlling voice announced that the rest was up.

And it it

wondered how

I

I

had been so dull

as

never to think of

was perfectly true, and oh, so obvious now that I knew Wladislaw s beautiful head, with the young light-brown

for

;

!

it

beard, the pure forehead,

and the long sorrowful eyes, was an ideal without the alteration of either

Nazarene

presentment of the

feature or expression, he stood

the Christ as I

pictures have tried to

all

was so amazed by cooled

Professor

s

and

down,"

morning,

too,"

show Him.

illumination, that

this

the disconsolate impressionist, idiot

;

up a gloriously simple realisation of

who

was

"couldn t

I

sat

down

do a thing

half the

"

losing and talked it over.

beside

till

morning

that

the

Hm

he is. Hadn t you noticed it ? I said it the very yes I wonder if he sees it himself? Do you know, day he came in. I think I could Yes, get rather a good thing of him from here ? you wait ; I ve nothing to do till that beastly hectic colour fades "

off the model. I

I

m

not going to bother about the background ; tired. till I Get a tabouret

ve painted that old green curtain

and

sit

down while

I

m

design a really good

window."

She sketched away rapidly, and I watched her as she worked. she remarked, as she blocked in the figure with "Funny," I ve never seen the Christ treated in proh^ admirable freedom "

;

have you It

is

?

my

It

s

rather

regret that

new I

you

watch."

did not disregard every rule and every

courtesy

Wladislaw

94

Advent

s

courtesy and snatch that sketch from her, half-finished though it was ; but of a sudden the door opened and the Professor came in.

The impressionist, with a sour look at the model s thighs and a despairing consciousness that she would have to hear that her colour was too cold, shut her book with a snap and resumed her brushes.

had to manoeuvre cautiously a retreat to the stairway

I

for

were publicly discouraged during the Professor s visits and people who would leave off work at any minute when I dropped

idlers

in to hear the news on ordinary mornings, looked up and frowned studiously over the creaking of my retreating boots. It may have been about a week later that my acquaintance with Wladislaw commenced, and again the detailing of that cir

cumstance

to serve another purpose

is

rate,

we came

ship

what

came

a glass

me

to

across

for

openly admitted

one another

in a

one of these days

manner which

is

at

;

any

to a friend

cucumber, and soon studio friends news of him, and my protection of him was an frame

fact.

to a

is

At

first I

had been somewhat burdened by

a consciousness of his curious beauty ; one is not often in the way of talking to a beautiful man of any kind, but I can imagine that classical

ported.

beauty or historic beauty might be more easily sup No particular deep would be touched by a meeting with

Apollo or Antinous ; neither awe, nor reverence, however dis credited and worn-out its tradition, has ever attached to them.

The

counterpart of Montrose or

much

as

one would

picturesque

Jardin du I

say

it

like

sentimental

to

reflection

Luxembourg on

a

the

meet ;

bonnie Earl o

either,

but

to

Murray, would arouse only walk through the

sunny day eating gaufres, with

without the faintest intention of irreverence

figure of the Saviour of mankind beside you, the eye reposes unintentionally upon

When

is

it

is

in

and

with

a

arresting.

the

silent

moments

By Menie Muriel Dowie moments

of

I

pause.

it

conversation, have never held

gives

pause.

95

Distinctly,

it

excuse for anything in it an one should turn upon a public about to scoff, be frightened, and announce that it is true

gives art

or

to

be

literature that

offended, to

"

"

the incident in either a picture or a story should be a sufficient excuse for the painting or the telling of

"true"

it.

:

is

that

not

But when

courteously to readers of certain religious convictions that not "making up" either my scenes, my characters, or what

I insist I

am

>

be called my story, I am only desirous that they shall absolve me from any desire to be irreverent and to shock their feelings. They might remember that what is but I do not hope to reverent to them may not be so to me What I would secure so great a concession by any means. for

want of

a better

name,

shall

;

out finally point

is

that the irreverence goes back further than the

mere writing down of the story they must accuse a greater than I if they object to the facts of the case they must state their ;

power which designed poor Wladislaw s some of the phrases beloved of the very

quarrel to the controlling

physiognomy class

I

am

:

to

use

entreating,

"make himself"

;

I

he was

would suggest that the boy did not "sent

considering what

into the

am

world"

like that.

I daresay he he was so very shy a fellow, and it led What to his being a great deal observed and commented upon. of his appearance encouraged me to feel at home with him in spite He was extraordinarily was the real youngness of his nature. I

daresay

wished he had not been

simple

and

well,

hatched chicken to his

;

going to

relate

;

fluffy.

me

I

For

he

really

bits of the eggshell

suggested a newly-

were

still

clinging to

hint at the metaphor.

yellow down, if I may His cleverness was tremendously in advance of his training and Some day, one could see, he was going to his executive powers. he would wait and survive his failures and paint marvellously, if forbear

Wladislaw

<)6

Advent

s

forbear to cut his throat by the way. entirely on his work ; I never heard

work and

His mind was utterly and him speak of much else

;

the difficulty of producing oneself, no matter with the

And when help of what medium, was our everyday topic. desperate fits overtook us we bewailed the necessity of producing didn t think anything ourselves at all. was it in us ?

We

Why

we didn t suppose we were ever going to good that we did compass anything decent, and work was a trouble, a fever of disappointment and stress, which we did not enjoy in the least. ;

The

pleasure of work,

was

a

pleasure

we were

habit

we assured one another again and again, we had never felt. By nature, inclination and

incorrigibly idle

;

yet inside us was this spirit, this

hammering beast that impelled us to the handling of pen and pencil, and made us sick and irritable and unhappy, and

silly, useless,

prevented us taking any pleasure in our dinner. That was how we used to talk together when

we were

striding

through the woods round Versailles or idling among storied tombs in the cemetery at Montmorency what a lot of and, dear me !

;

enjoyment we got out of

when we of

his

it,

mother,

whom

I

how good

and

rested for our luncheon

!

the sandwiches were

Sometimes Wladislaw talked

apprehended to be a teak-grained Calvinistic

lady with a certain resemblance to the hen who had reared a I wish now that I had heard more stories duckling by mistake.

of that rigorous household of his youth, where the fires in winter were let out at four in the afternoon because his mother had the idea that one did not feel the cold so

by

a

sustained

of

chill

much

in

some eight hours

bed

if

inured to

duration.

it

She was

one only wonders why she did not pursue probably quite right the principle further and light no fires in the day, because pro But no matter. And, indeed, there portionately, of course :

are

no proportions

in

the

case.

Once

reach

the

superlative

frozen,

By Menie Muriel Dowie frozen, and there

97

His third subject was the nothing left to feel. frivolity of Paris, of which we knew everything by hearsay and wet sheet nothing by experience, so were able to discuss with a and a flowing sea," so to speak. He hated Paris, and he hated is

"

even

frivolity,

to say,

as

knew

as little

Our

he hated French.

were carried on

common measure

in

conversations,

I

ought

German, which we spoke with almost and

I

of the French language

as

of inaccuracy

;

a

think that he probably knew of the frivolity

he

of Paris.

encourage him to take long walks and long tours on should never be forgotten that you can go all over and when his work at the studio was threepence

I tried to

tramways Paris

for

it

sufficiently discouraging

he would do

We

me, sometimes going alone. both by day and gas light

we

so,

sometimes coming with

explored

fared

forth

Montmartre to

together,

the

Abattoirs, to the Place de la Roquette, to the Boulevard Beaumarchais and the Boulevard Port Royal, the Temple and les Halles." ;

"

But Wladislaw was alone the day he set out to inspect the Bois de Boulogne, the Pare Monceau, the Madeleine, and the grands Boulevards. I remember seeing him he would have had on a

start.

If he had been

coming with me

(borrowed from another he would, in fact, have done his best student) and his other coat in his youthful pride and ignorant to look ordinary, to rob himself, tie

and

collar

;

I am sorry to say vanity, of his picturesque appearance. he would. he was an artist ; but it is true

As

it,

since

out in the grey woollen shirt, with its low collar, the half-buttoned waistcoat, the old, blue, sloppilyburst at the back, and hanging coat, with one sleeve obstinately it

was, he

sallied

the close astrakhan cap on one side of his smooth straight hazel When I ran across him next day in the neighbourhood of the

hair.

Wladislaw

98

s

Advent

much decorative ability Amadou, he agreed to come to my rooms

the oleander tubs that surrounded with the doors of the Cafe

and have a cup of coffee, in order to narrate the mysterious incident of the day before. Sitting on each side of

my

stove,

exciting

which was red-hot and

and

threat

ening to crack at any minute, Wladislaw, with cautions to me I should see if it had not been strange, not to judge too soon this that had happened to him," told me this ridiculous story. "

:

He

had started up the Bois

he had come in

;

down

;

he had found the Pare

a big street to the

Madeleine

;

Monceau

had reminded him of a concert-hall, and was not at

it

;

he had looked all

he had walked along the leftimpressive (gar nlcht imponirend] It was as poor a hand side of the Boulevard des Capucines. street as he could have imagined in a big town, the shops ;

wretched assured

;

he supposed in

him

that in

London

London our

shops were better ? the shops were much better ; that

I it

women

was

a standing mystery to me, as to all the other English I knew, where the pretty things for which Paris is celebrated were to be bought. And I implored him to tell me his adven ture.

Ah

!

Well

One minute

!

and he had

now

the point was reached

;

now

I

was to hear

!

Well, he had come opposite the Cafe de la Paix, paused an instant to contemplate the unrelieved

ugliness of the average Frenchman as there to be and then he had pursued his way. It was getting dusk in the winter afternoon, and when he came

commonplace observed

through the Place de

1

Opera

all

the lights were

lit,

and he was

delighted, as who must not be, by the effect of that particular bit He was just crossing the Place to go down the leftof Paris ?

hand

side of the

Avenue, when

it

occurred to him that he was

being followed. It

By Menie Muriel Dowie It

me

here struck

the

that

99

of Wladislaw

beginning

first

s

adventure in Paris was but I waited with a highly unoriginal Here are his tempered interest to hear how he had dealt with it. own words, but losing much of their quaintness by being rendered in an English which even I cannot make quite ungrammatical. ;

u

went on very quickly

I

a little

way, then

walked slowly, Yes, I was

I

very slow, and turned suddenly sharp round. there he was, a man in a black being followed

slowly

:

frock

coat,

and-

A

"

man

for this

"

I

?

blurted out, having been

somehow unprepared

development. "

"What else

to be a cat

Wladislaw.

said

?

"

Did you think

it

was going

"

?

Well, more or

less,

I

had fancied

....

but

wouldn

I

t

in

terrupt him.

bow

Black coat and grey trousers, black

"

you know ? pantomime about

With

hats,

his

tie

and one of those

cigarette hand he made a rapid that outlined sufficiently the flat-

his

head

brimmed top hat of the artistic Frenchman, so often distinguished, but more usually a little ridiculous. I went on at an ordinary pace till I came to the Rue de Rivoli, then at that Cafe where the omnibus for St. Sulpice stops I waited Wladislaw s eyes were gleaming with an unwonted "

"

mischief,

good look.

and he had quite There he was.

ing, powerful face

red

"A

Frenchman "

I

A

his Judaic

man not

a red ribbon in his

ribbon?"

But then

I

to get a dark, interest "

majesty

yet forty

;

button-hole."

remembered

that every second

has a red ribbon.

thought,

Shall I

;

lost

Shall I take

him

go down and cross the

up the Boulevard St. Michel

?

walk this cold evening ? Notre Dame, then home But no, it was late. I had had

a nice

river to

nothing

ioo

Wladislaw

s

Advent

before I wanted to nothing to eat get to the Bouillon Robert dinner would be over. I ran into the Bureau and got a number then I watched, and the first omnibus that had room I climbed up ;

;

on the Imperlale and -watched him try for a knew he was after me. I felt as if I had

Then

omnibus

the

He

started.

seat inside !

had not got a

stolen

I "

you cannot get a seat inside, you know He came up with you ? I said. the imperlale also there was no room.

knew.

On

When

seat.

already six

Ah,

I

something it

!

is

"

?

"

"

I

lost

him, but on the Pont du Carrousel I saw a fiacre In spite of my earlier feeling I was a little interested

sight of

\

when Wladislaw the

told of his

Gare Montparnasse

(Taeuvres sitting

and dessert

down

beside

a

a scoured

at

,

more

so

walking into a certain restaurant near restaurant where you dine with bars

wood

ouvriers

several

table for

80 centimes,

and seeing the stranger

saunter in and take a seat at a corner table. I

feel

quite incapable of rendering

in

English

cat-and-

the

mouse description of the dinner which Wladislaw gave me I

come

to the time

when he

;

so

paid his addition^ and turning up his

coat collar, made his way out and up the Boulevard Montparnasse in the ill-lighted winter night, the stranger appearing inevitably in

wake

his

at

Wladislaw

At and

each gas-lamp, till the side street was reached in which on the fourth floor of a certain number thirteen.

lived

his door

Wladislaw, of course, paused, and looked the street up

down without

"But

no

seeing his pursuer.

doubt,"

courtyard door. I had to own

said

my

sly

Pole,

he was hiding inside a

And now, what that

I

do you make of that ? made nothing of it and we

"

;

sat

and

speculated foolishly for fully half an hour, till we tired of the effort and returned to our equally vapid haverings about "work" and

our

common

difficulties.

Four

By Menie Muriel Dowie Four days four

later

days

101

had meantime confided the story to no oneWladislaw approached me mysteriously from I

was returning one morning from a visit to the Rue Gaiete, with a bunch of onions, half a loaf of black bread,

behind de

later

la

as I

and two turkey-thighs in a string bag. I knew from the set of his cap that something unusual had and besides, it was the hour at which he should have happened ;

been scraping at his fusain in the in my hand. I

I

s

studio.

He

put a letter

I want nothing to anybody? you to But you will tell no one ? understand it all.

will say

"You it.

men

can

t

responded with an eager denial and the question

there could be for

He seemed

me

to

as to

as I did

\vho

tell.

to overlook the half-hundred of students

knew, as readily This was it

tr.m>late

;

and we opened the

we both

letter.

:

My name may perhaps be a sufficient assurance to you unusual conduct of the other evening in discovering for The myself your residence and profession had no unworthy motive. I am painting a large canvas, to be called explanation is simple. "Monsieur,

that

my

The Temptation.

I

cannot proceed for want of

a

model

for

my

When my

eyes fell upon you, I realised instantly that yours It was the only face in the world that could satisfy my aspiration. was impossible for me not to follow you, at the risk of any and every to receive my complete apologies. I beg you misunderstanding. Christ.

I appeal to you as a brother of the brushWill you sit to me ? the most perfect Christ-face that has permit me to leave behind me Times and terms shall be as you will. ever been conceived. Monsieur and colleague, the assurance of my most "Accept,

distinguished sentiments. "DUFOUR."

I

looked

Wladislaw

IO2

s

Advent

and gasping. it, laughing sounding phrases. So this artist well I

looked

I

at

I

repeated

knew

his

some of the

name

the

at

of the small red fleck had pursued Wladislaw for miles on foot and in fiacre, had submitted himself and his Mirlitons

this genius

had tracked digestion to an 8o-centime dinner of blatant horse-flesh, the student to his lodgings, got his style and title from Madame in the rez-de-chaussee^ and finally written

him

to

this letter to ask

his con implore, rather, that Wladislaw should be the model for It was really interesting templated picture of the Redeemer !

enough

but what struck

;

tulle skirt

Man

as curious

it

was that Dufour of the

the portraitist of thefilles de jole

and tarlatan celebrity

should conceive the

me

possible to add to his reputation

by painting

of Sorrows.

II

It will have

poor,

I

been gathered that Wladislaw was poor

think no one

among

us ever

knew.

;

He would

just

how

sit all

the

evening long without a fire, and his habit of keeping a large piece of bread in a coat pocket and breaking bits ofF to nibble during the morning or afternoon s work very naturally gave rise to a legend that he lived upon bread alone. have been the case than I, for one, would sooner believe that to

have credited for a to have noticed a

moment heap of

the story of the student who claimed heads and tails in a corner of his

fish

room, the disagreeable residue of a small barrel of raw dried herring which he had kept by him. I

suppose that he paid his classes and boarding charges out of sent at intervals from home, like any other student ; but

money

the final outward evidence of any shortness in cash was the colour

of

By Menie Muriel Dowie

103

of the packet in which he bought his tobacco. A careful observer might have accurately dated the arrival of his funds by noting the which his Levant Supe rieur." Then, as inclosed orange paper it behoved him to be careful, the canary yellow of the cheaper "

"

"

Levant

tion

;

the

in

and

sign manual of approaching destitu

finally the

common brown

wrapper of

his

"

Caporal."

I

am

inclined to say that I noticed his leisurely but inevitable descent of these pecuniary steps every month.

Further,

if

moderately affluent, he would indulge

in

five

sous

worth of roasted chestnuts whenever we went out together, and only on one occasion did it occur to me to provide him with a tram fare. Despite this poverty, I am very sure that when he arranged ultimately, at my instance, to sit to Monsieur Dufour for his picture of Christ led up into the Wilderness to be "

tempted of the Devil," Wladislaw was very the remuneration.

The

far

from thinking of

was, he had differed rather pointedly with a big the evening class, a man preternaturally irritable eternally afflicted by the toothache ; there had been

fact

Russian because

at

words, the Russian had announced his intention of throwing the Pole from the top of the stairs, and being a taller, more muscular fellow, had picked him up and carried him to the door, when

Wladislaw wriggled dexterously from his grasp, and jerked him down no fewer than eleven steps upon his spine. He described to me afterwards with

sound

as

each

less

sympathy the neat bobbing knocked upon the wooden

truth than artistic

vertebra

individual

stairs.

This

incident, and the fact that the Russian had taken an oath round dozen of times, served to cool

in public to pay his defeat a Wladislaw s interest in the

the

lio-ht

tried

his eyes

;

He told me also that evening class. and he would come up in the morning with

Wladislaw

iO4

s

Advent

point in their corners, the result, as I insisted, of his dipping locks of hair. With a choice of reasons for his coming, I was yet surprised

with a

fine

vermilion

when he came, bars of

late

Chopin

s

one evening, and having whistled the opening of Poland" below mv seventh-floor

"Dirge

window, decoyed me to the roadway, and described his first visit to the studio of Dufour in the Rue de Vaugirard. Out of mere curiosity we had wandered to the number, one afternoon after the reception of the letter and I well remembered ;

the living stench of the impasse^ the dead trails of an enterprising Virginia creeper, the broken mass of plaster casts which suffi

young sculptor near Moorish lamp which lay upon its side ciently located a

we had

All

back of lights

;

a

but

seen of the studio

s

at

in

hand, and the cracked the half-choked drain.

furnishings was the silk-threaded

magnificent curtain which blocked an upper square of I knew that inside all must be on a much greater the queer, draughty barns of artoften juggled with a cup of tea tea shrouded modestly in the green canvas

of artistic beauty than

scale

student

friends,

where

I

produced from a corner covering of a French waggon and the dusty, bellying folds of a brown fishing-net. I was now to hear from Wladislaw what the interior was really like ; how the great Dufour appeared when seen from the front instead of the rear, so to say, and upon what terms the negotiations were begun.

A in

this

Wladislaw s painting was reflected he never could describe anything. Perhaps to do him an injustice ; I would rather say that he had no

certain indecisiveness in

his is

conversation

:

idea of giving a detailed description.

By whiles you might get a equivalent to one of his illuminative brush-strokes, which was very certain to be an unsurpassable appreciation of the fact or flash

the circumstances

;

but bid him begin at the beginning and go coolly

By Menie Muriel Dowie coolly to the end, and

and distraught. I had early learned in thin slippers,

you had him this

;

useless, flurried,

105 monosyllabic

so I stood pretty patiently, although

on our half-made

road, a red clay slough by reason carting, and listened to half-intelligible fragments of bad German, from which I gleaned quite a good deal that I wanted to know. First of all, it seemed the studio had another door one

much

of

;

we had never sculptor

white

s

opposite

a

you made your way round the back of the powdery habitation, and discovered yourself annexe where the artist kept his untidier

seen

little

:

and the

properties,

glass

and china which served for any

little

refreshment he might be disposed to take in working hours. The door here had been opened by an untidy, half-dressed French woman, with her boots unbuttoned and a good deal of cigarette ash

upon her high-braced bust arrival, for she

came

;

she appeared unaware of Wladislaw s empty something, and he nearly

to the door to

received the contents of a small enamelled tin thing in his face. moment later, much shaken by the off-hand insolence of her

A

remarks, he penetrated to the presence of Dufour himself, and was agreeably soothed by the painter s reception of him. Of Dufour s manner and remarks, or the appearance of his workshop, I

could get no idea.

He

had a canvas, twelve feet by nine, upon

of his picture upon a easel, and it seems he made a rapid croquis smaller upright, and had a few masterly skirmishes with thefusain for the position of his Christ s head, begging the model to walk

an

naturally

up and down the

studio, so as to expose unconsciously

various attitudes of face.

During

these saunterings Wladislaw should have

come by some

but he was continually harassed and distracted by the movements of the woman in the unbuttoned have observed very little. boots, and seemed to

idea of his

surroundings

;

Upon

Wladislaw

106

Advent

s

high point of an easel was hung a crown of thorns, and beside this leaned a reed ; but Dufour explained that he had a

Upon

abandoned treatment

more conventional incident

that

of the

favour

in

the Wilderness, and explained at some length the that he contemplated of the said Temptation.

Temptation

in

No

thing, of course, was to be as

had

it

ever

been before

;

the

searching light of modern thought, of modern realism, was to be let in upon this old illustration, from which time had worn the sharpness long ago. "

They must

feel

it

must

irrefutable, terrible

and

lives

;

Dufour had

said.

"

must come right down

it

;

they

their

to

them

to

path as they walkof any one of them You have here the for that, contrast

find

it

in

their

"

the experience

And

!

!

simplicity of the figure ; the man, white, assured, tense, un assailable. Then, here and there, around and above, the thousand soft

man

s

temptations

them

will see

me

And these, though imaginatively He was a man they say He had a where do we really hear of them ? You

presentments of temptation.

treated, are to be real

to

is

be

in

;

real.

but

my

;

picture

there.

;

that has ever

all

Etherealised,

come

deified,

lofty,

you or

to

but

.

.

.

our

temptations." "

And you see what The melting

tunities

?

the figure, and this

world

all

that

everything a painter

for the surroundings.

you

shall see

are

a

trols

a subject

!

And

re-incarnation.

?

The

advantages, the oppor

of the two methods

?

The plein

air for

Art has ever known or imagined outside Is

it

yours

s

brain has ever seen in dreams

to be great is

One moment

Is it to be final

?

the face of

all

the world for

so.

I

?

Ah,

it.

You

must have the head

quarts with the chin raised." talked himself to perspiration, so Wladislaw said, and

Dufour even

I at third

hand was warmed and

elated.

Surely

By Menie Muriel Dowie

107

Surely it was a striking achievement. I don t think it occurred to me then to reflect how a practice Dufour had had with the

"

large treated

"

temptations

realistically

certainly he had a

;

name

painting of them which no one could outdo ; and if his departure from the direction of gas and limelight to plein air

the

for

new went "

well, there

And when from

clay

was everything

to hope. "

I asked, as I scraped the you to go again ? slippers on the wide door mat in our draughty

are

my

entresol.

On he goes out of town, to Nancy. ; go again, and am to pose in costume. He is to have me after, every night for a week, while he draws only, to choose his exact position ; after that, I have to give up some day Not

"

three days

for

I

Sunday night

light

but

;

meant "

it

won

black

for

again

t

and

matter, for I can join the evening class white. I have often thought of it, and

to."

And you don

t

think

it is

going to

tire

you horribly

stand

ing and not saying anything ? Tire ? Nothing could tire me.

I could pose on one leg for hours at a time, and never complain." I think it likely that a position of that kind

"

him "

like a stork, for

"

You I

don

I

began

;

t

but he struck in

But not

if

ran a thorn in

dead and "Don

isn

t

"

:

woman :

my thumb

is

about.

they are

and

it

all

She makes

me

white and swollen.

went

nervous.

When

like that

all

won t be there. when he worked."

It

swelled,

it

cooked-looking." t!"

likely he

She isn

hold"

that

should see her hands

t

I

shouted.

would have a

servant

;

"Of

course she

a servant about

she called

him

Toni,

and she took

-"

She was a

model"

The Yellow Book

I

said

;

Vol. IV.

and Wladislaw,

G

who was

so head-

long

Wladislaw

io8

s

Advent

long because so very young, heard the note of finality in and looking puzzled but complaisant, reserved further

on the

*****

woman

in the

my

voice,

comment

unbuttoned boots.

All that follows this, I am unable to tell in Wladislaw s own words ; the facts were not given me at one, nor yet at two recitals

told

them

they were piled heterogeneously in my mind, just as he at odd moments in the months that followed ; and that

they have arranged themselves with some sort of order is to be accounted for first of all by their dramatic nature, and secondly by the inherent habit of my memory, which often straightens and adjusts,

although unbidden,

all

that

is

thrown

into

it,

so that I

may

take things out neatly as I would have them thus one may pick articles, ordered in one s absence, from the top left-hand drawer in :

a dressing table.

At

half-past

indeed in the

eight upon the Sunday it was a very black night de Vaugirard. Wladislaw had well-nigh fallen

Rue

prone over the broken Moorish lamp, now frozen firmly in the gutter which was the centre of the impasse ; he had made his way round by the sculptor s studio, found the door unlocked, and being of a simple, unquestioning temperament, had strolled into the untidy, remote little annexe which passage with the handsome atelier.

communicated by

a boarded

A

small tin lamp of the kind a concierge usually carries, glassflaming at a cotton wick with a/cool a briiler^ was withstand an intermittent buffeting by a wind which knew the best hole ing in the window to come in at. Wladislaw nearly lost half of his less,

long light-brown moustache by lighting his cigarette

at

it

in a

draught. It

was

cold,

and he had to undress to

his

skin

;

the comfort of a cigarette

By Menie Muriel Dowie a

cigarette

was not to be denied.

Also he was

109 late

for

his

He picked up the lamp appointment, and this annoyed him. when he had taken coat and cap off, and searched for the costume he was to wear.

A

row of pegs upon the wall offered encouragement. With a awkwardness, which was the result of his shyness of touch women s ing unfamiliar garments, he knocked down two hats

certain

one a great scooped thing with red roses below the rim ; the other like a dish, with green locusts, horribly lifelike (and no

hats

:

wonder, since they were the real insects), crawling over it. hastily replaced these, and took up a white thing on another which might have been the scant robe he was to wear.

was a

It

fine

and

soft

to

his

hand

it

;

He nail,

exhaled an ineffable

perfume of a sort of sweetness which belonged to no three-franc He dropped this bottle, and had loose lace upon it and ribbons.

upon the ground, thinking shudderingly of the woman in the unbuttoned boots. At last he came upon the garment he was to wear it

;

it

;

seemed to him that he knew

was of

it

a thick,

coarse,

it

at

resistant

once when he touched

woollen fabric, perhaps

mohair, with a dull shine in the rather unwilling folds very

little

white

;

stuff in

just a narrow, poor

it

wool-white.

could have

come by

this

Then

even to the touch.

;

there

was

garment, and of course

Wladislaw wondered vaguely where Dufour wonderfully archaic material, ascetic he sat down upon a small disused stove

Still hanging upon the nail was and of hemp, hand-twisted. That was the robe and the cord. the whole costume He was out of his shirt and ready to put on the Hebrew dress,

and took off

his boots

and socks.

a rope cord, frayed rather, :

when he was arrested again by some half-thought in his mind, and stood looking at it as it lay thrown across a heap of dusty It seemed so supremely real a thing toiles. just what The Man must

i

io

Wladislaw

must have worn

;

s

Advent

he could imagine the old story more nearly

than ever he had done before.

He only

Him, His

could see

white

the

in

robes of red or purple laid aside, clothed the beautiful purity, the ;

under-garment

unimpeachable holiness of Him only the greater to see young, the veritable "Jesus led up of the perfect, without sin or soil ;

;

Spirit into the wilderness to be

And

tempted of the

Devil."

he himself, Wladislaw, was the true image of that grand

He

figure as

has

come down through

all

the histories to the eyes

of an indifferent world.

When

he

lifted his

the old blue trousers in the cold,

hand fell

his

to his head, bewildered and held by

to the ground,

it,

and he stood there naked

mind back along the

familiar lines of the

taking wonderful story, entering into the feelings of that Jew-Man who was persecuted who, whether man or God, lived the noblest life, ;

the finest example who walks to-day, as the few who may be called His disciples. left

A

that

blast

flame-tongue,

matches

;

He

did then, beside

caught the little lamp full in its foul, yellow Wladislaw in the dark. He felt about for

left

perhaps no act could have so certainly restored him to

this world,

from which

his

thoughts had wandered.

He

found

none anywhere. His straying hand came upon the garment ; he caught it up and slipped it over his head, half horrified to feel that it came below his collar-bone in the neck, and left his arms with only half-a-dozen inches of sleeve.

Matches were lurking in his trousers pocket, and he had the sulphury splutter going in a moment and the lamp re-lit. Turning to place it in a quieter corner, he faced a dusty square of looking-glass, unframed, such as painters usually have, its edges sunk into the dusty wall he had quite a surprise to see himself. ;

More

than half fascinated, he made a swift arrangement of his hair,

By Menie Muriel Dowie smoothed the

1 1 1

of his moustache and beard, knotted the rope cord round his waist, and stood there only a second or two longer. Then, nerved by the startling simplicity, the con hair,

soft flow

vincing faithfulness of his whole appearanee, he opened the door and went down the passage to the studio, frowning and stepping

*****

gingerly on the cold boards.

The

curious

murmur of

sounds that struck his ear

;

voices, the

music of glasses and silver, the slap, as it might have been a hand upon a cheek, and the vagrant notes of some untuned musical instrument

these

all

he barely noticed, or supposed they came

from the sculptor s adjacent studio. He opened the doorand brushed aside the

dark. portiere thatscreened

out draughts ; he stepped into the studio, into a hot, overcharged air, thick with the flat smell of poured wines and fruit rind, coloured with smoke, poisoned with scent, ringing harshly to voices an air that of itself, and if he had seen nothing,

would have nauseated him.

