Home as Found.
Sequel to "Homeward Bound."
By J. Fenimore Cooper.
Complete in one volume.
1871.
"Thou art perfect."
PR. HON
Preface
Those who have done us the favour to read "Homeward Bound" will at
once perceive that the incidents of this book commence at the point
where those of the work just mentioned ceased. We are fully aware of
the disadvantage of dividing the interest of a tale in this manner;
but in the present instance, the separation has been produced by
circumstances over which the writer had very little control. As any
one who may happen to take up this volume will very soon discover
that there is other matter which it is necessary to know it may be as
well to tell all such persons, in the commencement, therefore, that
their reading will be bootless, unless they have leisure to turn to
the pages of Homeward Bound for their cue.
We remember the despair with which that admirable observer of men,
Mr. Mathews the comedian, confessed the hopelessness of success, in
his endeavours to obtain a sufficiency of prominent and distinctive
features to compose an entertainment founded on American character.
The whole nation struck him as being destitute of salient points, and
as characterized by a respectable mediocrity, that, however useful it
might be in its way, was utterly without poetry, humour, or interest
to the observer. For one who dealt principally with the more
conspicuous absurdities of his fellow-creatures, Mr. Mathews was
certainly right; we also believe him to have been right in the main,
in the general tenor of his opinion; for this country, in its
ordinary aspects, probably presents as barren a field to the writer
of fiction, and to the dramatist, as any other on earth; we are not
certain that we might not say the most barren. We believe that no
attempt to delineate ordinary American life, either on the stage, or
in the pages of a novel, has been rewarded with success. Even those
works in which the desire to illustrate a principle has been the aim,
when the picture has been brought within this homely frame, have had
to contend with disadvantages that have been commonly found
insurmountable. The latter being the intention of this book, the task
has been undertaken with a perfect consciousness of all its
difficulties, and with scarcely a hope of success. It would be indeed
a desperate undertaking, to think of making anything interesting in
the way of a _Roman de Société_ in this country; still useful glances
may possibly be made even in that direction, and we trust that the
fidelity of one or two of our portraits will be recognized by the
looker-on, although they will very likely be denied by the sitters
themselves.
There seems to be a pervading principle in things, which gives an
accumulating energy to any active property that may happen to be in
the ascendant, at the time being.--Money produces money; knowledge is
the parent of knowledge; and ignorance fortifies ignorance.--In a
word, like begets like. The governing social evil of America is
provincialism; a misfortune that is perhaps inseparable from her
situation. Without a social capital, with twenty or more communities
divided by distance and political barriers, her people, who are
really more homogenous than any other of the same numbers in the
world perhaps, possess no standard for opinion, manners, social
maxims, or even language.
Every man, as a matter of course, refers to his own particular
experience, and praises or condemns agreeably to notions contracted
in the circle of his own habits, however narrow, provincial, or
erroneous they may happen to be. As a consequence, no useful stage
can exist; for the dramatist who should endeavour to delineate the
faults of society, would find a formidable party arrayed against him,
in a moment, with no party to defend. As another consequence, we see
individuals constantly assailed with a wolf-like ferocity, while
society is everywhere permitted to pass unscathed.
That the American nation is a great nation, in some particulars the
greatest the world ever saw, we hold to be true, and are as ready to
maintain as any one can be; but we are also equally ready to concede,
that it is very far behind most polished nations in various
essentials, and chiefly, that it is lamentably in arrears to its own
avowed principles. Perhaps this truth will be found to be the
predominant thought, throughout the pages of "Home As Found."
Home as Found.
Chapter I.
"Good morrow, coz. Good morrow, sweet Hero."
SHAKSPEARE.
When Mr. Effingham determined to return home, he sent orders to his
agent to prepare his town-house in New-York for his reception,
intending to pass a month or two in it, then to repair to Washington
for a few weeks, at the close of its season, and to visit his country
residence when the spring should fairly open. Accordingly, Eve now
found herself at the head of one of the largest establishments, in
the largest American town, within an hour after she had landed from
the ship. Fortunately for her, however, her father was too just to
consider a wife, or a daughter, a mere upper servant, and he rightly
judged that a liberal portion of his income should be assigned to the
procuring of that higher quality of domestic service, which can alone
relieve the mistress of a household from a burthen so heavy to be
borne. Unlike so many of those around him, who would spend on a
single pretending and comfortless entertainment, in which the
ostentatious folly of one contended with the ostentatious folly of
another a sum that, properly directed, would introduce order and
system into a family for a twelvemonth, by commanding the time and
knowledge of those whose study they had been, and who would be
willing to devote themselves to such objects, and then permit their
wives and daughters to return to the drudgery to which the sex seems
doomed in this country, he first bethought him of the wants of social
life before he aspired to its parade. A man of the world, Mr.
