I have become suddenly so very intimate with your son, he said at last, addressing himself to Mrs. Hudson, that it seems just I should make your acquaintance.
Very just, murmured the poor lady, and after a moments hesitation was on the point of adding something more; but Mr. Striker here interposed, after a prefatory clearance of the throat.
I should like to take the liberty, he said, of addressing you a simple question. For how long a period of time have you been acquainted with our young friend? He continued to kick the air, but his head was thrown back and his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, as if in aversion to the spectacle of Rowlands inevitable confusion.
A very short time, I confess. Hardly three days.
And yet you call yourself intimate, eh? I have been seeing Mr. Roderick daily these three years, and yet it was only this morning that I felt as if I had at last the right to say that I knew him. We had a few moments conversation in my office which supplied the missing links in the evidence. So that now I do venture to say I m acquainted with Mr. Roderick! But wait three years, sir, like me! and Mr. Striker laughed, with a closed mouth and a noiseless shake of all his long person.
Mrs. Hudson smiled confusedly, at hazard; Miss Garland kept her eyes on her stitches. But it seemed to Rowland that the latter colored a little. Oh, in three years, of course, he said, we shall know each other better. Before many years are over, madam, he pursued, I expect the world to know him. I expect him to be a great man!
Mrs. Hudson looked at first as if this could be but an insidious device for increasing her distress by the assistance of irony. Then reassured, little by little, by Rowlands benevolent visage, she gave him an appealing glance and a timorous Really?
But before Rowland could respond, Mr. Striker again intervened. Do I fully apprehend your expression? he asked. Our young friend is to become a great man?
A great artist, I hope, said Rowland.
This is a new and interesting view, said Mr. Striker, with an assumption of judicial calmness. We have had hopes for Mr. Roderick, but I confess, if I have rightly understood them, they stopped short of greatness. We should nt have taken the responsibility of claiming it for him. What do you say, ladies? We all feel about him herehis mother, Miss Garland, and myselfas if his merits were rather in the line of theand Mr. Striker waved his hand with a series of fantastic flourishes in the airof the light ornamental! Mr. Striker bore his recalcitrant pupil a grudge, but he was evidently trying both to be fair and to respect the susceptibilities of his companions. But he was unversed in the mysterious processes of feminine emotion. Ten minutes before, there had been a general harmony of sombre views; but on hearing Rodericks limitations thus distinctly formulated to a stranger, the two ladies mutely protested. Mrs. Hudson uttered a short, faint sigh, and Miss Garland raised her eyes toward their advocate and visited him with a short, cold glance.
I m afraid, Mrs. Hudson, Rowland pursued, evading the discussion of Rodericks possible greatness, that you dont at all thank me for stirring up your sons ambition on a line which leads him so far from home. I suspect I have made you my enemy.
Mrs. Hudson covered her mouth with her finger-tips and looked painfully perplexed between the desire to confess the truth and the fear of being impolite. My cousin is no ones enemy, Miss Garland hereupon declared, gently, but with that same fine deliberateness with which she had made Rowland relax his grasp of the chair.
Does she leave that to you? Rowland ventured to ask, with a smile.
We are inspired with none but Christian sentiments, said Mr. Striker; Miss Garland perhaps most of all. Miss Garland, and Mr. Striker waved his hand again as if to perform an introduction which had been regrettably omitted, is the daughter of a minister, the granddaughter of a minister, the sister of a minister. Rowland bowed deferentially, and the young girl went on with her sewing, with nothing, apparently, either of embarrassment or elation at the promulgation of these facts. Mr. Striker continued: Mrs. Hudson, I see, is too deeply agitated to converse with you freely. She will allow me to address you a few questions. Would you kindly inform her, as exactly as possible, just what you propose to do with her son?
The poor lady fixed her eyes appealingly on Rowlands face and seemed to say that Mr. Striker had spoken her desire, though she herself would have expressed it less defiantly. But Rowland saw in Mr. Strikers many-wrinkled light blue eye, shrewd at once and good-natured, that he had no intention of defiance, and that he was simply pompous and conceited and sarcastically compassionate of any view of things in which Roderick Hudson was regarded in a serious light.
Do, my dear madam? demanded Rowland. I dont propose to do anything. He must do for himself. I simply offer him the chance. He s to study, to workhard, I hope.
