4. Tableaux
"Roves d'amour, de gloire,
D'amiti6!
Eendez-moi leur memoire,
Par piti6!
Je tdcherai d'en croire
La moiti6." - Nodier.
My reader, that you may become better acquainted with the characters of this narrative, you may now attend to the examination of a series of tableaux, which shall be faithfully explained and illustrated by the exhibiter.
Scene First. The Hour of Twilight. Mr. Thornton is sitting in his counting-room, ostensibly engaged in inspecting a ledger just presented for approval by his book-keeper. The gentleman does not at all resemble a merchant, but it is in that character that he is known by the assessors. Merchant is also printed against his name in the pages of the " Clinton Directory." Comparatively small as the town may be considered, it has actually begun to boast of a directory, that all the inhabitants may have an opportunity of obtaining that kind of information so imperatively demanded by a people of business habits. Mr. Thornton is nearly three-score years of age, but his hair, although thinned by the relentless scythe of the mower, can not yet receive the epithet of silvery. It still retains the rich brown hue that it wore in early manhood. His brow is almost entirely devoid of furrows, and his face even now glows with as ruddy a tinge as when, about forty years since, he commenced an extended career of mercantile transactions. I say as ruddy, which does not, however, imply that his complexion was ever highly colored. No ; the tint was very far from that of the ripe mountain fruit; for, even in his youth, the blood flowed languidly through his veins. His temperament was decidedly lymphatic. His parents committed a serious error when they sent him to the counting-room. His was not the brain for mighty plans, by which the treasures of all climes should be triumphantly conveyed into his own store-houses. Commerce never derived much advantage from his speculations, if, indeed, by this term of complex import, his petty schemes could be dignified. He never enriched either his country or himself by gigantic efforts for the introduction of new articles of trade, or by expedients for the skillful importation of such as were already in demand. But, although never ranking with the sons of opulence, he towered far above the children of penury. His mercantile affairs were intrusted to a careful accountant ; and his domestic polity had a most watchful superintendent, in the person of the active, resolute woman to whom, in a good hour for his financial concerns, but in an evil one for his home comfort, he had plighted irrevocable vows. Mr. Thornton is tenderly loved by his children, who take pleasure in contrasting their father's indulgent mood with their mother's captious, vigilant demeanor. Being indolent himself, he is always dependent on others for entertainment. Apparently half asleep, he will sit hour after hour, listening to Delia's musical performances, or to Ella's sprightly conversation. Nothing pleases him better than to hear Ella's clear, youthful voice, giving utterance to the vigorous thought and sportive fancy which, even at this early age, rivet the attention of the auditor. Although too slothful ever to bestow more care than is absolutely requisite upon bis business transactions, and too great a lover of his ease to think of aspiring to the honors of a popular orator, he experiences much gratification by giving heed to the fully developed powers of others. He attends lectures and debates, listens to sermons and discussions, lends an unwearying ear to the conversation of his friends, but seldom arouses himself from his torpor to make one effort of his own. Ella is his favorite child ; he sees that she has great mental power, and he will be the last to make objection, should she, a few years hence, rank as author, lecturer, or even should she assume a professor ; s chair. He would enjoy renown, but would prefer that, in his case, it should be reflective. Were the building in which he is sitting on fire, or were he pursued by the freed occupants of a menagerie, he would not be greatly terrified, nor would he make any violent, indecorous exertions for flight. He would resign himself to danger with the calm sentiment of the Mohammedan, "Allah wills it." His submission would not be a token of his piety, but an exponent of the utter listlessness and apathy which have characterized him even from the days of boyhood.
Scene Second. Morning.
