by Eugene Field
VIII
THE VANDALS BEGIN THEIR WORK
At the regular April meeting of the Lake Shore Society of AntiquariansI met my old and valued friend, Belville Rock, and told him of theimportant venture which Alice had made. He seemed greatly pleased atthe prospect of our having a home of our own, and after making carefulinquiries into the extent and character of the improvements wecontemplated he bade me tell Alice that he wanted to pay the bill forthe painting of the exterior of the house. "I desire to do somewhattoward beautifying your premises," said he, "and I don't know that Ican do better than to paint the house. You understand, of course, thatmy long and intimate acquaintance with you and Alice warrants me inproposing as a friendly act what elsewise might be regarded as animpertinence."
I hastened to assure Mr. Rock that both Alice and I knew him to beutterly incapable of any word or deed that could by any means bemisconstrued into an impertinence. We had known this amiable gentlemanfor the period of twenty years. It was he who proposed me formembership of the Lake Shore Society of Antiquarians, and it was he whoprovided the means wherewith I published my first book, entitled "ACritical View of the Causes of Eclamptic and Traumatic Idiocy."
This was at the time in my career when I supposed I had good reason tobelieve that all human mental and physical ills are directly traceableto the influence of the moon, which theory was suggested to me by thediscovery that cabbages thrive when planted in the first quarter of themoon and invariably pine when planted in the full of the moon. I amstill more or less of a believer in this theory, and it is my purposeto renew my investigations and experiments in this direction,particularly so far as cabbages are involved, for I mean to have akitchen garden (with Alice's permission) as soon as we move into ournew place in Mush Street--pardon me, I mean Clarendon Avenue.
Belville Rock has always exhibited a friendly interest in me and mywelfare. He is president of a savings bank and is concerned innumerous mercantile and speculative enterprises. He belongs to manyclubs and social organizations, and is president of the Sons ofVermont, the Sons of New York, the Sons of Rhode Island, the Sons ofMichigan, and the other Sons who have effected formal organizations inthis city. He is treasurer of most of the current enterprises and heis recognized as a leader of distinct influence in the severalpolitical parties which control public affairs locally.
Mr. Rock commands the happy faculty of divorcing himself wholly frombusiness during those hours which he has dedicated to sociability. Hedeclines to discuss monetary matters outside his room at the bank. Irecall how, upon several occasions when I have approached him upon thedelicate subject of negotiating a trifling temporary loan, he hasdismissed the matter by reminding me that he had certain days which heset apart for business of this character, and that at other times hedevoted himself exclusively to the consideration of other things.
I recall, too, that after persistent inquiry (having, possibly, selfishends in view), I learned from Cashier Bolton, who is Mr. Rock'smarble-hearted alter ego, that Mr. Rock's hours for the considerationof all applications for personal accommodations were from 7.55 to 8a.m., every other Thursday. This may strike the average person as aunique singularity, but I find it easy to understand how a man sonumerously interested in affairs as Mr. Rock is should find itimperative to regulate his business and social conduct with the mostmethodical and most exacting system.
You can depend upon it that I lost no time in apprising Alice and Adahand our neighbors of Mr. Rock's munificent proposition, and I hardlyneed assure you that by all Mr. Rock's generosity was warmly applauded.The incident gave rise to a new phase in the sequence of events, forimmediately a discussion arose as to the color which we ought to paintour new house, and this discussion continued with increasing vigor forseveral days. Adah was characteristically earnest in her advocacy of asoft cream yellow, that being the shade adopted by Maria when sherepainted her St. Joe domicile--a soft cream yellow, with the blinds ina delicate brown, that was Adah's choice as inspired by her memory ofMaria's habitation. The Baylors suggested a poetic grayish tint, whichthey insisted would look specially pretty through the foliage of thefine old trees in the front yard. The Tiltmans preferred a lightbrown, and the Rushes a bright yellow. As for Mrs. Denslow, she raisedher voice in favor of "white, with green blinds," for, as she wiselyargued, it was not possible to find a more appropriate combination fora house that had been a farmhouse and that would retain (even after wehad rehabilitated it) the most salient characteristics of a farmhouse.
Alice and I agreed with Mrs. Denslow (as we generally do), and ourdetermination was confirmed when we subsequently learned, upon inquiryof Mr. Krome, the painter, that white paint was as expensive a paint ascould be selected. It was our desire, in our choice of paint, to donothing likely to lessen or to detract from the lustre of theprinceliness of Mr. Rock's liberality. Mr. Rock had set no limitationsto his munificence; far be it from us to do that which might beconstrued wrongfully as inappreciation of that munificence. It was thepart of friendship to premise that Mr. Rock's intentions were large,and then it behooved us to see that those intentions were carried outupon a scale of equal scope. We decided, therefore, that the paintshould be white, and that it should be carriage paint.