Not too hard, please, murmured Mrs. Hudson, pleadingly, wheeling about from recent visions of dangerous leisure. He s not very strong, and I m afraid the climate of Europe is very relaxing.
Ah, study? repeated Mr. Striker. To what line of study is he to direct his attention? Then suddenly, with an impulse of disinterested curiosity on his own account, How do you study sculpture, anyhow?
By looking at models and imitating them.
At models, eh? To what kind of models do you refer?
To the antique, in the first place.
Ah, the antique, repeated Mr. Striker, with a jocose intonation. Do you hear, madam? Roderick is going off to Europe to learn to imitate the antique.
I suppose it s all right, said Mrs. Hudson, twisting herself in a sort of delicate anguish.
An antique, as I understand it, the lawyer continued, is an image of a pagan deity, with considerable dirt sticking to it, and no arms, no nose, and no clothing. A precious model, certainly!
That s a very good description of many, said Rowland, with a laugh.
Mercy! Truly? asked Mrs. Hudson, borrowing courage from his urbanity.
But a sculptors studies, you intimate, are not confined to the antique, Mr. Striker resumed. After he has been looking three or four years at the objects I describe
He studies the living model, said Rowland.
Does it take three or four years? asked Mrs. Hudson, imploringly.
That depends upon the artists aptitude. After twenty years a real artist is still studying.
Oh, my poor boy! moaned Mrs. Hudson, finding the prospect, under every light, still terrible.
Now this study of the living model, Mr. Striker pursued. Inform Mrs. Hudson about that.
Oh dear, no! cried Mrs. Hudson, shrinkingly.
That too, said Rowland, is one of the reasons for studying in Rome. It s a handsome race, you know, and you find very well-made people.
I suppose they re no better made than a good tough Yankee, objected Mr. Striker, transposing his interminable legs. The same God made us.
Surely, sighed Mrs. Hudson, but with a questioning glance at her visitor which showed that she had already begun to concede much weight to his opinion. Rowland hastened to express his assent to Mr. Strikers proposition.
Miss Garland looked up, and, after a moments hesitation: Are the Roman women very beautiful? she asked.
Rowland too, in answering, hesitated; he was looking straight at the young girl. On the whole, I prefer ours, he said.
Miss Garland looked up, and, after a moments hesitation: Are the Roman women very beautiful? she asked.
Rowland too, in answering, hesitated; he was looking straight at the young girl. On the whole, I prefer ours, he said.
She had dropped her work in her lap; her hands were crossed upon it, her head thrown a little back. She had evidently expected a more impersonal answer, and she was dissatisfied. For an instant she seemed inclined to make a rejoinder, but she slowly picked up her work in silence and drew her stitches again.
Rowland had for the second time the feeling that she judged him to be a person of a disagreeably sophisticated tone. He noticed too that the kitchen towel she was hemming was terribly coarse. And yet his answer had a resonant inward echo, and he repeated to himself, Yes, on the whole, I prefer ours.
Well, these models, began Mr. Striker. You put them into an attitude, I suppose.
An attitude, exactly.
And then you sit down and look at them.
You must not sit too long. You must go at your clay and try to build up something that looks like them.
Well, there you are with your model in an attitude on one side, yourself, in an attitude too, I suppose, on the other, and your pile of clay in the middle, building up, as you say. So you pass the morning. After that I hope you go out and take a walk, and rest from your exertions.
Unquestionably. But to a sculptor who loves his work there is no time lost. Everything he looks at teaches or suggests something.
That s a tempting doctrine to young men with a taste for sitting by the hour with the page unturned, watching the flies buzz, or the frost melt on the window-pane. Our young friend, in this way, must have laid up stores of information which I never suspected!
Very likely, said Rowland, with an unresentful smile, he will prove some day the completer artist for some of those lazy reveries.
This theory was apparently very grateful to Mrs. Hudson, who had never had the case put for her son with such ingenious hopefulness, and found herself disrelishing the singular situation of seeming to side against her own flesh and blood with a lawyer whose conversational tone betrayed the habit of cross-questioning.
My son, then, she ventured to ask, my son has greatwhat you would call great powers?
To my sense, very great powers.
Poor Mrs. Hudson actually smiled, broadly, gleefully, and glanced at Miss Garland, as if to invite her to do likewise. But the young girls face remained serious, like the eastern sky when the opposite sunset is too feeble to make it glow. Do you really know? she asked, looking at Rowland.
