The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1, William Dean Howells [the red fox clan txt] 📗

The Father Looked keenly At The Son; But Unless The Boy'S Full

Confidence Was Offered,  Corey Was Not The Man To Ask It.

"Well?" Was All That He Said.

 

"I Suppose That In a New Country One Gets To Looking

At People A Little Out Of Our Tradition; And I Dare

Say That If I Hadn'T Passed a Winter In texas I Might

Have Found Colonel Lapham Rather Too Much."

 

"You Mean That There Are Worse Things In texas?"

 

"Not That Exactly.  I Mean That I Saw It Wouldn'T Be Quite

Fair To Test Him By Our Standards."

 

"This Comes Of The Error Which I Have Often Deprecated,"

Said The Elder Corey.  "In Fact I Am Always Saying

That The Bostonian Ought Never To Leave Boston.

Then He Knows--And Then Only--That There Can Be No Standard

But Ours.  But We Are Constantly Going away,  And Coming

Back With Our Convictions Shaken To Their Foundations.

One Man Goes To England,  And Returns With The Conception

Of A Grander Social Life; Another Comes Home From Germany

With The Notion Of A More Searching intellectual Activity;

A Fellow Just Back From Paris Has The Absurdest Ideas

Of Art And Literature; And You Revert To Us From The

Cowboys Of Texas,  And Tell Us To Our Faces That We Ought

To Try Papa Lapham By A Jury Of His Peers.  It Ought

To Be Stopped--It Ought,  Really.  The Bostonian Who Leaves

Boston Ought To Be Condemned to Perpetual Exile."

 

The Son Suffered the Father To Reach His Climax With

Smiling patience.  When He Asked finally,  "What Are

The Characteristics Of Papa Lapham That Place Him Beyond

Our Jurisdiction?" The Younger Corey Crossed his Long Legs,

And Leaned forward To Take One Of His Knees Between His Hands.

 

"Well,  Sir,  He Bragged,  Rather."

 

"Oh,  I Don'T Know That Bragging should Exempt Him From

The Ordinary Processes.  I'Ve Heard Other People Brag

In Boston."

 

"Ah,  Not Just In that Personal Way--Not About Money."

 

"No,  That Was Certainly Different."

 

"I Don'T Mean," Said The Young Fellow,  With The Scrupulosity

Which People Could Not Help Observing and Liking in him,

"That It Was More Than An Indirect Expression Of Satisfaction

In The Ability To Spend."

 

"No. I Should Be Glad To Express Something of The Kind Myself,

If The Facts Would Justify Me."

 

The Son Smiled tolerantly Again.  "But If He Was Enjoying

His Money In that Way,  I Didn'T See Why He Shouldn'T Show

His Pleasure In it.  It Might Have Been Vulgar,  But It

Wasn'T Sordid.  And I Don'T Know That It Was Vulgar.

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Perhaps His Successful Strokes Of Business Were The Romance

Of His Life----"

 

The Father Interrupted with A Laugh.  "The Girl Must

Be Uncommonly Pretty.  What Did She Seem To Think

Of Her Father'S Brag?"

 

"There Were Two Of Them," Answered the Son Evasively.

 

"Oh,  Two! And Is The Sister Pretty Too?"

 

"Not Pretty,  But Rather Interesting.  She Is Like Her Mother."

 

"Then The Pretty One Isn'T The Father'S Pet?"

 

"I Can'T Say,  Sir.  I Don'T Believe," Added the Young Fellow,

"That I Can Make You See Colonel Lapham Just As I Did.

He Struck Me As Very Simple-Hearted and Rather Wholesome.

Of Course He Could Be Tiresome; We All Can; And I Suppose

His Range Of Ideas Is Limited.  But He Is A Force,  And Not

A Bad One.  If He Hasn'T Got Over Being surprised at The

Effect Of Rubbing his Lamp"

 

"Oh,  One Could Make Out A Case.  I Suppose You Know

What You Are About,  Tom.  But Remember That We Are Essex

County People,  And That In savour We Are Just A Little

Beyond The Salt Of The Earth.  I Will Tell You Plainly

That I Don'T Like The Notion Of A Man Who Has Rivalled the

Hues Of Nature In her Wildest Haunts With The Tints Of His

Mineral Paint; But I Don'T Say There Are Not Worse Men.

He Isn'T To My Taste,  Though He Might Be Ever So Much

To My Conscience."

 

"I Suppose," Said The Son,  "That There Is Nothing really

To Be Ashamed of In mineral Paint.  People Go Into All

Sorts Of Things."

 

His Father Took His Cigarette From His Mouth And Once

More Looked his Son Full In the Face.  "Oh,  Is That It?"

 

"It Has Crossed my Mind," Admitted the Son.  "I Must

Do Something.  I'Ve Wasted time And Money Enough.

I'Ve Seen Much Younger Men All Through The West

And South-West Taking care Of Themselves.  I Don'T

Think I Was Particularly Fit For Anything out There,

But I Am Ashamed to Come Back And Live Upon You,  Sir."

 

His Father Shook His Head With An Ironical Sigh.

"Ah,  We Shall Never Have A Real Aristocracy While This

Plebeian Reluctance To Live Upon A Parent Or A Wife

Continues The Animating spirit Of Our Youth.

It Strikes At The Root Of The Whole Feudal System.

I Really Think You Owe Me An Apology,  Tom.  I Supposed

You Wished to Marry The Girl'S Money,  And Here You Are,

Basely Seeking to Go Into Business With Her Father."

 

Young Corey Laughed again Like A Son Who Perceives That

His Father Is A Little Antiquated,  But Keeps A Filial

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Faith In his Wit.  "I Don'T Know That It'S Quite So Bad

As That; But The Thing had Certainly Crossed my Mind.