He saw

of light dimly, confusedly ; orange and yellow blobs seemed to be swinging behind grey-blue mists that rolled and eddied round the heads of people so wild, he did not know if he If he made looked at a dream-picture, a picture in a bad dream.

another step or two and stood, his arms straight at his sides, his head up, his long eyes glaring beneath drawn perplexed brows, he There was a sudden pause, as though by a did not know it.

Then a air had been purged of sounds. from among the smoke clouds, mixed with the harsh scrape of chairs shot back upon the floor ; that, too, horror of those halted people, ceased, and out of the frozen some incoherent, hysteric whimpering broke out, and a few faint chemical process the

confused

yell

burst

interrupted exclamations.

At

a table

heaped with the debris of a careless

feast

he saw

Dufour,

1 1

Wladislaw

2

weakly back

rolled

s

his coat off, his waistcoat

Dufour,

Advent and

shirt

unbuttoned,

upon the gilded wood-scroll of

head

his

Louis

his

Ouinze chair his face flushed and swollen, strangely broadened, coarsened and undone, with sick, loose expressions rolling over it as shallow water rolls above a stone ; he had in his hands an old :

lute, a studio property, from which he had been picking poor detached, discordant notes. There were other men, with wild arrested meniment in their

and

like the serpents

of

Mixed among them, tangling an allegorical picture, were womei

the merriment of licence.

faces,

reptiles in

whom One

spilled

the drapery or the bareness seemed indifferently lewd. had fainted with a glass at her lips, and the splash of

liquor was

No

on her neck and dripping from her chin.

one heeded her.

Another had dashed her head upon the

table, her

hands were

clutched in her hair, shaking with a palsy of terror ; and from her arose the sobs which were no more than the dull moaning of a beast in labour.

One the

other, in a dress

orange

celebrated

all

"

Coquelicot,"

on the back of

a chair

;

would have recognised as being which Dufour had painted his

Paris

ballet-muslins

in

was lying with long white arms spread above her low black satin bodice the

waves of her dead-white breast were heaving convulsively ; her red hair blazed from under the live fantastic orange-poppy horns that spread out

from her head

;

her clever,

common

little

face

was

twitching to recover a vinous courage, the black eyes were blinking, crooked lines of her mouth more fascinating than any

the

fancied bow-curve

on one

side, as

were moving

in irresponsible striving to

they had a habit of doing, and

let

open out some daring

phrase.

All that they saw, these

miserable

revellers,

was the white figure

By Menie Muriel Dowie

113

figure of the Christ standing in the chastened light at the far end of the studio. There had been a slight rattling sound a curtain had been drawn, and then the beautiful form had stepped out and

the very type of manhood Christ had chosen, be trusted, when He came to this earth the pure forehead, the patient sorrowful eyes, reproach in the expression of the eyebrows and the mouth, the young beard and brown soft

stood before if

in a

hair

them

may

pictures

When

:

word, the Nazarene.

Dufour

raised a wavering arm, and with a smile of drunken intelligence exclaimed, Ah, c est mon Jesus-Christ a renewed shiver of apprehension went Bonsoir, monsieur "

!

"

!

among the madly frightened people. Then he rose, throwing off a cowering woman, staggering a little, holding to his chair, and turned to address to his guests a mock speech round

of introduction "

Mesdames

:

et Messieurs, je

vous presente

mon

modele,

1

excel-

"

lent Ladislas

!

When

he had declaimed thus, rising superior to a thickened La Coquelicotte," as the orange lady had at once been stammer, It was the signal named, bounded from her chair with a scream. "

the hysterics rose to an aban change of emotion doned shout of uncontrollable laughter ; the moaning woman raised her head the men banged the table and exclaimed according to for a lightning

:

;

their

mood.

that had

ground

One

already

woman

shoes this time

and ane

caught a handful of green stuff from a vase been knocked over, and dashed them to the

The dark-haired of the rock-still white figure. Wladislaw had not recognised her, and she wore

in front

cried

laid

her swollen hand upon Dufour "

harshly,

Va,

Toni

!

Monsieur

a

s

shoulder

besoin

d un

"

!

More

screams greeted this pleasantry, and

"La

Coquelicotte"

flew

M4

Wladislaw

s

Advent

flew towards the figure with a pas dc cancan

round

his

Then

neck his

;

one arm tightened

like a lasso.

frozen

quiet

left

him

;

there was

a

sort of fight

between them.

An

own tongue

oath in his

burst from him, but she twisted him towards the table,

her fingers below his arms and dragged

His head swam as meeting every effort at resistance with a kiss. he saw her face come close to him, its crooked mouth open, and the blank in her line of even teeth which was supposed to be a

charm

her coarse hair seemed to singe his neck as

;

upon him, and table

in a

moment he was pushed

and received a handful of red rose-petals

woman

it

brushed

into a chair at the in his face

from a

opposite.

Dufour was murmuring some apologies about forgetting the He had been away ; had come back in time for a farewell to his old manner and his this supper, long arranged

appointment. old loves

;

but Wladislaw barely listened.

When

"

La Coqueli-

upon his knee, he threatened to strike her, and then bethought him with shame that she was a woman. He took a glass that was pushed to him, and drank to steady It was Chartreuse himself. Chartreuse, they had given him "

cotte

sat

more deadly and more

and in a very insidious than pure spirit while his head failed him, and he remembered nothing after. The wild laughter and indecent jokes Perhaps it was as well.

little

surged up hotter than before ; every one strove to forget the stun of that terrible moment, when, at the jarring scrape of the curtainrings upon their rod, the white figure of the Christ had interrupted

them that in

;

when

it

had seemed, indeed, that the last day had come, retribution, harsher than all hell to those taken

judgment and

their sinning,

like

had

human swine amid

fallen

on them

as

they shrieked and howled

the refuse of their feast.

That

By Menie Muriel Dowie That was

a

moment

they never forgot.

It

carried

i

no

i

5

lesson,

gave no warning, it altered nothing, and was of no use ; but it frightened them, and they were not strong enough to wipe out its

it

cold

memory. There is

moral in Wladislaw s story ; if so, I have perhaps has no thought to write it. Certainly the world has turned and made mock, like those men and women, at the Christ-figure ; and as I

write

is still

the

I

find

myself wondering about the great promise which

Hope of some.

When He scene that

a

comes, if He is to come, will will choose to enter ?

He

Castle Campbell,

September, 1891.

it

be upon some such

The Waking

of Spring By

Olive distance

of Spring, thy coverlet of snow fallen from thee, with its fringe of

Hath SPIRIT And where

Sway

And

white anemones, wind-tost,

fragile in the

frost,

the river late did overflow

woods stand snowdrops, half asleep,

With drooping

heads

sweet dreamers so long

lost.

for crimson flushes creep Into the cold grey east, where clouds assemble To meet the sun and earth hath ceased to weep.

Spirit, arise

!

:

Her

tears tip every blade

Caught I see

in the

O

Spring

!

thee spread thy pinions, they resemble

Large

delicate leaves,

Frail floating

And

of grass, and tremble,

cup of every flower.

all

all

silver-veined, that fling forest sward ;

shadows on the

the birds about thee build and sing

!

Blithe

By Olive distance Blithe stranger from the gardens ot our

We

welcome

thee, for

one

is

at

117 God,

thy side

Whose

voice

Whose

thy soul, whose wide wave above thee, thou awakened bride

Wings

is

thrilling music,

tender glances

Love, thy Lord,

stir

!

Rustem Firing

the First Shot

By

Patten Wilson

Mr. Stevenson

s

Forerunner By James

a

Ashcroft Noble

I can I long time hardly give a number to its years been haunted by a spectre of duty. Of late the visita

FOR have

tions of the haunter have recurred

with increasing frequency and added persistence of appeal ; and though, like Hamlet, I have long dallied with the ghostly behest, like him I am at last compelled to have a habit of putting themselves demanding justice, and my ghost makes no display of originality in this respect he follows the time-honoured example of his tribe, and if peace of mind is to

obedience.

Ghosts,

I believe,

in evidence for the purpose of

:

return to

me

Emerson

the exorcism of compliance

in

one of

his

gnomic

must needs be

uttered.

couplets proclaims his conviction

that "One

accent of the Holy Ghost

This heedful world hath never

a saying

which, shorn of

its

"

lost

imaginative wings and turned into a

"What de reads something like this pedestrian colloquialism, It is a serves to live the world will not let die." comforting

belief vet there are times "

seeds

out

when Tennyson

seems nearer to the

common

s

vision of the

"

fifty

often brings but one to bear," truth of things ; and all the world s

of which Nature

"

heedfulness

Mr. Stevenson

122

s

Forerunner

heedfulness will not exclude Oblivion with her poppies from some spot which should have been sacred to Fame with her amaranth

and asphodel. Still there will always be those who will stretch out hand to repel or evict the intruder even as in Mr. Watts s

a

and noble allegory Love would bar the door against Death fain play my little part in one not inglorious eviction.

I

would I

that

want is,

must

first

of a wholly-forgotten prose-man (forgotten, and there), but I

to write all

by

save a solitary enthusiast here

speak of a half-forgotten singer. Only people the side of middle-age can remember

on the shady

who

are

intense

enthusiasm excited by the first work of the young Glasgow poet, Alexander Smith. He had been discovered by that mighty hunter of new poets, the Rev. George Gilfillan ; and in the columns of

Mr.

Gilfillan

verses

s

journal The Critic had been published a

number of

which whetted the appetite of connoisseurs in the early the maiden volume of a bard who, it was broadly hinted,

fifties for

might be expected to cast Keats into shadow. The prediction was a daring one but the fifties, like the nineties, were a hey-day ;

of

new

reputations

;

A

and when that

brilliant

though somewhat

Drama, saw

the light, a good many people, not wholly indiscriminating, were more than half inclined to think that it had been fulfilled. The performance of the new

amorphous work,

poet, taken lectually

as

a

Life

whole, might be emotionally crude and intel affluence in the matter of striking

ineffective, but its

imagery was amazing, and the critical literature of the day was fine passages." peppered with quotations of Alexander Smith s "

Very few people open

A Life

Drama now, though much

time

is

spent over books that are a great deal poorer ; but if any reader, curious to know what kind of thing roused the admiration of connoisseurs in the years 1853-4, will spend an hour over the

volume, he will come to the conclusion that

it is

a very

remarkable

specimen

By James Ashcroft Noble specimen of what may

123

the decorated style of poetic

be called

architecture. "

An

opulent soul

path like a great cup of gold, All rich and rough with stories of the gods."

Dropt

"

The

in

sun

my

dying like a cloven king blood ; the while the distant moon, pale prophetess that he has wronged, Leans eager forward with most hungry eyes

In his

Like

is

own

a

Watching him bleed She brightens and She walks

to death, and, as

dilates

in lonely

;

he

triumph through the "

My

night."

drooping

Flap idly gainst the mast of my intent I rot upon the waters when my prow

Should grate the golden

faints,

revenge complete

sails

;

isles."

"The

bridegroom sea

toying with the shore, his wedded bride, And, in the fulness of his marriage joy, Is

He

decorates her tawny brow with shells,

Retires a space to see how fair she looks, Then, proud, runs up to kiss her."

These and such things as these were what the admiring critics loved to quote, and that they were indeed "fine passages" could not be denied even by people whose tastes were for something a little What was denied by those who were able to preserve less gaudy.

some calmness of judgment amid the storm of enthusiasm was that this kind of fineness was the kind that goes to the making of great poetry.

The

special

fine things

were ingenious, striking, and

1

Mr. Stevenson

24

and sometimes beautiful conceits

Forerunner

s

they were notable tours de force of poetic fancy ; but they bore little if any witness to that illumi nating revealing imagination of which great poetry is all compact. The young writer s images were happy discoveries of external and accidental resemblances

;

;

not revelations of inherent and inter

Howsoever graceful and pretty

pretative affinity.

in

its

way were

the figure which likened the sea and the shore to a bridegroom and his bride, it gave no new insight into the daily mystery of the

no such hint of a fine correspondence swelling and ebbing tide between the things of sense and of spirit as is given in the really of Whitman utterance imaginative :

whoever speaks

"Surely

to

me

in the right voice,

hkn

or her I shall

follow,

As the water follows the moon around the

What

silently

with

fluid steps

anywhere

globe."

was most characteristic therefore

in the verse

of Alex

ander Smith was a winning or arresting quality of fancy; and, in poetry, fancy, though not to be despised, exercises a subordinate It may be that Smith more probable that he came to feel it, as a man feels many things which he does not formulate in a clearly at any rate, after the publication of Edwin outlined thought of Deira, his third volume of verse, he ceased almost entirely from

sway came

"she

is

the second, not the

to see this

first."

it is

:

:

song, and chose as his favourite vehicle of expression a literary form in

which

his special gift

weight of value, than

by which he

And still

first

it

counted for more, and carried greater could ever count or carry in the poems

caught the world

yet, curiously

s

ear.

enough, while Smith

s

reputation as a poet

lingers in a faint after-glow, the essays in

which he expressed himself

By James Ashcroft Noble himself with so to have little

much more

won fame

circle of

circumference

at

125-

of adequacy and charm cannot be said They have had from the first their

all.

ardent admirers, but it has never widened ; has never touched, never even approximated

its

to,

the circumference of that larger circle which includes all lovers of letters. be unacquainted with Lamb or Hunt, Hazlitt or

To

De

Ouincey, would be recognised

as a regrettable limitation

any man s knowledge of English literature with Alexander Smith as a writer of prose

:

is

of

non-acquaintance felt to be one of

those necessary ignorances that can hardly be lamented because they are rendered inevitable by the shortness of life and the

The fact that Smith as a multiplicity of contending appeals. poet achieved little more than a SHCCCS (Fes time may have pre his an as reputation judiced essayist ; but whatever theory be constructed to account for

more curious instance of

recent literary history presents it, utter refusal to really admirable work

deserved recognition and far-reaching fame. For it must be noted and insisted upon

Alexander

Smith

are

no mere caviare

that

the

literature.

essays

no of of

They have

manner of coterie performance the kind of performance which appeals to an acquired sense, and gives to its admirer a certain pleasing consciousness of aloofness from

neither the matter nor the

the herd.

He

is

in the true line of descent

from the great pre

decessors just named ; and as they were his lineal forerunners, so are Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson and Mr. Richard Le Gallienne his

lineal

descendants.

Indeed

the

name of Mr. Stevenson

suggests, or rather re-suggests, a thought which is more or less familiar to most of us that in the world of letters there are

which in another autumn might have blossomed and borne much fruit. Only by some such consideration is it possible to account for the The Yellow Book Vol. IV. H curious

seasons uncongenial to certain growths of fame

spring and

Mr. Stevenson

i2b

s

Forerunner

curious fact that while Virginibus Puerisque and Men and Books found their audience at once, Dreamtborp and Last Leaves are still

so largely unknown, and can now only be procured by diligent The of the catalogues of the second-hand booksellers.

search fact

is

all

the

more curious because Alexander Smith may be

roughly described

of is

as a

Stevenson born out of due time.

Roughly,

the individuality of thinking and utterance which so important in all pure literature is, in the essay, not only course, for

the one thing needful, apart from which important but essential other things are, comparatively speaking, of no account and

all

in

;

both Smith

s

work and Mr. Stevenson

always rings clear

and

s

the note of personality

true.

essays are what the essay in its purest form always tends the prose analogue of the song of self-expression, with its explicit or implicit autobiography, that touches us as we are never touched by external splendours of epic or drama. In

Their

to be

Mon

of the essay, the personal confession has an almost boyish incontinence of frankness in Smith, as in all the modern men, it has more of reticence and reserve, but it is there taigne,

the

father

:

all

the

time

;

and even when the thought seems most abstract

and impersonal the manner of

of

its

utterance has not the coldness

warmth of colloquy. We learn something quality of the work from a few sentences in

disquisition, but the

of the secret of this

which Smith discourses of

his

favourite

craft

and of

his fellow-

Words Just as two or three of our best sonneteers worth and Rossetti to wit have written admirable sonnets in

craftsmen.

celebration of the sonnet, so Alexander Smith is seldom seen to greater advantage than in the pages where he magnifies his office

and makes himself the

"The

essayist of the essay.

essay, as a literary

form, resembles the lyric, in so far as

it is

By James Ashcroft Noble

127

moulded by some central mood whimsical, serious, or satirical. Give the mood, and the essay, from the first sentence to the last, grows

is

it as the cocoon The essayist grows around the silkworm. kind of poet in prose, and if harshly questioned as to his uses, he might be unable to render a better apology for his existence than a

around is

.

.

.

a

The essay should be pure literature, as the poem is The essayist wears a lance, but he cares more for the pure literature. sharpness of its point than for the pennon that flutters upon it, than for the banner of the captain under whom he serves. He plays with

flower might.

death

as

Hamlet played with Yorick

s

skull,

and he reads the morals

strangely stern, often, for such fragrant lodging in the bosoms of roses. He has no pride, and

which is

are folded up

deficient in a sense

He lifts a pebble from the ground, and puts it aside more carefully than any gem and on a nail in a cottage door he will hang the mantle of his thought, heavily of the congruity and fitness of things.

;

brocaded with the gold of It

rhetoric."

be remarked in parenthesis that the above sentences in 1863, and they provide what is probably the first

may

were published

statement by an English writer with any repute of the famous doctrine Art for art s sake to which Smith seems to have "

"

own way without

worked

his

tion.

Indeed,

even

in

Alexander edited Smith

remarked

in

s

volume, Last Leaves^ he he had thought of excluding

posthumous

his introduction

the essay entitled

the prompting of Gallican sugges when Mr. Patrick Proctor

1869,

that

"

Literary

Work,"

in

which the same doctrine

was more elaborately advocated, apparently on the ground that it was a new heresy which might expose Smith to the pains and penalties

of literary excommunication.

How

curious

it

seems.

In ten years the essay which Mr. Alexander printed with an apology became the accepted creed of all or nearly all the younger men of letters in England, and now it is no longer either a

dangerous

1

Mr. Stevenson

28

dangerous luxury or an

s

Forerunner

of orthodox faith, but one of those

article

uninteresting commonplaces which applied in one way is a truism, another a fatuous absurdity. So does fortune turn her wheel

in

men and women.

for theories as well as for

In the passage just quoted Smith deals with the essay mainly as simple literature, but he loves and praises it not as literature only, but as autobiography

not merely

;

interesting and attractive, but as a

peer in upon something built the house after his

more

own

something that

as

is

in

itself

window through which he can

interesting

the

still

made

design and

it

master

who

an architectural

projection of himself.

like, to

"You

walk round

walk round peculiar or important men as you like to view it from different points and in different

a building, to

Of

when his mood is communicative, you obtain made his contemporary and familiar friend. You enter into his humours and his seriousness. You are made heir of his whims, prejudices, and playfulness. You walk through the

lights.

a full

the essayist,

picture.

You

are

whole nature of him

scribblings

you

as

you walk through the

into the interior of

looking

on the

his thoughts,

because

it

walls.

streets

of Pompeii,

reading the satirical habit of not only giving

stately mansions,

And

the essayist

s

how he came by them, is interesting, by what alchemy the ruder world becomes

but telling you

shows you

We like to know the lineage of ideas, finer. know the lineage of great earls ani swift race to know that the discovery of the law of gravitation fall of an apple in an English garden on a summer

transmuted into the just

we

as

like

We

horses.

like

was born of the afternoon.

to

Essays written after this fashion are racy of the soil in as you taste the lava in the vines grown on the

which they grow, slopes

of

Etna,

they say.

There

Montaigne s Essays and Charles Covent Garden." ;

is

a

Lamb

healthy Gascon flavour in are scented with the prim

s

roses of

In

By James Ashcroft Noble In the

129

of these passages Alexander Smith speaks of the mantle of the essayist s thought "heavily brocaded with the gold of

first

rhetoric,"

and he himself was a cunning embroiderer. It was how he could best

a gift of nature, but he did not learn at once

He brocaded his poetry, and on poetry brocade even of an impertinence, just as is paint pace Gibson on the white marble of the sculptured group or figure. In the essay he found a form which relies less exclusively upon body of imagina utilise

gold

it.

is

which is more susceptible to legitimate adornment by the ornamentation of a passing fancy. It is a form in which even the conceit is not unwelcome to use tion and perfectness of pure outline

:

the language of science the conceit finds

environment.

Thus,

Helena

an

"like

Smith

in

untended

Corn Law rhymer, is wandering among the Dreamthorp doctor has

s

pages

watch-fire";

"Apollo,

in

the essay

Napoleon Ebenezer

knife-grinders

;

its

at

Elliot,

with iron dust upon "

Sheffield

dies

the

his

fit

St.

the face,

solitary

a fancy for arguing with the good simple clergyman, but though "he cannot resist the temptation to hurl a fossil at Moses," he wears his scepticism as a coquette wears her ribbons to annoy if he cannot subdue and when his purpose is "

served, he

puts

aside

his

scepticism

as

the coquette puts

h<;r

When

the black funeral creeps into Dreamthorp from some outlying hamlet, the people reverently dofF their hats and stand aside, for, as Smith puts it, Death does not walk about ribbons."

"

here often, but squire

himself."

when he There

does, he receives as is,

much

in this last sentence, a

respect as the

touch of quiet

Addisonian irony ; and, indeed, Smith reminds us at times of almost all his great predecessors in the art of essay-writing of his prime favourites Montaigne and Bacon ("our earliest essayists and our best" is his own eulogium) ; and also of Addison, Steele, Lamb, Hazlitt, and Leigh Hunt. But it is never a reminder

that

Mr. Stevenson

130

that brings with

of these

graces

it

Forerunner

s

a suggestion of imitation. forerunners are

distinguished

The to

methods and be

found in

in their pages only by patient analysis, and then never

Smith

s

crude

state,

personality fuses

for his

them

and stamps them with a new hall-mark. Perhaps the most purely individual are given to

it

tion of his

partly

thought

by in

new amalgam

into a

qualities of

Smith

s

work

remarkable aptitude for the presenta fine simile and metaphor partly by his his

;

of picturesquefeeling for colour, and, indeed, for all the elements ness ; and partly by a native tendency to sombreness of reflection Death and which makes such a theme as that of the essay, "

the

Fear

of

Dying,"

rather

attractive

than

On

or

repellent,

to

repellent, yet irresistibly speak, perhaps, with greater accuracy The fascinating, as is the eye of the rattlesnake to its prey.

image-making endowment makes itself manifest in almost every and it passage that it would be possible to quote as characteristic may be noted that the associative habit of mind betrays itself not on the in sudden a resemblance the simile which transfixes merely ;

wing, but

in the

numerous pages

in

which Smith showed

for tracing the links of the chain that

his love

connects the near and the

the present and the past, the seen and the unseen. writes in his Dreamthorp cottage

Thus

when

front of the

far,

he

:

"That

winter morning

Charles

lost his

head

in

banqueting-hall of his own palace, the icicles hung from the eaves of the houses here, and the clown kicked the snowballs from his clouted shoon, and thought but of his supper when at three o clock the red sun set in the purple mist. On that Sunday in June, while Waterloo was going on, the gossips, after morning service, stood on the country roads discussing agricultural prospects, without the slightest suspicion that the day passing over their heads would be a famous one in the

calendar.

.

.

.

The

last setting

sun that Shakspeare saw reddened the

windows

By James Ashcroft Noble windows

here, and struck

home from the

of

the

fields.

this

and

I

upon

very roofs that

I

gaze upon.

When

I

think

to speak, lay my hand upon Shakspeare These poor walls were contemporaries of The mere something affecting in the thought.

can almost,

so

Cromwell.

both, and I find

of course, full older than either, but the same way. wall is the creation of a

soil

131

faces of the hinds

coming The mighty storm that raged while Cromwell the oak-woods groan round about here, and tore

dying, made all thatch from the

a-

lay

warmly on the

is,

it

A

does not touch one in

human hand

;

the

soil is

not."

Smith s picturesqueness is fully in evidence here, though the passage was not quoted to illustrate it. Indeed, there are few writers who satisfy so largely the visual sense of the imagination. Even his literary appraisements witness the essays on Dunbar and Chaucer, and that charming paper A Shelf in my Book have a pictorial quality, as if he must see something as "

case"

well as think something. Here is Dreamthorp where the essayist, the Alexander Smith "Smith s Smith" as the transfigured

Autocrat of the Breakfast- table would put

it

lives his ideal life

:

This place suits my whim, and I like it better year after year. As with everything else, since I began to love it I find it growing "

beautiful.

Dreamthorp

a castle, a

chapel, a lake, a straggling strip

of grey houses, with a blue film of smoke over all lies embosomed in Summer with its daisies runs up to every cottage door. emerald. From the little height where I am now sitting 1 see it beneath me.

Nothing could be more peaceful. The wind and the birds fly over A passing sunbeam makes brilliant a white gable-end, and brings

it.

I out the colours of the blossomed apple-tree beyond, and disappears. them not. The hands on the church

see figures in the street, but hear

Time has fallen asleep in clock seem always pointing to one hour. I make a frame of my fingers and look at the afternoon sunshine.

my

Mr. Stevenson

132

my

On

picture.

hang nothing half

This charm. canal;

next

Academy

exhibition will

s

beautiful."

the tout ensemble^ but every detail has its own pictorial is the canal a prosaic unpicturesque thing is a but this particular canal has great white water-lily is

There

"a

on

asleep

so

Forerunner

s

the walls of the

olive-coloured

its

face,"

while to the picture-making eye

a barge trailing up through it in the sunset is a pretty sight ; and the heavenly crimsons and purples sleep quite lovingly upon

<{

its

Nor

glossy ripples.

does the evening star disdain it, for as I as clearly as in the waters of the

walk along I see it mirrored Mediterranean itself."

The

sombreness of reflection noted

features of

Smith

s

work

as

recognisable autumnal feeling. it as the work of a young man

youth

;

though when the

also that the fatal

as

one of the characteristic

an essayist gives It full

is

to

and

life

this

of

that

perhaps, not presentiment of early it

too fanciful to indulge the thought that some doom may have given to Smith s meditative moods

However

a

may remember

destined to die at thirty-seven

age for the children of imagination

pensive seriousness.

work

of the ordinary buoyant

difficulty presents itself one

young man was

that

often difficult to think of

may

be,

it

is,

much is

of their

certain that

Alexander Smith, with a constancy which the most careless reader cannot fail to note, recurred again and again, both when oppor tunity offered and when opportunity had to be made, to the theme

of death,

its

mystery,

poems, which

I

in

and

its

fascination.

some unknown point, the joyous "Spring Chanson

highway which, and even

its fear,

In one of his

quote from memory, he speaks of his at

life

as

a

has his grave cut across ; the poet, addressing the

"

singing merle, drops suddenly from the major into the minor key, and ends upon the note by which the key is dominated :

"Men

By James "

Men

Ashcroft Noble

133

song remains and when 1 list the passion of thy vernal breath Methinks thou singest best to Love and Death live

To happy

Autumn

and

die, the

Lovers and

;

to

dying

and death must needs be

Men."

naturally allied in

human

thought, though to the joyous-minded even autumn will be associated with its present fruitage rather than with its presage of dissolution

;

but this intrusion of death into a celebration of the

and growth of spring seems irrelevant, almost morbid even seem artificial, as if the poet were deliberately striving life

:

may

it

after a

strong literary effect by the expedient of an unnatural juxtaposition of incongruous ideas. To a man of Smith s mind and tempera

ment

we

it

has certainly neither irrelevance nor artificiality ; whether call it morbid depends upon the meaning we

can rightly

word to which the personal feeling rather than the reason gives a definition. Smith s habit was to endeavour

attach to a

common

to realise death that he "

To

denude death of

might more

its

terrible

fully

and richly realise life. he writes, were "

associations,"

atmosphere is always cold around an iceberg"; imagination he loves to draw near the iceberg for some

a vain attempt, the

and yet

in

moments that he may enjoy more exquisitely the warmth summer sun or piled-up winter fire. To his constant thought

shivering

of "

There

are considerations

help to reconcile us to is

it.

which rob death of

The

its

ghastliness,

thoughtful happiness of a

human

and

being

complex, and in certain moved moments which, after they have gone, can recognise to have been our happiest, some subtle thought of And this subtle admixture it is

we

death has been curiously intermixed.

which makes the difference that gives the happy moment its character between the gladness of a child, resident in mere animal health and be remembered, and the serious joy of a impulse, and too volatile to

man.

Mn

134 man who

Stevenson

Forerunner

s

looks before and after, and takes in both this world and the

next. Speaking broadly, it may be said that it is from some obscure recognition of the fact of death that life draws its final sweetness. .... This recognition does not always terrify. The spectre has

the most cunning disguises, and often

when

near

us,

we

are

unaware

of the fact of proximity. Unsuspected, this idea of death lurks in the sweetness of music it has something to do with the pleasure with which we behold the vapour of morning it comes between the ;

;

passionate lips of lovers;

it

in

lives

the

deeper, and you will find the emperor.

and you will

To

find

thrill

of kisses.

Probe joy

to its

An

inch

last

fibre

death."

preserve always in the background of the mind some great momentous interest, tends to ensure a certain fine

thought or justice in a

man

s

estimate of the relative proportions of smaller

things lying in the front of

it,

and Alexander Smith

s

essays have

of measure, balance, and sanity. In the Essay on an Old Subject," published in Last Leaves, the young man who "

a restful quality

had but recently gone into the

from

with imaginative

thirties writes

premature experience of the joys and gains of middle-age (by which he means the forty-fifth year or and there is in most of his essays, especially in the thereabouts) prescience

or possibly

a

;

Dreamtborp papers which came earliest, a middle-aged maturity which charms and satisfies, and never disturbs. But it is not a middle-age which has ossified into routine and become dead to s enthusiasms witness the fine ardour of the concluding

youth

sentence of the essay in which he memorises Carlyle ance at Edinburgh to deliver his Rectorial address "

"

"

:

saw him

for the first

s

appear

When

I

time stand up amongst us the other day, and

heard him speak kindly, brotherly, affectionate words .... I am not ashamed to confess that I felt moved towards him as I do not think, in any possible combination of circumstances,

I

could have felt

Ashcroft Noble

By James moved towards any

not

lost

youth

he can be moved by enthusiasms, but not driven help before them ; he can project himself from himself and survey

impatience lessly

his

s

135

other living man." And yet, though he has ardour, he has freed himself from youth s arrogant

felt

;

own thought

"

in the

round

he has learned the lessons of

"

;

consider

Clough s pregnant words, "and yet same time his manner it never that

it

tantalising,

At

again."

irritating

the

manner

the manner of the writer of explicit guards, reserves, limitations or but who is always making himself safe by the sudden con or nevertheless notwithstanding." The due limitation is "

"

"

"

"

veyed implicitly, in the primal statement of the thought in the couch of irony or humorous extravagance which hints with sufficing clearness that this or that is not to be interpreted au pled

On

lettre. The at the close of delightful essay Vagabonds," the Dreamthorp volume, might be described roughly as a glorifica tion of the life of Bohemia, and an impeachment, or at any rate a

de la

"

depreciation of

commonplace

Philistine respectability.