Effingham possessed the requisite knowledge, and a man of justice,
the requisite fairness, to permit those who depended on him so much
for their happiness, to share equitably in the good things that
Providence had so liberally bestowed on himself. In other words, he
made two people comfortable, by paying a generous price for a
housekeeper; his daughter, in the first place, by releasing her from
cares that, necessarily, formed no more a part of her duties than it
would be a part of her duty to sweep the pavement before the door;
and, in the next place, a very respectable woman who was glad to
obtain so good a home on so easy terms. To this simple and just
expedient, Eve was indebted for being at the head of one of the
quietest, most truly elegant, and best, ordered establishments in
America, with no other demands on her time than that which was
necessary to issue a few orders in the morning, and to examine a few
accounts once a week.
One of the first and the most acceptable of the visits that Eve
received, was from her cousin, Grace Van Cortlandt, who was in the
country at the moment of her arrival, but who hurried back to town to
meet her old school-fellow and kinswoman, the instant she heard of
her having landed. Eve Effingham and Grace Van Cortlandt were
sisters' children, and had been born within a month of each other. As
the latter was without father or mother, most of their time had been
passed together, until the former was taken abroad, when a separation
unavoidably ensued. Mr. Effingham ardently desired, and had actually
designed, to take his niece with him to Europe, but her paternal
grandfather, who was still living, objected his years and affection,
and the scheme was reluctantly abandoned. This grandfather was now
dead, and Grace had been left with a very ample fortune, almost
entirely the mistress of her own movements.
The moment of the meeting between these two warm-hearted and
sincerely attached young women, was one of great interest and anxiety
to both. They retained for each other the tenderest love, though the
years that had separated them had given rise to so many new
impressions and habits that they did not prepare themselves for the
interview without apprehension. This interview took place about a
week after Eve was established in Hudson Square, and at an hour
earlier than was usual for the reception of visits. Hearing a
carriage stop before the door, and the bell ring, our heroine stole a
glance from behind a curtain and recognized her cousin as she
alighted.
"_Qu'avez-vous, ma chere_?" demanded Mademoiselle Viefville,
observing that her _élève_ trembled and grew pale.
"It is my cousin, Miss Van Cortlandt--she whom I loved as a sister--
we now meet for the first time in so many years!"
"_Bien_--_c'est une très jolie jeune personne_!" returned the
governess, taking a glance from the spot Eve had just quitted. "_Sur
le rapport de la personne, ma chere, vous devriez être contente, au
moins_."
"If you will excuse me, Mademoiselle, I will go down alone--I think I
should prefer to meet Grace without witnesses in the first
interview."
"_Très volontiers. Elle est parente, et c'est bien naturel."_
Eve, on this expressed approbation, met her maid at the door, as she
came to announce that _Mademoiselle de Cortlandt_ was in the library,
and descended slowly to meet her. The library was lighted from above
by means of a small dome, and Grace had unconsciously placed herself
in the very position that a painter would have chosen, had she been
about to sit for her portrait. A strong, full, rich light fell
obliquely on her as Eve entered, displaying her fine person and
beautiful features to the very best advantage, and they were features
and a person that are not seen every day even in a country where
female beauty is so common. She was in a carriage dress, and her
toilette was rather more elaborate than Eve had been accustomed to
see, at that hour, but still Eve thought she had seldom seen a more
lovely young creature. Some such thoughts, also, passed through the
mind of Grace herself, who, though struck, with a woman's readiness
in such matters, with the severe simplicity of Eve's attire, as well
as with its entire elegance, was more struck with the charms of her
countenance and figure. There was, in truth, a strong resemblance
between them, though each was distinguished by an expression suited
to her character, and to the habits of her mind.
"Miss Effingham!" said Grace, advancing a step to meet the lady who
entered, while her voice was scarcely audible and her limbs trembled.
