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

Fact Of His Connection With The Mineral Paint of 1 Part 10 Pg 107

Man Would Be An Old Story,  Heard Afar Off With Different

Degrees Of Surprise,  And Considered with Different

Degrees Of Indifference.  A Man Has Not Reached the Age

Of Twenty-Six In any Community Where He Was Born And Reared

Without Having had His Capacity Pretty Well Ascertained;

And In boston The Analysis Is Conducted with An Unsparing

Thoroughness Which May Fitly Impress The Un-Bostonian Mind,

Darkened by The Popular Superstition That The Bostonians

Blindly Admire One Another.  A Man'S Qualities Are Sifted

As Closely In boston As They Doubtless Were In florence

Or Athens; And,  If Final Mercy Was Shown In those Cities

Because A Man Was,  With All His Limitations,  An Athenian

Or Florentine,  Some Abatement Might As Justly Be Made

In Boston For Like Reason.  Corey'S Powers Had Been Gauged

In College,  And He Had Not Given His World Reason To Think

Very Differently Of Him Since He Came Out Of College.

He Was Rated as An Energetic Fellow,  A Little Indefinite

In Aim,  With The Smallest Amount Of Inspiration That Can Save

A Man From Being commonplace.  If He Was Not Commonplace,

It Was Through Nothing remarkable In his Mind,  Which Was

Simply Clear And Practical,  But Through Some Combination

Of Qualities Of The Heart That Made Men Trust Him,  And Women

Call Him Sweet--A Word Of Theirs Which Conveys Otherwise

Indefinable Excellences.  Some Of The More Nervous And

Excitable Said That Tom Corey Was As Sweet As He Could Live;

But This Perhaps Meant No More Than The Word Alone.

No Man Ever Had A Son Less Like Him Than Bromfield Corey.

If Tom Corey Had Ever Said A Witty Thing,  No One Could

Remember It; And Yet The Father Had Never Said A Witty

Thing to A More Sympathetic Listener Than His Own Son.

The Clear Mind Which Produced nothing but Practical

Results Reflected everything with Charming lucidity;

And It Must Have Been This Which Endeared tom Corey To Every

One Who Spoke Ten Words With Him.  In a City Where People

Have Good Reason For Liking to Shine,  A Man Who Did

Not Care To Shine Must Be Little Short Of Universally

Acceptable Without Any Other Effort For Popularity;

And Those Who Admired and Enjoyed bromfield Corey Loved

His Son.  Yet,  When It Came To Accounting for Tom Corey,

As It Often Did In a Community Where Every One'S Generation

Is Known To The Remotest Degrees Of Cousinship,  They Could

Not Trace His Sweetness To His Mother,  For Neither Anna

Bellingham Nor Any Of Her Family,  Though They Were So Many

Blocks Of Wenham Ice For Purity And Rectangularity,  Had Ever

Had Any Such Savour; And,  In fact,  It Was To His Father,

Whose Habit Of Talk Wronged it In himself,  That They

Had To Turn For This Quality Of The Son'S. They Traced

To The Mother The Traits Of Practicality And Common-Sense

In Which He Bordered upon The Commonplace,  And Which,

When They Had Dwelt Upon Them,  Made Him Seem Hardly Worth

The Close Inquiry They Had Given Him.

 

While The Summer Wore Away He Came And Went Methodically

About His Business,  As If It Had Been The Business

Of His Life,  Sharing his Father'S Bachelor Liberty

And Solitude,  And Expecting with Equal Patience The Return

Of His Mother And Sisters In the Autumn.  Once Or Twice

He Found Time To Run Down To Mt.  Desert And See Them;

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And Then He Heard How The Philadelphia And New York People

Were Getting in everywhere,  And Was Given Reason To Regret

The House At Nahant Which He Had Urged to Be Sold.

He Came Back And Applied himself To His Desk With A

Devotion That Was Exemplary Rather Than Necessary;

For Lapham Made No Difficulty About The Brief Absences

Which He Asked,  And Set No Term To The Apprenticeship

That Corey Was Serving in the Office Before Setting off

Upon That Mission To South America In the Early Winter,

For Which No Date Had Yet Been Fixed.

 

The Summer Was A Dull Season For The Paint As Well

As For Everything else.  Till Things Should Brisk Up,

As Lapham Said,  In the Fall,  He Was Letting the New

House Take A Great Deal Of His Time.  Aesthetic Ideas

Had Never Been Intelligibly Presented to Him Before,

And He Found A Delight In apprehending them That Was Very

Grateful To His Imaginative Architect.  At The Beginning,

The Architect Had Foreboded a Series Of Mortifying

Defeats And Disastrous Victories In his Encounters

With His Client; But He Had Never Had A Client Who Could

Be More Reasonably Led on From One Outlay To Another.

It Appeared that Lapham Required but To Understand Or Feel

The Beautiful Effect Intended,  And He Was Ready To Pay

For It.  His Bull-Headed pride Was Concerned in a Thing

Which The Architect Made Him See,  And Then He Believed

That He Had Seen It Himself,  Perhaps Conceived it.

In Some Measure The Architect Seemed to Share His Delusion,

And Freely Said That Lapham Was Very Suggestive.