In dealing

with such a theme with such a bent of mind, the temptation to force the note, to overcharge the colour, would be to most men to

all

young men, impatient of

irresistible

resistance.

;

but

Smith

There

is

unadvisedly with his

resists

restricting conventions it

with

no

apparent

well-nigh effort of

no holding of himself in lest he should speak tongue on the contrary, he lets himself go ;

The genuine vagabond," he says, with perfect abandonment. takes captive the heart," and he declares it high time that a "

"

"

moral game law were passed for the preservation of the wild and but just when we expect the vagrant feelings of human nature stroke of exaggeration there comes instead the light touch of saving "

;

humour, and we know that the essayist is in less danger even than we of losing his head, or, as the expressive cant phrase has it, "giving

himself

away."

Some

Mr. Stevenson

136

Some of the few (and if I number I should be greatly

Forerunner

s

could succeed in increasing their

content) who know Alexander prose well, and love it even as they know, have probablv Some may feel especially favourite papers or favourite groups.

Smith

s

drawn

to the essays

and

fear of Dying"

others

to

Death and the of pure reflection, such as Importance of a Man to Himself" "

"The

that delightful

;

group

in

which the

familiar simplicities

of nature supply texts for tranquil meditation

and

"

Christmas,"

also

some

"

Books and

appreciation, such as Ballads,"

and

"

A

"

s

essays,

I

others

;

Dreamthorp,"

which

last

there

is

the vignettes of the to the essays in literary

"

"Dunbar,"

Shelf in

by Charles Lamb, with whole world of books,

Smith

in

delightful character-portraiture in

doctor and clergyman

village

Gardens,"

"

my

Geoffrey

Bookcase."

In the words applied

unscrupulousness to the

a

certain free

I

must say with regard

have no

preferences."

"Scottish

Chaucer,"

To me

Alexander

to

they

all

have a

charm which somewhat dulls the edge of discrimination, for the writer rather than the theme is the centre of interest he is the hero of the play, and he is never off the stage. Still in some torture chamber of inquiry certain names might be extracted from Books and me, and I think they would be Dreamthorp," A Lark s Flight." This last study, which has Gardens," and not been previously named, is one of the most noteworthy of Smith s essays, and will be grateful to the more lazy readers inasmuch as it tells a story. It is the story of a murder and an a crime execution, the murder vulgar and commonplace enough ;

"

"

"

of brutal violence, the execution a sombrely picturesque function, with one striking incident which seized and held the imagination of the boy who witnessed it ; and the story is told with an arrest

ing vividness to which literature, the narrative

I know only one parallel in English appendix to De Ouincey s famous essay, "On

By James Ashcroft Noble "On

Murder, considered

as

one of the Fine

Arts."

137

The

execu

tion took

place, after the old custom in Scotland, on the spot where the crime had been committed a lonely stretch of grass The criminals land, some distance outside the city of Glasgow. were Irish navvies, members of a large gang employed in the

neighbourhood, and as there were some rumours of a rescue, a detachment of cavalry, supplemented by field-pieces, surrounded the scaffold. Of the scene itself, and the one occurrence round

which

its

latent pathos crystallised,

of boyhood.

Smith gives the recollections

The men were

being brought in a cart to the place of execution, and when they reached the turn of the road where they could first see the black cross-beam with its empty halters, the boy noted the eager, fascinated gaze the doomed men upon it. At last the place was reached, and Smith writes

cast

:

Around it a wide space was kept clear by the military the cannon were placed in position out flashed the swords of the dragoons beneath and around on every side was the crowd. Between two brass "

;

;

;

could see the scaffold clearly enough, and when in a little while the men, bareheaded and with their attendants, appeared upon the surging crowd became stiffened with fear and awe. And now it it,

helmets

I

was that the incident, so simple, so natural, course of things, and yet so frightful in its place.

was

Be

it

fine, that

remembered

that the season

so

much

tragic

in the ordinary

suggestions, took

was early May, that the day

the wheatfields were clothing themselves in the green

of the young crop, and that around the scaffold, standing on

a sunny wide space was kept clear. When the men appeared his own there was each under a dead beneath the beam, proper halter, silence, everyone was gazing too intently to whisper to his neighbour

mound,

a

Just then, out of the grassy space at the foot of the scaffold, in the dead silence audible to all, a lark rose from the side of its nest,

even.

and went singing upward

in

its

happy

flight.

O

heaven

!

how

did

that

Mr. Stevenson

138

Forerunner

s

that song translate itself into dying ears

?

Did

it

bring, in one wild

burning moment, father and mother, and poor Irish cabin, and prayers said at bedtime, and the smell of turf fires, and innocent sweet-

Did it but the dragoon s hearting, and rising and setting suns ? horse has become restive, and his helmet bobs up and down and blots everything ; and there is a sharp sound, and I feel the great crowd heave and swing, and hear it torn by a sharp shiver of pity, and the men whom I saw so near but a moment ago are at immeasurable distance, and have solved the great enigma, finished his flight a

white

this

can

May

you can

:

see

and the lark has not yet

and hear him yonder in the fringe is a stronger element of terror

There

cloud

incident of the lark

than

in

any story of

a

similar

kind

ot

in I

remember."

Gasps of admiration

are amateurish, provincial, inefFective, but at such a passage as this, the words that come first any rate to me are not in the least critical but simply exclama Then comes a calmer and more It is wonderful writing tory. after reading

!

moment

which one discovers something of the secret of the art in what has seemed at first not art at all but sheer nature. Mr. Pater, in ,one of his most instructive essays, has shown that analytical

the

"classical"

and that stitutes

"it

in

element in art

is

"

is

the quality of order in

beauty,"

that addition of strangeness to beauty that con

the romantic

character,"

romantic

art

at its

best being

moreover distinguished by a fine perfection of workmanship. This surely then is an impressive miniature example of romantic art

with

its

combination of strangeness and beauty, and

its

flaw

its absolute saturation of the vehicle of expression technique with the very essence of the thing, the emotion that is to be

less

expressed.

Note

narrative sentences

the ;

directness

and simplicity of the

earl)

they are a mere recital of facts, and their the phrase,

very baldness only mitigated by a single emotional

"

surging

By James Ashcroft Noble

i

39

surging crowd became stiffened with fear and awe," prepares the mind for what is to follow. And then, the sudden break in the second sentence beginning Did seems, and yet how dexterous it really "

it,"

and

at

a

single

stroke

would have

rendered

between the

lark

s

is

;

how perfectly natural it how it renders perfectly

what the best-chosen words of narrative jumblingly, the

rising

brevity

of the

interval

and the consummation of doom

the

sharp bewildering suddenness of the end. Then, lastly, the curious in these things may notice a certain peculiarity in the construction of the concluding sentence of the story the penulti

mate sentence of the quotation. There are nine lines, and in these lines the word "and

in the "

volume barely

occurs eleven times.

All frequent and close repetitions of a single word are generally avoided by good writers, and the repetition of an insignificant

conjunction such

"

as and as a rule, something to be specially is, Smith habitually avoided as carefully as any of us, but here he had to give the feeling of impetuosity, of eager hurry to and which rapidly accumu get the ghastly story told, and the "

avoided.

"

"

detail recurs as naturally

and" inevitably as in the voluble speech of a little child bursting into her mother s room with some marvellous recital of adventure encountered in her

lates

detail

upon

morning walk. This is the high literary art which instinctively and perfectly adapts the means of language of word, sound, pause, and cadence to the end of absolute expression. Alexander Smith himself

become me

to

weary those

is

never wearisome

whom

I

would

;

and

it

would

ill

by sur to add a word or two con fain

interest

but I should like plusage of comment cerning those essays in which he appears as a critic of literature. Mr. Oscar Wilde has said that all good criticism is simply auto ;

ferences.

I suppose, a statement of personal pre is, accept the definition if I may enlarge it by saying

that

biography I

that

Mr. Stevenson

140

s

Forerunner

not merely a statement of personal preferences but of justifications for such preferences presented with a view to

that

criticism

is

Of

persuasion.

course even with this rider the definition

leaves autobiography the

main element

in

autobiographical appraisement Smith was

criticism,

still

and of such

Whether he whose work he

a master.

formulated the rule never to write of any authors did not enjoy I cannot say he certainly acted upon

it

:

with the

gusto, so adequate and appetising his expression of it, that one may dare to say the next best thing to reading Montaigne, Bacon, Chaucer, and the Scottish Ballads, is to read what Alexander Smith has to say about

most delightful

results.

So keen in

His talk about books

them.

is

his

human

always so

that

it

will

He delight people whom one would not think of calling literary. discourses on The Canterbury Tales not as a man weighing and measuring

Tabard

a book, but as a wayfarer of the sitting in the inn-yard

Southwark, watching the crowd of pilgrims with the eye of an acute and good-natured observer, taking notes of their at

appearance, and drawing from it shrewd inferences as to habit and character. He has certain favourite volumes upon which he ex patiates in the essay entitled

principle of selection a

rich

feel

humanity

;

"

A

Shelf in

my

Bookcase

"

;

and the

obvious enough. They are books full of beneath their paragraphs or stanzas he can is

the beating heart. The literary vesture is simply a vesture half reveals and half conceals the the objects of his love

which

man

or

woman who

lives

old Scotch ballads and veil

is

thin,

and breathes behind.

German hymns,

for in

He them

reveals

in the

the concealing

and the thoughts and loves and pains of simple souls He prefers Hawthorne s open and bare.

in dead centuries are laid

Twice-told Tales to his longer and more elaborate works, such as Transformation and The Scarlet Letter^ because he finds more of the man in them, the solitary author who had no public to think of,

By James Ashcroft Noble who wrote

and

of,

but

it

is

He has a

because he must.

141

genuine catholicity,

not that uninteresting catholicity which lacks defined and his general sensibility to excellence is em

circumferences

;

The author of phasised by frank confession of his limitations. Paradise Lost evidently lies a little outside the reach of Alexander Smith

s

tentacles of sympathy.

Milton is like dining off gold plate in a company of very splendid, very ceremonious, and not a little appalling. read but seldom, and only on high days and festivals of the

"Reading

kings

;

Him

I

Him

spirit.

I

never lay down without feeling my appreciation men never without the same kind of comfort that

increased for lesser

one returning from the presence feels when he doffs respectful attitude and dress of ceremony, and subsides into old coat, familiar arm-chair, and slippers. After long-continued organ-music the jangle of the

ew

s

harp

There

is

is

felt as

an exquisite

relief."

a trace of Philistinism here

not ashamed but rather complacent on the part of one who loves Smith of

it

him

;

and

the Philistinism it

which

is

may seem a strange whim

s work to choose as a final sample some of the elect may think, does not show But Danton s commendation of audacity, though valid, is a word of wisdom to the advocate with a

a passage which, at his best.

not universally j strong case.

*

Alexander Smith

s

best

is

good with such

a rare

and

that his appreciator shows no great delightful quality of goodness He is not temerity in abandoning all reserves and concealments. afraid of painting the wart, because

it

is overpowered by strength Alexander Smith, as he shows Dreamthorp^ in Last Leaves^ and in that

of feature and charm of expression.

himself in his prose

entrancing book

cerning

whom

in

A Summer in

Skye

is

one of those writers con

not only the truth, but the read his essays when I was young and

even a lover

whole truth. For myself, I The Yellow Book Vol. IV.

may

i

tell

found

Mr. Stevenson

142 found them

s

Forerunner

have read them again since I have become middle-aged, and have found them satisfyingly restAt no time have they been found wanting in something giving. full

of stimulation

of rare and delicate delight.

;

I

If criticism be indeed autobiography,

no verdict upon the essays of Alexander Smith could well be once more

critical or

Mr. Stevenson and confess

that

countryman

I

more

my

love

praiseful than this confession.

later

my

contemporaries

;

but

early contemporary, and forerunner, better still.

I

at

love

I think I must Mr. Stevenson s

Red Rose By

WHY When

Macdonald

do your leaves uncurl invisibly

Is

I

Leila

it

mere pride

?

?

behold your petals, against your breast

They lie immovably Or opened wide,

;

Your shield thrown wide. But none may watch the unveiling of your

Why

do you die so soon, so certainly

Death

You

is

disgrace

;

should stay dying half your

Your drooping face Gives you when dying your But death

s

pride.

?

life

;

divinest face.

pale colours are your sole disgrace.

A

Westmorland Village By W. W.

Russell

"v!-

;

1

i

-

*

Margaret By C. street

THEhouse

was feebly

lighted, but

S.

by the glare from the public-

could see her coming towards me, holding a jug in one hand and running the other along the She walked railings in front of the houses as a boy does a stick. at the

corner

I

swiftly but cautiously, and rather as if measuring a distance

by As I came nearer, she shrank against the counting the paces. and almost but as I as soon had she went stopped ; railings, passed on again more quickly than before. She must have heard me stop to look after her as if listening,

glare

;

andt as

;

for she paused for a

moment, and turned her head

and then glided on through the darkness into the she went into the public-house I caught sight of a

tangle of heavy golden hair hanging down her back. Presently she came back, keeping close to the houses as before, and in front of one of them about half-way down the street she

stopped, and passed her hand along the tops of the railings as if feeling for something.

She seemed

satisfied,

and pushing open

Is that you, Maggie ? the area gate went down the steps. and a flood of light came up from the cried a woman s voice "

"

area.

A

*****

door was hastily slammed, and all was dark again ; but house I noticed that the spike on the top of one of

as I passed the

the railings was missing.

As

148

Margaret

As

came round the corner by the public-house,

I

I

heard a

and looking in and clashing of pewter pots through the ill-fitting flap doors, I saw a confused crowd of dirty, greasy men, straggling to get near the counter. I walked on more

hoarse

shouting

down

quickly "

the

the street, hoping to be in time.

cried suddenly to the little figure creeping along

I

Stop,"

;

houses.

mustn

"You

t

go there to-night.

by

Stay here and

me the jug, and I ll bring the beer back to you." She started, and caught hold of the railings with one hand. are you ? she said, turning a pair of curiously dull eyes

give

"

"Who

towards me. said

"Come,"

come back

"

;

I,

and

shouldn

Why

"

here

"stay

I

;

ll

tell

took hold of the jug.

t

I

it

get

and often during the day

to-night

as well

;

I

?

about that

when

I

go nearly every night, way and it isn t

know

I

all

you

I

the

far."

"

It

s

of drunken

full

men,"

Don

"

the

first

on the "

you d

better stay here." against the railings,

;

glass in raised

I

;

listlessly

It s t be long please they re waiting for me at home. door on the left, and there s Jug and Bottle Entrance

This

while

"

I said

She gave up the jug and leant keeping her eyes on the ground.

is

m

When

letters."

an empty

house,"

I said

"

;

you can

sit

on the steps

gone."

I

came back

I

found her standing by the door with one

hand on the bell-handle. "

Did you

say this

house was empty

"

?

she asked, as

I

held

out the beer jug. "

Yes,"

I

answered, glancing at the dirty windows in which

but why ? were posted Because I ve been ringing the "

"

bills "

;

bell

all

the time you ve been

away,

C.

By for fun

away, dark street."

;

queer child

"You

a lovely

and because

don

I

Besides

!

S.

t

isn

it

149

like

being

left

all

alone in the

there

dark a bit here

t

s

moon."

She gave a little shiver, and was silent. don t you take your beer ? and "Why "

I

offered her the jug

once more. She groped towards me and put her hands on turning those large dull eyes up to mine.

"

It

s

the

at

She

sat

shoulders

my

*****

"Can t

see

you

I

m

"

blind

?

said she impatiently.

"

and I looked doubtfully wet to sit here to-night doorway up which the wind blew the rain in gusts. down on the top step, and spread her dress over the damp rather

stone. "Sit

down

here

;

we

can lean against the

pillar

and be

as dry as

anything." "

How

you know there was

did

She pouted contemptuously. ways of seeing as well as you ? better than all

you

for all

"

a pillar "

I

Do

?

you think

your wonderful sight

about this particular doorway that night

and got the

I

haven

;

besides, I

when you

t

my

much

could describe this street

found out first

went

beer."

I cried ; but I was too late ; for with a "Mind the jug sweep of her arm the jug toppled over, and the beer rushed down She bit her lip. the steps across the pavement into the gutter. !"

"

Now

don

have done I kissed

it

t

crow over me

even

could

:

it

doesn

t

follow that

I

shouldn

t

see."

her forehead lightly. dear heart ;

Never mind, some more." "

if I

sit

still.

I

won

t

be long getting "How

Margaret

150

How

"

aunt would have abused poor Maggie

if

she hadn

t

had

she remarked, as I sat down again after putting the jug against the door for safety. I I shan t call you Maggie, as they call you that at home. shall call Margaret Margaret with the glorious hair."

her

beer,"

"

Do

"

you you think

it s

I

very pretty

really pretty

mean

"

?

she

asked. "

I

Pretty,"

echoed

"

;

why

it s

most

the

wonderful

and

beautiful thing I have ever seen." She gave a nervous little laugh, and shook her head so that her

was hidden

face "

I

wish

plenty of

"

it

in masses, of gold.

could see

I ;

it

:

I

can only

feel

it

and

know

I

have

warm You may

and she frisked her head round so that the

waves of colour rippled down

my

coat into

my

"

lap.

I got out she added with a sigh. a pair of pocket scissors, and she folded her hands before her. You may take one skein ; and mind you don t cut it off too

cut a

little

piece off if

you

like,"

"

my head and leave an ugly gap with a stump at the top." put my hands gently under the soft warm hair, and choosing a strand rather darker than the rest cut a piece off the end. and I put the wisp into her hand. she said Let me feel

near I

"

it,"

She nodded contentedly and began fumbling at one of her I heard a snap, and presently she gave me a long stockings. cotton thread with which I tied the hair while she held it at each end.

Aunt talks about giving up the house," she said, jerking her the lodgings don t pay much, head in the direction of her home ; and I heard her say that if she did she d have to tiy and get me "

"

into it

some

horrible

place for blind people

an asylum or something.

Isn

t

"

?

"

Fancy shutting

a

sweet

little

golden

darling like

you up

in

an

By an asylum I cried catching her in my arms "

and neck and hair with "

"

I

C.

S.

And

makes me

I

pulled her back, and covered her face

sick to think of

it."

kisses.

hand, and set her by the railings. "Take care of that little piece of

she got up to go put the jug into her

I said as

Good-night, little golden thing," shall come to-morrow as usual."

And

my

I

:

she called

hair,"

****.*

watched her gliding by the houses of her home.

But

151

it

"

:

!

till

down

she vanished

;

and

I

the area

It was fully a fortnight before I was able to visit the doorway again, and after waiting there in vain for some time I walked down the deserted street to the house where the spike was missing from the top of one of the railings. alas

!

The windows were

quite dark, and on the door just above the I went up the

was a piece of paper freshly pasted on. steps and struck a match and read letter-box

:

"TO

FOR KEYS APPLY I

walked slowly back

till

No. 3

I

LET NEWLAND

came

to the

sight of the familiar doorway was too down I leant against the pillar and gave

STREET."

empty house.

much way

for

to

The

me, and sitting

my

grief.

The Knock-out By A.

S.

Hartrick

Of One

in Russia

By

Richard Garnett,

LL.D.

that of old fraught with the olive-spray arisen from the flood,

DOVEToldest of earth And how And

badest

Vain

for

To Yet

man

new

the grove in ancient station stood,

take courage and be gay

leaf this

;

January day

search the savage waste of Scythian wood thither wend, of Clara s ill or good

Bringing back tidings on thy westering way. Tell her the flame the brand should blithely fling Dies on the hearth in ashes chill and drear,

And season vainly lengthens unto Spring Since she forsook the love that held her here, Sorrow and dread and many Leaving

in place of her that

a joyless thing

was so

dear.

;

Theodora A Fragment Bv

Victoria Cross

DID not turn out of bed till ten o clock the next morning, and I was still in dressing-gown and slippers, sitting by the fire, looking over a map, when Digby came in upon me. was his first Hullo, Ray, only just up, eh ? as usual ? I

"

"

exclamation the

snow

can

t

he entered, his ulster buttoned to his chin, and

as

thick upon his boots.

"

What

understand anybody lying in bed

a fellow

till

are

you

ten o clock

I

!

the

in

morning." 11

said,

And

I

can

t

understand

smiling, and stirring

map with resignation. I for the next hour at least. "

I

Breakfast

"

!

returned

had mine hours ago. "

Of whom

?

this

anybody driving up coffee idly.

I

had

at laid

I

seven,"

down

the

knew Digby had come round to jaw Can I offer you some breakfast :

"

?

"

Digby contemptuously.

No,

Well, what do you think of her Theodora ?

thanks.

?

"

said Digby, looking at me. Oh, it s Theodora already, is it ? Well, never mind go on. Yes, what do you think of her ? "She seems rather clever, I think." "

"

"

my

"

:

"Do

By Victoria Cross "

Do

as if I

returned Digby, with a distinct accent of regret, had told him I thought she squinted. I never noticed it. ?

"

But her "

mean

looks, I

She

is

very

But you

"

"

?

I said,

peculiar,"

So

it

merely.

like everything extraordinary.

her very peculiarity was just "

157

"

you

admitted

I

does,"

I

what would have "

;

much

so

should have thought attracted

you."

am

so, that I

going

take the trouble of calling this afternoon expressly to

to

her

see

again."

stared hard

Digby

at

"

laughing. By Did she ask you "

"

She

did,"

Jove

!

me for a minute, and then burst out You ve made good use of your time.

"

?

I said.

This looks

as if

would be

it

a

case,"

remarked Digby

lightly,

I d have and then added, given anything to have had her myself. But if it s not to be for me, I d rather you should be the lucky man than any one else." "

"

Don t

you think

that

all

"

is

a

little

previous

asked

I

?

looking at him over the coffee, which stood on the

satirically,

map

of Mesopotamia. "

I

Well,

don

t

You must marry some

know.

"

"

Really

amusement.

increased

"

I

time,

Cecil."

eyebrows and regarding him with think I have heard of men remaining

I said, raising

!

my

now, especially men with my tastes." Digby, becoming suddenly as serious and thoughtful as if he were being called upon to consider some weighty problem, and of which the solution must be found in the next ten minutes. celibates before "

Yes,"

"

I

don

t

said

know how you would

agree.

She

is

an awfully religious

gin." "

Indeed

"

?

I said

Digby thought

with a laugh.

"

How

do you

know

"

?

hard. "She

Theodora

158 he

"She

said

is,"

every

"

at last.

her at church

I see

Sunday."

Oh

"

with conviction,

of course

then,

must

she

be

proof

conclusive,"

I

answered.

Digby looked

me and

at

remembered suddenly

I

repeat her opinions, so is

she

;

may

then grumbled,

Has she been

fellow you are.

"

Confounded sneering

you she is not ? had promised Theodora not to

telling

that I

"

I

only said, be most devout for all

I

I

really

know

don or

t

know what

she

care."

"Of course you can profess to be quite indifferent," said Digby "But all I can your say is, it doesn t look like it ungraciously. there this afternoon ; and anyway, she is not indifferent to going

She

you. "

Very "

And

said all sorts of flattering things about you." kind, I am sure," I murmured derisively. she sent round to my rooms this morning a thundering

box of Havannahs I

least

in recognition of

my

having

won

the bet about

looks."

your

"

laughed outright. you can do is to

That

let

s

me

rather

for you The smoking of them, I

good biz

help in the

!

think."

"Of

doesn "

"

course

But

will.

it

shows what she thinks of you,

?

Oh, most

Havannahs "

I

"

t it

But you know how

Digby, looking

I

convincingly,"

are expensive

at

me

said

with

awfully rich she

as if

mock

earnestness.

things."

is,

don

"

t

you

?

he wanted to find out whether

I

asked

were

really ignorant or affecting to be so. "

My dear

Charlie,

you know

I

know nothing whatever about

her except what you tell me or do you suppose she showed her banking account between the dances ?

me

"

"

Don t know,

I

am

sure,"

Digby

grumbled back.

"

You

sat

in

By that

in

Victoria Cross

passage long enough to

159

be

going through a banking that matter However, the

account, and balancing it too, for tons of money, over six thousand a point is, she is rich !

year."

"

"

I said, to Really ? say something. Seems such Yes, but she loses every penny on her marriage. a funny to leave way money to a girl, doesn t it ? Some old pig of "

a

maiden aunt

don

you

"Very

she

tied

it

up

in that

way

.

Nasty thing

to do, I think

;

"

t

can

?

immoral of the old

t

marry,

will

it

lady,

probably

seems.

forego

A

girl like that,

nothing

but

if

the cere

mony." "

She runs the

were known. tion "

"

risk of losing her

She only has

it

dum

money, though,

if

anything

casta manet^ just like a separa

allowance."

Hard

And

I murmured lines," sympathetically. so of course her people are anxious she should

good match take some man, what she has now of her own, Otherwise, you

see, if

a severe drop for

make

a

mean, with an income equal to so that she would not feel any loss. she married a poor man, it would be rather I

her."

Conditions calculated to prevent any fellow but a millionaire proposing to her, I should think," I said. "

Yes, except that she is a girl who does not care about money. She has been out now three seasons, and had one or two good Now myself, for instance, if she chances and not taken them. "

wanted money and position and so on, she could hardly do better, And my family and the rest of it are all right but could she ? ;

I know it was that. She s get over my red hair mad upon looks I know she is ; she let it out to me once, and and chuck over her money and I bet anything, she d take you

she couldn

t

you

everything

else, if

you gave her the

chance." "I

am

Theodora

160 "

just

am certainly not likely I told me alone would be enough I

answered.

to,"

to

could never love a decent

thought I even if she gave up nothing for

me

;

"

All this you ve

me off. I have always woman unselfishly enough, choke

and, great heavens

!

should

I

what do you say she has

be sorry to value myself, at thousand a year ?

?

six

woman who falls in love with the cut of your You be surprised at the figure

nose

"

"

to

Leave the

do the valuation.

Digby with

touch

a

ll

said

!

of resentful

bitterness,

and getting

up

I ll look round in the evening," he added, buttoning abruptly. Going to be in ? up his overcoat. "

"

"

As

far as I know," I answered, and he left. got up and dressed leisurely, thinking over what he had said, and those words six thousand repeating themselves unpleasantly "

I

"

"

in

my brain. The time

was

myself on her

in accordance with strict formality

steps.

The room

I

when

I

found

was shown into was

large,

much

too large to be comfortable on such a day ; and I had to thread my way through a perfect maze of gilt-legged tables and Here burnt statuette-bearing tripods before I reached the hearth. a small, quiet, chaste-looking

was

lost

about

it.

upon the

fire,

a sort of Vestal flame,

tesselated tiles,

stood looking

I

and then Theodora came

down

whose heat

white marble, and polished brass it absently for a few minutes,

at

in.

She was very simply dressed in some dark that fitted closely to her, and let me see the harmonious lines of her figure as she came up to me. The plain, small collar of the dress opened stuff"

at the

neck, and a delicious,

stuff like an

solid,

white throat rose from the dull

almond bursting from

its

husk.

On

the pale, well-

cut face and small head great care had evidently been bestowed. The eyes were darkened, as last night, and the hair arranged with infinite

161

Victoria Cross

By

on the forehead and

infinite pains

one massive

rolled into

coil at

the back of her neck.

She shook hands with

a smile

a smile that failed to dispel the

of fatigue and fashionable dissipation that seemed to cling to her ; and then wheeled a chair as near to the fender as she

air

could get it. As she sat down, I thought I had never seen such shoulders combined with so slight a hip before.

Now

"

hope no one don t let

I

And

"

simply.

weather nor

last

night

callers.

should

"

I

be

interrupt

Don

let s talk

t

number of words.

what we

are

interested

in

are interested in

to

us,"

she said

s

getting through a certain

we

come

bother to exchange comments on the I have done that six times over dance.

s

morning with other

this

else will

splendid

for the sake of

Let us

talk because

saying."

if

anything

you

said

I it,"

answered.

Theodora laughed. you

That

?

And

is

"Tell

a nice

warm

me something

about the East, will

subject, and I feel so

cold."

two well-made

she shot out towards the blaze

feet

and

ankles. "

Yes, in three

climate than

weeks time

this,"

I

I shall

be in a considerably

answered, drawing

my

warmer

chair as close to hers

as fashion permits.

Theodora looked

me with

at

a perceptibly startled expression

as I spoke. "

"

Are you I

am,

"

Oh, "

"

you

am

I

Why

"

?

Because lots

really

really,"

1

going out so soon said with a smile.

"

?

she said.

"

so sorry

!

I

asked merely.

I

was thinking

more times

The Yellow Book

I

should have the pleasure of meeting

at different functions."

Vol. IV.

K

"

And

1

Theodora

62

And would

"

:

that be a pleasure

?

her Yes, very great," said Theodora, with a smile lighting eyes and parting faintly the soft scarlet lips. She looked at me, a seducing softness melting all her face and "

swimming

A

We

seemed established between us by that smile.

seemed nearer to each other

A

degrees.

to mine.

in the liquid darkness of the eyes she raised

delicious intimacy

month

or

after

it

than before, by

many

two of time and ordinary intercourse may

be balanced against the seconds of such a smile as this. faint feeling of surprise mingled with my thoughts, that she

A

should show her she

felt

own

instinctively

attitude of

my

mind

so clearly, but

I

attraction towards her, and also

believe

undoubt

edly she belonged, and had always been accustomed, to a fast set. I was not the sort of man to find fault with her for that, and

probably she had already been conscious of this, and felt all the more at ease with me. The opening-primrose type of woman, the girl who does or wishes to suggest the modest violet unfolding

beneath the rural hedge, had never had a charm for me. I do not I profess to admire the simple violet infinitely prefer a welltrained hothouse gardenia. And this girl, about whom there was ;

nothing of the humble, crooked-neck violet in whom there was a dash of virility, a hint at dissipation, a suggestion of a certain decorous

looseness

stimulate

me

of morals

and

of manners

fastness

with a keen sense of pleasure,

as

could

our eyes or hands

met.

would it be a pleasure to meet me ? I asked, holding her eyes with mine, and wondering whether things would so turn out that I should ever kiss those parting lips before me. "

Why

"

Theodora laughed gently. "For a good many reasons ceited to

hear,"

she answered.

it would make you too con But one is because you are more

that "

interesting

By to talk

interesting

The

day.

you move I "

"

back a

my

pushed

please

little,

163 meet every Will dress.