"Miss Van Cortlandt!" said Eve, in the same low, smothered tone.
This formality caused a chill in both, and each unconsciously stopped
and curtsied. Eve had been so much struck with the coldness of the
American manner, during the week she had been at home, and Grace was
so sensitive on the subject of the opinion of one who had seen so
much of Europe, that there was great danger, at that critical moment,
the meeting would terminate unpropitiously.
Thus far, however, all had been rigidly decorous, though the strong
feelings that were glowing in the bosoms of both, had been so
completely suppressed. But the smile, cold and embarrassed as it was,
that each gave as she curtsied, had the sweet character of her
childhood in it, and recalled to both the girlish and affectionate
intercourse of their younger days.
"Grace!" said Eve, eagerly, advancing a step or two impetuously, and
blushing like the dawn.
"Eve!"
Each opened her arms, and in a moment they were locked in a long and
fervent embrace. This was the commencement of their former intimacy,
and before night Grace was domesticated in her uncle's house. It is
true that Miss Effingham perceived certain peculiarities about Miss
Van Cortlandt, that she had rather were absent; and Miss Van
Cortlandt would have felt more at her ease, had Miss Effingham a
little less reserve of manner, on certain subjects that the latter
had been taught to think interdicted. Notwithstanding these slight
separating shades in character, however, the natural affection was
warm and sincere; and if Eve, according to Grace's notions, was a
little stately and formal, she was polished and courteous, and if
Grace, according to Eve's notions, was a little too easy and
unreserved, she was feminine and delicate.
We pass over the three or four days that succeeded, during which Eve
had got to understand something of her new position, and we will come
at once to a conversation between the cousins, that will serve to let
the reader more intimately into the opinions, habits and feelings of
both, as well as to open the real subject of our narrative. This
conversation took place in that very library which had witnessed
their first interview, soon after breakfast, and while the young
ladies were still alone.
"I suppose, Eve, you will have to visit the Green's.--They are
Hajjis, and were much in society last winter."
"Hajjis!--You surely do not mean, Grace, that they have been to
Mecca?"
"Not at all: only to Paris, my dear; that makes a Hajji in New-York."
"And does it entitle the pilgrim to wear the green turban?" asked
Eve, laughing.
"To wear any thing, Miss Effingham; green, blue, or yellow, and to
cause it to pass for elegance."
"And which is the favourite colour with the family you have
mentioned?"
"It ought to be the first, in compliment to the name, but, if truth
must be said, I think they betray an affection for all, with not a
few of the half-tints in addition."
"I am afraid they are too _prononcées_ for us, by this description. I
am no great admirer, Grace, of walking rainbows."
"_Too_ Green, you would have said, had you dared; but you are a Hajji
too, and even the Greens know that a Hajji never puns, unless,
indeed, it might be one from Philadelphia. But you will visit these
people?"
"Certainly, if they are in society and render it necessary by their
own civilities."
"They _are_ in society, in virtue of their rights as Hajjis; but, as
they passed three months at Paris, you probably know something of
them."
"They may not have been there at the same time with ourselves,"
returned Eve, quietly, "and Paris is a very large town. Hundreds of
people come and go, that one never hears of. I do not remember those
you have mentioned."
"I wish you may escape them, for, in my untravelled judgment, they
are anything but agreeable, notwithstanding all they have seen, or
pretend to have seen."
"It is very possible to have been all over christendom, and to remain
exceedingly disagreeable; besides one may see a great deal, and yet
see very little of a good quality."
A pause of two or three minutes followed, during which Eve read a
note, and her cousin played with the leaves of a book.
"I wish I knew your real opinion of us, Eve," the last suddenly
exclaimed. "Why not be frank with so near a relative; tell me
honestly, now--are you reconciled to your country?"
"You are the eleventh person who has asked me this question, which I
find very extraordinary, as I have never quarrelled with my country."
"Nay, I do not mean exactly that. I wish to hear how our society has
struck one who has been educated abroad."
"You wish, then, for opinions that can have no great value, since my
experience at home, extends only to a fortnight. But you have many
books on the country, and some written by very clever persons; why
not consult them?"
"Oh! you mean the travellers. None of them are worth a second
thought, and we hold them, one and all, in great contempt."
