A Voyage Of Consolation - Sara Jeannette Duncan (namjoon book recommendations .txt) 📗
- Author: Sara Jeannette Duncan
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Should Like To See The Clergyman Who Would Attempt It. These People Were
Heathen, And Richly Deserved Their Fate. Richly!"
Momma Looked At Her Husband'S Aunt Caroline With Indignant Scorn. "Do
You Really Think So?" She Asked, But We Could All See That Her Words
Were A Very Inadequate Expression For Her Emotions. Mrs. Portheris Drew
All The Guns Of Her Orthodoxy Into Line For Battle. "I Am Surprised----"
She Began, And Then The Senator Politely But Firmly Interfered.
"Ladies," He Said, "'_De Mortuis Nisi Bonum_,' Which Is To Say It Isn'T
Customary To Slang Corpses, Especially, As You May Say, In Their
Presence. I Guess We Can All Be Thankful, Anyhow, That Heathen Nowadays
Have Got A Cooler Earth To Live On," And That For The Moment Was The End
Of It, But Momma Still Gazed Commiseratingly At The Figures, With A
Suspicious Tendency To Look For Her Handkerchief.
"It'S Too Terrible," She Said. "We Can Actually See Their _Features_."
"Don'T Let Them Get On Your Nerves, Augusta," Suggested Poppa.
"I Won'T If I Can Help It. But When You See Their Clothes And Their Hair
And Realise----"
"It Happened Over Eighteen Hundred Years Ago, My Dear, And Most Of Them
Got Away."
"That Didn'T Make It Any Better For Those Who Are Now Before Us," And
Momma Used Her Handkerchief Threateningly, Though It Was Only In
Connection With Her Nose.
"Well Now, Augusta, I Hate To Destroy An Illusion Like That, Because
They'Re Not To Be Bought With Money, But Since You'Re Determined To Work
Yourself Up Over These Unfortunates, I'Ve Got To Expose Them To You.
They'Re Not The Genuine Remains You Take Them For. They'Re Mere
Worthless Imitations."
"Alexander," Said Momma Suspiciously, "You Never Hesitate To Tamper With
The Truth If You Think It Will Make Me Any More Comfortable. I Don'T
Believe You."
"All Right," Returned The Senator; "When We Get Home You Ask Bramley. It
Was Bramley That Put Me On To It. Whenever One Of Those Pompeii Fellows
Dropped, The Ashes Kind Of Caked Over Him, And In The Course Of Time
There Was A Hole Where He Had Been. See? And What You'Re Looking At Is
Just A Collection Of Those Holes Filled Up With Composition And Then Dug
Out. Mere Holes!"
"The Illusion Is Dreadfully Perfect," Sighed Momma. "Fancy Dying Like A
Baked Potato In Hot Ashes! Somehow, Alexander, I Don'T Seem Able To Get
Over It," And Momma Gazed With Distressed Fascination At The Grim Form
Of The Negro Porter.
"We'Ve Got No Proper Grounds For Coming To That Conclusion Either,"
Replied Poppa Firmly. "Just As Likely They Were Suffocated By The Gas
That Came Up Out Of The Ground."
"Oh, If I Could Think That!" Momma Exclaimed With Relief. "But If I Find
You'Ve Been Deceiving Me, Alexander, I'Ll Never Forgive You. It'S _Too_
Solemn!"
"You Ask Bramley," I Heard The Senator Reply. "And Now Come And Tell Me
If This Loaf Of Bread Somebody Baked Eighteen Hundred And Twenty
Something Years Ago Isn'T Exactly The Same Shape As The Naples Bakers
Are Selling Right Now."
"Daughter," Said Momma As She Went, "I Hope You Are Taking Copious
Notes. This Is The Wonder Of Wonders That We Behold To-Day." I Said I
Was, And I Wandered Over To Where Mrs. Portheris Examined With Mr.
Mafferton An Egg That Was Laid On The Last Day Of Pompeii. Mrs.
Portheris Was Asking Mr. Mafferton, In Her Most Impressive Manner, If It
Was Not Too Wonderful To Have Positive Proof That Fowls Laid Eggs Then
Just As They Do Now; And I Made A Note Of That Too. Dicky And Isabel
Bemoaned The Fate Of The Immortal Dog Who Still Bites His Flank In The
Pain Extinguished So Long Ago. I Hardly Liked To Disturb Them, But I
Heard Dicky Say As I Passed That He Didn'T Mind Much About The Humans,
They Had Their Chance, But This Poor Little Old Tyke Was Tied Up, And
That On The Part Of Providence Was Playing It Low Down.