Uncle Si had advised us to have plenty of light and air admitted to"the addition" by means of numerous windows. According to the rudeplan he submitted for Alice's approval, "the addition" when completedwould have looked like a collection of windows of every size and shape.This was before Mr. Rock offered to paint the house. After Mr. Rock'sproposal was made to and accepted by us it occurred to us that it wouldresult in a considerable saving to us if we were to limit the number ofwindows and devote the space (thus economized) to clapboarding. Thiswould involve a larger expense upon Mr. Rock's part, but it could notbe denied that Mr. Rock could better afford paying for paint than wecould afford paying for window frames and glass.
I think it likely that I should have called on Mr. Rock to learn hispreference in the matter had the "every other Thursday" been nearer athand. But Mr. Krome, the painter, and Uncle Si, the boss carpenter,required a speedy decision, and so we went ahead without consulting ourmunificent friend. Mr. Krome thereupon volunteered to do our paintingby the square yard, instead of by the square foot (as is the customaryproceeding); he admitted, with a candor rarely met with in hisprofession, he could as well afford to do our house in white carriagepaint by the square yard as other rival painters could afford to do itin common white lead by the square foot. I assured Mr. Krome of mydetermination to spare no pains to cooeperate with him in every honestand ambitious endeavor at Mr. Rock's expense.
So now, the widow Schmittheimer having vacated the premises, the workof rehabilitation began in earnest. Men with wheelbarrows and spadesand picks made their appearance and started in to demolish walls and toexcavate sand at a marvelous rate. Presently a cavernous space yawnedwhere it was proposed to locate the cellar where the steam-heatingapparatus was to stand. The sand taken from this spot was harrowed outand dumped in a pile over the horse-radish bed in the back yard.
This was the first piece of vandalism I noticed, and I protestedagainst it. Not long thereafter I discovered that the workmen engagedat battering down the partitions in the upper part of the house werepiling up the refuse scantling and laths on the currant and gooseberrybushes in the side yard. I protested again, and so I kept onprotesting, for hardly a day passed that I did not detect the workmenabout that house at some piece of lawlessness jeoparding the cherrytrees, or the lilac bushes, or the tulips, or the roses, or thepeonies, or the asparagus bed.
Cui bono--to what good? With as much effect might the wild man ofBorneo rail at Capella because her silvery, twinkling light isseventy-one years in reaching this distant planet.
I am unalterably opposed to the wanton destruction of life. Moreover,it seems to me that the trees, the shrubbery, the vines and the flowerson the Schmittheimer place have certain rights which the invaders oughtto respect. At any rate, I spent th
e better part of two daystransplanting a number of the currant and gooseberry bushes, andalthough I had a stiff neck and a very lame back for a considerabletime thereafter I felt more than compensated therefor by the convictionthat I had saved the lives of friends who would duly give me practicalproof of their gratitude.
There were certain acts of lawlessness that I could neither prevent norrepair. One grieved me particularly. The plumber hitched his horse toa tree in the front yard one morning, and, before the damage he haddone was discovered, the herbivorous beast had eaten up a white lilacbush and a snowball bush, thus completing a destruction for which therewould seem to be no compensation. Upon another occasion a stray cowinvaded the premises and laid waste the tulip bed and chewed off thetender buds on the choicest of the rose bushes.
But the most extensive and the most hideous depredations were committedby human beings under pretext of necessity and of interest in mybehalf. I refer now to those remorseless men who came first and toreup the beautiful lawn and cut away the roots of trees and digged adeep, long pit in which to lay sewer pipes; who came again andcommitted another similar atrocity under plea of laying a water-pipe;who came still again and for the third time abused and seared andseamed and blighted that lawn for the alleged purpose of laying agas-pipe! O civilization! what crimes are committed in thy name!
These experiences sobered and saddened me to a degree that wasstrangely new to me. At times I felt embittered against all the world.But as there is no cloud that has not its silver lining, so there werepleasant little happenings which ever and anon seemed to relieve mydespondency. On one occasion Uncle Si said to me cheerily: "We 'regoing to have good luck from this time on." "What do you mean?" Iasked. "Come along with me and see for yourself," said he.
Uncle Si led the way into the house and down into the basement. Hepointed to an old valise that, spread open, lay under the stairs amidthe debris which the masons had left.
"That 's what I mean," said Uncle Si, "and it brings good luck everytime!"
I saw that the old and abandoned valise contained a tabby cat at whosegenerous dugs six wee kittens were tugging industriously. The widowSchmittheimer had left her home and gone elsewhere, but faithful tabbyremained behind, true to that instinct which makes the felineunalterably loyal to locality.
I never before liked cats; I have always positively disliked thembecause they kill birds. Yet, do you know, I actually felt my heart goout in tenderness to this particular mother tabby and her mewing kits.It occurred to me, as she lay there, blinking and purring in apparentamiability and in evident pride, that here at least was a cat thatwould not kill birds; if so, I would adopt her, and as for thekittens--yes, I would adopt them, too.
I made up my mind that I would name the kittens after my most intimateneighbors; one should be Baylor, another Tiltman, another Rush, afourth Denslow, the fifth Browe, and the sixth Roth. I am sorry thereare not two more, for I should like to honor my two munificent patrons,Mr. Black and Mr. Rock. But there must be a limit to humanpossibilities. As for the mother cat herself, there was but one thingfor me to do; I had to name her Alice, of course.