One cannot know in such a matter save after proof, and proof takes time. But one can believe.
And you believe?
I believe.
But even then Miss Garland vouchsafed no smile. Her face became graver than ever.
Well, well, said Mrs. Hudson, we must hope that it is all for the best.
Mr. Striker eyed his old friend for a moment with a look of some displeasure; he saw that this was but a cunning feminine imitation of resignation, and that, through some untraceable process of transition, she was now taking more comfort in the opinions of this insinuating stranger than in his own tough dogmas. He rose to his feet, without pulling down his waistcoat, but with a wrinkled grin at the inconsistency of women. Well, sir, Mr. Rodericks powers are nothing to me, he said, nor no use he makes of them. Good or bad, he s no son of mine. But, in a friendly way, I m glad to hear so fine an account of him. I m glad, madam, you re so satisfied with the prospect. Affection, sir, you see, must have its guarantees! He paused a moment, stroking his beard, with his head inclined and one eye half-closed, looking at Rowland. The look was grotesque, but it was significant, and it puzzled Rowland more than it amused him. I suppose you re a very brilliant young man, he went on, very enlightened, very cultivated, quite up to the mark in the fine arts and all that sort of thing. I m a plain, practical old boy, content to follow an honorable profession in a free country. I did nt go off to the Old World to learn my business; no one took me by the hand; I had to grease my wheels myself, and, such as I am, I m a self-made man, every inch of me! Well, if our young friend is booked for fame and fortune, I dont suppose his going to Rome will stop him. But, mind you, it wont help him such a long way, either. If you have undertaken to put him through, there s a thing or two you d better remember. The crop we gather depends upon the seed we sow. He may be the biggest genius of the age: his potatoes wont come up without his hoeing them. If he takes things so almighty easy aswell, as one or two young fellows of genius I ve had under my eyehis produce will never gain the prize. Take the word for it of a man who has made his way inch by inch, and does nt believe that we ll wake up to find our work done because we ve lain all night a-dreaming of it; anything worth doing is devilish hard to do! If your young protajay finds things easy and has a good time and says he likes the life, it s a sign thatas I may sayyou had better step round to the office and look at the books. That s all I desire to remark. No offense intended. I hope you ll have a first-rate time.
Rowland could honestly reply that this seemed pregnant sense, and he offered Mr. Striker a friendly hand-shake as the latter withdrew. But Mr. Strikers rather grim view of matters cast a momentary shadow on his companions, and Mrs. Hudson seemed to feel that it necessitated between them some little friendly agreement not to be overawed.
Rowland sat for some time longer, partly because he wished to please the two women and partly because he was strangely pleased himself. There was something touching in their unworldly fears and diffident hopes, something almost terrible in the way poor little Mrs. Hudson seemed to flutter and quiver with intense maternal passion. She put forth one timid conversational venture after another, and asked Rowland a number of questions about himself, his age, his family, his occupations, his tastes, his religious opinions. Rowland had an odd feeling at last that she had begun to consider him very exemplary, and that she might make, later, some perturbing discovery. He tried, therefore, to invent something that would prepare her to find him fallible. But he could think of nothing. It only seemed to him that Miss Garland secretly mistrusted him, and that he must leave her to render him the service, after he had gone, of making him the object of a little firm derogation. Mrs. Hudson talked with low-voiced eagerness about her son.
He s very lovable, sir, I assure you. When you come to know him you ll find him very lovable. He s a little spoiled, of course; he has always done with me as he pleased; but he s a good boy, I m sure he s a good boy. And every one thinks him very attractive: I m sure he d be noticed, anywhere. Dont you think he s very handsome, sir? He features his poor father. I had anotherperhaps you ve been told. He was killed. And the poor little lady bravely smiled, for fear of doing worse. He was a very fine boy, but very different from Roderick. Roderick is a little strange; he has never been an easy boy. Sometimes I feel like the goosewas nt it a goose, dear? and startled by the audacity of her comparison she appealed to Miss Garlandthe goose, or the hen, who hatched a swans egg. I have never been able to give him what he needs. I have always thought that in morein more brilliant circumstances he might find his place and be happy. But at the same time I was afraid of the world for him; it was so large and dangerous and dreadful. No doubt I know very little about it. I never suspected, I confess, that it contained persons of such liberality as yours.