"Of that I can have no manner of doubt, as one and all, you are
constantly protesting it, in the highways and bye-ways. There is no
more certain sign of contempt, than to be incessantly dwelling on its
intensity!"
Grace had great quickness, as well as her cousin, and though provoked
at Eve's quiet hit, she had the good sense and the good nature to
laugh.
"Perhaps we do protest and disdain a little too strenuously for good
taste, if not to gain believers; but surely, Eve, you do not support
these travellers in all that they have written of us?"
"Not in half, I can assure you. My father and cousin Jack have
discussed them too often in my presence to leave me in ignorance of
the very many political blunders they have made in particular."
"Political blunders!--I know nothing of them, and had rather thought
them right, in most of what they said about our politics. But,
surely, neither your father nor Mr. John Effingham corroborates what
they say of our society!"
"I cannot answer for either, on that point."
"Speak then for yourself. Do _you_ think them right?"
"You should remember, Grace, that I have not yet seen any society in
New-York."
"No society, dear!--Why you were at the Henderson's, and the
Morgan's, and the Drewett's; three of the greatest _réunions_ that we
have had in two winters!"'
"I did not know that you meant those unpleasant crowds, by society."
"Unpleasant crowds! Why, child, that _is_ society, is it not?'
"Not what I have been taught to consider such; I rather think it
would be better to call it company."
"And is not this what is called society in Paris?"
"As far from it as possible; it may be an excrescence of society; one
of its forms; but, by no means, society itself. It would be as true
to call cards, which are sometimes introduced in the world, society,
as to call a ball given in two small and crowded rooms, society. They
are merely two of the modes in which idlers endeavour to vary their
amusements."
"But we have little else than these balls, the morning visits, and an
occasional evening, in which there is no dancing."
"I am sorry to hear it; for, in that case, you can have no society."
"And is it different at Paris--or Florence, or Rome?"
"Very. In Paris there are many houses open every evening to which one
can go, with little ceremony. Our sex appears in them, dressed
according to what a gentleman I overheard conversing at Mrs.
Henderson's would call their 'ulterior intentions,' for the night;
some attired in the simplest manner, others dressed for concerts, for
the opera, for court even; some on the way from a dinner, and others
going to a late ball. All this matter of course variety, adds to the
case and grace of the company, and coupled with perfect good manners,
a certain knowledge of passing events, pretty modes of expression, an
accurate and even utterance, the women usually find the means of
making themselves agreeable. Their sentiment is sometimes a little
heroic, but this one must overlook, and it is a taste, moreover, that
is falling into disuse, as people read better books."
"And you prefer this heartlessness, Eve, to the nature of your own
country!"
"I do not know that quiet, _retenue_, and a good tone, are a whit
more heartless than flirting, giggling and childishness. There may be
more nature in the latter, certainly, but it is scarcely as
agreeable, after one has fairly got rid of the nursery."
Grace looked vexed, but she loved her cousin too sincerely to be
angry, A secret suspicion that Eve was right, too, came in aid of her
affection, and while her little foot moved, she maintained her good-
nature, a task not always attainable for those who believe that their
own "superlatives" scarcely reach to other people's "positives." At
this critical moment, when there was so much danger of a jar in the
feelings of these two young females, the library door opened and
Pierre, Mr. Effingham's own man, announced--
"Monsieur Bragg."
"Monsieur who?" asked Eve, in surprise.
"Monsieur Bragg," returned Pierre, in French, "desires to see
Mademoiselle."
"You mean my father,--I know no such person."
"He inquired first for Monsieur, but understanding Monsieur was out,
he next asked to have the honour of seeing Mademoiselle."
"Is it what they call a _person_ in England, Pierre?"
Old Pierre smiled, as he answered--
"He has the air, Mademoiselle, though he esteems himself a
_personnage_, if I might take the liberty of judging."
"Ask him for his card,--there must be a mistake, I think."
While this short conversation took place, Grace Van Cortlandt was
sketching a cottage with a pen, without attending to a word that was
said. But, when Eve received the card from Pierre and read aloud,
with the tone of surprise that the name would be apt to excite in a
novice in the art of American nomenclature, the words "Aristabulus
Bragg," her cousin began to laugh.
"Who can this possibly be, Grace?--Did you ever hear of such a
person, and what right can he have to wish to see me?"
