|Three years at Orange passed away quickly enough, and Hiram enjoyed his
time there far better than he had done even in the solitude of Bethabara
Seminary. He didn't work very hard at the classics and mathematics, it
must be admitted: Professor Hazen complained that his recitations in
Plato were not up to the mark, and that his Cicero was seldom prepared
with sufficient diligence: but though in the dead languages his work was
most too bad, the Professor allowed that in English literatoor he did
well, and seemed to reach out elastically with his faculties in all
directions. He spent very little time over his books to be sure, but he
caught the drift, appropriated the kernel, and let the rest slide. Fact
was, he created his own culture. He didn't debate in the lyceum, or
mix much in social gatherings of an evening (where the female stoodents
entertained the gentlemen with tea, and Johnny cake, and crullers, and
improving conversation), but he walked a great deal alone in the hills,
and interested himself with sketching, and the pursoot of natural
history. Still, he wasn't social; so much Professor Hazen was compelled
by candour to admit. When the entire strength of the Eclectic Institoot
went in carriages to the annual grove-meeting at Rudolph, Hiram Winthrop
was usually conspicuous by his absence. The lady stoodents fully
expected that a gentleman of such marked artistic and rural proclivities
would on such occasions be the life and soul of the whole party: that he
would burst out occasionally into a rapturous strain at the sight of
an elegant bird, or a trailing vine, or a superb giant of the primæval
forest. They calculated confidently on his reciting poetry appropriate
to the scene and the social occasion. But Hiram generally stopped away
altogether, which operated considerable disappointment on the ladies; or
if he went at all, accompanied the junior stoodents in the refreshment
waggon, and scarcely contributed anything solid to the general
entertainment. In short, he was a very bashful and retiring person, who
didn't amalgamate spontaneously or readily with the prevalent tone of
life at the Eclectic Institoot.
Nevertheless, in spite of the solitude, Hiram Winthrop liked the
Institute, and often looked back afterwards upon the time he had spent
there as one of the happiest portions of his life. He worked away hard
in all his spare moments at drawing and painting; and some of the lady
students still retain some of his works of this period, which they
cherish in small gilt frames upon the parlour wall, as mementoes of
their brief acquaintance with a prominent American artistic gentleman.
Miss Almeda A. Stiles in particular (who followed Hiram from Betha-bara
to Orange, where she graduated with him in the class of 18--) keeps even
now two of his drawings in her rooms at the lyceum at Smyrna, Mo. One of
them represents a large Europian bird, seated upon the bough of a tree
in winter; it is obviously a copy from a drawing-master's design: the
other, which is far finer and more original, is a sketch of Chattawauga
Falls, before the erection of the existing sawmills and other
improvements. Hiram was singularly fond of Chattawauga; but strange
to say, from the very first day that the erection of the sawmills was
undertaken, he refused to go near the spot, alleging no other reason for
his refusal except that he regarded these useful institootions in the
light of a positively wicked desecration of the work of nature. There
was a general feeling at Orange that in many respects young Winthrop's
sentiments and opinions were in fact painfully unAmerican.
In the holidays--no, vacation--(one mustn't apply European names to
American objects), Hiram found enough to do in teaching school in remote
country sections. Nay, he even managed to save a little money out of his
earnings, which he put away to help him on his grand project of going
to Europe--that dim, receding, but now far more historical and less
romantic Europe towards which his hopes were always pointing. Audouin
would gladly have sent him on his own account--Hiram knew that much
well; for Audouin was comfortably rich, and he had taken a great fancy
to his young _protégé_. But Hiram didn't want to spend his friend's
money if he could possibly help it: he had the honest democratic feeling
strong upon him, that he would like to go to Europe by his own earnings
or not at all. So as soon as his three years at Orange were over, he
determined to go to Syracuse (not the Sicilian one, but its namesake
in New York State), and start in business for the time being as a
draughtsman on the wood. He was drawn to this scheme by an advertisement
in the 'Syracuse Daily Independent,' requiring a smart hand at drawing
for a large blockengraving establishment in that city.
'My dear Hiram,' Audouin exclaimed in dismay, when his young friend told
him of his project, 'you really mustn't think of it. At Syracuse,
too! why, what sort of work do you conceive people would want done at
Syracuse? Nothing but advertisement drawings of factories for the covers
of biscuit tins, or flaring red and yellow fruits for the decoration of
canned peaches.'
'Well, Mr. Audouin,' Hiram answered with a smile, 'I guess I must go in
for the canned peaches, then, if nothing better offers. I've got to earn
enough to take me across to Europe, one way or the other;--no, don't say
that now,' for he saw Audouin trying to cut in impatiently with his
ever friendly offer of assistance: 'don't say that,' and he clutched his
friend's arm tightly. 'I know you would. I know you would. But I can't
accept it. This thing has just got to be done in the regular way of
business or not at all; and what's more, Mr. Audouin, I've just got to
go and do it.'
'But, Hiram,' Audouin cried, half angrily, 'I want you to go to Europe
and learn to paint splendid pictures, and make all America proud of your
talent. I found you out, and I've got a sort of proprietary interest in
you; and just when I expect you to begin doing something really great,
you calmly propose to go to Syracuse, and draw designs for canned
peaches! You ought to consider your duty to your country.'
'I'm very sorry, Mr. Audouin,' Hiram answered with his accustomed
gravity, 'if I disappoint you personally; but as for the rest of
America, I dare say the country'll manage to hold on a year or two
longer without my pictures.'
