The Rise Of Silas Lapham By William Dean Howells Part 1 by William Dean Howells (inspirational novels TXT) 📖

Traced upon It Were Too Delicate For The

Name Of Wrinkles.  He Had Never Had Any Personal Vanity,

And There Was No Consciousness In his Good Looks Now.

 

"I Am Glad Of That.  The Boy I Have With Me," He Returned;

"That Is,  When He Is With Me."

of 1 Part 8 Pg 78

 

"Why,  Where Is He?" Demanded the Mother.

 

"Probably Carousing with The Boon Lapham Somewhere.

He Left Me Yesterday Afternoon To Go And Offer His

Allegiance To The Mineral Paint King,  And I Haven'T Seen

Him Since."

 

"Bromfield!" Cried mrs. Corey.  "Why Didn'T You Stop Him?"

 

"Well,  My Dear,  I'M Not Sure That It Isn'T A Very Good Thing."

 

"A Good Thing? It'S Horrid!"

 

"No,  I Don'T Think So.  It'S Decent.  Tom Had Found

Out--Without Consulting the Landscape,  Which I Believe

Proclaims It Everywhere----"

 

"Hideous!"

 

"That It'S Really A Good Thing; And He Thinks That He Has

Some Ideas In regard To Its Dissemination In the Parts

Beyond Seas."

 

"Why Shouldn'T He Go Into Something else?" Lamented the Mother.

 

"I Believe He Has Gone Into Nearly Everything else

And Come Out Of It.  So There Is A Chance Of His Coming

Out Of This.  But As I Had Nothing to Suggest In place

Of It,  I Thought It Best Not To Interfere.  In fact,

What Good Would My Telling him That Mineral Paint Was

Nasty Have Done? I Dare Say You Told Him It Was Nasty."

 

"Yes! I Did."

 

"And You See With What Effect,  Though He Values

Your Opinion Three Times As Much As He Values Mine.

Perhaps You Came Up To Tell Him Again That It Was Nasty?"

 

"I Feel Very Unhappy About It.  He Is Throwing himself Away.

Yes,  I Should Like To Prevent It If I Could!"

 

The Father Shook His Head.

 

"If Lapham Hasn'T Prevented it,  I Fancy It'S Too Late.

But There May Be Some Hopes Of Lapham.  As For Tom'S

Throwing himself Away,  I Don'T Know.  There'S No Question

But He Is One Of The Best Fellows Under The Sun.

He'S Tremendously Energetic,  And He Has Plenty Of The Kind

Of Sense Which We Call Horse; But He Isn'T Brilliant.

No,  Tom Is Not Brilliant.  I Don'T Think He Would Get

On In a Profession,  And He'S Instinctively Kept Out Of

Everything of The Kind.  But He Has Got To Do Something.

What Shall He Do? He Says Mineral Paint,  And Really

I Don'T See Why He Shouldn'T. If Money Is Fairly And

Honestly Earned,  Why Should We Pretend To Care What It

Comes Out Of,  When We Don'T Really Care? That Superstition

Is Exploded everywhere."

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"Oh,  It Isn'T The Paint Alone," Said Mrs. Corey; And Then

She Perceptibly Arrested herself,  And Made A Diversion

In Continuing: "I Wish He Had Married some One."

 

"With Money?" Suggested her Husband.  "From Time To Time

I Have Attempted tom'S Corruption From That Side,  But I

Suspect Tom Has A Conscience Against It,  And I Rather

Like Him For It.  I Married for Love Myself," Said Corey,

Looking across The Table At His Wife.

 

She Returned his Look Tolerantly,  Though She Felt It

Right To Say,  "What Nonsense!"

 

"Besides," Continued her Husband,  "If You Come To Money,

There Is The Paint Princess.  She Will Have Plenty."

 

"Ah,  That'S The Worst Of It," Sighed the Mother.

"I Suppose I Could Get On With The Paint----"

 

"But Not With The Princess? I Thought You Said She Was

A Very Pretty,  Well-Behaved girl?"

 

"She Is Very Pretty,  And She Is Well-Behaved; But There

Is Nothing of Her.  She Is Insipid; She Is Very Insipid."

 

"But Tom Seemed to Like Her Flavour,  Such As It Was?"

 

"How Can I Tell? We Were Under A Terrible Obligation

To Them,  And I Naturally Wished him To Be Polite To Them.

In Fact,  I Asked him To Be So."

 

"And He Was Too Polite"

 

"I Can'T Say That He Was.  But There Is No Doubt That

The Child Is Extremely Pretty."

 

"Tom Says There Are Two Of Them.  Perhaps They Will

Neutralise Each Other."

 

"Yes,  There Is Another Daughter," Assented mrs. Corey.

"I Don'T See How You Can Joke About Such Things,  Bromfield,"

She Added.

 

"Well,  I Don'T Either,  My Dear,  To Tell You The Truth.

My Hardihood Surprises Me.  Here Is A Son Of Mine Whom I

See Reduced to Making his Living by A Shrinkage In values.

It'S Very Odd," Interjected corey,  "That Some Values Should

Have This Peculiarity Of Shrinking.  You Never Hear Of Values

In A Picture Shrinking; But Rents,  Stocks,  Real Estate--All

Those Values Shrink Abominably.  Perhaps It Might Be

Argued that One Should Put All His Values Into Pictures;

I'Ve Got A Good Many Of Mine There."