"Admit him, by all means; it is your father's land agent, and he may
wish to leave some message for my uncle. You will be obliged to make
his acquaintance, sooner or later, and it may as well be done now as
at another time."
"You have shown this gentleman into the front drawing-room, Pierre?"
"Oui, Mademoiselle."
"I will ring when you are wanted."
Pierre withdrew, and Eve opened her secretary, out of which she took
a small manuscript book, over the leaves of which she passed her
fingers rapidly.
"Here it is," she said, smiling, "Mr. Aristabulus Bragg, Attorney and
Counsellor at Law, and the agent of the Templeton estate." This
precious little work, you must understand, Grace, contains sketches
of the characters of such persons as I shall be the most likely to
see, by John Effingham, A.M. It is a sealed volume, of course, but
there can be no harm in reading the part that treats of our present
visiter, and, with your permission, we will have it in common.--'Mr.
Aristabulus Bragg was born in one of the western counties of
Massachusetts, and emigrated to New-York, after receiving his
education, at the mature age of nineteen; at twenty-one he was
admitted to the bar, and for the last seven years he has been a
successful practitioner in all the courts of Otsego, from the
justice's to the circuit. His talents are undeniable, as he commenced
his education at fourteen and terminated it at twenty-one, the law-
course included. This man is an epitome of all that is good and all
that is bad, in a very large class of his fellow citizens. He is
quick-witted, prompt in action, enterprising in all things in which
he has nothing to lose, but wary and cautious in all things in which
he has a real stake, and ready to turn not only his hand, but his
heart and his principles to any thing that offers an advantage. With
him, literally, "nothing is too high to be aspired to, nothing too
low to be done." He will run for Governor, or for town-clerk, just as
opportunities occur, is expert in all the _practices_ of his
profession, has had a quarter's dancing, with three years in the
classics, and turned his attention towards medicine and divinity,
before he finally settled down into the law. Such a compound of
shrewdness, impudence, common-sense, pretension, humility,
cleverness, vulgarity, kind-heartedness, duplicity, selfishness, law-
honesty, moral fraud and mother wit, mixed up with a smattering of
learning and much penetration in practical things, can hardly be
described, as any one of his prominent qualities is certain to be met
by another quite as obvious that is almost its converse. Mr. Bragg,
in short, is purely a creature of circumstances, his qualities
pointing him out for either a member of congress or a deputy sheriff,
offices that he is equally ready to fill. I have employed him to
watch over the estate of your father, in the absence of the latter,
on the principle that one practised in tricks is the best qualified
to detect and expose them, and with the certainty that no man will
trespass with impunity, so long as the courts continue to tax bills
of costs with their present liberality.' You appear to know the
gentleman, Grace; is this character of him faithful?"
"I know nothing of bills of costs and deputy sheriffs, but I do know
that Mr. Aristabulus Bragg is an amusing mixture of strut, humility,
roguery and cleverness. He is waiting all this time in the drawing-
room, and you had better see him, as he may, now, be almost
considered part of the family. You know he has been living in the
house at Templeton, ever since he was installed by Mr. John
Effingham. It was there I had the honour first to meet him,"
"First!--Surely you have never seen him any where else!"
"Your pardon, my dear. He never comes to town without honouring me
with a call. This is the price I pay for having had the honour of
being an inmate of the same house with him for a week."
Eve rang the bell, and Pierre made his appearance.
"Desire Mr. Bragg to walk into the library."
Grace looked demure while Pierre was gone to usher in their visiter,
and Eve was thinking of the medley of qualities John Effingham had
assembled in his description, as the door opened, and the subject of
her contemplation entered.
"_Monsieur Aristabule_" said Pierre, eyeing the card, but sticking at
the first name.
Mr. Aristabulus Bragg was advancing with an easy assurance to make
his bow to the ladies, when the more finished air and quiet dignity
of Miss Effingham, who was standing, so far disconcerted him, as
completely to upset his self-possession. As Grace had expressed it,
in consequence of having lived three years in the old residence at
Templeton, he had begun to consider himself a part of the family, and
at home he never spoke of the young lady without calling her "Eve,"
or "Eve Effingham." But he found it a very different thing to affect
familiarity among his associates, and to practise it in the very face
of its subject; and, although seldom at a loss for words of some sort
or another, he was now actually dumb-founded. Eve relieved his
awkwardness by directing Pierre, with her eye, to hand a chair, and
first speaking.