So Hiram really went at last to Syracuse (pronounced Sirrah-kyooze), and
duly applied for the place as draughtsman. The short boy who showed him
in to the office went off to call one of the bosses. In a few minutes,
the boss in question entered, and in a quiet American tone, with just a
faint relic of some English country dialect flavouring it dimly in the
background, inquired if this was the young man who had come about the
drawing. 'For if so, mister,' he said with the true New Yorker ring,
'just you step right back here with me, will 'ee, a minute, and we'll
settle this little bit of business right away, smart and handy.'
Hiram knew the boss in a moment, in spite of his altered voice and
manner. 'Sam,' he said, taking his hand warmly (for he hadn't had so
many friends in his lifetime that he had forgotten how to be grateful
to any single one of them): 'Sam, don't you remember me? I'm Hiram
Winthrop.'
Sam's whole voice and manner changed in a moment, from the sharp,
official, Syracuse business man to something more like the old simple,
easygoing, bucolic Sam Churchill, who had come out so long ago from
Dorsetshire. 'Why, bless my soul, Hiram,' he exclaimed, grasping both
his hands at once in an iron grip, 'so it's you, lad, is it? Well, I
_am_ glad to see you. You step right back here and let's have a look
at you! Why, how you've grown, Hiram! Only don't call me Sam, too open,
here; here, I'm one of the bosses, and get called Mr. Churchill. And
how's the deacon, and the missus, and old Major (you don't mind old
Major? he was the off-horse at the plough, always, he was). And how are
_you?_ Been to college, I reckon, by the look of you. You come right
back here and tell me all about it.'
So Hiram went right back (behind the little counter in the front
office), and told Sam Churchill his whole story. And Sam in return told
his. It wasn't very long, but it was all prosperous. He had left, the
deacon soon after Hiram went to live at Bethabara Seminary; he had come
to Syracuse in search of work; had begun trying his hand as draughtsman
for a wood-engraver; had gone into partnership with another young man,
on his own account; had risen as fast as people in America do rise,
if they have anything in them; and was now joint boss of the biggest
woodcut establishment in the whole Lake Shore section of New York State.
'See here,' he cried with infinite pride to Hiram. 'Just you look at all
these labels. Hemmings' Patent Blacking--nigger woman admiring her own
teeth in her master's boots--that's ours. And this: Chicago General
Canning Company; Prime Fruit: I did that myself. And this: Philbrick's
Certain Death to Eats: good design, rather, that one, ain't it? Here's
more: Potterton's Choke-cherry Cordial; Old Dr. Hezekiah Bowdler's
Elixir of Winter-green; Eselmann and Schneider's Eagle Brand Best Old
Bourbon Whiskey; Smoke None but Cyrus A. Walker's Original and Only
Genuine Old Dominion Honeydew. That's our line of business, you see,
Hiram. That's where we've got on. We've put mind into it. We've struck
out a career of our own. We've determined to revolutionise the American
advertisement illustration market, When we took the thing in hand,
it was all red and yellow uglinesses. We've discarded crudeness and
vulgarity, we have, and gone in for artistic colouring and the best
sentiments. Look at Philbrick's Certain Death, for example. That's fine,
now, isn't it? We've made the fortune of the Certain Death. When we
took it up, advertising I mean, there wasn't a living to be got out of
Philbrick's. They had a sort of comic picture of four rats, poisoned,
with labels coming out of their mouths, saying they were gone coons,
and so forth. Vulgar, vulgar, very. We went in for the contract, and
produced the chaste and elegant design you see before you. It has
succeeded, naturally,' and Sam looked across at Hiram with the serious
face of profound conviction with which he was always wont to confront
the expected customer, in the interests of the joint establishment.
Poor Hiram! his heart sank within him a little when he looked at the
chaste and elegant design; but he had put his hand to the plough, and
he would not look back: so before the end of that day Sam Churchill had
definitely engaged him as chief draughtsman to his rising establishment.
That was how Hiram came to spend two years as an advertisement
draughtsman at Syracuse. He didn't deny, afterwards, that those two
years were about the dreariest and most, disappointing of his whole
lifetime. In his spare moments, to be sure, he still went on studying
as well as he was able; and on Sundays he stole away with his easel and
colours to the few bits of decently pretty scenery that lie within reach
of that flat and marshy mushroom city: but for the greater part of his
time he was employed in designing neat and appropriate wrappers for
quack medicine bottles, small illustrations for catalogues or newspaper
advertisements, and huge flaring posters for mammoth circuses or variety
dramatic entertainments. It was a grinding, horrible work; and though
Sam Churchill did his best to make it pleasant and bearable for him,
Hiram cordially detested it with all his heart. The only thing that made
it any way endurable was the image of that far-off promised European
journey, on which Hiram Winthrop had fixed all his earthly hopes and
ambitions.
Sam often told him of Colin, for Colin had kept up a correspondence with
his thriving American brother; and it was a sort of daydream with Hiram
that one day or other Colin Churchill and he should go to Rome together.
For Audouin's encouragement and Colin's eagerness had inspired Hiram
with a like desire: and he saved and hoarded in hopes that the time
would at last come when he might get rid of advertisements, and take
instead to real painting. Meanwhile he contented himself with working at
his art by himself, or with such little external aid as he could get
in a brand-new green-and-white American city, and hoping for the future
that never came but was always coming.