The name of Thomas Mavick has lost the prominence and significance it
had at the time the events recorded in this history were taking place.
It seems incredible that the public should so soon have lost interest in
him. His position in the country was most conspicuous. No name was more
frequently in the newspapers. No other person not in official life was
so often interviewed. The reporters instinctively turned to him for
information in matters financial, concerning deals, and commercial,
which were so commonly connected with political, enterprises. No loan
was negotiated without consulting him, no operation was considered safe
without knowing how he was affected towards it, and to ascertain what
Mavick was doing or thinking was a constant anxiety in the Street. Of
course the opinion of a man so powerful was very important in politics,
and any church or sect would be glad to have his support. The fact that
he and his family worshiped regularly at St. Agnes's was a guarantee of
the stability of that church, and incidentally marked the success of the
Christian religion in the metropolis.
But the condition of the presence in the public mind of the name of a
great operator and accumulator of money who is merely that is either
that he go on accumulating, so that the magnitude of his wealth has few
if any rivals, or that his name become synonymous with some gigantic
cleverness, if not rascality, so that it is used as an adjective after
he and his wealth have disappeared from the public view. It is different
with the reputation of an equally great financier who has used his
ability for the service of his country. There is no Valhalla for the
mere accumulators of money. They are fortunate if their names are
forgotten, and not remembered as illustrations of colossal selfishness.
Mavick may have been the ideal of many a self-made man, but he did
not make his fortune--he married it. And it was suspected that the
circumstances attending that marriage put him in complete control of it.
He came into possession, however, with cultivated shrewdness and tact
and large knowledge of the world, the world of diplomacy as well as of
business. And under his manipulation the vast fortune so acquired was
reported to have been doubled. It was at any rate almost fabulous in the
public estimation.
When the charming widow of the late Rodney Henderson, then sojourning in
Rome, placed her attractive self and her still more attractive fortune
in the hands of Mr. Thomas Mavick, United States Minister to the Court
of Italy, she attained a position in the social world which was in
accord with her ambition, and Mavick acquired the means of making the
mission, in point of comparison with the missions of the other powers
at the Italian capital, a credit to the Great Republic. The match was
therefore a brilliant one, and had a sort of national importance.
Those who knew Mrs. Mavick in the remote past, when she was the
fascinating and not definitely placed Carmen Eschelle, and who also knew
Mr. Mavick when he was the confidential agent of Rodney Henderson, knew
that their union was a convenient and material alliance, in which the
desire of each party to enjoy in freedom all the pleasures of the world
could be gratified while retaining the social consideration of the
world. Both had always been circumspect. And it may be added, for the
information of strangers, that they thoroughly knew each other, and were
participants in a knowledge that put each at disadvantage, so that their
wedded life was a permanent truce. This bond of union was not ideal, and
not the best for the creation of individual character, but it avoided an
exhibition of those public antagonisms which so grieve and disturb the
even flow of the current of society, and give occasion to so much witty
comment on the institution of marriage itself.
When, some two years after Mr. Mavick relinquished the mission to Italy
to another statesman who had done some service to the opposite party,
an heiress was born to the house of Mavick, her appearance in the
world occasioned some disappointment to those who had caused it.
Mavick naturally wished a son to inherit his name and enlarge the gold
foundation upon which its perpetuity must rest; and Mrs. Mavick as
naturally shrank from a responsibility that promised to curtail freedom
of action in the life she loved. Carmen--it was an old saying of the
danglers in the time of Henderson--was a domestic woman except in her
own home.
However, it is one of the privileges of wealth to lighten the cares
and duties of maternity, and the enlarged household was arranged upon a
basis that did not interfere with the life of fashion and the charitable
engagements of the mother. Indeed, this adaptable woman soon found that
she had become an object of more than usual interest, by her latest
exploit, in the circles in which she moved, and her softened manner and
edifying conversation showed that she appreciated her position. Even
the McTavishes, who were inclined to be skeptical, said that Carmen was
delightful in her new role. This showed that the information Mrs. Mavick
got from the women who took care of her baby was of a kind to touch the
hearts of mothers and spinsters.