Then We All Stepped Out Into The Empty Streets Of Pompeii And Mr.
Mafferton Read To Us Impressively, From Murray, The Younger Pliny'S
Letter To Tacitus Describing Its Great Disaster. The Senator Listened
Thoughtfully, For Pliny Goes Into All Kinds Of Interesting Details. "I
Haven'T Much Acquaintance With The Classics," Said He, As Mr. Mafferton
Finished, "But It Strikes Me That The Modern New York Newspaper Was The
Medium To Do That Man Justice. It'S The Most Remarkable Case I'Ve
Noticed Of A Good Reporter _Born Before His Time_."
"A Terrible Retribution," Said Mrs. Portheris, Looking Severely At The
Tavern Of Phoebus, Forever Empty Of Wine-Bibbers. "They Worshipped
Jupiter, I Understand, And Other Deities Even Less Respectable. Can We
Wonder That A Volcano Was Sent To Destroy Them! One Thing We May Be
Quite Sure Of--If The City Had Only Turned From Its Wickedness And
Embraced Christianity, This Never Would Have Happened."
Momma Compressed Her Lips And Then Relaxed Them Again To Say, "I Think
That Idea Perfectly Ridiculous." I Scented Battle And Hung Upon The
Issue, But The Senator For The Third Time Interposed.
"Why No, Augusta," He Said, "I Guess That'S A Working Hypothesis Of Aunt
Caroline'S. Here'S Vesuvius Smokin' Away Ever Since Just The Same, And
There'S Naples With A Bishop And The Relics Of Saint Januarius. You Can
Read In Your Guide-Book That Whenever Vesuvius Has Looked As If He Meant
Business For The Past Few Hundred Years, The People Of Naples Have
Simply Called On The Bishop To Take Out The Relics Of Saint Januarius
And Walk 'Em Round The Town; And That'S Always Been Enough For Vesuvius.
Now The Pompeii Folks Didn'T Know A Saint Or A Bishop By Sight, And
Jupiter, As Aunt Caroline Says, Was Never Properly Qualified To
Interfere. That'S How It Was, I _Presume_. I Don'T Suppose The People Of
Naples Take Much Stock In The Laws Of Nature; They Don'T Have To, With
Januarius In a Drawer. And Real Estate Keeps Booming Right Along."
"You Have An Extraordinary Way Of Putting Things," Remarked Mrs.
Portheris To Her Nephew. "Very Extraordinary. But I Am Glad To Hear That
You Agree With Me," And She Looked As If She Did Not Understand Momma'S
Acquiescent Smile.
We Went Our Several Ways To See The Baths, And The Comic Theatre, The
Bakehouse And The Gymnasium; And I Had A Little Walk By Myself In The
Street Of Abundance, Where The Little Empty Houses Waited Patiently On
Either Side For Those To Return Who Had Gone Out, And The Sun Lay Full
On Their Floors Of Dusty Mosaic, And Their Gardens Where Nothing Grew.
It Seemed To Me, As It Seems To Everybody, That Pompeii Was Not Dead,
But Asleep, And Her Tints Were So Clear And Gay That Her Dreams Might Be
Those Of A Ballet-Girl. A Solitary Yellow Dog Chased A Lizard In The
Sun, And The Pebbles He Knocked About Made An Absurdly Disturbing Noise.
Beyond The Vague Tinted Roofless Walls That Stretched Over The Pleasant
Little Peninsula, The Blue Sea Rippled Tenderly, Remembering Much
Delight, And The Place Seemed To Smile In Its Sleep. It Was Easy To
Understand Why Cicero Chose To Have His Villa In The Midst Of Such
Light-Heartedness, And Why The Gods, Perhaps, Decided That They Had Lent
Too Much Laughter To Pompeii. I Made Free Of The Hospitality Of
Cornelius Rufus And Sat For A While In His _Exedra_, Where He Himself,
In Marble On A Little Pillar In The Middle Of The Room, Made Me As
Welcome As If I Had Been A Client Or A Neighbour. We Considered Each
Other Across The Centuries, Making Mutual Allowances, And Spent The Most
Sociable Half-Hour. I Take A Personal Interest In The City'S Disaster
Now--It Overwhelmed One Of My Friends.