Together They Blocked out Windows Here,  And Bricked them

Up There; They Changed doors And Passages; Pulled down

Cornices And Replaced them With Others Of Different Design;

Experimented with Costly Devices Of Decoration,

And Went To Extravagant Lengths In novelties Of Finish.

Mrs. Lapham,  Beginning with A Woman'S Adventurousness In the

Unknown Region,  Took Fright At The Reckless Outlay At Last,

And Refused to Let Her Husband Pass A Certain Limit.

He Tried to Make Her Believe That A Far-Seeing economy

Dictated the Expense; And That If He Put The Money Into

The House,  He Could Get It Out Any Time By Selling it.

She Would Not Be Persuaded.

 

"I Don'T Want You Should Sell It.  And You'Ve Put More Money

Into It Now Than You'Ll Ever Get Out Again,  Unless You Can

Find As Big A Goose To Buy It,  And That Isn'T Likely.

No,  Sir! You Just Stop At A Hundred thousand,  And Don'T You Let

Him Get You A Cent Beyond.  Why,  You'Re Perfectly Bewitched

With That Fellow! You'Ve Lost Your Head,  Silas Lapham,

And If You Don'T Look Out You'Ll Lose Your Money Too."

 

The Colonel Laughed; He Liked her To Talk That Way,

And Promised he Would Hold Up A While.

 

"But There'S No Call To Feel Anxious,  Pert.  It'S Only

A Question What To Do With The Money.  I Can Reinvest It;

But I Never Had So Much Of It To Spend Before."

 

"Spend It,  Then," Said His Wife; "Don'T Throw It Away!

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And How Came You To Have So Much More Money Than You Know

What To Do With,  Silas Lapham?" She Added.

 

"Oh,  I'Ve Made A Very Good Thing in stocks Lately."

 

"In Stocks? When Did You Take Up Gambling for A Living?"

 

"Gambling? Stuff! What Gambling? Who Said It Was Gambling?"

 

"You Have; Many A Time."

 

"Oh Yes,  Buying and Selling on A Margin.  But This

Was A Bona Fide Transaction.  I Bought At Forty-Three

For An Investment,  And I Sold At A Hundred and Seven;

And The Money Passed both Times."

 

"Well,  You Better Let Stocks Alone," Said His Wife,

With The Conservatism Of Her Sex.  "Next Time You'Ll

Buy At A Hundred and Seven And Sell At Forty Three.

Then Where'Ll You Be?"

 

"Left," Admitted the Colonel.

 

"You Better Stick To Paint A While Yet." The Colonel

Enjoyed this Too,  And Laughed again With The Ease Of A Man

Who Knows What He Is About.  A Few Days After That He

Came Down To Nantasket With The Radiant Air Which He Wore

When He Had Done A Good Thing in business And Wanted

His Wife'S Sympathy.  He Did Not Say Anything of What Had

Happened till He Was Alone With Her In their Own Room;

But He Was Very Gay The Whole Evening,  And Made Several

Jokes Which Penelope Said Nothing but Very Great Prosperity

Could Excuse: They All Understood These Moods Of His.

 

"Well,  What Is It,  Silas?" Asked his Wife When The Time Came.

"Any More Big-Bugs Wanting to Go Into The Mineral Paint

Business With You?"

 

"Something better Than That."

 

"I Could Think Of A Good Many Better Things," Said His Wife,

With A Sigh Of Latent Bitterness.  "What'S This One?"

 

"I'Ve Had A Visitor."

 

"Who?"

 

"Can'T You Guess?"

 

"I Don'T Want To Try.  Who Was It?"

 

"Rogers."

 

Mrs. Lapham Sat Down With Her Hands In her Lap,  And Stared

At The Smile On Her Husband'S Face,  Where He Sat Facing her.

 

"I Guess You Wouldn'T Want To Joke On That Subject,  Si,"

She Said,  A Little Hoarsely,  "And You Wouldn'T Grin

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About It Unless You Had Some Good News.  I Don'T Know

What The Miracle Is,  But If You Could Tell Quick----"

 

She Stopped like One Who Can Say No More.

 

"I Will,  Persis," Said Her Husband,  And With That Awed

Tone In which He Rarely Spoke Of Anything but The Virtues

Of His Paint.  "He Came To Borrow Money Of Me,  And I

Lent Him It.  That'S The Short Of It.  The Long----"

 

"Go On," Said His Wife,  With Gentle Patience.

 

"Well,  Pert,  I Was Never So Much Astonished in my

Life As I Was To See That Man Come Into My Office.

You Might Have Knocked me Down With--I Don'T Know What."

 

"I Don'T Wonder.  Go On!"

 

"And He Was As Much Embarrassed as I Was.  There We Stood,

Gaping at Each Other,  And I Hadn'T Hardly Sense Enough

To Ask Him To Take A Chair.  I Don'T Know Just How We

Got At It.  And I Don'T Remember Just How It Was That He

Said He Came To Come To Me.  But He Had Got Hold Of A

Patent Right That He Wanted to Go Into On A Large Scale,

And There He Was Wanting me To Supply Him The Funds."

 

"Go On!" Said Mrs. Lapham,  With Her Voice