HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD NEWS OF A MORRIS WALL-PAPER TO COALCHESTER
Coalchester was too much taken by surprise by "The Dawn" to pretend to
ignore it, and its first recognition was appropriately made in a
ludicrously abusive article in "The Argus,"--"the one-eyed Argus," as it
was mockingly nicknamed in the next week's issue of the new paper. The
joke was one that was lost on Coalchester, which had never dreamed of
expecting a hundred eyes in its "Argus," which to it was but the usual
name for a sleeping newspaper. It was, however, to do them justice, seen
and chuckled over by one or two members of the Literary and
Philosophical Society. "The young beggars know their--classical
dictionary, at all events," said one of them maliciously, which was
quite bright for a Lit-and-Phil.
One tangible result of the little paper was the almost immediate
doubling of the attendance at New Zion. Curiosity had been aroused in
this militant young minister with the strange ideas, and Theophilus
Londonderry wished for nothing better than to gratify it. In the oxygen
of success even the dullest metals will scintillate, and it needed but
such small beginnings of his future to make Theophilus as nearly
irresistible as natural gifts and success together can make a man.
Some people go to chapel to worship, a few to learn, but most, odd as it
may sound, to be entertained. A vivid and magnetic preacher is as near
as many will allow themselves to approach the theatre. Theophilus was a
born actor--of himself; a part so few can or dare play. He gave you good
stimulating truth; but it was not so much in the newness of the ideas
which he passed on from his books to his hearers, as in the newness of
himself, that of course the charm lay. A few people, not many or
important, disliked him; but all had to listen, and a good many came to
New Zion again. Above all, the women heard him gladly; and to this sure
sign of a future Theophilus was far from blind. "He has women at his
back, he cannot fail," was a phrase he sometimes recalled out of his
favourite _Brand_. Yes, and had he not one little angel-woman at
his side?
It had been the spring of 1886 when he came to New Zion. It was now the
autumn, and early in September announcements had been made of a series
of autumnal lectures to be given by the Rev. Theophilus Londonderry; Rob
Clitheroe, Esquire; James Whalley, Esquire; and other distinguished
lecturers, at New Zion.
In the list were papers on "The Duty of Novel Reading," "Henrik Ibsen,"
"A Morris Wall-Paper," "The Nude in Art," and "The Darwinian Theory,"
by Mr. Londonderry himself; "Coalchester, its Past and its Future," by
Mr. Rob Clitheroe; together with "Ireland's Sacred Right to Home Rule,"
by the same lecturer; "Wagner and the New Music," by Mr. James Whalley,
with a paper on "Some Really New Books," by the same; and a paper-on
"Good Taste in Dress," by Miss Jenny Talbot--the virago!
The batteries were to be turned on poor Coalchester with a vengeance.
For some time past there had been uneasy suspicions in the town that
strange and somewhat ungodly forms of new learning and beauty were being
stored as in an arsenal in that little house at 3 Zion Place. A large
cast of the Venus of Milo, it was known, had come from Covent Garden,
London, _via_ a poor little dealer in artistic materials in the town,
who on one occasion had shown a bewildering picture to one of his
customers with the remark, "What do you make of this, Mr. Littlejohn?"
Mr. Littlejohn could make nothing of it, nor indeed could the artists'
colourman, who had been used to pictures all his life.
No wonder, for it was the first Rossetti that had ever been seen in
Coalchester.
And it was the same at the little paperhanger's shop where Theophilus
had ordered some pieces of Morris wall-paper for his room.
"Law! what a taste, to be sure!" had exclaimed the paperhanger's wife as
they opened the parcel. "How any one dare live with such patterns is
beyond me." The paperhanger's wife verbed better than she knew. Few are
those indeed who dare live with beauty.
When the paper was hung in Theophil's room, so great was the sensation
in the household that even old Mr. Talbot ventured to look in at it,
keeping very close to his wife. It was so the old man had stood
open-mouthed before the first steam-engine, and here again was the Devil
plainly at work.
"Lord a-mercy, Jane," he said to his wife, "what is the world coming
to?"
The world was indeed changing beneath the old man's feet, and the
heavens opening as never before in his time--with, he might be right,
some assistance from beneath; and--it was undoubtedly safer in
the kitchen.
Mrs. Talbot in these matters lived and loved by faith in her boy, as she
called him. But even she had her doubts, which she expressed in a way
that showed, funny old woman as she was, that she was not without a sort
of blind insight.
"I suppose it's all right, boy," she said, "and it sounds silly to say
about a lot of harmless lines and flowers, but it seems to your old
mother that there's something wrong about that paper,--something almost
wicked in it. It reminds me of that nasty music you and Jenny are so
fond of playing."
Here Theophil enveloped her in a huge hug, and laughingly mocked her
with playful caresses, smiling to himself all the same. For the music
she had referred to was Dvorak.