Moreover, the child was very pretty, and early had winning ways. The
nurse, before the baby was a year old, discovered in her the cleverness
of the father and the grace and fascination of the mother. And it must
be said that, if she did not excite passionate affection at first, she
enlisted paternal and maternal pride in her career. It dawned upon both
parents that a daughter might give less cause for anxiety than a son,
and that in an heiress there were possibilities of an alliance that
would give great social distinction. Considering, therefore, all that
she represented, and the settled conviction of Mrs. Mavick that she
would be the sole inheritor of the fortune, her safety and education
became objects of the greatest anxiety and precaution.
It happened that about the time Evelyn was christened there was a
sort of epidemic of stealing children, and of attempts to rob tombs of
occupants who had died rich or distinguished, in the expectation of
a ransom. The newspapers often chronicled mysterious disappearances;
parents whose names were conspicuous suffered great anxiety, and
extraordinary precautions were taken in regard to the tombs of public
men. And this was the reason that the heiress of the house of Mavick
became the object of a watchful vigilance that was probably never before
exercised in a republic, and that could only be paralleled in the case
of a sole heir-apparent of royalty.
These circumstances resulted in an interference with the laws of nature
which it must be confessed destroyed one of the most interesting studies
in heredity that was ever offered to an historian of social life. What
sort of a child had we a right to expect from Thomas Mavick, diplomatist
and operator, successor to the rights and wrongs of Rodney Henderson,
and Carmen Mavick, with the past of Carmen Eschelle and Mrs. Henderson?
Those who adhered to the strictest application of heredity, in
considering the natural development of Evelyn Mavick, sought refuge
in the physiological problem of the influence of Rodney Henderson, and
declared that something of his New England sturdiness and fundamental
veracity had been imparted to the inheritor of his great fortune.
But the visible interference took the form of Ann McDonald, a Scotch
spinster, to whom was intrusted the care of Evelyn as soon as she was
christened. It was merely a piece of good fortune that brought a person
of the qualifications of Ann McDonald into the family, for it is not to
be supposed that Mrs. Mavick had given any thought to the truth that
the important education of a child begins in its cradle, or that in
selecting a care-taker and companion who should later on be a governess
she was consulting her own desire of freedom from the duties of a
mother. It was enough for her that the applicant for the position had
the highest recommendations, that she was prepossessing in appearance,
and it was soon perceived that the guardian was truthful, faithful,
vigilant, and of an affectionate disposition and an innate refinement.
Ann McDonald was the only daughter of a clergyman of the Scotch Church,
and brought up in the literary atmosphere common in the most cultivated
Edinburgh homes. She had been accurately educated, and always with the
knowledge that her education might be her capital in life. After the
death of her mother, when she was nineteen, she had been her father's
housekeeper, and when in her twenty-fourth year her father relinquished
his life and his salary, she decided, under the advice of influential
friends, to try her fortune in America. And she never doubted that it
was a providential guidance that brought her into intimate relations
with the infant heiress. It seemed probable that a woman so attractive
and so solidly accomplished would not very long remain a governess, but
in fact her career was chosen from the moment she became interested in
the development of the mind and character of the child intrusted to her
care. It is difficult to see how our modern life would go on as well as
it does if there were not in our homes a good many such faithful souls.
It sometimes seems, in this shifting world, that about the best any of
us can do is to prepare some one else for doing something well.
Miss McDonald had a pretty comprehensive knowledge of English literature
and history, and, better perhaps than mere knowledge, a discriminating
and cultivated taste. If her religious education had twisted her view
of the fine arts, she had nevertheless a natural sympathy for the
beautiful, and she would not have been a Scotchwoman if she had not
had a love for the romances of her native land and at heart a “ballad”
sentiment for the cavaliers. If Evelyn had been educated by her in
Edinburgh, she might have been in sentiment a young Jacobite. She had
through translations a sufficient knowledge of the classics to give her
the necessary literary background, and her study of Latin had led her
into the more useful acquisition of French.