Chapter 17
On The Lungarno In Florence, In The Cool Of The Evening, We Walked
Together, The Senator, Momma, Dicky, And I. Dicky Radiated Depression,
If Such A Thing Is Atmospherically Possible; We All Moved In It. Mr. Dod
Had Been Banished From The Portheris Party, And He Groaned Over The
Reflection That It Was His Own Fault. At Pompeii I Had Exerted Myself In
His Interest To Such An Extent That Mr. Mafferton Detached Himself From
Mrs. Portheris And Attached Himself To Momma For The Drive Home. Little
Did I Realise That One Could Be Too Agreeable In a Good Cause. Dicky
Insinuated Himself With Difficulty Into Mr. Mafferton'S Vacant Place
Opposite Mrs. Portheris, And Even Before The Carriages Started I Saw
That He Was Going To Have A Bad Time. His Own Version Of The Experience
Was Painful In The Extreme, And He Represented The Climax As Having
Occurred Just As They Arrived At The Hotel. The Unfortunate Youth Must
Have Been Goaded To His Fate, For His General Attitude Toward Matters Of
Orthodoxy Was Most Discreet.
"There Is Something _Biblical_," Said Mrs. Portheris (So Dicky Related),
"That Those Pompeiian Remains Remind Me Of, And I Cannot Think What It
Is."
"Lot'S Wife, Mamma?" Said Isabel.
"_Quite_ Right, My Child--What A Memory You Have! That Wretched Woman
Who Stopped To Look Back At The City Where Careless Friends And
Relatives Were Enjoying Themselves, Indifferent To Their Coming Fate, In
Direct Disobedience To The Command. Of Course, She Turned To Salt, And
These People To Ashes, But She Must Have Looked Very Much Like Them When
The Process Was Completed."
That Was Dicky'S Opportunity For Restraint And Submission, But He Seemed
To Have Been Physically Unable To Take It. He Rushed, Instead, Blindly
To Perdition. "I Don'T Believe That Yarn," He Said.
There Was A Moment'S Awful Silence, During Which Dicky Said He Counted
His Heart-Beats And Felt As If He Had Announced Himself An Atheist Or A
Jew, And Then His Sentence Fell.
"In That Case, Mr. Dod, I Must Infer That You Are Opposed To The
Doctrine Of The Complete Inspiration Of Holy Writ. If You Do Not Believe
In That, I Shudder To Think Of What You May Not Believe In. I Will Say
No More Now, But After Dinner I Will Be Obliged To Speak To You For A
Few Minutes, Privately. Thank You, I Can Get Out Without Assistance."
And After Dinner, Privately, Dicky Learned That Mrs. Portheris Had For
Some Time Been Seriously Considering The Effect Of His, To Her,
Painfully Flippant Views, Upon The Opening Mind Of Her Daughter--The
Child Had Only Been Out Six Months--And That His Distressing
Announcement Of This Morning Left Her In No Further Doubt As To Her
Path Of Duty. She Would Always Endeavour To Have As Kindly A
Recollection Of Him As Possible, He Had Really Been Very Obliging, But
For The Present She Must Ask Him To Make Some Other Travelling
Arrangements. Cook, She Believed, Would Always Change One'S Tickets Less
Ten Per Cent., But She Would Leave That To Dicky. And She Hoped, She
_Sincerely_ Hoped, That Time Would Improve His Views. When That Was
Accomplished She Trusted He Would Write And Tell Her, But Not Before.
"And While I'M Getting Good And Ready To Pass An Examination In Noah,
Jonah, And Methuselah," Remarked Dicky Bitterly, As We Discussed The
Situation On The Lungarno For The Seventh Time That Day, "Mafferton
Sails In."
"Why Didn'T You Tell Her Plainly That You Wanted To Marry Isabel, And
Would Brook No Opposition?" I Demanded, For My Stock Of Sympathy Was
Getting Low.
"Now That'S A Valuable Suggestion, Isn'T It?" Returned Mr. Dod With
Sarcasm. "Good Old Psychological Moment That Was, Wasn'T It? Talk About
Girls Having Tact! Besides, I'Ve Never Told Isabel Herself Yet, And I'M
Not The American To Give In To The Effete And Decaying Custom Of Asking
A Girl'S Poppa, Or Momma If It'S A Case Of Widow, First. Not Richard
Dod."
"What On Earth," I Exclaimed, "Have You Been Doing All This Time?"
"Now Go Slow, Mamie, And Don'T Look At Me Like That. I'Ve Been Trying To
Make Her Acquainted With Me--Explaining The Kind Of Fellow I
Am--Getting Solid With Her. See?"
"Showing Her The Beauties Of Your Character!" I Exclaimed Derisively.
"I Said Something About The Defects, Too," Said Dicky Modestly, "Though
Not So Much. And I Was Getting On Beautifully, Though It Isn'T
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