I

come upon my

?

chair back immediately and apologised.

Are you going alone Quite

Victoria Cross

than the majority of people

castor of your chair has

it

"

?

resumed Theodora.

alone."

Is that nice "

to

No.

"

?

should have been very glad to find some fellow to

I

go

with me, but it s rather difficult. It is not everybody that one meets whom one would care to make such an exclusive com panion "

a

of, as

no doubt

shall

I

life

out there necessitates.

like that

be dull unless

Some Englishman,

I

can find some

Still,

chum

there

s

there."

"

I suppose ? but they are mostly snobs who are out there." Theodora made a faint sign of assent, and we both sat silent,

"

Possibly

;

staring into the fire. Does the heat suit

"

"

"

Yes, I like So do

you

?

Theodora

asked, after a pause.

it."

I."

think any woman would I said. now, or could stand Theodora said nothing, but I had

"I

to

don

t

like the climate

I

am going

it,"

was turned towards the

mockery come over

We

my

light of the

which

eyes on her face,

fire,

and

I

saw

a tinge

of

it.

had neither said anything farther, when the sound of a the distance the sound had to us, muffled, owing to

knock reached

travel to reach us

by the drawing-room

fire

at all,

but distinct in

the silence between us.

Theodora looked at me sharply. There is somebody else. Do you want

"

asked, and then added in a persuasive tone,

"

to leave yet

Come

into

"

?

she

my own study,

1

Theodora

64

study, where we shan me, will you ?

t

be disturbed, and stay and have tea with

"

She got up

The room

she spoke.

as

had darkened considerably while

and only a

there,

dull light

came from the

beyond the panes, but the firelight as she stood, glancing and playing

fell

we

had been sitting

leaden, snow-laden sky

strongly across her figure

up it towards the slight waist, scarlet upon the white throat and under-part of the In the strong shadow on her face I could see

and throwing chin.

full

Easily excitable where once a usually hypercritical or rather hyperfanciful eye has been attracted, I felt a keen sense of pleasure stir me as I watched her rise and stand, that sense of pleasure which is nothing more than an

merely the two seducing eyes.

assurance

to

roused and unquiet

the

instincts

within

one, of

future satisfaction or gratification, with, from, or at the expense of the object creating the sensation. Unconsciously a certainty of possession of Theodora to-day, to-morrow, or next year, filled me

moment

for the

The

as

instinct that

mechanical

completely as if I had just made her my wife. demanded her was immediately answered by a

process of the brain,

This simple confidence. you as others have been. "

ment

to

you

its

not with

Later

others have

is

what we know

it

been."

doubt or

fear,

but

and delightful object to

a pleasant

as

painful instinct

and

is

will

be a source of enjoy the lulling of this

And

as pleasure.

And

answer are exactly that which we should not

this instinct

feel

within us

any beloved object. It is this that tends inevitably to degrade the loved one, and to debase our own passion. If the object is worthy and lovely in any sense, we should be ready to love it as for

moralists preach to us of Virtue, as itself, as To love or at least to theologians preach to us of the Deity. strive to love an object for the object s sake, and not our own

being such, for

sake.

Victoria Cross

By sake, to love

own

to our

it

in

is

pleasure,

human

offering to a fellow the only one both

and

giver

we learn it late. I had murmured a prescribed

up

a

which If

receiver.

not learnt

"

Theodora behind

its

being, the one

lesson, I

165

pleasure and not in to feel the only love which is

relation to

its

I shall

be

it

we

relation

worthy of and

elevates

ever learn this

yet.

delighted,"

huge red tapestry screen

its

and followed

that reached half-way

to the ceiling.

We

were then

with a door which she opened, and

face to face

we both

passed over the threshold together. She had called the room her own, so I glanced round

A

it

with

a

always some faint index to the character of its occupier, and as I looked a smile came to my face. This room suggested everywhere, as I should have expected, an certain curiosity.

room

is

There were two and independent spirit. window, heaped up with books and strewn

intellectual but careless

or three tables, in the

The

centre-table had been pushed away, to by the grate, and an armchair, seemingly of unfathomable depths, and a sofa, dragged forward in its place. Within the grate roared a tremendous fire, banked up half-way to the chimney, and a short poker was thrust into it between the

over with

papers.

leave a clearer space

bars.

The

red light

leapt

room and made

over the whole

it

and glanced over a rug, and some tumbled cushions on the floor in front of the fender, evidently where she had been brilliant,

Now,

lying.

them

however, she picked up the cushions, and tossed

into the corner of the couch, and sat

down

herself in the

other corner. "

Do

armchair "Yes,

"

you

prefer

the floor

as she indicated

one

feels

whereas on a couch

it

quite its

to

generally

I

?

asked,

taking the

me.

free

and

at

ease

limits are narrow,

lying on the floor,

and one has the con straint

1

Theodora

66

straint roll

and bother of taking care one does not go

to sleep

and

off."

"But

suppose

you

you would then but be upon the

did,

floor."

Quite so

"

Our

;

but

I

should have the pain of

met across the red flare of the Theodora went on jestingly Now, eyes

"

:

the couch and the

knowing

it

I

floor.

thoroughly

these are the ethics of

myself voluntarily on the floor, low, but undeceptive and favourable

lay

as a trifle

to the condition of sleep

falling."

firelight.

which

will probably arise,

my requirements of ease and space. uncertain couch, recognising that if

I

and suitable to

avoid the restricted and

I fall to

sleep

on that

raised

and the desire to stretch myself should come, I shall awake with pain and shock to feel the ground, and see above me the couch from which I fell do you see ?

level,

"

She spoke lightly, and with

But her eyes

told

me

covered the ethics of "

a smile,

and

I

listened

with one.

that these ethics of the couch and floor

life.

No, you must accept

the necessity of the floor, I think, unless

your sleep and have the trouble of taking care to and for me the difference of level between stick upon your couch the two is not worth the additional bother." like to forego

you

;

She laughed, and I joined her. What do you think ? she asked. "

"

looked at her as she sat opposite me, the firelight playing all over her, from the turn of her knee just marked beneath her skirt I

to

her splendid shoulders, and the smooth soft hand and wrist little head. I did not tell her what

supporting the distinguished

was thinking ; what I said was You are very logical. I quite convinced there s no place like the ground for a siesta." Theodora laughed, and laid her hand on the bell. I

"

:

A

am

second

By Victoria Cross

A second or

two

after, a door,

167

other than the one

we had

entered

by, opened, and a maid appeared.

and

tea

Bring

pegs,"

said

Theodora, and the door shut again.

ordered pegs for you because I know men hate tea," she That s my own maid. I never let any of the servants answer this bell except her ; she has my confidence, as far as one ever gives confidence to a servant. I think she likes me. I like I

said.

she added impulsively. loved," ve never found the least difficulty in it, answered, perhaps a shade more warmly than

making myself

You

"

I

colour

The "

came

should

ought, for the

think,"

into her cheek and a slight confusion into her eyes.

servant

Now

I

I

tell

s

re-entry saved her from replying.

me how you

your peg made, and

like

Theodora, getting up and servant had gone. said

I

ll

crossing to the table

make when

it,"

the

got up, too, and protested against this arrangement. Theodora turned round and looked up at me, leaning one hand I

on the

table.

Now, how ridiculous and You would think nothing of "

"

conventional you are letting

me make you

and yet I must by no means mix you a peg She looked so like a young fellow of nineteen

"

!

a

she said.

cup of

tea,

"

!

as

she spoke

that half the sense of informality between us was lost, and there a keen, subtle pleasure in this superficial familiarity with her that I had never felt with far prettier women. The half of

was

nearly every desire is curiosity, a vague, undefined curiosity, of which we are hardly conscious ; and it was this that Theodora so violently stimulated, while her beauty was sufficient to nurse the other half.

This

may

of course, for any woman feeling of curiosity arises, new to us, and who has the power to move us at all.

be

generally, if

it

cannot be gratified for the particular one,

it is

who But more or

1

Theodora

68

knowledge applying to them all ; but here, as Theodora differed so much from the ordinary feminine was denied me. I type, even this instinctive sort of consolation or less satisfied by the general

looked "

down

We

at

shan

I said.

use,"

t

her with a smile. be able to reconcile Fashion and Logic, so

"Make

the peg, then, and I

ll

it s

no

try and remain in the

fashion by assuming it s tea." I hope Great Scott you

won t fancy it s tea while you are returned Theodora laughing. drinking it She handed me the glass, and I declared nectar wasn t in it with "

!

"

!

that

and then she

peg,

down

to drink

it,

in

made her own

not at

all

tea

came and

and

an indecorous, but

still

sat

informal

proximity.

Did you collect anything minute or two.

in the

"

"

Yes

a

;

good many

idols

and

East

relics

"

?

and

she asked me, after a

curiosities of

you like to see them ? Theodora answered. Where

sorts,"

I

"

answered.

"Would

"

"

Very "Well,

much,"

not in

my

pocket,"

I said

smiling.

"

are they

"At

?

my chambers.

Could you and Mrs. Long spare an afternoon and honour me with a visit there "

ask

I

"

?

should like

it

immensely.

I

know Helen

will

come

if I

her."

you have seen them I must pack them up, and send them to my agents. One can t travel about with those things." "When

A

sort of tremor passed over Theodora s face as I spoke, and her glance met mine, full of demands and questionings, and a very It said distinct assertion of distress. I am so distinctly, sorry you are going." The sorrow in her eyes touched my vanity It is deeply, which is the most responsive quality we have. "

difficult to reach

our hearts or our sympathies, but our vanity

is

always

Victoria Cross

By always available.

I

throw

inclined to

felt

169

my arm

and it was close to me supple-looking waist be sorry ; come too." I don t know whether

and

my

round that "

say,

Don

t

looks were as

plain as hers, but Theodora rose carelessly, apparently to set her teacup down, and then did not resume her seat by me, but went back to the sofa on the other side of the rug. This, in the state of feeling into which I had drifted, produced an irritated sensation,

and

I

where "

to

was rather pleased than not when a gong sounded some in the house and gave me a graceful opening to rise.

May

I

hope to hear from you, then, which day you

come

?

Now

this

will like

"

asked, as

I

I

held out

was the moment

ever since her hand had

left

I

mine

my

hand.

had been expecting, practically, last

night, the

moment when

it

do not mean consciously, but there are a million slight, vague physical experiences and sensations within us of which the mind remains unconscious. Theodora s white

should touch

it

I

again.

right

hand rested on her

and

noted that

I

was

all

hip, the light from above struck upon it, the rings had been stripped from it ; her left

crowded with them, so that the hand

movement, but not one remained on her for the

minute

idea flashed

as I recollected

upon me

at

my

last

night

sparkled I

right. s

at

each

coloured violently pressure, and the

once that she had removed them expressly

them ground into her flesh. The next second Theodora had laid her hand confidently

to avoid the pain of having

mine.

through

My it,

Theodora

raised

which seemed

her eyes

to say,

when That look seemed

all,

appeal

in

mind, annoyed at the thought that had just shot bade me take her hand loosely and let it go, but "

directly

to push

to

to

me,

full

of a

Are you not going

I have taken off

the

all

soft

to press

disappointment it,

then, after

the rings entirely that you

away, walk over, ignore eager

physical

nerves

"

may

my reason, and

?

and

muscles.

Spontaneously,

Theodora

170

Spontaneously, whether I would or not, they responded to it, and my fingers laced themselves tightly round this morsel of velvet-

covered

fire.

We

forgot in those few seconds to say the orthodox good-byes That which we were both she forgot to answer my question.

;

though our lips did not open, was, "So I and she, So I should like should like to hold and embrace you ;

saying to each other,

"

to be held

Then

and

"

embraced."

she withdrew her hand, and

I

went out by way of the

drawing-room where we had entered. In the hall her footman showed me out with extra obsequiousness. My three-hours stay raised me, I suppose, to the rank of more than an ordinary caller. It was dark now in the streets, and the temperature must have been somewhere about zero. I turned my collar up and started to walk sharply in the direction of my chambers. Walking always induces in me a tendency to reflection and retrospection, and now,

removed from the excitement of Theodora

s

actual presence,

my

thoughts lapped quietly over the whole interview, going through it backwards, like the calming waves of a receding tide, leaving

There was no doubt that this girl attracted lingeringly the sand. me very strongly, that the passion born yesterday was nearing adolescence ; and there was no doubt, either, that I ought to strangle

now before it reached maturity. thoughts, however, turned impatiently from this question, and kept closing and centring round the object itself, with maddening persistency. I laughed to

My

it

myself Schopenhauer s theory shot across me that all impulse to love is merely the impulse of the genius of the genus to select a fitting

as

object which will help in producing a Third Life. Certainly the genius of the genus in me was weaker than the genius of mv own individuality,

in

this

instance,

for

Theodora

was

as

unfitted,

according

Victoria Cross

By

171

according to the philosopher s views, to become a co-worker with me in carrying out Nature s aim, as she was fitted to give me as an individual the strongest personal pleasure. I

to is

remember Schopenhauer does admit

that this instinct in

man

choose some object which will best fulfil the duty of the race, make apt to be led astray, and it is fortunate he did not forget tx>

this admission, if his

theory

is

how

to be generally applied, considering are led astray, and that our strongest,

very particularly often we passions and keenest pleasures are constantly not those suitable to, nor in accordance with, the ends of Nature. The fiercest

sharpest,

most violent stimulus, we may say, the true essence of some gratification which has no claim whatever, in

pleasure, lies in

useful, or to have any ulterior motive, conscious or instinctive, or any lasting result, or any fulfilment of any object, but which is simple gratification and dies naturally in

any sense, to be beneficial or

its

own

excess.

As we admit of works of pure genius

that they cannot claim motive, or purpose, but simply that they exist as joygiving and beautiful objects of delight, so must we have done with and the aims of Nature, before we can utility, motive, purpose, utility, or

reach the most absolute degree of positive pleasure.

To choose an

admissible instance, a naturally hungry man, given a slice of bread, will he or will he not devour it with as great a pleasure as the

craving drunkard feels in swallowing a draught of raw brandy ? In the first case a simple natural desire is gratified, and the aim of Nature satisfied

;

but the individual

s

longing and subsequent of the

equal the furious craving drunkard, and his delirious sense of gratification as the pleasure

cannot

be

to

said

brandy

burns his throat.

My

inclination towards

natural instinct, guided

Theodora could hardly be the simple,

by natural selection,

for

then surely I should

Theodora should have been swayed towards some more womanly individual, some more vigorous and at the same time more feminine physique.

In me,

it

was the mind that had

first

suggested to the senses, and

the senses that had answered in a dizzy pleasure, that this passionate, sensitive frame, with its tensely-strung nerves and excitable pulses,

promised the height of satisfaction to a lover. Surely to Nature it And promised a poor if possible mother, and a still poorer nurse. these desires and passions that spring from that border-land between

mind and sense, and are nourished by the suggestions of the one and the stimulus of the other, have a stronger grip upon our organisation, because they offer an acuter pleasure, than those simple and purely physical ones in which Nature is striving after

own

ends and using us simply as her instruments. thought on in a desultory sort of way, more or less about Theodora, and mostly about the state of my own feelings, until I

her

I

reached

my

chambers.

There

I

found Digby, and in

his society,

with his chaff and gabble in my ears, all reflection and philosophy fled, without leaving me any definite decision made.

The

next afternoon but one found myself and

Digby standing

windows of my chambers awaiting Theodora s arrival. I had invited him to help me entertain the two women, and also to help me unearth and dust my store of idols and curiosities, and

at the

There were crowds of range them on the tables for inspection. knick-knacks picked up in the crooked streets and odd corners of Benares, presents made to me, trifles bought and vases and coins discovered below the soil

Concerning

Tigris.

several of the

most

in

the Cairo bazaars, of the

in the regions

typical

objects

Digby

had had considerable difference of opinion. One highly interesting bronze model of the monkey-god at Benares he had

and

I

could

declared

I

realism

and

not exhibit on account of

insufficient

attention

to

the

its

too pronounced

sartorial

art.

I

had

insisted

Victoria Cross

By insisted

that the

s

god

striking than the objects in flesh-tints,

Theodora viewed every "Perhaps

not,"

hung

at the

were not more that

Academy,

season.

he answered.

white, and hung on the and therefore you can t

173

deficiencies in this respect

"But

Academy her see

let

This was unanswerable.

this

walls for the public to stare at, it."

yielded, and the

I

pink and

not in

is

monkey-god was

wheeled under a side-table out of view. shelf and stand

Every

and

service,

my

Egyptian bazaar, "

There they

and table had been pressed into the rooms had the appearance of a corner in an

now when we said

are,"

had finished our preparations.

Digby,

as

Mrs. Long

victoria

s

came

in sight.

Theodora was leaning back

how

then

position.

beside her sister, and

it

struck

me

representative she looked, as it were, of herself and her From where we stood we could see down into the

as it drew up at our door. Her knees were crossed under the blue carriage-rug, on the edge of which rested her two

victoria,

A

small

skin

velvet jacket, that fitted her as its pale-gloved hands. the grape, showed us her magnificent shoulders, and the

fits

On her head, in long easy slope of her figure to the small waist. the least turn of which lay the acme of distinction, amongst the black glossy masses of her hair, sat a small hat in vermilion velvet, made to resemble the Turkish fez. As the carriage stopped, she

glanced up

bowed

;

and a

slightly

to

brilliant

us

at

the

smile swept over her face, as she

window.

The handsome

scarlet lips, the pallor of the oval face, eyes, the naturally

well-trained

movement of

the

distinguished

figure,

as

painted

and each she rose

and stepped from the carriage, were noted and watched by our four critical eyes. "

A

of our nineteenth-century typical product

civilisation,"

I

said,

Theodora

174 with a faint smile,

said,

T^ver the

Theodora

as

let

her fur-edged skirt draw

snowy pavement, and we heard her

clear cultivated tones,

with the fashionable drag in them, ordering the coachman not to let

the horses get cold. she s a splendid sort of creature, don

"But

Happy

nodded.

I

man who

the

"

Digby.

"

Yes,"

eh

assented.

I

"

t

But how much

should have to offer, old chap, that s the point of hers seems an invulnerable protection."

:

;

I

that

said Digby with a nervous yawn. suppose - It s a have more than double that and yet pity. so,"

I

will be if

my

asked

man

that six thousand

"

"

think it

"

you think

?

And

to

Funny

looks and your poverty prevent either of us having

her." "

My

own

case

and hers decide "

I

it

is

for

settled,"

I

"

said

decisively.

d change places with you this minute

Digby moodily,

as

steps

forward to meet the

My

position

me."

if I

could,"

muttered

came down

to our door, and we went they entered. itself naturally that Digby should be

women

as

It seemed to arrange occupied in the first few seconds with Mrs. Long, and that should be free to receive Theodora.

Of

all

the lesser emotions, there

that subtle sense of pleasure for the first

time our

own

felt

is

I

hardly any one greater than a woman we love crosses

when

threshold.

We

may

have met her

a

hundred times in her house, or on public ground, but the sensa tion her presence then creates is altogether different from that instinctive,

momentary and delightful sense of when she enters any room essentially our

involuntary,

ownership that

rises

own. It

is

the very illusion of possession.

With

this

hatefully egoistic

satisfaction infused

through me, I drew

By Victoria Cross drew forward sank into

it,

the

her jacket.

175 chair,

Theodora

and

fell

upon

Beneath, she revealed some purplish,

seemed shot with

different

was

tight

It

it.

and the swell of

her,

below

that

material,

firelight

upon

favourite

and her tiny, exquisitely-formed feet sought my a murmured invitation from me, she unfastened

laid aside

silk-like

my own

At

fender-rail.

and

her

for

There was no

it.

a

strained

low bosom was

colours

as

and smooth

distinctly defined

excessive development, quite the con slightness there was an indescribably

but in the very sensuous curve, and a depression, rising and falling, that seemed as if it might be the It was a very home itself of passion.

trary,

breast with

little suggestion of the duties or powers of Nature, but with infinite seduction for a lover. "

What

a marvellous collection

you have

ing her glance round the room.

"

here,"

she said throw

What made you

bring

home

"

all

these things "

The

?

majority were gifts to

natives

whom

ways.

A

I

visited or

native

is

me

came

never happy,

presents

made by

the different

into connection with in various if

he likes you

made you some valuable present." You must be very popular with them

at

all,

until he has

"

Theodora, glancing from

indeed,"

returned

a brilliant Persian carpet, suspended

on

the wall, to a gold and ivory model of a temple, on the console by her side.

Well, when one stays with a fellow as his guest, as I have done with some of these small rajahs and people, of course one tries "

to

make

oneself

"The

fact

amiable."

is,

Miss

Dudley,"

interrupted

Digby,

"Ray

admires these fellows, and that is why they like him. Just look what trouble he has taken to make at this sketch-book of his portraits of

them."

And

Theodora

176

And

he stretched out a limp-covered pocket-album of mine. reddened slightly and tried to intercept his hand.

I

Give the book

"

Nonsense, Digby.

to

me,"

said

I

but

;

already taken it, and she looked at me as I spoke with one of those delicious looks of hers that could speak so clearly. If you are going to love me, you must it seemed to say,

Theodora had

Now

"

no

have

from

secrets

subdued and

let

some time now

her.

since

find in she might O

I I

it.

She opened the book and

me."

much

did not

had looked

at

it,

care, except that

and

I

did not

However, Theodora was

I

was

it

was

know what

so different

from

did not greatly matter. Perhaps these are portraits of your different conquests amongst I don t see she said. the Ranees, are they ? victims, girls generally,

that

it

"

"

"

though, written across the outside their

as

my

the

Frenchmen

write on

albums."

"

I said,

No,"

men whose

think these are only portraits of

I

The

appearance struck me.

any Mohammedan

persuade

The

with a smile,

"

very

first

leaf

great

difficulty

you draw him." she turned seemed to give the

to

is

to let

lie

to

my

Against a background of yellow sand and blue sky, stood out a slight figure in white, bending a little backward, and holding

words.

extended on either

in its hands,

side,

the masses of

its

black hair

through them, till they touched the sand by its feet. Theodora threw a side-glance full of derision on me, as she raised

that

fell

her eyes from the page. "

I

swear

thought

me

paint

it

isn

I

said

t,"

was

it

a

woman.

"

hastily,

It

s

a

"

"

Oh,

a

young Sikh, is Well it s a

I

I

saw she

bribed to

let

it

?

said

Theodora, bending over the

lovely face ; and what beautiful hair Yes, almost as beautiful as yours," I murmured, in safety, for

book again. "

for

colouring,

young Sikh

him."

"

"

!

the

By flexibility

Not

for

Victoria Cross

were wholly occupied

others

the

in

177

testing

of the soapstone. any consideration in this world could

the limits of the

I

have restrained

say the words, looking at her sitting sideways to me, noting that shining weight of hair lying on the white neck, and that curious masculine shade upon the upper lip. faint liquid smile came to her face.

the

irresistible

desire to

A

"

Mine

not so long as that

is

when you

see

she said,

it undone,"

looking at me. "How

long

is

it?

asked mechanically, turning over the and thinking in a crazy sort of way

I

leaves of the sketch-book,

what

I

would not give

the right to

lift

to see her

a single strand of

with that hair unloosed, and have it.

it must be she answered, about eight inches off it, I think." in a con "A for a marvellous length European," I answered "

It

would not touch the

"

ground,"

ventional tone, though it was a difficulty to summon it. Within my brain all the dizzy thoughts seemed reeling together till they left me hardly conscious of anything but an acute painful sense of her proximity. Find me the head of a Persian, will you ? I repeated Persian ? mechanically. "

A

"

Theodora looked "

"

came her

voice next.

>:

Oh,

I yes,"

at

me

wonderingly and "

answered,

I

ll

find

I

recalled myself.

you one.

Give me the

book."

took the book and turned over the leaves towards the end.

I

As

I did so,

some of the intermediate pages caught her

eye, and

she tried to arrest the turning leaves. What is that ? Let me see." "

"

It

is

nothing,"

I said, passing

you the one you want." The Yellow Book Vol. IV.

L

them

over.

"

Allow me

to find

Theodora

Theodora

178 Theodora

did not insist, but her glance said for this resistance to wishes

"

:

I

will be re

:

venged

my

When

!

had found her the portrait, Theodora bent over

I

upon her knees.

clamation of delight.

done "

it

!

Oh

like that

What no, no

"

How

exquisite

I said

talent,"

when your

heart

Theodora looked up

it

is

at

in

well you have

"

!

"

hastily.

how

and

!

you must have

a talent

open book back with an unaffected ex

I laid the

It

s

easy to do a thing

it."

me and

said

"

simply,

This

is

a

woman."

And

I

looked back in her eyes and said as simply,

"Yes,

it is

a

woman."

Theodora was

silent,

half-unconsciously the page.

Many months many, many

my

gazing

at the

open

leaf,

And

absorbed.

eyes followed hers and rested with hers on

had gone by since

I

had opened the book and deaden every mental ;

cigars, that according to Tolstoi

feeling, and many, many pints of brandy that do the same thing, only more so, had been consumed, since I had last looked upon And now I saw it over the shoulder of this woman. that face.

And

the old pain revived and surged through me, but it was dullemotion must be in the near neighbourhood of a

dull as every

new

object of desire every emotion except one. she said at last, Really it is a very beautiful face, isn t it ? with a tender and sympathetic accent, and as she raised her head "

"

our eyes met. I looked at her and answered, I should say yes, if we were not looking at it together, but you know beauty is entirely a question "

of

comparison."

Her

face

was

really

not one-tenth so handsome

shadowed, inanimate representation of the Persian

as

the

girl,

mere

beneath

our

By Victoria Cross our hands.

I

have been the

knew first

it

and so did

to admit

True

it.

she.

But

179

Theodora

herself

would

nevertheless the words were

that underlay the society com pliment, for no beauty of the dead can compare with that of the Such are that we as love all living. we, objects in their relation to our own pleasure from them, so even in our admiration, the ethically true.

in the sense

greatest beauty, when absolutely useless to us, cannot move us as a far lesser degree has power to do, from which it is possible to

hope, however vaguely, for this

words would come

my

some personal if translated.

gratification.

And

I

And

to

think Theodora

understood the translation rather than the conventional form of

them, for she did not take the trouble to deprecate the flattery. I Let me wheel up got up, and, to change the subject, said, that little table of idols. Some of them are rather curious." "

I moved the tripod up to the arm of her chair. Theodora closed the sketch-book and put it

beside

her,

and

looked over the miniature bronze gods with interest. Then she stretched out her arm to lift and move several of them, and her

seemed

as they did on everything caressingly heads and shoulders of the images. I watched her, envying those senseless little blocks of brass. This is the Hindu equivalent of the Greek Aphrodite," I said,

soft fingers

on

touched

they

to lie

the

"

forward a small, unutterably hideous, squat female figure^ with the face of a monkey, and two closed wings of a dragon on

lifting

shoulders.

its

"

her

Oh,

Venus,"

said

Theodora.

amongst them, though hardly,

for her

We

must certainly crown think, in this particular case,

"

I

"

beauty

!

And

she laughingly slipped ofF a diamond half-hoop from her It middle finger, and slipped the ring on to the model s head. fitted

exactly round

the repulsive

brows of the deformed and stunted

180

Theodora

stunted image, and the goddess stood crowned in the centre of the of brilliants, table, amongst the other figures, with the circlet

As Theodora flashing brightly in the firelight, on her head. passed the ring from her own warm white finger on to the forehead The look, coupled with of the misshapen idol, she looked at me. the action, in my state, went home to those very inner cells of the At the same brain where are the springs themselves of passion. instant the laughter and irresponsible gaiety and light pleasure on the face before me, the contrast between the delicate hand and the

the sinister, allegorical monstrosity it had crowned An unexplained feeling of struck me like a blow.

repellent

significance

rage

desires

On

Was

me.

filled

it

seemed

It

?

the spur of

it,

against her, myself, her action, or my own the moment to burn against them all. dragged forward to myself another of the

for I

images from behind the Astarte, slipped and put it on the head of the idol. "

This

is

the only one for

me

to

oft"

crown,"

my own

signet-ring,

I said bitterly,

with a

laugh, feeling myself whiten with the stress and strain of a host of inexplicable sensations that crowded in upon me, as I met

Theodora s lovely inquiring glance. There was a shade of apprehensiveness "

What

that one

is

"Shiva,"

I

in her voice as she said,

"

?

said curtly,

looking her straight in the eyes.

"The

god of self-denial." I saw the colour

summoned challenge

die suddenly out of her face, and I knew I had could not help it. With her glance she had me to approve or second her jesting act. It was a could not pass over. I must in some correspondingly

But

hurt her.

I

I

joking way either accept or reject her coronation. it

was

all I

There was

And

to reject

could do, since this woman must be nothing to me. s blank pause of strained silence. But, super

a second

ficially

Victoria Cross

By ficially,

we had not

society

nothings, whatever

181

we might

feel

lay

And Theodora was trained thoroughly in the ways The next second she leant back in her chair, "A

false,

of mere

strayed off the legitimate ground

absurd, and unnatural god

strive after the impossible

it is

;

beneath

them.

of fashion.

saying lightly, the greatest error to

it

merely prevents you accomplishing Gods like these," and she indicated the abominable

the possible.

;

squint-eyed Venus, "are merely natural instincts personified, and one may well call them gods since they are invincible. Don t you remember the fearful punishments that the Greeks represented

overtaking mortals who dared to resist nature s laws, that they chose to individualise as their gods ? You remember the fate of

as

Hippolytus who subdue Bacchus that if

tried to disdain ?

These two

Venus, of Pentheus who tried to plays teach the immortal lesson

you have the presumption

to try to be greater than nature

she will in the end take a terrible revenge. is to guide her. You can never be her yourself fortunate if she allows you to be her

The most we

can do

Consider

conqueror. charioteer."

It was all said very lightly and jestingly, but at the last phrase there was a flash in her eye, directed upon me as if yes, me she read down into my inner soul, and it sent the blood to my face.