If she had been free to indulge her own taste, she would have gone far
in natural history, as was evident from her mastery of botany and her
interest in birds.
She inspired so much confidence by her good sense, clear-headedness, and
discretion, that almost from the first Evelyn was confided to her sole
care, with only the direction that the baby was never for an instant,
night or day, to be left out of the sight of a trusty attendant. The
nurse was absolutely under her orders, she selected the two maids, and
no person except the parents and the governess could admit visitors to
the nursery. This perfect organization was maintained for many years,
and though it came to be relaxed in details, it was literally true that
the heiress was never alone, and never out of the sight of some
trusted person responsible for her safety. But whatever the changes or
relaxation, in holidays, amusements, travel, or education, the person
who formed her mind was the one who had taught her to obey, to put words
together into language, and to speak the truth, from infancy.
It is not necessary to consider Ann McDonald as a paragon. She was
simply an intelligent, disciplined woman, with a strong sense of duty.
If she had married and gone about the ordinary duties of life at the
age of twenty-four, she would probably have been in no marked way
distinguished among women. Her own development was largely due to the
responsibility that was put upon her in the training of another person.
In this sense it was true that she had learned as much as she had
imparted. And in nothing was this more evident than in the range of her
literary taste and judgment. Whatever risks, whatever latitude she might
have been disposed to take with regard to her own mind, she would not
take as to the mind of another, and as a consequence her own standards
rose to meet the situation. That is to say, in a conscientious selection
of only the best for Evelyn, she became more fastidious as to the food
for her own mind. Or, to put it in still another way, in regard to
character and culture generally, the growth of Miss McDonald could be
measured by that of Evelyn.
When, from the time Evelyn was seven years old, it became necessary
in her education to call in special tutors in the languages and
in mathematics, and in certain arts that are generally called
accomplishments, Miss McDonald was always present when the lessons were
given, so that she maintained her ascendency and her influence in the
girl's mind. It was this inseparable companionship, at least in all
affairs of the mind, that gave to this educational experiment an
exceptional interest to students of psychology. Nothing could be more
interesting than to come into contact with a mind that from infancy
onward had dwelt only upon what is noblest in literature, and from which
had been excluded all that is enervating and degrading. A remarkable
illustration of this is the familiar case of Helen Keller, whose
acquisitions, by reason of her blindness and deafness, were limited to
what was selected for her, and that mainly by one person, and she was
therefore for a long time shielded from a knowledge of the evil side of
life. Yet all vital literature is so close to life, and so full of its
passion and peril, that it supplies all the necessary aliment for the
growth of a sound, discriminating mind; and that knowledge of the world,
as knowledge of evil is euphemistically called, can be safely left
out of a good education. This may be admitted without going into the
discussion whether good principles and standards in literature and
morals are a sufficient equipment for the perils of life.
This experiment, of course, was limited in Evelyn's case. She came
in contact with a great deal of life. Her little world was fairly
representative, for it contained her father, her mother, her governess,
the maids and the servants, and occasional visitors, whom she saw freely
as she grew older. The interesting fact was that she was obliged to
judge this world according to the standards of literature, morals, and
manners that had been implanted in her mainly by the influence of one
person. The important part of this experiment of partial exclusion,
in which she was never alone' an experiment undertaken solely for
her safety and not for her training-was seen in her when she became
conscious of its abnormal character, and perceived that she was always
under surveillance. It might have made her exceedingly morbid,
aside from its effect of paralyzing her self-confidence and power of
initiation, had it not been for the exceptionally strong and cheerful
nature of her companion. A position more hateful, even to a person not
specially socially inclined, cannot be imagined than that of always
being watched, and never having any assured privacy. And under such a
tutelage and dependence, how in any event could she be able to take care
of herself? What weapons had this heiress of a great fortune with
which to defend herself? What sort of a girl had this treatment during
seventeen years produced?