Mrs. Thornton, arrayed in a dingy cap, a faded chintz wrapper, and a ragged check apron, is ensconced at a small table, occupying a conspicuous position in the basement story. Her husband has, more than once, humbly suggested that the cost of a neat suit for household labor would be very trifling, but the parsimonious lady cares neither for pleasing the eye of the beholder, nor for bestowing part-worn clothes upon poor relatives or " fragment societies." She therefore persists in rendering her personal appearance quite hideous the first few hours of the day. With no very kindly glance, she is now surveying the operations of her domestics. The elder, a rosy damsel, from that indefinite portion of territory called " Down East," has no capacity, as Mrs. Thornton has frequently averred, for learning to compound pies and tarts in the most approved manner. She is now making a fresh attempt under the scrutinizing eye of her mistress. The younger, a pale, weary girl, recently arrived from " green Erin," is vainly striving to pare apples, without committing the enormity, every day laid to her charge, of abstracting a third part of the fruit, in her efforts to separate the skin from the pulp. Mrs. Thornton is engaged in the laudable task of giving lessons in the culinary art. Well, it is yet early morning. Ko objection can reasonably be made to the lady's presence in her own kitchen, but the spectator longs to entreat that she would be rather more sparing in the use of invective. But enchained as she is by the habits of forty-five years in this world of rivet and cement, it would now be almost impossible that she should ever give evidence of possessing a " meek and quiet spirit." In her own view, she has experienced bitter trials. After a youth of comparative ease, she married a man unable to cope with the difficulties of life. Naturally violent in temper, with a heart uncontrolled by lofty principle, and a mind unfertilized by the dews of knowledge, she has become irritable as well as passionate. Assuming the lead, she is the real, while her husband contents himself with the position of nominal head of the family. The two are an apt representation of the mild Tarquinius and the ferocious Tullia. If the consequences of murder were now as light as in the early days of the seven-hilled city, it is quite possible that the result of this union would also be fatal. Mrs. Thornton is too pharisaical ever to dream that, had she lived in the ages that are past, prior to the Christianizing of public sentiment, she might have been guilty of crimes as atrocious as any that blacken the historic page.
Scene Third. An hour after the morning session of the "Clinton High School"
The preceptor, who is none other than our friend Charles, is standing, chalk in hand, before a blackboard. By his side is a boy, with sorrowful face and drooping mien, gazing hopelessly upon the inscribed diagrams. The unfortunate lad has this day earned the stigma of dunce, for he has been unable to comprehend the test problem. Even now, with the assistance of his teacher, he can not cross the " Pontem Asinorum." His classmates, six girls and three boys, have all succeeded in mastering this problem- dreaded, but simple and beautiful in the eyes of all those who are not wholly devoid of mathematical talent. Unhappy "William declares, with quivering lip, that he can not understand geometry, and earnestly begs that he may be allowed to discontinue the study. The teacher sighs, dismisses the boy, and then, exhausted, sinks into his chair, and supports his aching head with his hand. Despair not, friend, thy pupil is not dull, deficient though he may be in love for the exact sciences, and even of ability for initiation into their mysteries. Thou art often enraptured with glimpses of his brilliant fancy. Forms of beauty in the changing clouds, the myriadic host of stars, and even in the thronged city, are all carefully noted and well appreciated by this boy of intellect so apparently obtuse. A few years hence, his beautiful imaginings will delight the world. As yet, oh, patient teacher, thou dost not see the glory that will gild his path ! The fate of thine other pupils is also vailed by obscurity. As thine eye falls upon the rough boy or the heedless girl, thou canst not discern the transformation which a few years will reveal of the careful mechanic, the notable housewife. That merry little girl, so generous to all, and so facile of comprehension, instead of being the light and joy of an American home, will cross the ocean to impart a knowledge of the living God to the adorers of the inanimate. The exuberance of her spirits will be modified. A most beautiful serenity will succeed. Not the calm which results from mental inaction, but that which arises from the perfect harmony of all the powers. Exhibiting, in her own character, the beauty of our holy religion, she will win as many hearts by her exemplification of the precepts of the gospel, as by her regular ministrations of its truths. Thou shalt assuredly reform the boy whose early inclination for evil so alarms thy soul. Pure in heart, and of spotless reputation, he shall take thine own place, and endeavor to lead the young in the path marked for him by his own teacher. That girl, of undoubted talent, but of indolent habits, will, in consequence of thy efforts, become studious and methodical. In attainments, she will, at no very distant day, equal Olympia Morata herself. She may, perchance, declaim in Greek and Latin. She will certainly possess the power. Only a few of thy present pupils will be distinguished. But all will be good citizens. Thou hast been head of this school but one week. Thou art now almost discouraged by the hopeless aspect of thy charge. Be not driven from the field. Thou hast not mistaken thy vocation. Go on, and fulfill thy destiny.
Scene Fourth. Ten in the Morning.