As

the last

word

own

left

her

lips,

she stretched out her hand and

ring from the head of Shiva, put it above her diamonds on the other idol, and laid the god I had chosen,

deliberately took

my

the god of austerity and mortification, prostrate on its face, at the feet of the leering Venus. Then, without troubling to find a transition phrase, she got up and said, I am going to look at that Persian carpet." "

It

had

all

taken but a few seconds

;

over by the carpet, standing in front of

the next minute it

and admiring

we were

its

hues in the

1

Theodora

82

The

most orthodox terms.

the

placed them.

images were left as she had of course, than yield to a

could do nothing

I

less,

The jest had not gone towards calming guest. nor had those two glances of hers the first so tender and appealing as she had crowned the Venus, the second so virile woman

my

and

my

feelings,

and mocking

as

she had

discrowned the Shiva.

will-less, deliciously

a

she seemed

thing only made to be taken

a

weak,

There was

At one moment

strange mingling of extremes in her.

one

in

s

kissed. The next, she was full of independent uncon determination and opinion. Most men would have found When beside her you must either hard to be indifferent to her.

arms and trollable it

have been attracted or repelled. woman that could have crossed

As

For me, she was the very worst

my

path.

stood beside her now, her shoulder only a little below my own, her neck and the line of her breast just visible to the side vision of my eye, and heard her talking of the carpet, I felt there I

I would not have paid to have stood for one half-hour intimate confidence with her, and been able to tear the veils

was no price in

from

this irritating character.

From next to a

with

the carpet pile

of

my own

we

passed on to a table of

Cashmere work and

Mohammedan

These had been packed garments. personal luggage, and I should not have thought of

It was bringing them forth for inspection. Digby who, having seen them by chance in my portmanteau, had insisted that they would add interest to the general collection of Eastern trifles.

my dear fellow, clothes why, they will probably more than anything Theodora advanced to the heap of stuffs and lifted them.

"Clothes,

"

please

;

her

else."

What

is

the history of these

were not presents to you "

No,"

I

murmured.

"

r

she said laughing.

"

These

"

!

"

Bought

in the native

bazaars." "

Some

By "Some

them.

"But

183

a woman very easy to in proportion to the ease with but me to it is too much trouble her, so that the absence of that amiable quality did

me

struck

It

Victoria Cross

returned Theodora, throwing her glance over a great many are not new."

perhaps,"

that she

Some men

deceive.

would not be

value a

woman

which they can impose upon to deceive at

all,

not disquiet me. On the contrary, the comprehensive, cynical, and at the same time indulgent smile that came so readily to Theodora s lips charmed me more, because it was the promise of

even

less

"

No,"

trouble than a real or professed obtuseness. I assented merely.

"Well,

then

"

?

reply.

How

instance."

And

a

"

asked -Theodora, but without troubling to seek this one, for pretty they are and how curious she took up a blue silk zouave, covered with gold !

embroidery, and worth perhaps about thirty pounds. It is a souvenir, I suppose ? been a good deal worn. I

nodded.

please

I

With any

other

should have denied

woman it,

I

"

This has

"

was similarly anxious to

but with her

I

felt

it

did

not

matter.

Too sacred perhaps, then, for me to put on her hand in the collar, and smiling derisively.

"

"

?

she asked with

Put it on by all means." I said, "not at all. Oh dear no Nothing is sacred to you, eh ? I see. Hold it then." She gave me the zouave and turned for me to put it on her. "

"

!

"

A glimpse of the back of her white neck, as she bent her head forward, a convulsion of her adorable shoulders as she drew on the seconds perhaps, was fitted on. jacket, and the zouave

Two

but

my

self-control

Now

must

wrapped round me had

lost

one of

its

skins.

she said, turning over the pile. Oh, here s one gently, but without any ceremony, She drew out a white fez, also embroidered in gold, and, removing "

I

find

a turban

or

fez,"

"

"

!

her

Theodora

184

her hat, put it on very much to one side, amongst her black hair, with evident care lest one of those silken inflected waves should be disturbed

and then affecting an undulating

;

walked over

gait, she

to the fire. "

How

do you

like

addressing her sister, for

Digby and

coins.

me

she said,

?

was deciphering some old

afterwards

confessed

I

"

Eastern dress, Helen

in

whom Digby

to

each

other

the

impulse that moved us both to suggest it was not at all complete without the trousers. I did offer her a cigarette, to enhance the effect. "

Quite

passable,

really,"

said

back

Mrs. Long, leaning

and

surveying her languidly. Theodora took the cigarette with a laugh, lighted and smoked and it was then, as she leant against the mantel-piece with her it, eyes full of laughter, a glow on her pale skin, and an indolent relaxation in the long, supple figure, that I first said, or rather an It is no good ; involuntary, unrecognised voice within me said, "

whatever happens "

"

"

say

Do

I

must have

you know that

You Tea

will let

me

it is

you."

past six,

Theo

"

?

said

Mrs. Long.

give you a cup of tea before you go

"

repeated Theodora. haschisch or opium, at the

"

!

I

"

?

I said.

thought you were going to

least,

after

such

an

Indian

afternoon." "I

"

By

have Jove,

"

answered, you like some ? thinking, should like to see you after the haschisch." I make it a rule not to get replied Theodora, "

both,"

I

"would

I

"

No,"

intoxicated in

When

the

public."

women

herself of the

rose to go,

zouave without

Theodora, to my regret, divested aid, and declined it also for

my

As they stood drawing on their gloves putting on her own cloak. I asked if they thought there was anything worthy of their acceptance

Victoria Cross

By

acceptance amongst these curiosities. table near her an ivory model of the to carry for her to the door.

As

185

Mrs. Long chose from the Taj, and Digby took it up

he did so his eye caught the table

of images.

your ring, Miss Dudley, I believe," he said. saw him grin horridly as he noted the arrangement of the

"This is

I

figures. I

Doubtless he thought

took up

my

it

was mine.

signet-ring again, and

Theodora

without the faintest tinge of colour rising I had Thanks." forgotten it.

from him and replaced it. asked her if she would honour me as her

She took I "

in her

There

said carelessly, "

cheek,

Oh,

yes,

it

is

one thing

in this

room

sister

had done.

that I covet immensely," she

my gaze. "What is it ? yours, of course, then," I answered. Theodora stretched out her open hand. Your sketch-book."

said, "

meeting

It

is

"

For

a second

I

felt

the blood dye suddenly

all

my

face.

The

request took me by surprise, for one thing ; and immediately after the surprise followed the vexatious and embarrassing thought that

she had asked for the one thing in the room that I certainly did The book contained a hundred thousand not wish her to have.

memories, embodied in writing, sketching, and painting, of those There was not a page in it that did not reflect years in the East. the emotions of the time

chronicle of the

life

when

it

had been

lived at the date

filled

inscribed on

in, it.

and give a It was a

was to re-live diary in cipher, and to turn over the hours they represented. For my own personal pleasure I liked the book and wanted to keep it, but there were other reasons too why

sort of

its

leaves

It flashed through me, the I disliked the idea of surrendering it. question as to what her object was in possessing herself of it. Was it jealousy of the faces or any face within it that prompted her,

and

Theodora

86

1

and would she amuse leaves or

burning

it

when she had it, by tearing out the to be give over these portraits merely

herself,

To

?

sacrificed to a petty feminine spite and malice, jarred upon I looked hard into her eyes to try and read

me.

Involuntarily

intentions, and I

felt I

had wronged her.

The

eyes were

full

her of

It was impossible to imagine them the softest, tenderest light. vindictive. She had seen my hesitation and she smiled faintly. "

"

Poor Herod with your daughter of

Never mind,

I will

The others who

not take

Herodias,"

she said, softly.

it."

had been standing with her saw there was some and Mrs. Long

embarrassment that they did not understand,

down

turned to go slowly

Theodora was

the corridor.

Digby had

to

follow.

standing alone before me, her seductive figure framed in the open doorway. Of course she was irresistible. Was she not the I seized

matter

know

new object of mv desires ? the sketch-book from the chair.

What

did anything

?

"Yes,"

before

left

it

I

into that soft, small hand I said hastily, putting it You could draw back. Forgive me the hesitation. "

would give you

anything."

1 was sensible of If she answered or thanked me, I forget it. nothing at the moment but that the blood seemed flowing to my Then I brain, and thundering through it, in ponderous waves. knew we were walking down the passage, and in a few minutes

more we should have

said good-bye, and she would be gone. acute and yet vague realisation came upon me that the corridor was dark, and that the others had gone on in front, a

An

confused recollection of the

way

she had lauded Nature and

its

domination a short time back, and then all these were lost again in the eddying torrent of an overwhelming desire to take her in

my

arms and hold

her, control her, assert

my

will over hers, this

exasperating

Victoria Cross

By

187

exasperating object who had been pleasing and seducing every sense for the last three hours, and now was leaving them all unsatisfied. That impulse towards some physical demonstration, that craving for physical contact, its terrific

impetus, and chokes and

which attacks

us suddenly with

ourselves, beneath

stifles us,

it,

blinding us to all except itself, rushed upon me then, walking beside her in the dark and at that instant Theodora passage ;

sighed. "Iain

tired,"

she said languidly.

"May

take your

I

arm

?"

and her hand touched me. not offer her

my arm, flung round her neck, bending back her head upon it, so that her lips were just beneath my own as I leant over her, and I pressed mine on them in a delirium of I did

I

it

passion.

Everything that should have been remembered I forgot. Knowledge was lost of all, except those passive, burning under

own.

my

seemed

to

As

mingle with

I

my

lips

touched

them, a current of madness blood, and pass flaming through all my

veins.

heard her moan, but for that instant I was beyond the reach of pity or reason, I only leant harder on her lips in a wild, I

unheeding, unsparing frenzy.

It

was

a

moment

would have bought with years of my life. next I released her, and so suddenly, that she wall of the

of ecstasy that

One moment,

I

the

reeled against the

We

caught her wrist to steady her. dared neither of us speak, for the others were but little ahead of but

passage.

I

sought her eyes in the dusk. mine, and rested on them, gleaming through the There was no confusion nor embarrassment in them, darkness. us

;

I

They met

they were

knew

full

there

of the hot, clear, blinding light of passion to crave forgiveness.

;

and

I

would be no need

The

1

88

Theodora

The

moment had brought

us up to the others, and to the end of the passage. Mrs. Long turned round, and held out her hand to me. had a most interesting she said. "We have "Good-bye,"

next

afternoon."

was with an

It

effort that I

made some conventional remark.

Theodora, with perfect outward calm, shook hands with myself and Digby, with her sweetest smile, and passed out. lingered some few minutes with Digby, talking ; and then he off to his own diggings, and I returned slowly down the passage to my rooms. I

went

My ears

blood and pulses seemed beating as they do in fever, my full of sounds, and that kiss burnt like the brand of

seemed

my lips. When I reached my rooms, I locked the door and flung both the windows open to the snowy night. The white powder on the ledge crumbled and drifted in. hot iron on

Two

Songs By

Charles Sydney

I

MY

love

Her That while

I

fall

and unfair, so thick and

my

thought

My Trusting

have

I

let

fast,

share,

past.

have been to blame

For I

selfish

wait to give priceless time is

The And

is

kisses I

till

now,

her do her will

;

courteous to allow

it

love to take her

fill,

would quickly be, she would stay and look

a time

When

for

mine

;

But having borne it patiently, I will no longer pine. I

ll

fold her in

I

ll

teach

And And

my

justice

my

arms to-night, lips I ll wreak

on her

love to

know

not oppress the

:

the right,

meek

!

BEAR

Two

190

Songs

II thyself with formal gait, thy language all sedate ;

BEARBe Thy

opinions take on trust,

Take Shun

gold for thy only

lust.

belief devout or deep,

Ever

to the safe side keep

;

Let thy hollow laugh be framed To the joke by all acclaimed.

Never

for pure charity Level a disparity j

Farm thy favour to a fool, Make his gratitude thy

tool.

Let thy conscience be a thing Like a clock to go, and ring Just that time the hour doth mark. Let some other light the dark

Friend and wife a bargain buy There where state and money

Claim

a

goodly cenotaph,

Buy

a lying epitaph

!

!

lie

Design for

a

Fan By Charles Conder

A

Out

Falling

By Kenneth Grahame told later HAROLD

me

in bits,

the

main

of this episode, some time

was not

It

a recollec

The

crude blank misery of a moment apt to leave a dull bruise which is slow to depart, if indeed it ever

tion he cared to talk about. is

facts

and with reluctance.

does so entirely ; and Harold confesses to a twinge or two, still, at times, like the veteran who brings home a bullet inside him from martial plains over sea.

He knew

he was a brute the

moment

after he

had done

it

;

Selina

had not meant to worry, only to comfort and assist. But his soul was one raw sore within him, when he found himself shut up in the schoolroom after hours, merely for insisting that 7 times 7

amounted

to 47.

The

not 47 as much as 49 other to look at, and taste

injustice of ?

it

it

seemed so

One number was no

flagrant.

Why

prettier than the

was evidently only a matter of arbitrary it had always been 47 to him,

and preference, and, anyhow,

and would be to the end of time.

So when Selina came in out of

the sun, leaving the Trappers of the Far West behind her, and putting off the glory of being an Apache squaw in order to hear

him

his tables

and win

his release,

Harold turned on her venom

her kindly overtures, and even drove his elbow into ously, rejected her ribs, in his determination to be left alone in the

sympathetic Book.

The Yellow

Vol. IV.

M

glory

A

196

The

Falling

Out

and passed directly, his eyes were opened, his soul sat in the dust as he sorrowfully began to cast about for

glory of sulks.

fit

some atonement heroic enough to salve the wrong. Needless to say, Selina demanded no sacrifice nor heroics what If he ever she didn t even want him to say he was sorry. would only make it up, she would have done the apologising part But that was not a boy s way. Something solid, Harold herself. and until that was achieved, making up felt, was due from him must not be thought of, in order that the final effect might not be ;

;

spoilt.

Accordingly,

when

his release

came, and poor Selina hung

about, trying to catch his eye, Harold, possessed by the demon of a distorted motive, avoided her steadily though he was bleeding

and came to me instead. inwardly at every minute of delay Of course I approved his plan highly; it was so much better than just going and making it up tamely, which any one could do

;

and a

girl

who

had been jobbed in the

ribs

by

a

hostile

elbow

could not be expected for a moment to overlook it, without the liniment of an offering to soothe her injured feelings. "

I

know what

she wants

most,"

set of tea-things in the toy-shop

flowers on

em

she

;

wanted

s

it

said Harold.

"

She wants that

window, with the red and blue for

months,

cos her

dolls

are

getting big enough to have real afternoon tea ; and she wants it so badly that she won t walk that side of the street when we go into the town.

Then we

But it costs five shillings work seriously, and devoted "

!

set to

the afternoon to a

and the composition of a Budget that might have been dated without shame from Whitehall. The result

realisation of assets

worked out

as follows

:

By

By Kenneth Grahame

197 j.

d.

By one uncle, unspent through having been lost for nearly a week turned up at last in the straw of the dog-

.....

kennel

By advance from me on

security of next uncle, that, to be called in at Christmas .

By shaken

.26 .10

failing .

.

out of missionary-box with the help of a knife(They were our own pennies and a forced

blade.

levy)

By

and

.

4

bet due from Edward, for walking across the field

Farmer

Larkin

s

bull

twopence he wouldn

t

was,

t

tell

your aunt

Edward

where him

bet

called in with difficulty

security at

all,

only you

Total

and

i

5

o o

we

breathed again. rest promised to be easy.

at last

The

2

.

.....

By advance from Martha, on no mustn

and

Selina had a tea-party at five on the morrow, with the chipped old wooden tea-things that had served her successive dolls from babyhood. Harold would slip off directly after dinner, going alone, so as not to suspicion, as we were not allowed to go into the town selves.

It

was nearly two miles

to our small

arouse

by our

metropolis, but

would be plenty of time for him to go and return, even laden with the olive-branch neatly packed in shavings ; besides, he might meet the butcher, who was his friend and would give him a lift. Then, finally, at five, the rapture of the new tea-service, there

descended from the skies

up

at last,

without

we thought

loss

;

and then, retribution made, making

of dignity.

With

the event before us,

twenty-four hours more of alienation and pretended sulks must be kept up on Harold s part ; but Selina, who naturally knew nothing of the treat in store for it

a

small

thing that

her,

A

198 her,

Falling

Out

the rest of the evening, and

for

moped

took a very heavy

heart to bed.

When

day the hour for action

next

Harold evaded

arrived,

attention with an easy modesty born of long practice, off for the front gate. Selina, who had been keeping her eye upon him, thought he was going down to the pond to catch and slipped out frogs, a joy they had planned to share together, after him ; but Harold, though he heard her footsteps, continued

Olympian and made

sternly Selina

on

high mission, without even looking

his

back

;

and

wander disconsolately among flower-beds that had lost I saw it all, and, although for her all scent and colour. cold reason approved our line of action, instinct told me we were was

to

left

brutes.

Harold

reached

the

town

so

he recounted

record time, having run most of the things,

snapped sister

there,

s

way

for

afterwards

in

fear lest the tea-

which had reposed six months in the window, should be up by some other conscience-stricken lacerator of a

feelings

;

and

it

seemed hardly credible

to find

and their owner willing to part with them

marked on the

ticket.

He

his

money down

for

them

still

the price

at once, that

paid there should be no drawing back from the bargain ; and then, as the things had to be taken out of the window and packed, and

the afternoon was yet young, he thought he might treat himself to a taste of urban joys and la vie de Boheme. Shops came first,

and

of course,

window with locomotive

:

he

flattened

his

the india-rubber

and

against

nose

balls

the barber

in s

successively against the and the clock-work it,

window, with wigs

on

blocks, reminding him of uncles, and shaving-cream that looked so good to eat ; and the grocer s window, displaying more currants

than the whole British population could possibly consume with out a special effort ; and the window of the bank, wherein gold

was

By Kenneth Grahame was thought so little of that it was there was the market-place, with

when

a

runaway

calf

came down

199

dealt about in shovels.

Next

its clamorous joys ; and the street like a cannon-ball,

all

felt that he had not liv^d in vain. The whole place was so brimful of excitement that he had quite forgotten the why and the wherefore of his being there, when a sight of the church

Harold

him to his better self, and sent him flying out of the town, as he realized he had only just time enough left to get back in. If he were after his appointed hour, he would not

clock recalled

only triumph, but probably would be detected as a a crime before which a private opinion on

miss his high

transgressor of bounds

multiplication sank to nothingness.

homeward way, thinking of many himself a good deal, as his habit was. half the distance,

stomach

a

He must

have covered nearly

when suddenly

paralysis of every

of light and music

a black

gotten the tea-things

was

So he jogged along on his

things, and probably talking to

a deadly sinking in the pit of the limb around him a world extinct

sun and a reeling sky

he had for

!

was hopeless, all was over, and nothing could nevertheless he turned and ran back wildly, blindly, choking with the big sobs that evoked neither pity nor comfort from a merciless, mocking world around ; a stitch in his side, dust It

now

in

useless, it

be done

his

;

eyes,

and

black

despair

clutching at his heart.

So he

stumbled on, with leaden legs and bursting sides, till as if Fate had not yet dealt him her last worst buffet on turning a corner in the road he almost ran under the wheels of a dog-cart, in which, as it pulled up, was apparent the portly form of Farmer Larkin, the arch-enemy

very morning

whose ducks he had been shying stones

at that

!

Had Harold been

in his right

and unclouded senses, he would earlier, rather than

have vanished through the hedge some seconds

pain

A

2oo

Falling

Out

pain the farmer by any unpleasant reminiscences which his appear ance might call up ; but as things were he could only stand and

blubber hopelessly, caring, indeed, little now what further ill might The farmer, for his part, surveyed the desolate figure befall him. with some astonishment, calling out in no unfriendly accents, "

What, Master Harold

away, be ee

!

whatever be the matter

?

Baint runnin

"

?

Then Harold, with the unnatural courage born of desperation, flung himself on the step, and, climbing into the cart, fell in the straw at the bottom of it, sobbing out that he wanted to go back,

The situation had a vagueness ; but the farmer, a man of action rather than words, swung his horse round smartly, and they were in the town again by the time Harold had recovered As they drove up to himself sufficiently to furnish some details. go back

!

woman was waiting at the door with the parcel ; and hardly a minute seemed to have elapsed since the black crisis, ere they were bowling along swiftly home, the precious parcel hugged in a close embrace.

the shop, the

And now

the farmer

came out

in quite a

new and unexpected

word

did he say of broken fences and hurdles, One would have trampled crops and harried flocks and herds.

Never

light.

thought the

a

man had

never possessed a head of

live

stock in his

was deeply interested in the whole dolorous quest of the tea-things, and sympathised with Harold on the disputed point in mathematics as if he had been himself at the Instead, he

life.

same stage of education.

As they neared home, Harold found

himself, to his surprise, sitting up and chatting to his new friend like man to man ; and before he was dropped at a convenient gap in the first

garden hedge, he had promised that when Selina gave her little Miss Larkin should be invited to come

public tea-party,

and bring her whole sawdust family along with her, and the farmer

By Kenneth Grahame farmer appeared

201

pleased and proud as if he had been asked to a

as

garden-party at Marlborough have certain good points, far

House.

down

in

Really those Olympians I shall leave off them.

abusing them some

day. the hour of five, Selina, having spent the afternoon searching

At for

to

Harold in tea

his

all

with her

dolls,

dust,

and

she ever

;

and the

less

of

who ungenerously

dolls

human

remembered

tears

still

permitted to

showing on

know

themselves had more of

chipped

wax and saw

colour and intelligence about them, than It was then that Harold burst in,

before.

very dusty, his stockings

by

sat down disconsolately refused to wait beyond

The wooden tea-things seemed more

the appointed hour.

than usual

accustomed haunts,

and the channels ploughed and Selina was at last ;

at

his heels,

his

grimy cheeks

that he

had been thinking of her ever since of temper, and that his sulks had not been It nor had he gone frogging by himself.

his ill-judged exhibition

the genuine article, was a very happy hostess

who

a glassy-eyed stiff-kneed circle

dispensed hospitality that evening to ;

and

many

a dollish gaucberie, that

would have been severely checked on ordinary occasions, was

much overlooked

as

had been a birthday. stupid masculine way, thought all her happiness sprang from possession of the long-coveted teaas if it

But Harold and

service.

I, in our

Hor. Car. I. 5 Modern Paraphrase

A

By

Charles Newton-Robinson

the wan, the golden-tressed dressed bright boy are you waiting, !

For what PYRRHA, So

witchinglv, in your simple best

?

Yes, like a witch in her cave, you sit In the gilded midnight, rosy-lit While snares for souls of men you knit. ;

The boy

shall wonder, the boy shall rue Like me, that ever he deemed you true.

Mine

is

For

have

I

another

Dark with

And

tale

known

of you.

that sea-calm

brow

treacherous gusts ere now, saved myself, I know not how.

Bodley Heads No. 2 Mr. John Davidson :

By Will Rothenstein

V

I

r

Henri Beyle By Norman Hapgood none of his work has been translated into English probably a source of amused satisfaction to many of the lovers of Beyle. Though he exercised a marked influence on fact that

THE

is

Merimee, was wildly praised by Balzac, was discussed twice by Sainte-Beuve, was pointed to in Maupassant s famous manifestopreface to Pierre et ^Jean ; though he has been twice eulogised by Taine, and once by Bourget Zola, he is read

analysed by elsewhere.

While

his

name,

men of known to

of

;

and though he has been carefully in France and scarcely at all

little

at

his

death scarcely heard beyond

letters, has

become

rather prominent, His cool prophecy that a few leading spirits would read him by 1880 was justified, and the solution of his doubt whether he would not by 1930 have sunk

his

his

little

circle

books are

still

very few.

again into oblivion seems now at least as likely as it was then to To the happy few," he dedicated his latest be an affirmative. "

important novel, and it will be as it has been, for the few, happy in some meanings of that intangible word, that his character and his writings have a serious interest. s essays on Mme. du Deffand a rather striking passage in which Jeffrey sums up the con ditions that made conversation so fascinating in the salons of the

In one of the Edinburgh Review

is

France

208

Henri Beyle

XV.

France of Louis

In Rome, Florence, et Naples, published shortly afterward by Beyle, under his most familiar pseudonym of Stendhal, is a conversation, with all the marks of a piece of genuine evidence on the English character, between the author and an Englishman ; and yet a large part of what is given as the

of

opinion

acquaintance of Beyle

this

is

almost a

literal

translation of Jeffrey s remarks on the conditions of good con where all are noble all are versation. Such a striking phrase as "

"

is taken without change, and the whole is stolen with almost equal thoroughness. This characteristic runs through all of his books. He was not a scholar, so he stole his facts and many of his opinions, with no acknowledgments, and made very pleasing

free

books.

Related, perhaps, to this characteristic, are the inexactness of Berlioz some facts and the unreliability of his judgments.

his

where

in

his

memoirs gives

to Stendhal half-a-dozen lines,

which

run something like this "There was present also one M. Beyle, a short man with an enormous belly, and an expression which he :

tries

to

make benign and

succeeds in

making

malicious.

He

is

the author of a Life of Rossini, full of painful stupidities about music." Painful indeed, to a critic with the enthusiasm and the

mastery of Berlioz, a lot of emphatic judgments from a man who was ignorant of the technique of music, who took it seriously but and who could make such a delicious comment at the end lazily, of a comparison of

Beethoven of

Rossini

do,

if,

?

skill

with

with inspiration,

"

as,

What would

not

knowledge, he had the ideas passionate lover of the noblest

his technical

Imagine

the

music hearing distinctions drawn between form and idea in music, with condescension for Beethoven, by a man who found in Cimarosa and Rossini his happiness night after night through

in

years.

Imagine

Beyle

talking

of grace,

sweetness,

softness,

voluptuousness,

By Norman Hapgood

209

voluptuousness, ease, tune, and Berlioz growing harsh with rage and running away to hide from these effeminate notions in the stern poetry of

Beethoven

s

harmonies.

Imagine them crossing

over into literature and coming there at the height to the same

What different Shakespeares they are. Berlioz, entranced, losing self-control for days, feeling with passion the glowing life of the poet s words, would turn, as from something name, Shakespeare.

man whose

unclean, from the

love

for

Macbeth showed

itself

mostly in the citation of passages that give fineness to the feelings which the school of Racine thought unsuited to poetry. You "

use

it

as

a

thesis,"

the enthusiast might cry.

the wealth, the terror of a

proportion,

you

forges

a

it

taste

deeper

But you

weapon.

"

The

grandeur,

You see his delicacy, his escape you. than the classic French taste, and it on by him, you

are not swept

never get into the torrent of him, you are cool and shallow, and Stendhal read Shakespeare with some your praise is profanation."

no doubt, but he was always on the look-out for quotations to prove some thesis, and he read Scott and Richardson, probably all the books he read in any language, in the same

direct pleasure,

unabandoned

restricted

In painting

it

is

way.

the same.

It

is

with a narrow and

dilettante

The painter who feeds he judges pictures. intelligence Guido Reni is certain sentiments, he loves and thinks great. that

suave

;

therefore only one or

pare with him. ness.

These

One

of them

two is

in the

world

Correggio, for

are the artists he loves.

s

history can

his true

com

voluptuous

Others he must

praise, as

he praised Shakespeare, to support some attack on French canons of Therefore is Michelangelo one of the gods. The effort is art. as he recalls the fact that Mme. du apparent throughout, and

Deffand and Voltaire saw in Michelangelo nothing but ugliness, and notes that such is the attitude of all true Frenchmen, the lover of

Henri Beyle

2io of Beyle smiles

French nature

saturated

he

is

at his effort to

praising.

get

far

enough away from

to love the masculine

Before the Moses, Merimee

his

own

and august painter

tells

us,

Beyle could

beyond the observation that ferocity could not This vague, untechnical point of view was no be better depicted. find nothing to say

He gloried in it. subject of regret to Stendhal. a scholar," he says somewhere, and in another place,

Foolish as

"

"

Vinci

is

a

great artist precisely because he is no scholar." Add to these qualities of lack of truthfulness, lack of thorough ness,

of

and lack of imagination, a

life,

total disregard for

in the sense of a believing, strenuous view,

any moral view and you have,

from the negative side, the general aspects of Stendhal s character. He was not vicious far from it though he admires many things that are vicious.

He

is

not indecent, for

"

the greatest

enemy of

voluptuousness is indecency," and voluptuousness tests all things. The keen Duclos has said that the French are the only people among whom it is possible for the morals to be depraved without either the It would heart being depraved or the courage being weakened. be almost unfair to speak of Beyle s morals as depraved, as even in his earliest childhood he seems to have been without a touch of

Who knows that the world will last a quality. he asks, and the question expresses well the instinct in week him that made him deny any appeal but that of his own ends. Both morals and religion really repel him. It is impossible to

any moral

"

"

?

love a supreme being, he says, though we may perhaps respect him. Indeed, he believes that love and respect never go together, that grace, which he loves, excludes force, which he respects ; and

thus he loves Reni and respects Michelangelo. are the opposite sides of a sphere, and the

both.

As

abandons

Grace and

force

human

eye cannot see for him, he fearlessly takes sympathy and grace and In the same manner that he excludes nobility. strenuous

By Norman Hapgood

211

strenuous feelings of right altogether, he makes painting, which he thinks the nobler art, secondary to music, which is the more comfortable. For a very sensitive man, he goes on, with real

coherence to the mind of a Beylian, painting is only a friend, while music is a mistress. Happy indeed he who has both friend and

In some of

mistress.

his

moods, the more austere, the nobler and

personal tastes and virtues, interest him, for he is to some extent interested in everything ; but except where he is supporting less

one of

his

few fundamental theses he does not deceive himself into

thinking he likes them, and he never takes with real seriousness Elevation and ferocity are the two anything he does not like.

words he

uses over and over again in explaining that Michelangelo, alone could paint the Bible, and the very poverty of his vocabulary, so discriminating when he is on more congenial subjects, suggests how external was the acquaintance of Beyle with elevation or

with

ferocity,

Michelangelo

or

the

entertainingly on such subjects, but

work.