"I regret that my father is not in," she said, by way of turning the
visit from herself; "but he is to be expected every moment. Are you
lately from Templeton?"
Aristabulus drew his breath, and recovered enough of his ordinary
tone of manner to reply with a decent regard to his character for
self-command. The intimacy that he had intended to establish on the
spot, was temporarily defeated, it is true, and without his exactly
knowing how it had been effected; for it was merely the steadiness of
the young lady, blended as it was with a polished reserve, that had
thrown him to a distance he could not explain. He felt immediately,
and with taste that did his sagacity credit, that his footing in this
quarter was only to be obtained by unusually slow and cautious means.
Still, Mr. Bragg was a man of great decision, and, in his way, of
very far-sighted views; and, singular as it may seem, at that
unpropitious moment, he mentally determined that, at no very distant
day, he would make Miss Eve Effingham his wife.
"I hope Mr. Effingham enjoys good health," he said, with some such
caution as a rebuked school-girl enters on the recitation of her
task--"he enjoyed bad health I hear, (Mr. Aristabulus Bragg, though
so shrewd, was far from critical in his modes of speech) when he went
to Europe, and after travelling so far in such bad company, it would
be no more than fair that he should have a little respite as he
approaches home and old age."
Had Eve been told that the man who uttered this nice sentiment, and
that too in accents as uncouth and provincial as the thought was
finished and lucid, actually presumed to think of her as his bosom
companion, it is not easy to say which would have predominated in her
mind, mirth or resentment. But Mr. Bragg was not in the habit of
letting his secrets escape him prematurely, and certainly this was
one that none but a wizard could have discovered without the aid of a
direct oral or written communication.
"Are you lately from Templeton?" repeated Eve a little surprised that
the gentleman did not see fit to answer the question, which was the
only one that, as it seemed to her, could have a common interest with
them both.
"I left home the day before yesterday," Aristabulus now deigned to
reply.
"It is so long since I saw our beautiful mountains and I was then so
young, that I feel a great impatience to revisit them, though the
pleasure must be deferred until spring."
"I conclude they are the handsomest mountains in the known world,
Miss Effingham!"
"That is much more than I shall venture to claim for them; but,
according to my imperfect recollection, and, what I esteem of far
more importance, according to the united testimony of Mr. John
Effingham and my father, I think they must be very beautiful."
Aristabulus looked up, as if he had a facetious thing to say, and he
even ventured on a smile, while he made his answer.
"I hope Mr. John Effingham has prepared you for a great change in the
house?"
"We know that it has been repaired and altered under his directions.
That was done at my father's request."
"We consider it denationalized, Miss Effingham, there being nothing
like it, west of Albany at least."
"I should be sorry to find that my cousin has subjected us to this
imputation," said Eve smiling--perhaps a little equivocally; "the
architecture of America being generally so simple and pure. Mr.
Effingham laughs at his own improvements, however, in which, he says,
he has only carried out the plans of the original _artiste_, who
worked very much in what was called the composite order.
"You allude to Mr. Hiram Doolittle, a gentleman I never saw; though I
hear he has left behind him many traces of his progress in the newer
states. _Ex pede Herculem_, as we say, in the classics, Miss
Effingham I believe it is the general sentiment that Mr. Doolittle's
designs have been improved on, though most people think that the
Grecian or Roman architecture, which is so much in use in America,
would be more republican. But every body knows that Mr. John
Effingham is not much of a republican."
Eve did not choose to discuss her kinsman's opinions with Mr.
Aristabulus Bragg, and she quietly remarked that she "did not know
that the imitations of the ancient architecture, of which there are
so many in the country, were owing to attachment to republicanism."
"To what else can it be owing, Miss Eve?"
"Sure enough," said Grace Van Cortlandt; "it is unsuited to the
materials, the climate, and the uses; and some very powerful motive,
like that mentioned by Mr. Bragg, could alone overcome these
obstacles."
Aristabulus started from his seat, and making sundry apologies,
declared his previous unconsciousness that Miss Van Cortlandt was
present; all of which was true enough, as he had been so much
occupied mentally, with her cousin, as not to have observed her,
seated as she was partly behind a screen. Grace received the excuses
favourably, and the conversation was resumed.
