Eugene Field, a Study in Heredity and Contradictions - Volume 2

e Field's first introduction to the use of colored inks. His exquisitely neat, small, and beautifully legible handwriting has always been the subje

ror as to leave no question where blame for typographical blunders lay. In over twenty years' experience in handling copy I have only known one regular writer for the press who wrote as many words to

ched out to nearly half a column in the "strings" by which their pay was measured. From this it may be inferred that there was

he not only embellished his correspondence and presentation copies of his verse, but w

e editorial page of the News from February 23d till March 10th. At first we of the editorial staff took only a passing interest in Mr. Larned's contributions. But one day Field, Ballantyne, and I, from a discussion of the general value of art criticism in a daily newspaper, were led to question whether it conveyed an intelligible impression of the subject, and more particula

of drawing and knew absolutely nothing about the most rudimentary use of water colors. Somehow, Field made a worse botch in mixing and applying the colors than did either Ballantyne or I. They would never produce the effects intended. He made the most whimsical drawings, only to obliterate every semblance to his original conception in the coloring. To

th the sky. Just at this point the figures of two retreating horsemen are seen. These are the men who have been trying to kill St. Sebastian, and have left him, as they thought, dead in the depth of the forest. In the immediate foreground lies the figure of the half dead saint, whose wounds are being dressed by two women. Hovering immediately above this group, far up among the tree branches, two lovely little angels are seen holding the palm and crown of the martyr. All the figures are better painted than is usual with Corot, and the angels are very light and delicate, both in color and form." Mr. Earned quoted from a celebrated French authority that this was "the most sincerely religious picture of the nineteenth century." I leave it to the reader if Mr. Larned's description conveys any such impression. T

ing the upper portion of his body nude, excepting the immense helmet which hides his bent-down head. Both hands grasp the under garment, and the eyes are evidently turned in eager expectancy upon the folds which the hands are clasping, in the hope that the roving tormentor has at last been captured. "What an astonishing freak of genius!" exclaimed Mr. Larned. "For genius it certainly is. The color and the drawing o

tume, from the riding-boots and monster spurs up to the belt. From that point his emaciated body-a fearfully and wonderfully articulated semi-skeleton-was nude save for one or two sporadic hairs. In the place of the traditional helmet, t

every little figure is full of character"-a fact about which there is no doubt in the accompanying repro

in what the rural paragrapher would have described as "the most felicitous effort of his life," and the wonderful collection was commended to Mr. Larned's grateful preservation by the judgment of Mr. Henry Field, whose own choice selection of painting

" From the manuscript copy in my scrap-book I give the original version of this extraordinary production, which was copied in the Illinois St

ELRUNGEN

BERGAS

rati

rungen sch

haben Ric

bergasterf

ister treu

h dich!" die

das Niebel

gica

ein ist lie

d lieben kl

ungen picht

s Schlabber

dich!" die Ma

Schlabber

inti

as Niebelr

s Maedchein

Meister li

s Weinerwur

Bricht zum

s Schlabber

ronze, and any other kind which his whim deemed necessary to give eccentric emphasis to some line, word or letter in whatever he chanced to be composing. His peremptory requests were generally

bottle of in

t my bott

sigh, said Tho

hat bottl

th

the beaut

bottle of ink?

uy a bott

per sigh his fri

a bottl

h c

a bottl

s beautiful in

ul bilio

hand of his o

him a plea

a bl

t to usin

s linen affair was hung so conveniently that he could still use it for what he regarded as its primary use. In warm weather I wore a presentably clean counterpart of Field's Joseph's coat of many colors. As often as necessary this went to the laundry. One day when it had just returned from one of these periodical visits, I

times his bre

ome oaths

k mine, and t

d coat, the

l besem

nd plede he

aid "No, ol

our coat not

lessly complains, done in different colors, he will have some idea of t

names of Mary Matilda-a combination that struck a responsive chord in Field's taste in nomenclature, while his "come at once, we are starving" aroused her sense of humor to the point of forwarding an enormous raised bis

May the 7

r M

d with those toothsome goodies which only a kind, loving, indulgent sister can make and donate to an absent brother. Having completed my contribution to the Larned gallery, and having exhibited the pictures in the recent salon, I have a large supply of colored inks on hand, which fact accounts for th

edient

NE F

e

iam

ret

h line, as I have endeavored to indicate. It is beautifully written and in many respects besides its

y," as he insisted on calling the bathroom, in brown. As these apartments were in the Pullman Building, on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Adams Street, and commanded a glimpse of the lake, Field's diagram included a representation of Lake Michigan by zigzag lines of blue ink, with a single fish as long as a street-car, according to his scale, leering at the spectator from the billowy depths of i

t Slosson from

desenith and s

, sans peur e

of a snow-shoeing party my sister had described in one of her letters, to

DY IN F

ngs by Eug

a skimming over the hills

die Martin in hot

serted vale where the mus

fair Mary Matilda upon her return t

at is left o

ctures may be gleaned from the letter I sent a

ehend the terrible fate that has overtaken Eddy Martin at the mouth of the voracious musquash, whose retreating tail speaks so eloquently of his toothsome repast. The lone pine tree is a thing that y

hores about my father's place. This gives significance to the pendant buck-saw and the lonely wood-horse. His lance rusts upon the wall and his steed stands silent in the st

spondent in my sister is further evidenced in

July the

r M

de last December, when I was, so to speak, at my perihelion in the matter of avoirdupois. You may be gratified to know that I have not shrunken much since that time. I have taken the timely pre

would not be willing to make for one whom I esteem so highly as I do you. It might be just as well not to read this line to the old folks. Your brother Slosson has recently developed an insatiate passion for horse racing, and in consequence of his losses at pools I find him less prone to regale me with sumptuous cheer than he was before the