 

"Tom Needn'T Earn His Living," Said Mrs. Corey,  Refusing her

Husband'S Jest.  "There'S Still Enough For All Of Us."

 

"That Is What I Have Sometimes Urged upon Tom.  I Have Proved

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To Him That With Economy,  And Strict Attention To Business,

He Need do Nothing as Long As He Lives.  Of Course He

Would Be Somewhat Restricted,  And It Would Cramp The Rest

Of Us; But It Is A World Of Sacrifices And Compromises.

He Couldn'T Agree With Me,  And He Was Not In the Least

Moved by The Example Of Persons Of Quality In europe,

Which I Alleged in support Of The Life Of Idleness.

It Appears That He Wishes To Do Something--To Do Something

For Himself.  I Am Afraid That Tom Is Selfish."

 

Mrs. Corey Smiled wanly.  Thirty Years Before,  She Had

Married the Rich Young Painter In rome,  Who Said So Much

Better Things Than He Painted--Charming things,  Just The

Things To Please The Fancy Of A Girl Who Was Disposed

To Take Life A Little Too Seriously And Practically.

She Saw Him In a Different Light When She Got Him Home

To Boston; But He Had Kept On Saying the Charming things,

And He Had Not Done Much Else.  In fact,  He Had Fulfilled

The Promise Of His Youth.  It Was A Good Trait In him

That He Was Not Actively But Only Passively Extravagant.

He Was Not Adventurous With His Money; His Tastes Were

As Simple As An Italian'S; He Had No Expensive Habits.

In The Process Of Time He Had Grown To Lead A More And

More Secluded life.  It Was Hard To Get Him Out Anywhere,

Even To Dinner.  His Patience With Their Narrowing

Circumstances Had A Pathos Which She Felt The More

The More She Came Into Charge Of Their Joint Life.

At Times It Seemed too Bad That The Children And

Their Education And Pleasures Should Cost So Much.

She Knew,  Besides,  That If It Had Not Been For Them

She Would Have Gone Back To Rome With Him,  And Lived

Princely There For Less Than It Took To Live Respectably

In Boston.

 

"Tom Hasn'T Consulted me," Continued his Father,  "But He

Has Consulted other People.  And He Has Arrived at The

Conclusion That Mineral Paint Is A Good Thing to Go Into.

He Has Found Out All About It,  And About Its Founder

Or Inventor.  It'S Quite Impressive To Hear Him Talk.

And If He Must Do Something for Himself,  I Don'T See Why

His Egotism Shouldn'T As Well Take That Form As Another.

Combined with The Paint Princess,  It Isn'T So Agreeable;

But That'S Only A Remote Possibility,  For Which Your

Principal Ground Is Your Motherly Solicitude.

But Even If It Were Probable And Imminent,  What Could

You Do? The Chief Consolation That We American Parents

Have In these Matters Is That We Can Do Nothing.

If We Were Europeans,  Even English,  We Should Take Some

Cognisance Of Our Children'S Love Affairs,  And In some

Measure Teach Their Young Affections How To Shoot.

But It Is Our Custom To Ignore Them Until They Have Shot,

And Then They Ignore Us.  We Are Altogether Too Delicate

To Arrange The Marriages Of Our Children; And When They

Have Arranged them We Don'T Like To Say Anything,

For Fear We Should Only Make Bad Worse.  The Right

Way Is For Us To School Ourselves To Indifference.

That Is What The Young People Have To Do Elsewhere,

And That Is The Only Logical Result Of Our Position Here. 

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It Is Absurd For Us To Have Any Feeling about What We Don'T

Interfere With."

 

"Oh,  People Do Interfere With Their Children'S Marriages

Very Often," Said Mrs. Corey.

 

"Yes,  But Only In a Half-Hearted way,  So As Not To Make

It Disagreeable For Themselves If The Marriages Go On In

Spite Of Them,  As They'Re Pretty Apt To Do.  Now,  My Idea

Is That I Ought To Cut Tom Off With A Shilling.

That Would Be Very Simple,  And It Would Be Economical.

But You Would Never Consent,  And Tom Wouldn'T Mind It."

 

"I Think Our Whole Conduct In regard To Such Things

Is Wrong," Said Mrs. Corey.

 

"Oh,  Very Likely.  But Our Whole Civilisation Is Based upon It.

And Who Is Going to Make A Beginning? To Which Father

In Our Acquaintance Shall I Go And Propose An Alliance

For Tom With His Daughter? I Should Feel Like An Ass.

And Will You Go To Some Mother,  And Ask Her Sons In

Marriage For Our Daughters? You Would Feel Like A Goose.

No; The Only Motto For Us Is,  Hands Off Altogether."

 

"I Shall Certainly Speak To Tom When The Time Comes,"

Said Mrs. Corey.

 

"And I Shall Ask Leave To Be Absent From Your Discomfiture,

My Dear," Answered her Husband.

 

The Son Returned that Afternoon,  And Confessed his

Surprise At Finding his Mother In boston.  He Was So

Frank That She Had Not Quite The Courage To Confess

In Turn Why She Had Come,  But Trumped up An Excuse.

 

"Well,  Mother," He Said Promptly,  "I Have Made An Engagement

With Mr. Lapham."

 

"Have You,  Tom?" She Asked faintly.

 

"Yes. For The Present I Am Going to Have Charge Of His

Foreign Correspondence,  And If I See My Way To The

Advantage I Expect To