These

aspects of

life,

He

Bible.

has

written

has the sound of guess two qualities, with which he sums up the sterner are perhaps not altogether separable from a third, it all

dignity, and his view of this last may throw some light on the nature of his relations with the elevation and ferocity he praises. Here is a passage from Le Rouge et le Noir: Mathilde thought "

all-powerful with people who courageous souls with superior minds, had to fight long

she saw happiness.

combine

This

sight,

against dignity and is

his tone

all Equally lofty vulgar sentiments of duty." towards other qualities that are in reality part of the

same attitude

a tone less of reproach than of simple contempt. ; is heroine of Le Rouge et le Noir is made to argue that necessary to return in good faith to the vulgar ideas of purity and

The

honour."

in

"it

Two

more of the

social virtues are disposed of

one extract, which, by the way,

illustrates also

by him

the truly logical

and

212

Henri Beyle

and the apparently

illogical

nature of Stendhal

how he

s

thought.

It

will

from industry judgment, but the coherence of the It is rare that a young thought will be complete to the Beylian All Neapolitan of fourteen is forced to do anything disagreeable. take a

little

reflection to see

gets so suddenly

to patriotism in the following

"

:

his life fools

he prefers the pain of want to the pain of work. The treat as barbarians the citizens of this country,

from the North

because they are not unhappy at wearing a shabby coat. Nothing would seem more laughable to an inhabitant of Crotona than to

suggest his fighting to get a red ribbon in his button-hole, or to have a sovereign named Ferdinand or William. The sentiment of loyalty, or devotion to dynasty, which shines in the novels of Walter Scott, and which should have made him a peer, is as unknown here as snow in May. To tell the truth, I don t see

Sir

that this proves these people fools.

(I

admit that

this

idea

is

in

For himself, he hated his country, as he curtly puts it, and loved none of his relatives. Patriotism, for which his contempt is perhaps mixed with real hatred, is in his mind allied to the most of all stupid tyrants, propriety, or, as he more often calls it, opinion, his most violent aversion. Napoleon, he thinks, in very bad

taste.)"

destroying the custom of cavaliere serviente simply added to the s mass of ennui by ushering into Italy the flat religion of pro He is full of such lucid observations as that the trouble with priety.

world

opinion

is

that

the sadness of

takes a hand in private matters, whence comes England and America. To this sadness of the

it

moral countries and the moral people he never tires of referring. His thesis carries him so far that he bunches together Veronese and Tintoretto under the phrase, painters without ideal," in whom "

something dry, narrow, reasonable, bound by propriety ; in a word, incapable of rapture. This referring to some general there

is

standard, this lack of directness, of fervour, of abandonment,

is

illustrated

By Norman Hapgood by the

illustrated

s

Englishman

was nothing vulgar

in her.

It

to explain that to a Milanese,

213

of his mistress, that there

praise

would take, Beyle says, eight days and then he would have a fit of

laughter.

These few

references illustrate fairly the instincts and

beliefs

whole thought and life. The of moral scepticism that is needed to make a

the

that are

of Stendhal

basis

absolute degree sympathetic reader of

him

is

s

especially

among

people refined

and cultivated enough to care for his subjects everywhere rare. I call it a moral rather than an intellectual scepticism, because, while he would doubtless deny the possibility of knowing the

good of the greatest number, a more ultimate truth is that he It is perfectly indifferent to the good of the greatest number. unabashed egotism. The assertion of his individual will, absolute

best is

loyalty to his private tastes,

and

his will

and

its desires.

One

day

and

"What

is

awoke upon

I

his principle of

is

thought and action,

do not include the

his tastes

ME

the

?

this earth, I

rest

of the world,

I know nothing about it. found myself united to a

certain body, a certain fortune. Shall I go into the vain amuse ment of wishing to change them, and in the meantime forget to live

?

That

submit to

is

to be a

dupe

;

I

submit

to

their

failings.

I

bent, after having declaimed for ten good faith, against all aristocracy. I adore Roman

my

aristocratic

years, in noses, and yet, if I am a Frenchman, I resign myself to having what can I do received from heaven only a Champagne nose :

The Romans were

a great evil for humanity, a deadly disease which retarded the civilisation of the world .... In spite

about

it

of so

many wrongs, my

?

heart

is

for

the

Romans."

Thus,

in

all

the details of his extended comparison, Beyle tries to state with fairness the two sides, the general good and the personal, the need

of obedience to

its

rules if

The Yellow Book

some general ends of N

Vol. IV.

to be society are attained

Henri Beyle

214 attained,

and the individual

fairness,

but his

own

directly

pleases

him.

morals

From

?

are as as at

many Rome.

s

choice

from obedience.

loss

never in doubt.

is

dare

I

"Shall

the accounts of

of the

talk

to

comrades

my

He states with He goes to what of

bases

there

I believe that

deceived husbands at Paris as at Boulogne, at Berlin The whole difference is that at Paris the sin is caused

by vanity, and

Rome

at

The

by climate.

I

only exception

find

the middle classes in England, and all classes at Geneva. I But, upon my honour, the drawback in ennui is too great. His tastes, his sympathies, are unhesi It is prefer Paris.

is

in

gay."

A in the following judgment you should propose to love always the same woman, were she an angel, would exclaim that you were taking from him three-quarters of what makes life worth while. Thus, with

tatingly

Roman

the

Roman

"

:

whom

to

Edinburgh, the family is first, and at Rome it is a detail. If the system of the Northern people sometimes begets the mono tony and the ennui that we read on their faces, it often causes a at

calm and continuous

by

his

sort

mind merely,

of

negative,

might almost

say.

This steady contrast is noted His mind is judicial in a

happiness."

his logical fairness.

formal

He

sense

does

;

judicial

not

feel,

without or

see

weight,

He

sympathetically, the advantages of habitual constancy. only the truths of the other side, or the side of truth expresses

when

passion and

which

is

its

he

that

most.

says, the

true

passion says truth are the final test for him.

even more self-reliance than

his instinctive approval in all

in

all

moods,

it is is

we

imaginatively,

is

feels

which he

selfish

and

:

This

selfishness,

self-seeking,

which has

directly celebrated

by him

The more more

natural genius and originality one has, he one feels the profound truth of the remark of the

Duchesse de Ferte, that she found no one but herself who was And not only does natural genius, which we always right.

might

By Norman Hapgood

215

might sum up as honesty to one s instincts, or originality, make us contemptuous of all judgments but our own it leads us (so ;

far does

Beyle go) to esteem only ourselves. Reason, he argues, states, makes us see, and prevents our acting, since

or rather

is

nothing

worth the

effort

ourselves, and in others

it is

it

Laziness forces us to prefer we esteem.

costs.

only ourselves that

With this principle as his broadest generalisation it is not natural that his profoundest admiration was for Napoleon. I a

man, he

who has loved one man Napoleon.

says in substance,

people, and respected

a

un

am

few painters, a few

He

respected a

man

who knew what

he wanted, wanted it constantly, and pursued it fearlessly, without scruples and with intelligence, with constant with with hypocrisy, with cruelty. calculation, lies, Beyle used to lie with remarkable ease even in his He makes youth. his almost autobiographical hero, Julien Sorel, a liar throughout and a hypocrite on the very day of his execution. Beyle lays down the judgments about Napoleon, that he liked argument, because he was strong in it, and that he kept his peace, like a

savage,

whenever there was any possibility of his being seen to be any one else in grasp of the topic under discussion. It

inferior to is

in his Life

of Napoleon that Beyle dwells

where on

as

persistently as

any

his never-ceasing principle examine yourself get at your most spontaneous, indubitable tastes, desires, ambitions follow them ; act from them unceasingly be turned aside by nothing. It is possible, in going through Beyle s works for that purpose, :

;

;

;

find a

to

remark here and there that might possibly indicate a

of faith under this insistence, a belief that in the end a thorough independence of aim in each individual would be for the good of basis

all

;

but these passing words really do not go against the truth

of the statement that Beyle was absolutely without the moral that the pleasing to himself immediately was all he gave attitude ;

interest

216

Henri Beyle

interest

to,

for

beauty

and that of the intellectual qualities those that had him were the crueller ones force, concentration,

But here

sagacity, in the service of egotism. possible exceptions.

writer

s

morality,

are a few of the

he says, in a dispute about that with more depth than the other poets.

"Moliere,"

"painted

Nothing could be more simple." but it is tolerably clear" epigram he leaves the subject means to deny any other moral than truth, not to say that the truth is an inevitable servant of good. If it did mean the latter, it was Therefore, he

With

more moral.

is

this

;

that he

moment

as an easy argument, for his belief is pro works, that his loves are the world s banes, and that any interest in the world s good, in the moral law, is bour Here is another phrase that perhaps might suggest geois and dull.

thrown

off at the

nounced through

his

that the generalisation was unsafe He Europe because he is the only honest man. "

is

:

is

clear

enough

to a reader of

him any

him

;

and

1

it is

the greatest man in This, like the other, really impossible to

identification of the

interesting, the worthy, Where the permanently and generally serviceable. social point of view is taken for a moment it is by grace of logic A more unmitigated moral rebel, a purely, for a formal fairness. find

in

with

the

more absolute

sceptic, a

more thoroughly

isolated

individual than

the author of Le Rouge et le Noir could not exist. Nor could a more unhesitating dogmatist exist, despite his sneering apologies, for dogmatism is as natural an expression of absolute scepticism as

When

of absolute faith. a man refuses to is say anything This is true for me, at this moment," or perhaps, further than, This is true of a man exactly such as I describe, in exactly these circumstances," he is likely to make these statements with un

it

"

*

shakable firmness.

which

is

This

distinctness and coherence of the mind,

entirely devoted to relativity,

Stendhal for his lovers.

It

makes

is

one of the charms of

possible the completeness

and the

By Norman Hapgood

217

the

originality of a perfect individual, of an entirely unrestrained It is the kind of character that we call capricious or growth. fantastic when it is weak, but when it is it has a value for

strong

us through its emphasis of interesting principles find so visible and in more

which we do not

disentangled conforming people. The instincts which in Stendhal have such a free field to expatiate seem to some readers rare and distinguished, and to these readers it is a delight to see

them

set

in

general aspect, is what gave young writers of France.

such high

him

They

the doctrine of relativity, or as the ticular facts they

little

hailed first

men

until

This, in

him

its

most

among

the

as the discoverer

of

who

applied it to the par the environment and its

wished to emphasise

influence on the individual.

men and

relief.

his short-lived glory

This has been overworked by great sad at the sound of the word ;

we grow

but

it was not so in Beyle s time, and he used the principle with moderation, seldom or never forgetting the incalculable and inex He does not forget plicable accidents of individual variations.

that individuals make the environment, and he is really clearer than his successors in treating race-traits, the climate and

either

the local causes, individual training, and individual idiosyncrasies, as mixed whole, in which the safest course is to stick pretty-

a great

For this reason study of the completed product. Zola very properly removed him from the pedestal on which Taine had put him, for what is a solvent of all problems to the school closely to the

for

which Taine hoped to be the prophet is in Stendhal but one Zola s analysis its place on an equality with others.

principle, in

of

this

side

and he proves without is really masterly only connection between Beyle and the present one of creed, not of execution that Beyle did not of Beyle

;

difficulty that the

naturalists

is

The setting of his scenes is apply the principle he believed in. Sometimes it is not even sketched in ; and here not distinct. Zola

Henri Beyle

2i 8 Zola draws an

shows how

Nolr^ and in his

own

from

illustration

hands.

is

the

often by

is

have

would

setting

a logician, abstract

Beyle and concrete he

self concrete,

Le Rouge

a strong scene in

different

;

main

et

le

been

Zola thinks him

This

force.

is

a

apply the doctrine of relativity to oneself. Beyle errs sometimes in the same way, and some of his attempts at local sad

to

failure

colour are very tiresome, but on the whole he remains frankly the psychologist, the man of distinct but

analyser, the introspective

disembodied

He

ideas.

recognised the environment

as

he recog

nised other things in his fertile reflections, but he was as a rule too faithful to his own principles to spend much time in trying to it

reproduce

in

which

details

was therefore natural that

did not

his celebration

directly interest

him.

It

by the extremists should

Most of them do him what justice they can with Zola, or pass him over with some such word as the

be short-lived. effort, like

His fads were his own. of Goncourt. None of them dry have yet become the fads of a school, though some principles that "

"

were restrained with him have become

battle-cries in later

times.

hardly fitted to be banners, for they are too In very general theories he generally kept rather sane. specific. His real difference from the school that claimed him for a father

His

real

fads are

half a century after his death, is well suggested in the awkward that Zola is fond of throwing at him, The ideologist."

word

"

idea, the abstract truth its

stateableness,

with him.

and the intellectual form of

it,

its

clearness,

cogency and consistency, is the final interest outer world is only the material for the ex

its

The

pression of ideas, only the illustrations of them, and the ideas are The arts are therefore not pictorial or dramatic, but logical.

ultimately the expression of thought and feeling, and colour and plastic

form are means only.

as his

friend

Merimee

You

did, that

the

never find him complaining, meaning of the plastic arts

cannot

By Norman Hapgood

219

cannot be given in words because for a slight difference in shade or in curve there is no expression in All that Beyle language. He made no attempt to got out of art he could put into words.

compete with the painter like the leading realists of the past halfOther arts interested him only as far as they formed,

century.

without straining,

illustrations

feelings they appeal to.

painting, and often

his

unattached dilettante it

judges

in

own

as

it is

language of the music as it was in

for expression in

was with him

It

musical criticism

annoying

in is

as

charming

to the

to the technical critic

who

Beyle names the sensation with His vocabulary has fine shades without weakening

its

precision always.

forms.

In choosing single words to name single sensations is power, and it is a power which naturally belongs to a

fluency.

his greatest

man whose

eye

is

inward, a power which the word-painters of the

environment lack. Everything is expression for Beyle, and within the limits of the verbally-expressible he steadfastly remains. His truth is truth to the forms of thought as they exist in the reason

the clear eighteenth-century reason

disembodied truth.

necessary to have bones and blood in the human machine to make it walk. But we give slight attention to these necessary to think conditions of life, to fly to its great end, its final result "

It

is

and to "

of

feel.

of colour, of light and shade, is the history of drawing, the various parts of painting, compared to expression.

That

all

Expression is the whole of This reminds one again of Merimee s statement, that Beyle could see in the Moses nothing but the expression of ferocity; and an equally conclusive assertion (for it is in him no confession) "

art."

made by Beyle in reference to music, which he says is excellent him elevated thoughts on the subjects that are occupying itself it is mediocre. him, and if it makes him think of the music is

if it gives

Thus

Henri Beyle

22O Thus Beyle

is

as far

from being an

artist

as

He

possible.

cares

forms of the outer world, he spends his life in looking at beauty and listening to it, but only because he knows that that is the way to call up in himself the ideas, the sensations, the

for the

emotions that he loves almost with voluptuousness. The basis of and if this genius, he says, in speaking of Michelangelo, is logic, is

as in the sense in

true

genius was mostly

which he used

it,

it

probably

is

Beyle

s

basis.

Merimee logic,

says that though Beyle was constantly appealing to he reached his conclusions not by his reason but by his

This

a false distinction. Beyle he got at conclusions indirectly He did not forget his premisses in the interest of by syllogisms. What he calls logic is an attitude or quality the inductive process.

imagination.

was not

is

certainly

making

a logician in the sense that

of the mind, and means really abstract coherence. Of what he himself calls ideology, with as much contempt as Zola could put into the word,

impertinent.

thought.

He

he"

says that

it

He means any studied

is

a science not only tiresome but

constructive,

Kant and

other

deductive system of

German metaphysicians, men ingeniously building

and thought them shallow superior His feet seldom if ever got off the houses of cards. of observations "

Facts

into

the

solid

ground

of

formal, logical deduction. he cried, and his love of facts at first hand, facts from some of the defects of the abstract mind.

region

"

!

keeps him statement

!

Every

is independent of the preceding and the succeeding ones, each is examined by itself, each illustrated by anecdote, inexact enough, to be sure, but clear. There is no haze in his

When Merimee says that it is Beyle s imagination and thought. not his logic that decides, he is right, in the sense that Beyle has no middle terms, that his vision is direct, that the a priori process is

secondary and merely suggestive with him.

"

What

should

we

logically

By Norman Hapgood logically expect to find the case here

of

set

but

facts,

readjusts his

"

?

221

he will ask before a

expectation and his observation

if his

principles.

It

no paradox

is

to call

abstract and empirical, introspective and scientific

a ;

new

differ,

he

mind both and Beyle

s

was both.

This quality of logic without constructiveness shows, of course, There is lucidity of transition, of connection, of

in his style.

the details, but the parts are not put together to whole. They fall on to the paper from his mind direct, and the completed book has no other unity than has the mind of the author. As he was a strong admirer of Bacon and

relation,

among

form an

artistic

his

it is

methods, this

entirely

safe

enough

statement

Thirdly, whereas

to say that he

about

composition

would have accepted as

his

own

creed

:

could have digested these rules into a certain method or order, which, I know, would have been more admired, as that which would have made every particular rule, through its "

I

coherence and relation unto other rules, seem more cunning and more deep ; yet I have avoided so to do, because this delivering of

knowledge in distinct and disjoined aphorisms doth leave the wit man more free to turn and toss, and to make use of that which He is is so delivered to more several purposes and applications." the typical suggestive critic, formless, uncreative, general and

of

specific, precise

and abstract

the psychologist.

It

:

chaotic to the artist, satisfactory to difference where the story begins,

makes no

sentence follows that, or where the chapter ends. His style is a series of rules of time and place. is almost accidental. epigrams, and the order of their presentation To draw out a plot freezes me," he says, and one could guess it

whether

There

this

are

no

"

from

his stories,

which

are in

all

unplastic mind the illustrations of the general truths. this

analytic,

essentials like his essays. plot,

The

To

the characters, are but characters he draws have separate

Henri Beyle

222 separate individual

life

only so

far

they are copies.

as

no invention, no construction, no creation. or no other quality of style than style,

"

"

s

"

is

how

rhetoric

the

into

New

Elo ise,

Only

not only

"neatly

Most

He

cime indeterminee des

him. particularly irritating to to write simply, and that is why

seau

He

lucidity.

The he despises them. his contempt. style and the rhetorical alike have are emphatic, eloquent, and declamatory." lacks other qualities,

duel about Chateaubriand

There is is no

Moreover, there

turned"

rhetoricians

almost had a

Rous knows

forets."

a great soul

Rousseau has put so much which makes it unreadable after

In another place he says he detests, in the arrange ment of words, tragic combinations, which are intended to give thirty

years."

He sees only absurdity in them. His style style. thought, and his failure to comprehend colour in style is

majesty to the fits

his

not surprising in a

man whose thought

who remarks with

scorn that

it is

to describe

ments of the a larger life,

movements of the

soul.

but

it is

soul.

no

has

easier to

setting, in a

He

cares only for

move

The

it is

sense of form might have given his work part of his rare value for a few that he talks

in bald statements, single-word suggestions, disconnected

This

man

describe clothing than

intellectual impressionism, as

it

were,

is

flashes.

more stimulating

them than any work of art. These are not needless to say, however much they may love

poetic souls,

it

to is

poetry. Beyle is loved poetry, but

He the essence of prose and it is his strength. he got from it only the prose, so much of the idea as

is

in

Merimee tells us that Beyle murdered dependent of the form, verse in reading aloud, and in his treatise T)e F Amour he informs us that verse

dramatic

was invented to help the memory and to retain it in is a remnant of The elevation, the barbarity.

art

all but the psychology were passion of poetry foreign to this mind, whose unimaginative prose is its distinction.

abandon^

the

Perhaps

By Norman Hapgood

223

that as novelist Beyle Perhaps this limitation is kin to another Much the solidest of his painted with success only himself. :

characters

is Julien Sorel, a copy trait for trait of the author, Both Julien and reduced, so to speak, to his essential elements. Beyle were men of restless ambition, clear, colourless minds, and

constant activity. Julien turned this activity to one thing, the study of the art of dominating women, and Beyle to three, of which this was the principal, and the other two were the compre

hension of art principles and the expression of them. In his he had followed the army of Napoleon, until he the he with of life What the saw. became disgusted grossness

earlier days

renown he won in the army was for making his toilet with com of battle. From the Moscow army he wrote plete care on the eve to one of his friends that everything was lacking which he needed, friendship, love (or the semblance of it), and the arts." For sim may be left out in summing up Beyle s interests, for while his friendships were genuine they did not interest him

"

plicity, friendship

much, except

as

an opportunity to work up his ideas. Of the two the one expressed in Julien, the psychology

interests that remain,

of love, illustrated by practice, is much the more essential. Julien too had Napoleon for an ideal, and when he found he could not

him in the letter he resigned himself to making in his The genius that the conquests that were open to him. Napoleon put into political relations he would put into social

imitate spirit

ones.

All the principles of war should live again in his intrigues

with women.

This spirit is well enough known in its outlines. Perhaps the most perfect sketch of it in its unmixed form is in Les Liaisons knew and must have loved. He Dangereuses^ a book which Beyle must have admired and envied the Comte de Valmont and the none of the grossness of the Marquise de Merteuil. There is here Restoration

Henri Beyle

224 Restoration

in

comedy

It

England.

is

the

art

of satisfying

vanity in a particular way, in its most delicate form. It is an occupation and an art as imperative, one might almost say as What impersonal, were not the paradox so violent, as any other.

makes Stendhal

s

account of

and the other masters

is

he

is

half outside of his

own

it

:

attitude as

this art

differ

from that of Delaclos

the fact that, deeply as he is in it, he is the psychologist every moment, seeing

coldly as

he sees the

on which he

facts

is

Read the scene, for instance, where campaign. takes the hand of the object of his designs, absolutely

his

forming

Julien first as a matter of duty, a disagreeable move necessary to the success of the game. The cold, forced spirit of so much of intrigue is He seen by Beyle and accepted by him as a necessity. clearly

used to

tell

young men

minutes with a beautiful it

that if they

woman

proved them poltroons.

present

for this

;

is

Two

the same

were alone

room

in a

five

without declaring they loved her, sides

man who

of him, however, are always repeats for ever in his book

He means that this the cry that there is no love in France. science, better than no love at all, is inferior to the abandon of

The

the Italians. its

gaiety,

savoir-vivre"

the

love of 1770, for

its tact, its is

"

discretion,

after all

distinction in

which he often

only second.

Amour-gout^ to point out

two famous phrases of

inferior to amour-passion.

longs, with

with the thousand qualities of his

own,

is

Stendhal, admiring the latter,

for ever

must have

been confined to the former, though not in its baldest form, for to some of the skill and irony of Valmont he added the softness, the sensibility, of a later generation, and he added also the will to feel,

so that his study of feeling

successful together. in

him,

human

as

and

Psychology and

his practice of

sensibility are

it

grew more

mutual

not

"

heart,"

aids

infrequently are in "observers of the What to quote his description of his profession. consideration

they

By Norman Hapgood

225

consideration can take precedence, in a sombre heart, of the neverflagging charm of being loved by a woman who is happy and The voluptuary almost succeeds in looking as genuine as gay ? the psychologist. This nervous fluid, so to speak, has each day but a certain amount of sensitiveness to expend. If you put it "

enjoyment of thirty beautiful pictures you

into the it

to

mourn

the death of an adored

not use

shall

You

mistress."

cannot

dis

entangle them. effort, all

Love, voluptuousness, art, psychology, sincerity, are mixed up together, whatever the ostensible subject.

French compound, perhaps made none the less French by the author s constant berating of his country and vanity a man who would be uneasy if he were not exercising his fascinating powers on some woman, It

is

a

truly

essentially

for its consciousness

:

man whose tears were ready ; a man who could not live with out action, soaking in the dole e far mente ; a man all intelligence, He would and by very force of intelligence a man of emotion.

and a

In the things be miserable if he gave himself up to either side. of sentiment perhaps the most delicate judges are found at Paris He goes to Italy, and as he but there is always a little chill. "

5

feels

voluptuously

the

warm

air

and sees the

warm

blood and the

movements, the simplicity of heedlessness and All mind goes back longingly to the other things.

passion, his

free

"

here,

all

in

memory.

Active

life

is

in

is

London and

decadence in

Paris.

but staying days when I am all sympathy I prefer Rome There here tends to weaken the mind, to plunge it into stupor.

The is

no

:

effort,

no energy, nothing moves

prefer the active

life

of the

But among

barracks."

these

Upon my

fast.

North and conflicting

the bad ideals

perhaps to pick the strongest, and I think it delicious salon, within ten steps picture "

:

which

we

A

are separated

by

a grove of

taste it

is

word, I of our possible

painted in this of the sea, from

is

orange-trees.

The

sea

breaks

Henri Beyle The ices

226 breaks gently, Ischia last

in sight.

is

me

touch seems to

are

excellent."

What

deliciously characteristic.

is

The more

man whose whole life is an experiment in taste, what more suggestive, what more typical, than an ice ? There is a per

subtle to a

vading delight in it, in the unsubstantiality, the provokingness, the In the boxes, toward the middle of the refinement of it. "

evening, the cavaliere servante of the lady usually orders some ices. There is always some wager, and the ordinary bets are sherbets,

which

are

There

divine.

are

three

kinds, gelati,

crepe

and

It is an excellent thing to become familiar with. I have not yet determined the best kind, and I experiment every Do not mistake this for The man who evening." playfulness.

pezzidiere.

cannot take an ice seriously cannot take Stendhal sympathetically. Such, in the rough, is the point of view of this critic of character

and of

Of course

art.

such an attitude

is

the value of judgments from such a

man

in

dependent entirely on what one seeks from what Stendhal hopes to give end is to

Here is My make each observer question his own soul, disentangle his own manner of feeling, and thus succeed in forming a judgment for

criticism.

"

:

himself, a his

way his

tastes,

of seeing formed in accord with his own character, ruling passions, if indeed he have passions, for

meaning.

The word necessary to judge the arts." is not to be given too violent a Emotion would .do as well sincere personal feeling.

That

is

unhappily they here passion,"

"

"

there

are

as

"

no end of

individual feeling of the young girl

judge of her Voltaire said

is

who

fitness

art

except to bring out this sincere He is fond of the story

his ultimate belief.

asked Voltaire to hear her recite, so as to the stage. Astonished at her coldness,

for

"

But, mademoiselle, if you yourself had a lover I would take you, what would you do ? she answered. That, Stendhal adds, is the correct point :

who abandoned another,"

elsewhere,

"

"

of

By Norman Hapgood of view for nineteen-twentieths of

only for genius, for young painters with intelligence."

For

227

but not for

life,

fire in

"

art.

I

care

the soul and open

disinterested, cool taste, for objective justness

and precision, he has only contempt. Indeed, he accepts Goethe s definition of taste as the art of properly tying one s cravats in things of the mind.

Everything that

is

not special to the speaker,

The best personal, he identifies with thinness, insincerity, pose. One thing one can bring before works of art, is a natural mind. "

must dare

to feel

what he does

of rules, means to follow one

s

feel."

To

be one

s

self,

primitive sentiments.

"

the

first

Instead of

wishing literary principles, and defend judge according correct doctrines, why do not our youths content themselves with to

to

the fairest privilege of their age, to have sentiments ? There is no division into impersonal judgment and private sentiment. The

only criticism that has value is private, personal, intimate. Less special to Stendhal now, though rare at the time in which

he

is

lived,

the appeal to

life

as

Greeks, look in the forests of

the basis of

"

art.

Go

America."

To

to the

find the

swimming-

school or the ballet to realise the correctness and the energv of "

Michelangelo. genius the "

is

word of another

What

modern

is

everything.

conversation,"

is

and

a cruel bore in a

as

"the

salon,"

so

The work of man who takes is

he

as a critic.

Let us try to make good the antique bas-relief to me ? never see it, The Greeks loved the nude. painting. is

We

This conclusion shows the weakness, the limitation, of this kind of criticism, which as Stendhal it would keep us from all we have learned from the revived

and moreover or

Familiarity

the sense of

it

repels

us."

applies

the study of the nude, because one. seeing it is not an artistic

first

impression to one unused to limitations of Stendhal and

But the

his eloquence and usefulness his world are obvious enough. within his limits that are worth examination.

It

is

"

Beauty,"

Henri Beyle

228

to Stendhal,

"

Beauty,"

"

is

simply a promise of

happiness,"

and

Here is his ideal way of taking the phrase sums up his attitude. He asked a question of a young woman about somebody music.

The young woman

in the audience.

To

evening.

his question she

usually says nothing during the

answered,

"Music

pleases

when

puts your soul in the evening in the same position that love put during the day."

it it

in

Such Beyle adds did not answer, and "

:

I

is

the simplicity of language and of action.

I left

her.

When

one

feels

music

in

such a

When he leaves this field not importunate ? for technical judgments he is laughable to any one who does not

way, what friend

music to him

How

can

I "

sensations

mind,

mind, whatever his expression ; for only a background for his sensibility. talk of music without giving the history of my

the texture of his

care for

"

"

is

?

is

This

this religion

susceptibilities,

really

and

is, doubtless, maudlin to the sturdy masculine of sensibility, this fondling of one s sentimental it certainly has no grandeur and no morality. "

that is, a constitutional quickness Sensibility," Coleridge says, of sympathy with pain and pleasure, and a keen sense of the gratifications that accompany social intercourse, mutual endear

"

ments, and reciprocal preferences .... sensibility is not even a sure pledge of a good heart, though among the most common

meanings of that many-meaning and too commonly misapplied It leads, he goes on, to effeminate sensitiveness expression." by us alive to trifling misfortunes. This is just, with all its and the lover of Stendhal has only to smile, and quote with himself: must admit that I am a great Rousseau, Beyle

making

severity,

"I

booby

;

for I get all

my

pleasure in being

sad."

Naturally enough, ennui plays a great part in such a nature, It lies behind thin, intelligent, sensitive, immoral, self-indulgent. his art of love

and his love of

art.

"

Ennui,

this great

motive

power

By Norman Hapgood power of intelligent

229

he says ; and again surprised when, studying painting out of pure ennui,

He

"

:

people,"

I

I

was much

found

it

a

balm

the god whom I implore, the powerful god who reigns in the hall of the Franfais, the only power in the world that can cause the Laharpes to be for cruel

sorrows."

thrown into the

really loves

Hence

fire."

his

"

it.

Ennui

!

Madame

love for

du Deffand,

the great expert in ennui, and for the whole century of ennui, wit, and immorality. Certainly the lack of all fire and enthu siasm, the lack of faith, of hope, of charity, does go often with a clear, sharp, negative freshness of judgment, which is often seen

workmen

in the colder, finer, smaller

in the

psychology of social

a great exposer of pretence.

It enables Stendhal

relations.

It

to see that

most honest Northerners say

is

statues of Michelangelo,

accomplished only this

"

Is

that

Good Lord

"

ideal,

in

"

!

all

?

as

their hearts before the

they say before their

to be happy, to be loved,

is

it

"

?