The parlor of a neat little brown cottage, a mile distant from the mansion of the Thorntons. The windows are draped with linen hangings, of a refreshing green hue ; for in that room, through all the long hours of the weary day, reclines an invalid, whose eyes can hardly bear even the softened light. The bed is curtained, but not so as to exclude the air. On it reposes an elderly man, with no hope of ever again rising and walking forth upon the glad earth. This is Adelaide's father. A painful chronic malady has crippled his limbs, distorted his frame, and, at times, almost deprived him of reason. With no hope of relief, and no prospect of recovery, chained to his couch, like a condemned man to his cell, he blesses God for the gift of his children. He was formerly a mariner. Eight years since, he returned from his last voyage, with a constitution broken by exposure, and a heart heavy with the thought that he could no more sail upon the mighty deep. Sadly did he alight from the carriage which had borne him from the ship to his cottage home. There, new grief was awaiting him. His beloved wife, who had always wept the departure of her ocean lord, and joyously greeted his return, had gone to the land where there is " no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying." The motherless girls clung, weeping, to their bereaved father. The wretched man groaned in agony of spirit Adelaide was then a blushing girl of sixteen ; Rose, a fairy child of nine. The record of that evening was - They sat down and wept, and none strove to comfort them. The next morning, the young Adelaide, upon whom all now depended, arose long before day, resolutely banished every thought of her own grief, and seriously pondered upon the wisest course to be pursued. A physician was early summoned to pronounce upon her father's case. The result was far from encouraging. He could give no hope of cure, and but very little of relief. Life might continue many years, but the tenure would be held on very hard terms. Racking pain would henceforth be his frequent attendant. During her childhood, Adelaide's energy had been uncommon ; now it became absolutely indomitable. While she sorrowed for her father, slie endeavored to wear a cheerful countenance, that no new misery might be inflicted upon the unhappy man. She gently asked for a strict account of the state of his pecuniary affairs. All his papers were submitted to her inspection. She saw that the amount of property was the smallest possible that could be honored by the name of an independence. She dismissed the teacher with whom she was reading French and Latin, congratulating herself that the already advanced stage of her progress would enable her to pursue her studies without assistance. She withdrew Kose from school, knowing that she should need her aid at home, and that the child could study under her supervision, without taking half the time usually expended by those under the care of a teacher with thirty pupils. She discharged the domestic, being certain that she could afford no extra expense. Adelaide's mind was of such an order, that circumstances overwhelming to others, served only as agreeable stimulants for the exercise of her powers. Despite her distress, she experienced actual pleasure in obviating the numerous difficulties of her position. Convinced that a life of labor was before her, she submitted, with only one longing, retrospective glance toward the dreaming days of her childhood. She would, henceforth, be the nurse, housekeeper, and companion of her father ; the guide, teacher, and playmate of her sister. She looked abroad into the world, wishing that she could do something to increase their limited income. This being impossible, while her father required so much of her time, she resolutely abandoned the idea. Indeed, she soon found that almost every hour had its work. The main part of the household labor devolved upon her. In addition to this, she carefully cultivated the land attached to the cottage, and smiled as she thought, that besides pleasing the eye with her flowers and shrubbery, she was also saving several dollars every year, by raising all the fruit and vegetables desirable for the supply of their table. As very little money entered the house, she knew that the expenses must be proportionately small. At the end of the first year, she found that the debt and the credit side of the account exactly balanced. While she rejoiced that they were thus independent of the world, she sighed as she thought of the strict economy requisite for the maintenance of the freedom. This mode of life continued for several years. She, every day, found a little time for the prosecution of her own studies. The education of Rose was never neglected. Thus, she gradually became, both in body and mind, the strong, fearless woman, qua lified for the performance of any needful labor or the endurance of any requisite sacrifice. About three years before the commencement of my story, she had formed an acquaintance with the publisher of one of the most popular magazines of the day. By him she had been induced to write for its pages. The remuneration, although small, was sufficient, in her circumstances, to encourage further effort. She still continued her course of labor and economy. The additional money gained enabled her to think of the desirable as well as the indispensable ; to extend the hand of relief to those beyond as well as those within the circle of her own immediate household. It is in the exercise of her new vocation that you this morning see her. As the father reposes upon his couch of pain, and the youthful Rose cons a self-imposed lesson, Adelaide sits musingly at a little pine table, and embodies those airy " beings of the mind," whose ideal beauty constitutes so large a portion of the happiness of those favored by their presence. She is truly " coining her brain into drachmas," if I maybe allowed slightly to vary the phraseology of the immortal dramatist. Leave her now, amid the bright scenes conjured by her imagination, and the beauteous habitants of the fairy world, and glance at a picture in which the shade far exceeds the glow.
Scene Fifth. Ten in the Morning.
The clock strikes, and Delia, as she counts the notes, endeavors to summon courage to arise. She is actually well enough to be abroad in the fields, as soon as Aurora throws aside her vail, and raises her rose-tinged fingers to unclose the portals of day.