July is so near at hand. This side of the line we are fairly reeking with patriotism just now; even that mugwump-alien-y

pert minx! I heard of her remarks about

e me a

rely

NE F

e Shoe" (see "The Holy Cross and Other Tales" of his collected works), which, after it was printed in the Morning News, was cut out and pasted in a little

SOME LIT

E

NARRATIVE

H

PAPERS OF E

8

LY ILLU

AUNT MARY MAT

NEPHEWS A

HEIRS,

ASSI

RE

N TRACT

PYR

to make the first edition consist of a single copy. The prince and hero of this romantic tale was our associate, John F. Ballantyne, and the story itself was "Inscribed to the beautiful, accomplished, amiable and ever-to-

ATILDA WON

l. She had given the gypsy a nice, fresh bun, and the gypsy was so grateful that she said she would tell

will cause a prince to fall in love with you; the prince wil

away and shortly after was sentenced to ten years

l she was so amiable and benevolent that all loved her, even those who envied her the transcendent charms with which she was endowed.

uds of doubt. That is to say, they were unable to determine with any degree of positiveness whether they were of noble extraction; their parents refused to inform them, and consequently they were deeply distressed, as you can well imagine. Slosson was much charmed with their handsome bearing, chivalric ways, and honorable aspirations, and his pity was evoked by their poverty and their frequent sufferings for the very requir

d ornamented with a lovely design representing the lost Pleiad, which you perhaps know was a young lady who lived long ago and acquired eternal fame by dropping out of the procession and never getting back again. Well, Mary Matilda put this delicious cake in a beautiful paper collar-box and sent it in all haste to her brother and his two friends in the far-off c

" he wrote, "for one of my companions, Juan, has left me. He was the youngest, and I fear some great misfortune has befallen him, for he was

s much cast down by this fell intelligence

e vanished from her cheeks, the fire has gone out of her orbs, and

the sorrow-stricken maiden emerged from the house and handed him his noontide rations of nutcakes and buttermilk. But Mar

d and woodland, little Bessie once asked Mary Matilda if she would not take her out for a walk. Now little Bessie was

l bundle up nice and warm I will take you out

went out on the porch and launched her two snow-shoes

rtin, pausing in his work and leaning

sie out for a short wal

u know the musquashes are very thick, and this spell of

d of them: only she did not want to tell Eddie Martin so, for fear he would want

nce and was soon lost to view. Scarcely had she gone when a tall, thin, ha

ary tones, "whether the beautiful

ie Martin, "but she has gone

rift?" queried the

said Eddie Martin. "And I sadly fear

d pale and tremble

our saw for a brief

quired Ed

replied the stranger. Then he seized the saw, and with

outherly course toward the Nashwaak. The gentle breeze favored her progres

e!" cried li

cold air gives one new

hich were crouched a pack of hungry musquashes eagerly

us and make good their escape." But just then another musquash careless

at?" cried l

ent they started in hot pursuit. They ran like mad, as only starving musquashes can run. Every moment they gained on the maiden and her human charge until at last they were at her very heels. Mary Matilda remembered she had some beechnuts in her pocket. She reached down, grasped a handful of the succulent fruit and cast it to her insatiate pursuers. It stayed their pursuit for

laughed the gory a

ry Matilda. "My bee

ed the bearded pirate, "and s

Bessie to the devouring musquashes? No, sh

he cried. "I would n

Matilda stopped, too. They were confronted by a haggard but manly form. It was the mysterious young stranger, and he had a saw which Eddie Martin had lent him. His aspect was so terrible that the musquashes turned to flee, but they were too lat

my salvation?" inquired Mar

wan stranger. "I am called Juan, bu

d him closely, and he told her all. Bessie heard all he said, and she could tell you more particularly than I can about it. I only know that Juan co

uch to ask you to link your destiny

tin was sitting on the wood-pile talking with a weird old w

now me?"

id Mary

scretion," said the old woman, sadly. "I am th

yes fell on Juan, the stran

bling with emotion. "When I knew it, it was a b

quivered w

on your left arm?" demand

p the sleeve of his linen ulster he exposed

Lochdougal, heir presumptive to the estates and titles of the Stuart

ainst the queen. Juan was then a prattling babe; but even then he gave promise of a princely future. Since his arrival at maturity his parents had feared to impar

health and flesh under the grateful influences of her cuisine. The wedding day has been set, and little Bessie is to be one of her bridesmaids. The