But just as Stendhal keeps in the borderland between vice and from grossness, and laughing at morality, so he cannot really cross into the deepest unhappiness any more than he could into passionate happiness. The Tragedy repelled him.

virtue, shrinking

"

ought never to try to paint the inevitable ills of humanity. only increase them, which is a sad success .... Noble and

fine arts

They

almost consoled grief produce."

whole of

To his

being.

was technically

is

the only kind that art should seek to is limited through the

these half-tones his range

as

Of

his taste in

ignorant

as

architecture, of

which he

he was of music, Merimee

tells

us

that he disliked Gothic, thinking it ugly and sad, and liked the architecture of the Renaissance for its elegance and coquetry ;

that

it

was always graceful details, moreover, and not the general him ; which is a limitation that naturally goes

plan that attracted

with the other.

The Yellow Book

Vol. IV.

o

Of

Henri Beyle

230

Of course in

Beyle

traits,

s

charm and the limitations that are everywhere criticism are the same in his judgments of national

the

art

which form

French

is

one of

Antipathy to the thorough Frenchman that he was ;

a large part of his work.

his fixed ideas,

for his own vanity and distrust did not make him hate the less Vanity is bourgeois, he thinks, and genuinely those weaknesses. It spoils the best things, there is for him no more terrible word.

conversation

too

work.

"

The

among

the desire to produce all

is

calculated,

particularly in

the

element to him. however, passable

others

for the

;

most tiresome defect

French conversation

our present civilisation

in

is

is

So with their bravery, their love, no abandonment. This annoys him

effect."

there

is

women, who He gives them

are always the

most important

their due, but coldly

:

"France,

always the country where there are always the most women. They seduce by delicate pleasures made is

by their mode of dress, and these pleasures can be appre by the most passionless natures. Dry natures are afraid of Italian beauty." Of course this continual flinging at the French

possible ciated

is

to appreciate

being able, almost alone

in

only partly vanity, self-glorification

of foreigners,

the Italians.

It

is

partly

contempt

In his youth he power, for mere intelligence. spoke with half-regret of his being so reasonable that he would go to bed to save his health even when his head was crowded with for

his leading

ideas that he

wanted

as Italian as

he could, rather than any serene belief that he had

to write.

thrown off much of orders to

It

was

his desperate desire to be

French nature, that made him have inscribed on his tombstone his

leave

:

Oui Giace Arrigo Beyle Milanese Visse, scrisse,

amo. It

By Norman Hapgood It

comes dangerously near to

231

perhaps, and yet there is He praises the pathetic.

a pose,

genuineness enough in it to make it Italians because He never they do not judge their happiness. ceased to judge his. Nowhere outside of Italy, he thinks, can one hear with a certain accent, Dio com e bello But "

woman "

Dieu

!

because

From

O

"

!

!

I have heard a common French quite unfair. exclaim, under her breath, before an ugly peacock, comme c est beau," with an intensity that was not less

the implication

was

it

his

own

is

restrained. But restraint was Beyle s bugbear. economical, calculating nature he flew almost with He is speaking of Julien, and therefore opposite.

worship to its of himself, when he says, in Le Rouge et le Noir : "Intellectual love has doubtless more cleverness than true love, but it has only

moments of enthusiasm. itself

force of

only by says of him

"

:

knows

It

itself

Far from driving

unceasingly.

He

thought."

calls

too well.

away thought, Julien

It it

judges exists

mediocre, and he

This dry

in a person raised in

soul felt all of passion that is possible the midst of this excessive civilisation which

admires." Beyle saves Julien from contempt at the end (and doubtless he consoled himself with something similar) by causing him, while remaining a conscious hypocrite, to lose his

Paris

unhesitatingly, absurdly, perversely, for the sake of love. has shown himself capable of the divine unreason, of Where the enthusiasm is he is exaltation, he is respectable.

life

Once he

blinded

Before

;

he cannot

this

insignificant. well.

"

birth to

He

loses

crudity and stupidity of passion. the French fineness and proportion is

the

see

mad enthusiasm his

Elsewhere there

is

of the charm he has told so no conception of this art of giving

memory

the laugh of the mind, and of giving delicious joys by

unexpected

words."

As might be

expected, Beyle

is

even

more unfair

to

the

Germans

Henri Beyle

232 Germans than he

to his

is

countrymen

;

the sentiment, of

for

the epicure and the apologist has nothing in common with the reverent and poetic sentiment in which the Germans are

which he

is

so rich.

This

last

Beyle hates

he hates Rousseau and

as

Madame

it is bound up phrase, moonshine, and the fact that in a stable and orderly character but makes it the more irritating. he and he and are says, unintelligent, sentimental, innocent, They

de Stae l.

It

is

quotes with a sneer, as true of the race

"

:

A

soul honest, sweet,

and peaceful, free of pride and remorse, full of benevolence and humanity, above the nerves and the passions." In short, quite

For England anti-Beylian, quite submissive, sweet, and moral. much more respect and even a slight affection. He likes

he has

their anti-classicism,

and he

likes

the beauty of their

especially

women, which he thinks second only

to that of the Italians.

The

open countenances, the strong forms rouse him sometimes almost to enthusiasm ; but of course it is all rich complexions, the free,

seems "English beauty secondary in the inevitable comparison. paltry, without soul, without life, before the divine eyes which

heaven has given to Italy." The somewhat in the submissive faces of the Englishwomen that threatens future ennui, Stendhal thinks has been ingrained there by the workings of the terrible law of propriety which rules as a despot over the unfortunate island. It is the vision of caprice in the face of the Italian

woman It

is

that

makes him

certain of never being bored.

not surprising that

which Beyle

women

sees everything.

should be the objects through

A

man who

arbitrariness, caprice, the final law of nature,

sees

and

in

who

relativity,

feels a

sym

pathy with this law, not unnaturally finds in the absolute, personal, perverse nature of women his most congenial companionship. He finds in

He

women something more elemental than They best illustrate

finds the basal instincts.

reasonableness. his

psychology of

By Norman Hapgood of

Of

final, absolute choice.

course there

is

233

the other

side too,

s point of view, from which their charm is the centre the paradise of leisure, music, and ices. His hyperbole in equal to the first handshake of the woman one praising art is

the epicure

of

"

In

loves."

politics

he

sees largely the

relations of

sex

;

and in

almost always of the women he is talking. Their influence marks the advance of civilisation. "Tenderness national character

has

made

perfect,"

it is

here "

effeminate,

sensibility.

become more

us because society has

among

progress

and tenderness

is

this

soft

or,

if

you choose,

The admission of women

to

perfect

equality would be the

surest sign of civilisation. It would double the intellectual forces of the human race and its probabilities of

To

happiness

attain equality, the source of happiness for

both sexes, the duel would have to be open to

women

;

the pistol

demands only address. Any woman, by subjecting herself to imprisonment for two years would be able, at the expiration of the term, to get a divorce. Towards the year will be no longer ridiculous."

Two Thousand these ideas

the whole man, intelligent and fantastic, sincere He is rapidly settling and suspicious, fresh, convincing, absurd. back into obscurity, to which he is condemned as much by the

In

this passage

is

substance of his thought as by the formlessness of its expression. Entirely a rebel, and only slightly a revolutionist, he is treated by lover of many interesting things the world as he treated it.

A

inextricably

together, his earnest talk about them will time longer be an important influence on the lives

wound up

perhaps for some of a few whose minds shall be of the kind to which a sharp, industrious, capricious, and rebellious individual is the best stimulant to their

own

thought.

Day and Night By

E. Nesbit

day the glorious Sun caressed

AL Wide meadows and white winding way, And on

the Earth

Heart-warm

s

soft

heaving breast

his royal kisses lay.

She looked up in his face and smiled, With mists of love her face seemed dim

;

The

golden Emperor was beguiled, To dream she would be true to him.

Yet was

No

there,

neath his golden shower,

end of love

for

She waited, dreaming,

him

astir

for the

;

hour

When Night, her love, should come to her When neath Night s mantle she should creep And

When

feel his

arms about her

the soft tears true lovers

cling,

weep

Should make amends for everything.

Plein Air

By Miss Sumner

m

i

\

1

i

*

f* .ml

1

>

i

*

:,

an

|ill

I

!!

W

r

HSSll

1

::

Hf ili ;

;

,

4Uj v

i^

:

\SR .:

.V

1 :

:

v

;

i i

A

Thief

in the

Night O By Marion Hepworth Dixon

had watched the huge rectangular shadow of the wateron the ceiling for over an hour and three-quarters, and

SHEjug

still the nightlight on the washstand burnt uneasily on to the accompaniment of her husband s heavy breathing. The room had loomed black and foreboding on blowing out the candles an hour or two ago, but now the four white walls, hung here and there

with faded family photographs, grew strangely luminous as her Yet shifting from eyes grew accustomed to the semi-darkness. left to right, and again from right to left on the tepid pillows, the outlines of the unfamiliar room gained no sort of familiarity as the

hours wore on, but remained of death itself.

The

silence alone

silence of the

was

as

figure,

once

on the bed.

her

The October

as the

house

speaking as ft did of the austere below a chamber where a white

terrible,

death-chamber

rigidity

blank and unmeaning

husband

s

brother,

lay

stretched

night was dank, the atmosphere

numb

in

awful

and heavy.

As the roar of London died in the larger and enwrapping silences, the crack of a piece of furniture or the tapping of a withered leaf on the window-pane grew to be signs portentous and uncanny. Yet, turning and twisting on the rumpled sheet, every

moment sleep

A

240

Thief

the Night

in

seemed more impossible. In the stagnant air her head felt She longed to jump out of bed and throw hot, her limbs feverish. open the window, and made as if to do so, but hesitated, fearing sleep

the sound

might waken the sleeping man beside

her.

But the

thought of movement made her restless, and, slipping cautiously out on to her feet, she took her watch from the little table beside her and peered at

it

until she

made out

that

the hands indicated

five-and-twenty minutes to three. Nearing the light, she revealed herself a lean, spare woman, with the leathery skin of the lean, and with hair now touched with grey,

which grew sparsely and with no attempt at flourish or ornament, on the nape of an anxious neck. For the rest, a woman agitated and agitating, a

woman worn

with the

fret

of a single

idea.

Five-and-twenty minutes to three A clock downstairs somewhere in the great silent house struck the half-hour, and Mrs. Rathbourne, !

with one of those parentheses of the mind which occur in nervous crises, found herself wondering if her watch had gained since she it The journey South right by the station clock at Sheffield. since they had received that startling telegram summoning them had to town seemed, indeed, a vague blur, varied only by the

set

remembrance of

fields

with yellow advertisements of between her husband and a

splashed

divers infallible cures, of

a quarrel

porter about a bag, and later by the din and roar of the crowded and the flare of dingy lights which danced by in procession

streets as

the

hansom dashed through London from King

They

had been too

late.

Too

incessant prayer to Providence

late

a

!

s

Cross.

After four and a half hours

Providence of whom she had asked

and expected so few boons of late be in time. They were too late

that she should be permitted to Had not the thud, thud, thud of the train said the ugly words in that dreary journey past flying !

factory-chimneys,

scudding

hedges,

and

vanishing

jerry-built

suburbs

?

By Marion Hepworth Dixon suburbs

?

Too

late

scrupulously-drawn

The

!

blank face of the

blinds, advertised

London

the fact even

241 house, the before she

jumped from

the cab, smudging her dress on the muddy wheel in her anxiety to gain the door. They were too late, irretrievably too late, she knew, a few minutes later, when the wife, rising

young

from

an

armchair

in

the

dining-room, greeted them in her usual smooth, suave, unemotional tones. She remem bered the commonplaces that followed like things heard in a dimly-lighted

Her husband s dreary inquiries, the explanations of how Colonel Rathbourne had actually died sitting in his chair in a dream.

young rallied,

widow

s

and had

dressing-gown, and how thoughtful he had been in alluding, some quarter of an hour before his death, to an alteration he had made in his will. The words reached her, but conveyed little meaning to her dazed percep The very sound of the two voices seemed to come as tions.

from a distance, she lay

ill

as the

sound of other voices had once done, when A bewildered sense of the unreality of

as a little child.

things substantial rocked in her brain.

A

great gap, a vague but impassable gulf lay surely between her and these living, breathing It was people, so concerned with the material trivialities of life. this

which made her wonder, very truth it were she, or some other woman, mechanically followed her sister-in-law upstairs to the dead If it were she who recoiled so suddenly and with s bedside.

something dual

half-an-hour

who man

in her consciousness

later, if in

She felt so agonised a cry at the sight of that shrouded form ? certain of nothing, except that she hated this wife of six months standing, with her assured voice, her handsome shoulders,

and her manoeuvred waist.

For

six

whole months she had been

his wife

Mrs. Rathbourne shivered, the square wrists shook with such violence that the watch she held nearly slipped from her fingers. "TO

A

242

Thief

in the

Night

To

avoid the possibility of noise she placed it on the washstand, and, as she approached the light, her eye was caught by the faded photograph which hung directly above on the wall.

Out It was of Colonel Rathbourne, the dead man below-stairs. A mere drabbish wardly the portrait was a thing of little beauty. presentment of a young man, dressed in the fashion of the sixties, somewhat sloping shoulders, and whiskers of extravagant Not that Mrs. Rathbourne saw either the whiskers or shape. the shoulders. Long familiarity with such accessories made them with

part of the

inevitable, part of

fixed and determined concrete

all

things, part, indeed, of the felicitous

Had

she thought of

them

at all, she

"had

been"

of her youth.

would have thought of them

beautiful, as everything connected with the dead man had always seemed, then, thirty years ago, in the rare intervals he had been at home on leave, and now on the night of his sudden

as

death.

To

look

at this portrait

meant

to ignore all intervening time, to

forget that dread thing, that shrouded stretched on the bed in the room below.

and

To

awful look at

something it

meant

to

be transported to a garden in Hampshire, to a lawn giving on Southampton Water, a lawn vivid and green in the shadow of the frothing hawthorns, grey in the softer stretches dotted with munching cattle which swept out to the far-off, tremulous line intersected with

think of that

wave

that

line.

was

She had dreaded to look or to

distant masts. It

meant the

to carry

she had put the thought

that ugly void of wind and her. determinedly aside, rejoicing in the moment, the soft sea

him away from

atmosphere, the persistent the wood-pigeons.

hum

How

of bees, the enervating cooing of

Yet sail,

the eve of the day had come when the regiment was to and when, across the intimacies of the cottage dining-table,

they

By Marion Hepworth Dixon

243

Her they looked at each other and avoided each other s eyes. husband had been in London on business for three or four days (it was some years before they

in the North), and was finally settled by the last train. He had returned, punctually, as he did everything, and she recalled, as if it had been yesterday, the

to return

sound of

his

monotonous breathing through

had been unable to

when down gate.

sleep,

that last night.

She

waiting for the morning, the morning

the dead man, then a slim young lieutenant, was to creep to meet her in the little wood they reached by the orchard

Yes, in looking back she remembered everything.

Her

foolish fear of being too soon at the trysting-place, her dread of

being too

late.

She recalled

how

she had strained her ears to

awakening sounds, how she had at last caught the click of an opening door, followed by cautious footsteps in the hall. To creep down was the work of a moment. Once below, and listen for

outside the cottage walls, the scent of the new-mown hay was in her nostrils, and in her limbs the intoxicating freshness of morning. She could see his figure in front of her on the narrow

winding path, and heard her own welcoming cry, as she caught up her gown in the dewy grass, and darted towards him in the strange, westward-trending shadows. And now he was dead.

The

white mockery of a

man below-

shrouded thing, so numbing in its statue-like immobility, What had she left ? What tangible that remained.

stairs, that

was

all

remembrance of that gloat over in secret?

lost possession,

To unhook

that she

might finger and

the photograph with

its

tarnished

wire and dusty frame was her first impulse, but even when she in a fashion, to evade clasped it in her hands the protrait seemed, The modelling of the features had evaporated, the face was her. almost blank.

She craved

for

something more tangible, more

human, something more intimately

his.

The

A

244 The

Thief

in the

nightlight, which she had

Night

raised to look at the photograph,

more than a spark. Throwing guttered and diminished to little a wrap, she pinched the wick with a hair-pin to kindle the

on

man, turned

flame, and then, with a swift glance at the sleeping

What if her husband with a stealthy movement to the door. A crack, at the moment, from the great oak should wake ? the made her start with side of room the other at cupboard It sounded loud enough to waken fifty trembling apprehension. but the noise died away in the corner from which it came,

sleepers,

and the steady breathing of the man continued as if nothing had disturbed the strained and looming silence. Catching her breath she again moved forward, though assailed by the dread of the door-handle rattling, and the fear that there might be a loose board on the stairs. Screening the light from the sleeping man s eyes, Mrs. Rathbourne made her way round the bed, and, pulling the door noiselessly to behind her, steadied herself to listen. In the gloom of the empty passages a sinister faintness seemed to hover

;

the mist had eked in at the long landing window, and all its own to the unfamiliar lines of the house.

added a mystery

There was

silence

everywhere

the one her sister-in-law

in

the

room she had

left

and in

now

occupied facing the stairs. Only from the lower hall came the harsh, mechanical tick, tick, tick (with a slight hesitation or hitch in every third tick) of the eightday clock which fronted the hall-door. Down towards it she crept, shading the dim light to see in front of her, while the great shadow of her she turned the corner of the staircase, and

own

figure rose, as the obscure

filled

corners of the lower passage walls. Beneath it was the dead man s room.

She saw, with a catch at the heart, that the latch had slipped, and knew by the long inchWith averted strip of ominous darkness, that the door stood ajar. eves

By Marion Hepworth Dixon for she

eyes

245

dreaded with an unaccountable dread that shrouded

something on the bed she leant her elbow on one of the upper panels, and with the stealthy movement of a cat slipped inside. An insatiable desire mastered her.

eyes

room.

The

nervous hands twitched, her

travelled hungrily from one object It was his room. The room in

and died

....

to

round the

another,

which he had

slept,

and

there must be something which he lived, had used, that he had touched, and handled, that she could seize and call her own ? in

it

But the mortuary chamber wore that to rooms where the dead lie.

rigid,

unfathomable look

Everything had been was bare, the books,

peculiar

the dressing-table straightened ; His papers, even the medicine-bottles had been cleared away. favourite armchair the chair, she remembered with a shiver, in

tidied,

which he had died against the wall. it,

in

had been ranged

There was no

an emptiness which ached.

stiffly,

trace of

Mrs.

1

itself a fe,

dead thing, of

or suggestion

Rathbourne gazed

at

arranged furniture in a baffled way, dimly realising that the soul of the room had fled from it, as it had from the body of the man she loved. Nothing remained but the shell. the

mechanically

The

kindly, loyal, and withal quaintly sarcastic man, who had struggled with disease within those four walls, had been posed, too, in the foolishly conventional attitude of the dead, the white

sheet transforming the body into the mere shapeless outline of a

He was hidden, covered up, put away, as he would soon be beneath the earth, to be forgotten. Mrs. Rathbourne drew near the bed, holding the feeble light With dilated eyes she stooped over the aloft with a trembling hand. man.

shrouded thing, and then,

when about

to raise the coverlid,

fell

back, as earlier in the evening, with a renewed sense of horror.

Her

pulse leapt, and then seemed to cease altogether.

The

strange ness

A

246 of death

ness

....

wanted living

Thief

man who, though

emptiness

of

in the

Night

paralysed the very muscles of her she wanted the living, not the dead.

her

life.

so rarely seen, had

rilled

arm. It

She

was the

the

dreary

She wanted the man, not the

clay.

Dazed, unstrung, and with the odd sensation of a hand clutching at her heart, she dropped into one of the cretonne-covered chairs beside the bed, and, as she did so,

became conscious that her arm

touched something warm. It was a well-worn dressing-gown which had been thrown over the chair-back, the sleeve still bulging and round with the form of In one of the wide-open the man who had worn it that very day.

pockets there was a crumpled handkerchief, while about it there The button at the breast, hovered the vague odour of cigars. she noticed, was loose and hung by a thread as if he had been in the habit of playing with it, even the bit of frayed braid on the cuff spoke in some unaccountable way of palpitating, everyday, intimate life.

A

gush of

the first she had shed rose to the wretched She pressed her pinched lips to the warm, woolly sleeve, and then, with a convulsive movement, seized the dressinggown and pressed it passionately against her flat chest. With the

woman

s

tears

eyes.

bundle in her arms, hugged close in guilty exultation, Mrs. Rathstole to the door, and so noiselessly out and up the stair.

bourne

As With

before,

the

dank night swooned in the dour passages. a beat which seemed to speak of the

a hurrying beat,

inexorable passage of time, the hall clock ticked, while behind, in the silent room, the motionless figure with the upturned feet

loomed grim and aloof in the

faint

gleam of the vanishing

light.

An Autumn

Elegy By C. W. Dalmon

it is

fitting,

NowTo think how

and becomes us fast

all

our time of being fades. his mead-cup, with a sigh,

The Year puts down And kneels, deep in the red and yellow And tells his beads like one about to For,

when

the last leaves

do hard penance

New

Until the

And

tis

There

Year

is

;

there

for the joys that were,

tolls his

in vain to whisper,

"

passing-bell.

Be of

a resurrection after death

When Autumn

cheer, ;

tears will turn to

Spring-time rain,

As through the earth the Spirit quickeneth Toward the old, glad Summer-life again

He

"

!

will not smile to hear,

But only look more "

;

fall,

He must away unto a bare, cold cell In white St. Winter s monastery

To

glades, cie

sorrowful, and say,

No

How

can you mock me if you love me ? day draws very nigh when I must go

The The new

will be the

The Yellow Book

new

Vol. IV.

;

P

I

pass

;

;

away."

Yet

An Autumn

248

Elegy

Yet, kneeling with him, still more sad than he, I saw him once turn round and smile as sweet

As in the happy rose and lily days, When, from between the stubble of the

A

The

sun

s

eternity. to flash a moment in his eyes

Hope seemed And, knowing him "

wheat,

skylark soared up through the clouds to praise

How

That

still

fair

so well, I

know

j

he thought

the legend through the ages brought,

to live

is

Death

s

most sweet surprise

"

!

Two

Pictures

By

I.

II.

A

Lady

in

Portrait of

P.

Wilson Steer

Grey Emil Sauer

--i >

*C.

J

*

The End

of an Episode By Evelyn the novelist, had

DREW,

blind.

gone

And

Sharp

the ladies

who ALAN

had come to inquire after him sat and discussed the matter over their afternoon tea. Most of the people from the

country round baffled

by

his

who

had come with the same object had gone away attitude for Allan Drew had

uncompromising

never cultivated the particular

demanded by

;

of social emotions which were

set

his present situation

;

and he had no intention of

helping the people, who bored him, to get through a formula of compassion that he did not want. So this afternoon he sat and listened in silence while his visitors talked trial

of which they had not the

with conviction about a

least experience.

is "It difficult, sometimes, to understand the workings of In spite of the years said the Rector s wife. Providence, but of practice that she must have had in the work of consolation, she "

did not

To

seem

to be getting

novelist

she

inclination to treat

him

the

and a Parish Councillor "

Almost

impossible,

on very well now.

appeared

to

like a villager

who had yes,"

said

be

wavering

who

between

an

had to be patronised

to be propitiated.

Allan Drew, and he shifted his

position wearily. "

I

think Fate

is

sometimes kinder than she seems

at first

sight,"

said

The End

256

of an Episode

the Squire s wife, who had read therefore did not talk of Providence.

said

"

No

doubt

he patiently, and

there

are

some modern the

assented

instances,"

novels, and

wondered vaguely why the third lady

blind

man

whom

they

had indistinctly mentioned to him on their arrival had not spoken He had not lost his sight long, and it worried him to be at all. unable to attach any kind of personality to her. Loss of physical sight may sometimes mean a gain of spiritual She sometimes the Rector s wife laboured onwards. perception," "

copied out her husband s sermons for him, and she had dropped unawares into the phraseology. It is to be hoped there are compensations," said her host, and "

he turned towards the sofa where he imagined his to be sitting.

The "

I

seem

guest

suppose there s some good in being blind, as you both think so, but I don t know where it comes in, I

m

to

sure

;

for all

and

I

that,"

m

certain

perfectly

nothing can

she said, not very clearly

incoherence

her in

unknown

third lady spoke at last.

with

relief,

and

;

make up

for

it

but the novelist hailed the

recognised

human

note

it. "

Nothing

The

can,"

third lady

he

and nodded

said,

went on

in her

direction.

:

His countenance wonder, have you tried Dr. Middleton ? fell After all, she was only like everybody else. again. "Oh no, I haven t tried him, nor any one else you are likely to "

"

I

mention," "

"

to go. his

he answered with a touch of impatience.

Haven t you, really ? Now Oh, very likely," he said

The

Squire

s

I call

that rather a pity;

indifferently,

wife was the

hand warmly and made the

first

to

don

and waited

"

t

for

you ? them

move, and she pressed remark that her

unnecessary

husband

257

By Evelyn Sharp husband would come and read the paper to him

as

usual in the

The Squire had a blatant voice, and thought it necessary to read with a great deal of expression, and always mistook the novelist s affliction for deafness. morning.

"

be

I shall

Allan in a

said

delighted,"

spiritless

voice.

was not the Squire who came to read the Times to him on the following morning. It was the unknown

But

after

all

it

lady of the night before ; and she knocked at his door just as the housekeeper was clearing away the breakfast. "The Squire has a cold," she explained, with the faintest

suggestion of laughter in her voice, instead. cold, isn "

It t it

It is

is

It

?

and

"

so unpleasant to read to

makes

so

many

said

I

any one

if

I

would come

you ve got

a

interruptions."

very unpleasant to be read to by the Squire when the Somehow the reading

Squire has got a cold," said Allan, boldly. did not promise to be quite as dull as usual. "

Where

"

shall "

altogether

mind "

;

I

I

?

begin

she said, disregarding his remark know, but I hope you won t

read atrociously, you

that."

How

do you expect

me

to believe

"

it ?

that she should begin with the Foreign

She had not under-estimated her tricks of

which

a bad reader

is

he

said,

She

powers.

capable.

and suggested

News. had

all

the

She made two or three

Oh, bother attempts at every word that baffled her, and said, She forgot to read out any of the explanatory at the end of each. the politics on the Continent as headings, and she rushed through

"

"

!

though they mentioned.

all

related to

one nation whose name she had not

She frequently read a few

lines

to

herself and then

continued aloud further on, while her listener had to supply the context for himself. "

That

s

the end of the Foreign

News,"

she said presently, to

Allan

s

The End

258 Allan

intense

s

understand "

I

find

don

;

"

relief. t

of an Episode

think politics are

difficult

very

to

?

you

them most

I

he confessed, and he had to bewildering," longer while she read the rest of the news

wait patiently a little to herself and made many

comments on

it

out aloud

and he was

;

that quite willing to believe her when she told him presently there was absolutely nothing in the paper. Never mind about the paper, I ve had quite enough," he said ; "

"

won

t

talk instead

you

What

?

she said

I ll tell you all the news, shall I ? going to be a temperance meeting in the schoolroom to m and I for a on BlackcliffHill walk this afternoon." morrow, going I always walk on Blackcliff Hill myself in the afternoon," "

There

a

good

idea,"

"

;

s

"

murmured Allan

in parenthesis.

The Squire has got a cold oh, I And let me see, is there anything "

"

tremendous

fuss

somebody took another,

told else

you

know

went on.

there was a

about something before I got up this morning a horse somewhere and broke it somehow or ;

knees or the harness or something, and

its

she

that,"

I

?

That

late to breakfast.

really

is all.

Did you

came down know such a

I

ever

"

place as this "

"

Oh, but

?

that isn

Why, what

"Well

t

nearly

all,"

he protested with a smile.

"

else

?

he

yourself,"

said,

and put

his leg over the

arm of

his

chair and turned his face in her direction. "

isn

t

"

Oh, but

that

s

so

anything to tell Yet you have

suffered a little as "Well,

necessary

I

dull,"

she said hastily

there isn lived,"

t

"and

;

besides, there

really."

he said slowly,

"

lived,

and perhaps

well."

suppose

I

have had

my

share,"

she said

with the

sigh., "

And

By Evelyn Sharp And

"

"

in all

Loved

Oh,

!

259

loved."

probability

well, of course, every

and besides

one has

"

she interrupted again. "

Very "

"

possibly

he went on deliberately.

hated,"

We-ell, perhaps, I don t let s hear all about

well."

Then

seemed

It "

But,"

really

unkind

it,"

he said encouragingly. any one in so sad a situation.

to refuse

she said wavering,

"there s

such a

lot:

where

shall

I

"

begin "

I

?

acknowledge that

matter carefully,

a

is

difficulty,"

he

said,

weighing the

but perhaps if you were to choose one episode." One episode, yes," she said, pondering. "Taken from an interesting period of your life, before you "

"

were so old "

I

as to

do think

really

"

she burst out angrily.

Allan hastened to explain that his estimate of her age, being based entirely upon what he knew of her wit and understanding, and not upon her personal appearance, was most probably ex aggerated. "

But what kind of episode

"Oh,

found his "

"

?

she pursued reluctantly.

well, that I will leave to

way

Before

I

to the

window,

was married or

you,"

still

with "

after

?

he

said

his face

politely;

and he

towards her.

she asked.

Well, I should say decidedly after. The probability is that you married very young, so that the episodes, if there really were "

any,

came

later on.

And

I

should say that, not very long after

you may have gone away together to the seaside, where the weather was bad and the days were long, and you began to And then, let us suppose that your husband feel rather bored. was called up i-o town unexpectedly and some one else, who was either,

;

young

too,

and bored

too, staying in the

same

seaside place "

Really,

The End

260 Mr.

"Really,

of an Episode

cried

Drew!"

the

suppose that you knew more about One almost might," he agreed,

it "

"

where was was

perhaps dabble in a

A

"

novelist

He bowed "

!

go on

Let

?

me

see,

young person, who He would probably be an artist of some kind, or

Oh,

I ?

also bored.

"

do

I

might almost

"one

other,

than

shall I

?

the advent of the other

profession."

she suggested.

head smilingly. For the purposes of argument

And

this

his

young

novelist

we will call him a novelist. may have met you perhaps, and you may

have gone for long walks together." All along the cliff," she murmured. "

talked Art together ? All about the novel that wasn "

"And "

"

And

"And "

your husband became the novelist

And

the

published

more

persistent,"

developed

daily

then,"

she added.

neglectful."

she put

in.

and hourly

until

your

she

said,

"

husband "

more

still

situation

t

still

Came

back by the midday train one on her hand.

