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

He Makes It A Religion; Though We Would

Not Imply That It Is His Religion.  Colonel Lapham Is A Regular

Attendant At The Rev. Dr. Langworthy'S Church.  He Subscribes

Liberally To The Associated charities,  And No Good Object Or

Worthy Public Enterprise Fails To Receive His Support.  He Is

Not Now Actively In politics,  And His Paint Is Not Partisan;

But It Is An Open Secret That He Is,  And Always Has Been,  A

Staunch Republican.  Without Violating the Sanctities Of Private

Life,  We Cannot Speak Fully Of Various Details Which Came Out

In The Free And Unembarrassed interview Which Colonel Lapham

Accorded our Representative.  But We May Say That The Success Of

Which He Is Justly Proud He Is Also Proud To Attribute In great

Measure To The Sympathy And Energy Of His Wife--One Of Those

Women Who,  In whatever Walk Of Life,  Seem Born To Honour The

Name Of American Woman,  And To Redeem It From The National

Reproach Of Daisy Millerism.  Of Colonel Lapham'S Family,  We

Will Simply Add That It Consists Of Two Young Lady Daughters.

 

"The Subject Of This Very Inadequate Sketch Is Building

A House On The Water Side Of Beacon Street,  After Designs

By One Of Our Leading architectural Firms,  Which,

When Complete,  Will Be One Of The Finest Ornaments

Of That Exclusive Avenue.  It Will,  We Believe,  Be Ready

For The Occupancy Of The Family Sometime In the Spring."

 

When Bartley Had Finished his Article,  Which He Did

With A Good Deal Of Inward Derision,  He Went Home

To Marcia,  Still Smiling over The Thought Of Lapham,

Whose Burly Simplicity Had Peculiarly Amused him.

"He Regularly Turned himself Inside Out To Me," He Said,

As He Sat Describing his Interview To Marcia.

 

"Then I Know You Could Make Something nice Out Of It,"

Said His Wife; "And That Will Please Mr. Witherby."

 

"Oh Yes,  I'Ve Done Pretty Well; But I Couldn'T Let Myself

Loose On Him The Way I Wanted to.  Confound The Limitations

Of Decency,  Anyway! I Should Like To Have Told Just

What Colonel Lapham Thought Of Landscape Advertising

In Colonel Lapham'S Own Words.  I'Ll Tell You One Thing,

Marsh: He Had A Girl There At One Of The Desks That You

Wouldn'T Let Me Have Within Gunshot Of My Office.

Pretty? It Ain'T Any Name For It!" Marcia'S Eyes

Began To Blaze,  And Bartley Broke Out Into A Laugh,

In Which He Arrested himself At Sight Of A Formidable

Parcel In the Corner Of The Room. 

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"Hello! What'S That?"

 

"Why,  I Don'T Know What It Is," Replied marcia Tremulously.

"A Man Brought It Just Before You Came In,  And I Didn'T

Like To Open It."

 

"Think It Was Some Kind Of Infernal Machine?" Asked bartley,

Getting down On His Knees To Examine The Package.

"Mrs. B. Hubbard,  Heigh?" He Cut The Heavy Hemp String

With His Penknife.  "We Must Look Into This Thing.

I Should Like To Know Who'S Sending packages To Mrs. Hubbard

In My Absence." He Unfolded the; Wrappings Of Paper,

Growing softer And Finer Inward,  And Presently Pulled

Out A Handsome Square Glass Jar,  Through Which A Crimson

Mass Showed richly.  "The Persis Brand!" He Yelled.

"I Knew It!"

 

"Oh,  What Is It,  Bartley?" Quavered marcia.  Then,

Courageously Drawing a Little Nearer: "Is It Some Kind

Of Jam?" She Implored.  "Jam? No!" Roared bartley.

"It'S Paint! It'S Mineral Paint--Lapham'S Paint!"

 

"Paint?" Echoed marcia,  As She Stood Over Him While He

Stripped their Wrappings From The Jars Which Showed

The Dark Blue,  Dark Green,  Light Brown,  Dark Brown,

And Black,  With The Dark Crimson,  Forming the Gamut

Of Colour Of The Lapham Paint.  "Don'T Tell Me It'S

Paint That I Can Use,  Bartley!"

 

"Well,  I Shouldn'T Advise You To Use Much Of It--All

At Once," Replied her Husband.  "But It'S Paint That You

Can Use In moderation."

 

Marcia Cast Her Arms Round His Neck And Kissed him.

"O Bartley,  I Think I'M The Happiest Girl In the World!

I Was Just Wondering what I Should Do.  There Are Places

In That Clover Street House That Need touching up

So Dreadfully.  I Shall Be Very Careful.  You Needn'T

Be Afraid I Shall Overdo.  But,  This Just Saves My Life.

Did You Buy It,  Bartley? You Know We Couldn'T Afford It,

And You Oughtn'T To Have Done It! And What Does The Persis

Brand Mean?"

 

"Buy It?" Cried bartley.  "No! The Old Fool'S Sent It To

You As A Present.  You'D Better Wait For The Facts Before

You Pitch Into Me For Extravagance,  Marcia.  Persis Is

The Name Of His Wife; And He Named it After Her Because

It'S His Finest Brand.  You'Ll See It In my Interview.

Put It On The Market Her Last Birthday For A Surprise

To Her."

 

"What Old Fool?" Faltered marcia.

 

"Why,  Lapham--The Mineral Paint Man."