"I am sorry that my cousin should offend the taste of the country,"
said Eve, "but as we are to live in the house, the punishment will
fall heaviest on the offenders."
"Do not mistake me, Miss Eve," returned Aristabulus, in a little
alarm, for he too well understood the influence and wealth of John
Effingham, not to wish to be on good terms with him; "do not mistake
me, I admire the house, and know it to be a perfect specimen of a
pure architecture in its way, but then public opinion is not yet
quite up to it. I see all its beauties, I would wish you to know, but
then there are many, a majority perhaps, who do not, and these
persons think they ought to be consulted about such matters."
"I believe Mr. John Effingham thinks less of his own work than you
seem to think of it yourself, sir, for I have frequently heard him
laugh at it, as a mere enlargement of the merits of the composite
order. He calls it a caprice, rather than a taste: nor do I see what
concern a majority, as you term them, can have with a house that does
not belong to them."
Aristabulus was surprised that any one could disregard a majority;
for, in this respect, he a good deal resembled Mr. Dodge, though
running a different career; and the look of surprise he gave was
natural and open.
"I do not mean that the public has a legal right to control the
tastes of the citizen," he said, "but in a _republican_ government,
you undoubtedly understand, Miss Eve, it _will_ rule in all things."
"I can understand that one would wish to see his neighbour use good
taste, as it helps to embellish a country; but the man who should
consult the whole neighbourhood before he built, would be very apt to
cause a complicated house to be erected, if he paid much respect to
the different opinions he received; or, what is quite as likely, apt
to have no house at all."
"I think you are mistaken, Miss Effingham, for the public sentiment,
just now, runs almost exclusively and popularly into the Grecian
school. We build little besides temples for our churches, our banks,
our taverns, our court-houses, and our dwellings. A friend of mine
has just built a brewery on the model of the Temple of the Winds."
"Had it been a mill, one might understand the conceit," said Eve, who
now began to perceive that her visiter had some latent humour, though
he produced it in a manner to induce one to think him any thing but a
droll. "The mountains must be doubly beautiful, if they are decorated
in the way you mention. I sincerely hope, Grace, that I shall find
the hills as pleasant as they now exist in my recollection!"
"Should they not prove to be quite as lovely as you imagine, Miss
Effingham," returned Aristabulus, who saw no impropriety in answering
a remark made to Miss Van Cortlandt, or any one else, "I hope you
will have the kindness to conceal the fact from the world."
"I am afraid that would exceed my power, the disappointment would be
so strong. May I ask why you show so much interest in my keeping so
cruel a mortification to myself?"
"Why, Miss Eve," said Aristabulus, looking grave, "I am afraid that
_our_ people would hardly bear the expression of such an opinion from
_you_"
"From _me!_--and why not from _me_, in particular?"
"Perhaps it is because they think you have travelled, and have seen
other countries."
"And is it only those who have _not_ travelled, and who have no means
of knowing the value of what they say, that are privileged to
criticise?"
"I cannot exactly explain my own meaning, perhaps, but I think Miss
Grace will understand me. Do you not agree with me, Miss Van
Cortlandt, in thinking it would be safer for one who never saw any
other mountains to complain of the tameness and monotony of our own,
than for one who had passed a whole life among the Andes and the
Alps?"
Eve smiled, for she saw that Mr. Bragg was capable of detecting and
laughing at provincial pride, even while he was so much under its
influence; and Grace coloured, for she had the consciousness of
having already betrayed some of this very silly sensitiveness, in her
intercourse with her cousin, in connexion with other subjects. A
reply was unnecessary, however, as the door just then opened, and
John Effingham made his appearance. The meeting between the two
gentlemen, for we suppose Aristabulus must be included in the
category by courtesy, if not of right, was more cordial than Eve had
expected to witness, for each really entertained a respect for the
other, in reference to a merit of a particular sort; Mr. Bragg
esteeming Mr. John Effingham as a wealthy and caustic cynic, and Mr.
John Effingham regarding Mr. Bragg much as the owner of a dwelling
regards a valuable house-dog. After a few moments of conversation,
the two withdrew together, and just as the ladies were about to
descend to the drawing-room, previously to dinner, Pierre announced
that a plate had been ordered for the land agent.