Delia is a young lady sadly deficient in regular habits. Occasionally she exerts herself to rise at dawn ; then again relapsing, she is not visible beyond the precincts of her chamber, till the sun is rapidly approaching the zenith. She is always forming good resolutions, which only need accomplishment to convince the world of the wisdom of their designer. She is a true ivy, ever clinging to some friendly prop for support and countenance. In any emergency, she would prefer that her friends should decide for her, rather than evoke her own powers for independent thought and action. "Were she poor, she would never seek a free maintenance by her own exertions, but would look for the aid of relatives or charitable societies. Her great want is an object in life. Were this supplied, she might possibly become an estimable member of the community. This might arouse her latent energy, and indirectly vanquish the obstacles which now interpose to prevent her from standing alone in the world, and taking upon herself some plan of life that would enable her to be independent of others.
Scene Sixth. Sabbath Morning.
The bells are ringing. James, having timidly advanced through the main street, is nervously standing upon the threshold of the church. He is surveying, with looks of trepidation, his unfortunate feet, this day encased in a pair of new shoes. He is dreading to walk the uncarpeted aisle, with his feet thus formidably enveloped. He knows that the major part of the people, not being devotionally inclined, will turn their heads as soon as the first creak of his new shoes shall greet their sensitive ears. James is always thus suffering. lie is one of those people who, as has wittily been suggested, beg pardon of the world for their intrusion. I suspect that James, with all his apparent humility, with all his absence of pretension, has a tinge of vanity in his character, or he would not so often be troubled with the vision of a thousand eyes directed toward his insignificant little person. Be a man, Jamie, if thou canst. It is certain, however, that thou wilt never be a distinguished one ; for thy shyness is not the kind which is sometimes the attendant of genius ; it is rather of that order which those who are really devoid of power feel when in the presence of their superiors.
Scene Seventh.
The Sunset Hour. Ella, the wayward, the half-beautiful, the impassioned child, ever unyielding to aught save the decisions of her own free will, is sitting pensively before an open window, her waving hair lawlessly floating over her shoulders, while her large, blue eyes are reverently raised to behold the gorgeous aspect of the retiring orb. Power is inscribed upon every movement of her noble head, upon every glance of her keen, brilliant eyes - power yet undeveloped, but revealing promise of exceeding good, or of immeasurable evil, as it shall be hereafter directed. In early childhood, Ella was nearly as quiet as James. Only within a year or two has the change been wrought. "With the games of her youth," has also been left the infantile spirit of blind submission and innocent credulity, pleasing only in very early life. She has begun to think with vigor ; and woe to herself and to the world if she does not learn conformity to the laws of her being !
Scene Eighth. Noon.
Carrie, a cherub child, with beauty reminding one of Eastern splendor, so deep and rich are its hues, is sitting upon the door-step, awaiting her father's approach. Mark the jetty hair; the clear, olive complexion, tinted with ruby ; the dark eyes, startling the beholder with their luster. But the spirit of the child is very tranquil. There is something in the quiet of the old father's mood singularly attractive to his little daughter. She will sit with him hour after hour, neither asking nor desiring any active enjoyment. Will she, in after life, resemble the ivine Delia, the heroic Adelaide, or the imperial Ella ? She now appears too well ever to be of the invalid order, too helpless ever to bear the responsibility of care and labor, and too serene ever to enjoy all the beauty and luxuriance of life. But she has not yet emerged from the shadows that hover around the path of infancy. She is too young for any one to predict her destiny.
Scene Ninth. Morning.
Georgic, a delicate little fellow, with clusters of flaxen curls, depending from a head of unparalleled beauty, although the phrenologists have been ominously grave on witnessing the exponents of character therein indicated, is examining, with philosophic eye, some prim wooden figures, collectively styled "Noah's Ark." There is an elephant no larger than the dog 'barking by his side; and a beetle equal in size to the head of Mrs. Japhet, who stands with her seven relatives, meekly watching the vast caravan. It may be that the various phenomena displayed are exciting Georgie's organ of wonder, and arousing his yet dormant powers of investigation, to discover whether the animals in the days of Noah were actually so disproportionate, or whether the artisan who constructed their representatives was ignorant of the first principles of natural history. Georgie is, of course, esteemed a prodigy by the whole family. His features have been severally claimed by all the relatives. It is generally agreed that he resembles, in some respect, every individual connected with the Thorntons, even by the most remote ties of consanguinity. If the predictions daily uttered are verified, he will certainly surpass all the heroes and scholars of both ancient and modern times.