I Don'T Know How It'S To Be Approached,  And I Don'T Know

That It'S At All Possible.  But I Confess That I 'Took To'

Colonel Lapham From The Moment I Saw Him.  He Looked

As If He 'Meant Business,' And I Mean Business Too."

 

The Father Smoked thoughtfully.  "Of Course People Do

Go Into All Sorts Of Things,  As You Say,  And I Don'T

Know That One Thing is More Ignoble Than Another,

If It'S Decent And Large Enough.  In my Time You Would

Have Gone Into The China Trade Or The India Trade--Though

I Didn'T; And A Little Later Cotton Would Have Been

Your Manifest Destiny--Though It Wasn'T Mine; But Now

A Man May Do Almost Anything.  The Real-Estate Business

Is Pretty Full.  Yes,  If You Have A Deep Inward Vocation

For It,  I Don'T See Why Mineral Paint Shouldn'T Do.

I Fancy It'S Easy Enough Approaching the Matter.  We Will

Invite Papa Lapham To Dinner,  And Talk It Over With Him."

 

"Oh,  I Don'T Think That Would Be Exactly The Way,  Sir,"

Said The Son,  Smiling at His Father'S Patrician Unworldliness.

 

"No? Why Not?"

 

"I'M Afraid It Would Be A Bad Start.  I Don'T Think It

Would Strike Him As Business-Like."

 

"I Don'T See Why He Should Be Punctilious,  If We'Re Not."

 

"Ah,  We Might Say That If He Were Making the Advances."

 

"Well,  Perhaps You Are Right,  Tom.  What Is Your Idea?"

 

"I Haven'T A Very Clear One.  It Seems To Me I Ought

To Get Some Business Friend Of Ours,  Whose Judgment He

Would Respect,  To Speak A Good Word For Me."

 

"Give You A Character?"

 

"Yes. And Of Course I Must Go To Colonel Lapham.

My Notion Would Be To Inquire Pretty Thoroughly About Him,

And Then,  If I Liked the Look Of Things,  To Go Right Down

To Republic Street And Let Him See What He Could Do With Me,

If Anything."

 

"That Sounds Tremendously Practical To Me,  Tom,  Though It

May Be Just The Wrong Way.  When Are You Going down

To Mount Desert?"

 

"To-Morrow,  I Think,  Sir," Said The Young Man.  "I Shall

Turn It Over In my Mind While I'M Off."

 

The Father Rose,  Showing something more Than His Son'S Height,

With A Very Slight Stoop,  Which The Son'S Figure Had Not.

"Well," He Said,  Whimsically,  "I Admire Your Spirit,

And I Don'T Deny That It Is Justified by Necessity.

It'S A Consolation To Think That While I'Ve Been Spending

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And Enjoying,  I Have Been Preparing the Noblest Future

For You--A Future Of Industry And Self-Reliance. You Never

Could Draw,  But This Scheme Of Going into The Mineral-Paint

Business Shows That You Have Inherited something of My

Feeling for Colour."

 

The Son Laughed once More,  And Waiting till His Father

Was Well On His Way Upstairs,  Turned out The Gas And Then

Hurried after Him And Preceded him Into His Chamber.

He Glanced over It To See That Everything was There,

To His Father'S Hand.  Then He Said,  "Good Night,  Sir,"

And The Elder Responded,  "Good Night,  My Son," And The Son

Went To His Own Room.

 

Over The Mantel In the Elder Corey'S Room Hung A Portrait

Which He Had Painted of His Own Father,  And Now He Stood

A Moment And Looked at This As If Struck By Something

Novel In it.  The Resemblance Between His Son And The Old

India Merchant,  Who Had Followed the Trade From Salem To

Boston When The Larger City Drew It Away From The Smaller,

Must Have Been What Struck Him.  Grandfather And Grandson Had

Both The Roman Nose Which Appears To Have Flourished chiefly

At The Formative Period Of The Republic,  And Which Occurs

More Rarely In the Descendants Of The Conscript Fathers,

Though It Still Characterises The Profiles Of A Good Many

Boston Ladies.  Bromfield Corey Had Not Inherited it,

And He Had Made His Straight Nose His Defence When The

Old Merchant Accused him Of A Want Of Energy.  He Said,

"What Could A Man Do Whose Unnatural Father Had Left His

Own Nose Away From Him?" This Amused but Did Not Satisfy

The Merchant.  "You Must Do Something," He Said; "And It'S

For You To Choose.  If You Don'T Like The India Trade,

Go Into Something else.  Or,  Take Up Law Or Medicine.

No Corey Yet Ever Proposed to Do Nothing." "Ah,  Then,

It'S Quite Time One Of Us Made A Beginning," Urged the Man

Who Was Then Young,  And Who Was Now Old,  Looking into

The Somewhat Fierce Eyes Of His Father'S Portrait.

He Had Inherited as Little Of The Fierceness As Of The Nose,

And There Was Nothing predatory In his Son Either,

Though The Aquiline Beak Had Come Down To Him In such Force.

Bromfield Corey Liked his Son Tom For The Gentleness Which

Tempered his Energy.

 

"Well Let Us Compromise," He Seemed to Be Saying to His

Father'S Portrait.  "I Will Travel." "Travel? How Long?"

The Keen Eyes Demanded.  "Oh,  Indefinitely.  I Won'T

Be Hard With You,  Father." He Could See The Eyes Soften,

And The Smile Of Yielding come Over His Father'S Face;

The Merchant Could Not Resist A Son Who Was So Much

Like His Dead Mother.  There Was Some Vague Understanding

Between Them That Bromfield Corey Was To Come Back

And Go Into Business After A Time,  But He Never Did So.

He Travelled about Over Europe,  And Travelled handsomely,

Frequenting good