 

"Oh,  What A Good Man!" Sighed marcia From The Bottom

Of Her Soul.  "Bartley! You Won'T Make Fun Of Him As You

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Do Of Some Of Those People? Will You?"

 

"Nothing that He'Ll Ever Find Out," Said Bartley,

Getting up And Brushing off The Carpet-Lint From His Knees.

 

 

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After Dropping bartley Hubbard At The Events Building,

Lapham Drove On Down Washington Street To Nankeen Square

At The South End,  Where He Had Lived ever Since The

Mistaken Movement Of Society In that Direction Ceased.

He Had Not Built,  But Had Bought Very Cheap Of A Terrified

Gentleman Of Good Extraction Who Discovered too Late That

The South End Was Not The Thing,  And Who In the Eagerness

Of His Flight To The Back Bay Threw In his Carpets And

Shades For Almost Nothing.  Mrs. Lapham Was Even Better

Satisfied with Their Bargain Than The Colonel Himself,

And They Had Lived in nankeen Square For Twelve Years.

They Had Seen The Saplings Planted in the Pretty Oval

Round Which The Houses Were Built Flourish Up Into Sturdy

Young Trees,  And Their Two Little Girls In the Same Period

Had Grown Into Young Ladies; The Colonel'S Tough Frame Had

Expanded into The Bulk Which Bartley'S Interview Indicated;

And Mrs. Lapham,  While Keeping a More Youthful Outline,

Showed the Sharp Print Of The Crow'S-Foot At The Corners

Of Her Motherly Eyes,  And Certain Slight Creases In

Her Wholesome Cheeks.  The Fact That They Lived in an

Unfashionable Neighbourhood Was Something that They Had

Never Been Made To Feel To Their Personal Disadvantage,

And They Had Hardly Known It Till The Summer Before

This Story Opens,  When Mrs. Lapham And Her Daughter

Irene Had Met Some Other Bostonians Far From Boston,

Who Made It Memorable.  They Were People Whom Chance Had

Brought For The Time Under A Singular Obligation To The

Lapham Ladies,  And They Were Gratefully Recognisant Of It.

They Had Ventured--A Mother And Two Daughters--As Far

As A Rather Wild Little Canadian Watering-Place On The

St. Lawrence,  Below Quebec,  And Had Arrived some Days

Before Their Son And Brother Was Expected to Join Them.

Two Of Their Trunks Had Gone Astray,  And On The Night

Of Their Arrival The Mother Was Taken Violently Ill.

Mrs. Lapham Came To Their Help,  With Her Skill As Nurse,

And With The Abundance Of Her Own And Her Daughter'S Wardrobe,

And A Profuse,  Single-Hearted kindness.  When A Doctor Could

Be Got At,  He Said That But For Mrs. Lapham'S Timely Care,

The Lady Would Hardly Have Lived.  He Was A Very Effusive

Little Frenchman,  And Fancied he Was Saying something very

Pleasant To Everybody.

 

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A Certain Intimacy Inevitably Followed,  And When The

Son Came He Was Even More Grateful Than The Others.

Mrs. Lapham Could Not Quite Understand Why He Should

Be As Attentive To Her As To Irene; But She Compared

Him With Other Young Men About The Place,  And Thought

Him Nicer Than Any Of Them.  She Had Not The Means

Of A Wider Comparison; For In boston,  With All Her

Husband'S Prosperity,  They Had Not Had A Social Life.

Their First Years There Were Given To Careful Getting

On Lapham'S Part,  And Careful Saving on His Wife'S.

Suddenly The Money Began To Come So Abundantly That She

Need not Save; And Then They Did Not Know What To Do

With It.  A Certain Amount Could Be Spent On Horses,

And Lapham Spent It; His Wife Spent On Rich And Rather

Ugly Clothes And A Luxury Of Household Appointments.

Lapham Had Not Yet Reached the Picture-Buying stage

Of The Rich Man'S Development,  But They Decorated their

House With The Costliest And Most Abominable Frescoes;

They Went Upon Journeys,  And Lavished upon Cars And Hotels;

They Gave With Both Hands To Their Church And To All The

Charities It Brought Them Acquainted with; But They Did

Not Know How To Spend On Society.  Up To A Certain Period

Mrs. Lapham Had The Ladies Of Her Neighbourhood In to Tea,

As Her Mother Had Done In the Country In her Younger Days.

Lapham'S Idea Of Hospitality Was Still To Bring a

Heavy-Buying customer Home To Pot-Luck; Neither Of Them

Imagined dinners.

 

Their Two Girls Had Gone To The Public Schools,  Where They

Had Not Got On As Fast As Some Of The Other Girls;

So That They Were A Year Behind In graduating from The

Grammar-School,  Where Lapham Thought That They Had Got

Education Enough.  His Wife Was Of A Different Mind;

She Would Have Liked them To Go To Some Private School

For Their Finishing.  But Irene Did Not Care For Study;

She Preferred house-Keeping,  And Both The Sisters Were

Afraid Of Being snubbed by The Other Girls,  Who Were Of

A Different Sort From The Girls Of The Grammar-School;

These Were Mostly From The Parks And Squares,  Like Themselves.

It Ended in their Going part Of A Year.  But The Elder

Had An Odd Taste Of Her Own For Reading,  And She Took Some

Private Lessons,  And Read Books Out Of The Circulating library;

The Whole Family Were Amazed at The Number She Read,

And Rather Proud