Saturday,"

resting her chin "

And

the aspiring novelist had to pack up the novel that was

not then published and And he had to go right away, and he never came back," she cried, suddenly starting up and walking over to the other window, "

where she remained standing with her back to him. "Yes ? said Allan with a smile, "then it was nothing but an "

ordinary episode after

There was

all."

a little pause,

which she occupied by throwing the

blind-tassel about. "

Mr. Drew, why

did

you make up

all

that nonsense

"

?

she

said suddenly. "It

261

By Evelyn Sharp "

was nonsense then

It

to

"Why?

really

it

said

to

up, and

talk

as

if

as

if

it

really

once.

somebody

"he

happen

The

you make

did

"Why

happened

"

?

carelessly.

"Oh,

because I suppose

Didn

once.

somebody

it

did

"

t it ?

next pause lasted longer.

"

thought you didn t know," she muttered presently. The blind-tassel was flying wildly through the air. He laughed I

slightly. "

"

I

didn

At

all

At

t.

least,

not until you began to

events, you have not altered

the blind-tassel

came

"

I

Well,

never,"

much,"

read."

she retorted, and

off in her hand. said

the

Squire

s

wife

from

door

the

way. "

I

And you don t seem

have knocked three times.

to

be

You were talking just as though you reading the paper either. had known one another all your lives." I believe we were," assented the novelist. "

exclaimed his companion elaborately, "we have we met on the East Coast once, ever so long Isn t it odd ? ago, soon after I was married. In fact, a coincidence," said Allan, to help her out. "You

see,"

just discovered that

"

"

The Squire s wife looked as though she did not believe in coincidences much. "

How

you say

very

strange,"

she said

so last night, Everilde

After that, the Squire talking between them.

s

"

;

but

why

in the world didn

t

"

?

wife and Mrs. Witherington did

But Allan managed

to get in a

all

word

the just

they were leaving. what time did you say you would be walking on Blackhe murmured. cliff Hill ?

as

"And

"

"

Ah,"

The End

262

of an Episode

she answered with a laugh. "But I Blackcliff Hill is not the East Coast." "Ah,"

"

And

the novel

he said

is published,"

I wonder they walked away not going to find out." Anyhow, I "

as

:

if

am

older

now, and

and he added to himself

;

her husband

is

still

m

But Everilde Witherington was

careful to let

him know

at

which, by the way, did not take place on that her husband had gone abroad, and that she

their next meeting,

BlackclifF Hill,

come to stay with her great friend, the Squire s wife, to recover from the effects of influenza. After that the conversation had

flagged a last "

and the interview was not such a success

little,

as

the

one had been.

You two don t seem s wife, who was

Squire

to have

much "

present

;

what

to talk s

about,"

said the

use of being old

the

"

friends "

?

There

isn

are used up, "And

t

any

and

we

besides,"

use,"

said the novelist,

are not in touch

"

all

with the

added Mrs. Witherington,

the old subjects

new

ones."

"the

fact

of your

supposing us to be old friends prevents your joining in the conver sation,

although you are there all the time, don t you see." yes I see, thank you," said the Squire s wife;

"Oh,

company, three "Oh

dear, no,

I

didn

t

"

I

I

mean

that,

really,"

said her friend;

depends on the other two. have ever had have been with two other

besides, that entirely

times

"two s

s none."

Some of

"and

the best

people."

should like to ask the two other people about

that,"

said

Allan.

About

a

month

later

they really did meet one evening

on

Blackcliff Hill, and this time without the Squire s wife. Blackcliff Hill was a smooth, round chalk rising, covered with

gorse and bramble and springy turf, a broad expanse of green slopes

By Evelyn Sharp

263

and hollows without a peak or a suggestion of grandeur or barrenness, a hill like a hundred other hills, with a soft fresh breeze

slopes

that lingered over "

How

without ruffling

it

you know

did

was me

it

surface.

its "

?

she said

when

he called out

to her. "

I

always

he answered

know,"

though he had not wasted Oh,"

set,

you

"So "

I

a tone

which sounded

as

his

"

know."

did

The

at

I

air

is

s

he

least,"

and smiled.

said,

very pleasant up here

mean one can

"It

in

time during the past month. their hands met, I came up to see the sun

she said as

"

I

m

so

sorry,"

walk of

a favourite

through the bracken

"

I

;

;

you can

see three counties

she stammered.

he went on

as they strolled the placid conventionality of the

mine,"

like

place."

"That s I just what I don t like," she burst out impatiently ; would much rather have boulders, and miles of heather, and no "

haystacks, or cornfields, or chimneys." The East Coast for instance ? he suggested, and she subsided into a careful study of the three counties. "

"

"

do you look at

Why

him

she asked "

I

like to

answered "Oh,

those

Yes,

I

think

Yes,

He

I

though you could

see

my

can, for the sake of the old

old times

suppose

that they are "

:

as

face

?

times,"

he

are

of

lightly.

dragging them up. "

me

presently.

Why it is

she cried;

!"

can

rather

t

"

how

fond

you leave them alone

invidious,"

you "

?

he said solemnly,

"

now

gone."

now

that they are

gone,"

she echoed, also solemnly.

laughed outright.

"What

a

comedy

it all

is

!

Do

you remember how we

lived for

The End of

264 heads

?

"

loving each other

What

"

and

felt

"

Do

?

Who

"

known

t

laughed again

it

whole

for a

told

you,"

asked, and her thoughts

she

flew to the

wife.

s

you didn

that. Now, please, me you were a widow

tell

t

I

?

want to know why Were you afraid of

"

?

What Then

"

an idea I

"

!

suppose

it

was a miserable truce with respectability the broken-down novelist without

enable you to patronise

to

implicating Allan

How

"

!

away.

dare you

"

?

she cried, and snatched her hand

He

put his into his pockets, and strolled on. you must own it is slightly unaccountable.

"Well,

it

you suppose

haven

Oh, never mind

"

me

I

foolish

month, you Squire

He

do you mean ? she said quickly. for her hand, and took it between his.

Mean

"

an Episode

with that midday train on Saturday hanging over our And now that there is no one else to prevent us from

for days,

was one of your impetuous freaks

And

too long for that. liking

me

a little

still,

How

amusing "

we

?

I

put

down

it

in

and wishing to conceal

dispossessed of that idea. "

then

And she

prosy you are," you used to be."

my

thought it

up

vanity to your

But

it.

I

was soon

"

then finally "

grumbled,

I

But you kept

at first.

you

are not half so

as

No, we don

t

seem

to hit

it

quite so well as

You see, you were in love with me, and You know I never said so once

we

did then, do "

I

"

"

!

"And

we had

mostly sticky "

There

isn

plenty to talk about.

But our conversation

is

now."

t

the novel any

more,"

she said. "Nor

265

By Evelyn Sharp Nor

"

the

"

It

"

down

sat

They Squire

s

wife.

s

very

Odd

said the novelist.

odd,"

7

?

call it

dull."

I wonder who invented the ridicu two people marrying and living happily ever after.

then, if you like.

"Dull,

lous idea of It

he rejoined ruthlessly. near the top of the hill, and wished for the

husband,"

must have been the "

All the same,

I

m

first

man who wrote

rather

for money."

said

disappointed,"

Mrs. Withering-

ton, gazing steadily at the three counties. "

What

that there "

"

about is

?

That you can

t

fall

nothing against our marrying

Oh

no, not What then

that,"

in

love with

me now

"

?

she said.

"

?

well, only that I hoped, just a little you know, that still like me enough to to ask me, so that I could

"Oh,

might bother "

So that you could have the intense pleasure of refusing

Sorry "

you oh,

"

!

I

We

disappointed can go on

me

?

you."

being chums, though, can

t

we

"

?

she sug

gested, pulling up handfuls of moss.

he groaned, do be a little more original than Oh, don You are not writing for money, are you ? that. "

"

t,"

there is nothing she cried desperately, "Then," sunset ; and what s the use of that when you can t see "

"

"Can t

I

?

he said in a curious tone,

"don

t I

left

but the

"

it ?

know

that

it

has just got down to the line of fir-trees along the canal, and is and making the hills on this side streaking across the cornfield,

warm He was sheltering "

look

?

his eyes from the sun with his hand as he and stared at him suddenly. spoke, and Everilde turned "

Allan,"

The End

266

of an Episode

she cried, catching at his hand and pulling it down, Allan, you can you he said with a laugh, squeezing her fingers indiffer "Yes," "

Allan,"

"

"

ently because

Middleton "

"

if

I it

they happened to be in

after

"

his,

yes.

I

did try

Dr.

all."

never thought you could be blind for long," she muttered, had been any one else, now but why did you keep it to

yourself?"

He grass "

laughed heartily as he stretched himself out and tilted his hat forward.

Do

you

really

want

to

know

?

Because

I

lazily

on the

wanted to have

my secret too that s all. You see, I thought that if I were blind and helpless and all that sort of thing, you might get to care a little, don t you see, and "

Then we were

triumph "Dr.

both

in her voice. Middleton?"

"

disappointed,"

I

m

she said with a note of

rather glad of

she said

that."

presently to the three counties.

Then, if it hadn t been for me But no one finished her sentence, bethought him of a cigarette. "

for

Allan

Drew

had suddenly

Three Drawings By Aubrey Beardsley

I.

II.

III.

The

Mysterious Rose Garden

The Repentance Portrait of

The Yellow Book

Vol. IV.

of Mrs. * * * *

Miss Winifred Emery

THE or

RE

P

MTA N CE

n^

c/l J

i88o By Max Beerbohm Say, shall these things be forgotten

In the

Row

that

men

Beauty Clare

?

call Rotten, Hamilton A idc.

is no one, however optimistic, that has not wished, from time to time, that he had been born into some other age than this. Poor Professor Froude once admitted that

SUPPOSE that there

I

he would like to have been a prehistoric man. Don Quixote is many who have tried to revive the days of chivalry. desire to have lived in the eighteenth century is common to all

only one of

A

our second-rate felt

that

when

society

losing yet

white It

litterateurs.

But, for

would have been nice

it

was

first

my own

to live

in

part, I

that

have often

bygone epoch

inducted into the mysteries of art and, not

old and elegant tenue, first babbled of blue china and and of the painter Rossetti and of the poet Swinburne.

its

lilies,

would have been

a fine

thing to see the tableaux at Cromwell

or the Pastoral Plays at Coombe Wood, to have strained holes in my eyes for a glimpse of the Jersey Lily, clapped

House

my

gloves fo r

Connie

strains of the

Gilchrist,

Manola

Valse.

and danced

The

all

night long to the must have been

period of 1880

delicious.

It

1880

276 It

now

is

so

remote from us that much therein

hard for

is

us to understand, much must remain mobled in the mists of with antiquity. The material upon which any historian, grappling no any historical period, chiefly relies is, as he himself would

doubt

admit,

historians.

whatever

Strangely

other already been written by historian has yet written of are the contemporary memoirs, though

has

enough, no

most vital epoch. Nor indeed many, very valuable.

this

From

such writers

Williams, Frith, or the Bancrofts, you gain

little

as

Montague

peculiar

know

quaint old chronicler, H. W. Lucy, describes amusingly enough the frown of Sir Richard (afterwards Lord) But what can Cross or the tea-rose in the Premier s button-hole.

That

ledge.

he

tell

us of the negotiations that preceded

to public

life,

Mr. Gladstone

or of the secret councils of the

s

return

Fourth Party, whereby

Stafford was gradually eclipsed ? At such things as these can but guess. Good memoirs must always be the cumulation of gossip, but gossip, alas, was killed by the Press. In the tavern Sir

we

s shop, all secrets passed into every ear, but from the morning paper little is to be culled. Manifestations are made manifest to us, but the inner aspect of things is sacred. I have

or the barber

been seriously handicapped by having no real material, save such newspapers of the time as Punch, or the London Charivari, The The idea of excava S^ueen, The Lady s Newspaper, and others. tion,

which

in the

for the historian,

obvious reader

reason

difficulties

East has been productive of such rich material indeed suggested to me, but owing to

was

had to be abandoned.

I

trust then

that the

pardon any deficiencies in so brief an excursus by of the great difficulties of research and the paucity of

may

intimate authorities.

The ing

it

period of 1880 and of the four years immediately succeed

must always be memorable

to

us,

for

it

marks

a great

change

By Max Beerbohm

277

constitution of society. It would seem that during the five or six years that preceded it, the Upper Ten Thousand," as they were quaintly called by the journals of the

the

in

change

"

day,

of

had

taken

Wales had

a

somewhat more

frigid

tone.

The

Prince

inclined for a while to be restful after the revels of

The

continued seclusion of Queen Victoria, who youth. during these years was engaged upon that superb work of intro spection and self-analysis, More Leaves from the Highlands, had begun to tell upon the social system. Balls and entertainments,

his

both at Court and

in

the

houses of the nobles, were notably

The

vogue of the opera was passing. Even in the top of the season, Rotten Row, so I read, was not intolerably crowded. Society was becoming dull. fewer.

In 1880, however, came the Dissolution and the tragic fall of How great and the sudden triumph of the Whigs. was the change that came upon Westminster thenceforward must Disraeli,

be

known

to

any one who has studied the annals of the incompar

Parliament of 1880 and the succeeding years. Gladstone, with a monstrous majority behind him and revelling in the old

able

splendour of speech that neither the burden of age nor six years sulking had made less ; Parnell, pale, deadly, mysterious, with his crew of wordy peasants that were to set at naught all that had been the activity of these two sufficed to raise this Parliament above

held sacred by the Saxon

would have

What

of young

men all

alone

others.

his

Randolph Churchill, who, despite halting speech, foppish mien and rather coarse fibre of mind, was yet the most brilliant parliamentarian of the century ? What pranks he and his

ened poor

little

band played upon the House How they fright and infuriated the Premier. What of the !

Sir Stafford

eloquent atheist, Charles Bradlaugh, pleading at the Bar, striding forward to the very mace, while the Tories yelled and mocked at hiiru

1880

278

him, hustled down the stone steps with the broadcloth torn to tatters from his back ? Imagine the existence of God being made a party question I wonder if such scenes can ever be witnessed !

Whilst these again at St. Stephen s as were witnessed then. curious elements were making themselves felt in politics, so too The aristocracy in Society were the primordia of a great change. could not

live

vapid, waxen.

by good-breeding alone. The old delights seemed Something new was wanted. And thus came it

that the spheres

of fashion and of art met, thus began the great

social renascence of 1880.

Be in

it

remembered that long before

heart

the

artists

had

of Chelsea

settled

a

kind

there, deliberately

of Beauty.

Certain

work in the they were wont to put it,

refusing

as wrought," ordinary official way, and ** for the pleasure and sake of all that "

time there had been

this

of cult

is

to

fair."

Swinburne,

Whistler, Burne-Jones, were of this little community all of them men of great industry and caring for little but their craft. Quietly and unbeknown they produced

Morris,

Rossetti,

poems or their pictures or their essays, read them or showed them to one another^ and worked on. In fact, Beauty

their

had existed long before

1880.

It

was Mr. Oscar Wilde who

This remarkable youth, a student at the University of Oxford, began to show himself everywhere, and even published a volume of poems in several editions as a kind of decoy

first

trotted her round.

The lampoons that at this period were written against him are still extant, and from them, and from the references to him in the contemporary journals, it would to the shy artificers of Chelsea.

appear that enjoyed at in every

Annish

it

was

this

to

him

time.

that Art owed the great social vogue she Peacock feathers and sunflowers glittered

room, the curio shops were ransacked for the furniture of men and women, fired by the fervid words of the young

days,

Oscar

By Max Beerbohm

279

A

few smart women Oscar, threw their mahogany into the streets. even dressed themselves in suave draperies and unheard-of greens. Into whatever ballroom you went, you would surely find, among the

women

in tiaras

score of

half a

and the fops and the distinguished foreigners, in

comely ragamuffins

murmuring

velveteen,

sonnets, posturing, waving their hands. Nincompoopiana" the craze was called at first, and later /Estheticism." "

"

It

was

in

of fashion.

1880 that Private Views became necessary functions I

View of the There was Robert Browning, the poet,

should like to have been at a Private

Old Grosvenor Gallery.

button-holing a hundred friends and doffing his hat with a courtly to more than one duchess. There, too, was Theo

sweep

Marzials, poet and eccentric, and Walter Sickert, the impres and Charles Colnaghi, the hero of a hundred tea-fights, and young Brook field, the comedian, and many another good

sionist,

fellow. for

My

Lord of Dudley, the virtuoso, came there leaning arm of his fair young wife. Disraeli, with eyes and face like some seamed Hebraic parchment,

support upon the

his lustreless

came

also

and whispered behind

his

hand

to the faithful

What a wonderful scene interesting folk of the time thus writes of it What

!

!

A

Corry.

chronicler

:

"There

were quaint,

beautiful,

extraordinary

costumes walking

artistic-aesthetics, aesthetics that made up their and suddenly gave way in some important point the top of a grave and glowing garment that a frivolous bonnet on put There were fashion Albert Durer might have designed for a mantle.

about

minds

ultra-aesthetics,

to be daring,

able costumes that Mrs.

Mason

or

Madame

Elise

might have turned

The motley crowd mingled, forming into groups, out that morning. sometimes dazzling you by the array of colours that you never thought to see in full daylight

flitted cheerily hat in an agony of pokes and

Canary-coloured garments

by garments of the saddest green.

A

angles

28o

1880

a bonnet that was a gay garland of cape that might have enshrouded the form of a Mater Dolorosa hung by the side of a jauntily-striped Langtry-hood."

was seen

angles

company with

in

A vast

flowers.

Of the purely aesthetic fads of Society were also the Pastoral fad they must Plays at Coombe Wood, and a very charming have been. There was one specially great occasion when Shake The As like was given. day was as hot as speare s "

you

play,

a

June day can

be,

it,"

and every one drove down

in

open carriages

It the evening returned in the same way. was the very Derby Day of asstheticism. every character and the brown in the play was given a perfectly appropriate attire, and green of their costumes harmonised exquisitely with the ferns

and hansoms, and

in

To

"

through which they wandered, the trees beneath which they lay, and the lovely English landscape that surrounded the Pastoral It must have been a proud day for the Lady Archibald Players."

who

Campbell, directed

its

gave

giving.

this

fete,

and

for

who sat and watched from under The women wore jerseys and tied-back

guests

their faces

And

the

from the sun.

men

W.

E.

Fairer to see than the

Godwin, who

mummers were

the

the dark and griddled elms. Zulu hats shaded skirts.

Bangles shimmered upon their wrists.

of fashion wore light frock-coats and light top-hats

with black bands, and the aesthetes were in velveteen, carrying lilies.

Nor

does

it

for instruction

time, an

seem that Society went entirely to the aesthetes life. There was actively proceeding, at this

in

effort to raise the average

independently of the aesthetes.

more

strictly, a

Professional Beauty

What

Philistine production.

Professional Beauty, signifies, it,

of aristocratic loveliness, quite

1 he

how any woman

we do not and may never know.

It

is

was,

exactly this term,

gained a

certain,

right

to

however, that there

By Max Beerbohm there were at this

They

applied.

time a number of

281

women

to

whom

it

was

received special attention from the Prince of Wales,

and hostesses would move heaven and earth to have them at their receptions. Their portraits were exhibited in every shop. assembled before their door every morning to see them

Crowds start

for

Rotten Row.

Mrs. Langtry, the incomparably beautiful, Mrs. always appeared in black, and Lady Lonsdale, after wards Lady de Grey, were all of them famous Professional Beauties. may doubt whether the movement, symbolised by Wheeler, who

We

these ladies, was quite in accord with the dignity and elegance that always should mark the best society. Any effort to make

Beauty compulsory robs Beauty of its chief charm. same time, we do believe that this movement, so far a real

wish to

raise a practical standard

But, at the came of

as it

of feminine loveliness

for

not deserve the strictures that have been passed upon by posterity. One of its immediate consequences was the Then it was that incursion of American ladies into London. classes, does

all

it

these pretty

great.

little

"

creatures,

clad in

Worth

s

most elegant con

drawled their way into the drawing-rooms of the Appearing, as they did, with the especial favour of the

fections,"

first

Prince of Wales, they had an immediate success. They were so new that their voices and their dresses were mimicked

wholly

partout.

The English whom alone

the Prince,

beauties were very angry, especially with they blamed for the vogue of their rivals.

achieve History credits the Prince of Wales with many notable ments. Not the least of these is that he discovered the inhabitants

of America. It will be seen that in this

renascence the keenest students of

Nor, however, were exquisite were women. Since the days of King George the noble idle.

the

adornment had been

sadly neglected

by them.

men wholly art

Great

of

self-

fops, like

D

Orsay,

i88o

282

D Orsay, school.

had come upon the town, but never had they formed a had become simpler, wardrobes Dress, therefore,

smaller, fashions apt to linger.

soon to win for

itself

the

title

of

In 1880 arose the sect that was "

The

What

Mashers."

exactly

no two etymologists will ever agree. But we can learn clearly enough from the fashion-plates and caricatures of the day what the Mashers were in outward this

title

signified I suppose

semblance, from the lampoons what was their mode of life. Unlike the Dandies of the Georgian era they made no pretence to any qualities of the intellect, and, wholly contemptuous of the aesthetes, recognised

no

art save the art

written about the Mashers.

of dress.

The Music

Much

Hall was

might be

unknown

to

them, but nightly they gathered at the Gaiety Theatre. Nightly the stalls were fulfilled with row after row of small, sleek heads, surmounting collars of monstrous height. Nightly in the foyer

were lisped the praises of Kate Vaughan, her graceful dancing, or of Nellie Farren, her matchless fooling. Never a night passed but the dreary stage-door was surrounded by a crowd of fools

A

bearing bouquets and fools incumbent upon canes. strange I used to know a lady whose father was actually present at the first night of "The Forty Thieves," and fell enamoured of one cult

!

By such links is one age joined to another. It is always something rather absurd about the past. easy to sneer at these Mashers, with their fantastic raiment and It is easy to laugh at all that ensued when first vacuous lives. of the coryphees.

There

the

is

mummers

To me

and the stainers of canvas strayed into Mayfair.

the most wonderful

moment

of the pantomime has always

seemed to come when the winged and wired fairies begin to fade away and, as they fade, clown and pantaloon tumble on joppling and grimacing. The social condition of 1880 fascinates me in the same manner.

Its contrasts are irresistible.

Perhaps,

By Max Beerbohm

283

Perhaps, in my study of the period, I may have fallen so deeply beneath its spell that I have tended, now and again, to exaggerate its real

importance.

it

fancy

I

lay

no claim

to the true historical spirit.

was a red-chalk drawing of

a girl in a

I

mob-cap, signed

To "Frank Miles, 1880," that first impelled me to research. give an accurate and exhaustive account of the period would need a far less brilliant pen than mine. But I hope that, by dealing, even so briefly as I have dealt, with its more strictly sentimental aspects, I may have lightened the task of the scientific historian.

And

I

look to Professor Gardiner and to the Bishop of Oxford.

Proem

to

"

The Wonderful

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Where THOUGH

Though our Century totters graveward We may laugh a little yet.

Oh

our age-end style perplexes All our elders time has tamed ; !

On

our sleeves

Our

diseases,

we wear our

sexes,

unashamed.

Have we lost the mood romantic That was once our right by birth

?

Lo the greenest girl is frantic With the woe of all the earth. !

But we know

And we "

We

a British

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would

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rumour,

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ventilate our

In the very jaws of

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humour

Hell."

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By John Davidson Though our thoughts turn ever Doomwards, Though our sun is well-nigh set, Though our Century totters tombwards,

We

may

laugh a

little

yet.

285

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SCRIBNER S MAGAZINE FOR

constantly widening connection of pHE the work will drawn

1895.

Scribner s Magazine" in both literary and artistic

"

coming year in novel and stimulating directions, upon during American Magazine. represent the highest type of a progressive and popular be

.each issue

to

make

ANNOUNCEMENTS. The Amazing NEW

A

Marriage, by GEORGE MEREDITH,

SERIAL NOVEL

January Number

the

The History // ill

be

"

of

vill begin in

SCRIBNER."

Last Quarter - Century in the United States

of the

an important feature,

f

^tending over a

number of months.

the preparation of this history the Magazine has been fortunate in securing of Brown University, who unites the closest study President He possesses especially the fresh of American history with the broad grasp of a man of affairs. this character. view of and point picturesque narrative which mean everything in a work of

To undertake

E BENJAMIN ANDREWS,

The Story

of

a Play

Will be a short novel by and one of Mr. Hi wells

WILLIAM s

D.

HOWELLS,

most delightful pictures of

the experience of a

New York

a new

life in

young playwright,

field.

Another undertaking of interest in juitc a different field will be ROBER T Papers on the Practical Problems of Life, under the title of 41

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of

The

"

"The

"

Income."

The

Case of

American Party

"

Commissariat." "

"Education."

Dwelling." "The

*

GK A -\

7

.S

Living."

AND

Man"

"The

The Summer

Problem."

Married and Single Case of Woman."

Life."

Politics"

NOAH BROOKS,

Will be a merits of three articles by dealing with the history of part> man who has been politics with the clearness, entertaining quality and personal reminiscences of a for years a leading journalist and student of the subject.

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;

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A

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PRESENT

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KEYNOTES. GEORGE EGERTON.

By

Sixth Edition "A

/vi ?i

yi-ady,

We have met temperament vibrates through every line. tenderness since Mr. Kipling s Without Benefit of Clergy."

rich, passionate

.

.

.

;:

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Daily

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s manifestly a close observer of Nature carefully takes stock of the up-to-date thoughts that

word sketches

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moods, and one, moreover, who shake mankind." Daily Telegraph,

Not

"

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Farm

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1

Queen.

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work of genius. There is upon the whole thing a stamp of downright inevitableness as of things which must be written, and written exactly in that way." Speaker. "

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A CHILD OF THE AGE. By FRANCIS ADAMS. Ready. "The

... One

stir us.

"

love incident

Theie

Feverel.

.

is .

.

a

is

"

It

a

exquisite,

of

romance upon

It is rarely that

man

and exquisitely

told.

a novelist

Mr. Adams has done

is

their story

to great

which

;

her emotions

wormwood

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first

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book."

it."

excellence."

pain."

Saturday Review. Lucy and Richard

recalls

able to suffuse his story with the

in this

of big talent could have produced

comes recognizably near

lives

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Only

is

Literary World. Pall Matt Gazette.

Possesses a depth and clearness of insight, a delicacy of touch, and a brilliancy and beauty of style very remarkable in so young a writer." Scotsman. "

LONDON

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THE GREAT GOD PAN AND THE INMOST LIGHT.

ARTHUR MACHEN.

By

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The supernatural element

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"

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POOR

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Translated from the Russian of F.

By

DOSTOIEVSKY

LENA MILMAN,

WITH A PREFACE BY GEORGE MOORE. Ready. "These

One

tragedy "

feem

small, but in the

is

of the so

most pathetic things

to novels, the very finest I Dostoievsky, translated by Miss

"

Dostoievsky

s

in

heart-rending, just because

literature,

its

Bookman.

repressed."

As

Fedor

hands of Dostoievsky they make a work of

Black and White.

genius." "

things

have read of

Lena

late

or for long

is

Poor Folk, by

Truth.

Milman."

novel has met with that rare advantage, a really good

tianslator."

Queen.

This admirable translation of a great author." Liverpool Mercury. Poor Folk Englished does rot read like a translation indubitably a master Literary World. piece. "

"

DISCORDS. GEORGE EGERTON.

By

Ready. "The

ignore

it.

student

who would keep

his finger

on the pulse of the time cannot afford

to

Speaker.

another note in the great chorus of revolt ... on the whole clearer, more T. P. ("Book of the Week eloquent, and braver than almost any I have yet heard." Weekly Sun, December 30. "

It is

"),

These masterly word sketches." Daily Telegraph. will be called immoral, it may even be preached against in actual pulpits but here it is, and must be scanned, a lurid picture of the seamy side, painted in colours mixed with tears and blood." Realm. "

"It

"

On

.

the whole

we

congratulate George

LONDON

:

Egerton."

JOHN LANE, THE

Pall Mall Gazette.

BODI.EY HEAD.

.

.

JCXii.

Amour.

By Dolf Wyllarde

Advent.

B/ Mcnie MurieJ By Olive Cas

of Spring.

Forerunner.

By James

Noble

By

Leila

*,., AJ f

c V*

.

MacdonalJ

,

By

5.

\^r

A

a I-kyi.

By H.

Sussex Lanr:;cape.

Draper

].

By William Hyde

in. H6rel Royal, Dieppe IV, Bod!cyHcads,No.I.:Mr. Richard Le Gailienne.

By Walter Sickert

v. Portrait of Mr. George Moore. VI. Rustem Firing the Wilson

Garnett.

VIII.

A

Westmorland

First Shot.

The

.

PJe

By

Patten

By W. W.

Village.

:

;:-.-k.>.

By A. S. Hartrick By Charles Conder

.i

:\ i

By W-!) Rorhensrcin

By M.-i Summer

Air.

-.

\ C.

Knock-out.

IX. Design for a Fan. X. Bodley Heads, No. II. Mr. John Davidson.

Sydney

Mcni-.c:-.

By

?

B

n enl.

ByCh:ut.

u.

Study of

Russell tf..;

By :

Mission of

By John Davidson

Art r.

VII.

^ -^-

.ussia.

Tlie Wonderful

Lavender."

By Henry Hsrland

.

tson

ern s

"

to

Ga".;enne

By G. dhsm R. .Tomson f Shame. By H. B. Mar-

;

Proem

Earl

Ricuard Le an Gii

By Max Beerbohm

XXI. 1880.

erature

-

-.civ, ..:,j

i.aciy in

orrrair ot

Grsy. Ennl Saner.

}

(

B>

P Wilson Steer

1

By-

ght.

.b

an

XVI. Jv/

C.

EL-IS-JUC.

W. Dalmo Bv F.vc!\r

Repentance * * * *

of

Mrs.

l".^

Dixon

hk-.5j-. if

XV. The Maru-^

NigKt.

The Mysterious Rose Garden.

Hai><jci>i

me

i

XIV.

Norman By L. N esbit

By Aubrey

Portrait fred

of

Miss Wini-

Emery.

XVII. Double-page Supplement: Frontispiece for Juvenal.,

Beardiley