Perhaps of all divisions of humanity the most fundamental would be
that into the class which demands and the class which serves. The
English-speaking race, despite all its desire to "better its
condition," seems able to bear enlightenment as to all this world may
give its fortunate ones, and yet continue contentedly to serve. Upon
the Latin races such training acts like heady wine: loath to acquire
new ideas, supine in intellectual inquiry, yet give them once the
virus of knowledge and no distance blocks their immediate demand.
Mercedes, who was thus given a high-school education and some few of
the lonely luxuries of life, passed quickly beyond the circulating
libraries in her demands for more. Given through her intellect the
knowledge, her nature was quick to grasp. For kingdoms may be
overthrown, declarations of independence be declared, legislatures
legislate equality, and still--up to this time, at least--the children
of democracy be educated, in free common schools, upon much the same
plan that had been adopted by some Hannah More in bygone centuries
for the only class that then was educated, daughters of the gentry,
young ladies who aspired to be countesses, and to do it gracefully.
Mercedes learned with her writing and reading, which are but edged
tools, little of the art of using them. She was taught some figuring,
which she never used in life; some English history, of which she
assimilated but the meaning of titles and coronets; some mental
philosophy, which her common sense rejected as inanely inapposite to
the life at hand; some moral philosophy, which her very soul spewed
forth; a little embroidery, music, and dancing; and a competent
knowledge of reading French.
When we consider what education and training her life required, the
White Knight in Wonderland's collection of curiosities at his
saddle-bow becomes by comparison a practical equipment.
For guides in the practical conduct of life, she had been told to read
two novels, "Mansfield Park" and "Clarissa." Then there were Mrs.
Susannah Rawson's tales, Miss Catherine Sedgwick's, and "The
Coquette." She had further privately endeavored to read the "Nouvelle
Héloise" in French; but this bored her, and--one regrets to say--the
unambitious though immoral heroine impressed her as an idiot. As a
more up-to-date romance, she had acquired from a corner bookstore a
lavishly pictured novel in octavo, entitled "The Ballet Girl's
Revenge." She could not sew, nor wash, nor cook, nor keep house or
even accounts. Not one faint notion had she of supporting herself.
Domestic service she thought degrading, and she looked with a lofty
scorn upon shop-girls. There were some dreadful women in a house close
by; if Mercedes was conscious of their existence, it was as of women
who were failures in that they played the right cards badly. She held
her own pretty head the higher. For she soon discarded the ballet
girl's biography. By the time she was fourteen, had made another visit
to Nahant, and had once been asked to a Christmas party at the Boston
house, she saw that aristocratic life could offer better things. She
had an intense appreciation of the advantages so imperfectly exploited
by these rich Bowdoins, her high acquaintance. And was it perhaps a
justification of her way of education, after all, that little
Harleston Bowdoin, like every male creature that she met, was
fascinated, first by her face, then more by her manners, and most of
all by what she said?
Miss Mercy was sent to the girls' high school, and brought up in all
ways after the manner of New England. Her looks were not of New
England, however; and her dresses would show an edge of trimming or a
ribbon that had a Spanish color, despite all Jamie's mother's
Presbyterian repression. Then, a few years after, the old drayman
died; and a beautiful piano appeared in the McMurtaghs' modest
lodging. Mr. James discovered that the expensive Signor Rotoli, who
was instructor to his own daughters, went afterwards to give lessons
to Miss Mercy. Father and son wagged their heads together at the
wisdom of this step; and Mr. James was deputed a committee of one to
suggest the subject to Jamie McMurtagh. Old Mr. Bowdoin had ideas of
his own about educating young women above their station, but he was
considerably more afraid of Jamie than was Mr. James.
The latter deemed it most politic to put the question on a basis of
expense; but this was met by Jamie's allegation of a considerable
saving in the family budget caused by old McMurtagh's decease and
consequent total abstinence. Mr. James was mildly incredulous that the
old drayman could have drunk enough to pay for a grand piano, and
Jamie grew rusty.
"Your father's stipeend is leeberal, young man, and I trust ye've
deescovered nothing wrong in my accounts."
Mr. James fled: had the familiar address been overheard by the old
gentleman, Jamie's discharge had followed instantly.
McMurtagh mopped his reddened face, and tried to enjoy his victory;
but the ill-natured thrust about the accuracy of the accounts
embittered many a sleepless night of his in after-years.