Roderick Hudson

sed to his cousin Cecilia a letter

d left danger behind. But in the summer I began to be puzzled, though I succeeded in not being alarmed. When we came back to Rome, however, I saw that the tide had turned and that we were close upon the rocks. It is, in fact, another case of Ulysses alongside of the Sirens; only Roderick refuses to be tied to the mast. He is the most extraordinary being, the strangest mixture of qualities. I don't understand so much force going with so much weakness-such a brilliant gift being subject to such lapses. The poor fellow is incomplete, and it is really not his own fault; Nature has given him the faculty out of hand and bidden him be hanged with it. I never knew a man harder to advise or assist, if he is not in the mood for listening. I suppose there is some key or other to his character, but I try in vain to find it; and yet I can't believe that Providence is so cruel as to have turned the lock and thrown the key away. He perplexes me, as I say, to death, and though he tires out my patience, he still fascinates me. Sometimes I think he has n't a grain of conscience, and sometimes I think that, in a way, he has an excess. He takes things at once too easily and too hard; he is both too lax and too tense, too reckless and too ambitious, too cold and too passionate. He has developed faster even than you prophesied, and for good and evil alike he takes up a formidable space. There 's too much of him for me, at any rate. Yes, he is hard; there is no mistake about that. He 's inflexible, he 's brittle; and though he has plenty of spirit, plenty of soul, he has n't what I call a heart. He has something that Miss Garland took for one, and I 'm pretty sure she 's a judge. But she judged on scanty evidence. He has something that Christina Light, here, makes believe at times that she takes for one, but she is no judge at all! I think it is established that, in the long run, egotism makes a failure in conduct: is it also true that it makes a failure in the arts?... Roderick's standard is immensely high; I must do him that justice. He will do nothing beneath it, and while he is waiting for inspiration, his imagination, his nerves, his senses must have something to amuse them. This is a highly philosophical way of saying that he has taken to dissipation, and that he has just been spending a month at Naples-a city where 'pleasure' is actively cultivated-in very bad company. Are they all like that, all the men of genius? There are a great many artists here who hammer away at their trade with exemplary industry; in fact I am surprised at their success in reducing the matter to a steady, daily grind: but I really don't think that one of them has his exquisite quality of talent. It is in the matter of quantity that he has broken down. The bottle won't pour; he turns it upside down; it 's no use! Sometimes he declares it 's empty-that he has done all he was made to do. This I consider great nonsense; bu

cided finally to keep it, in the hope that it might strike a spark of useful suggestion from the flint of Cecilia's good sense. We know he had a talent for taking advice. A

often chat, and who talks very much to the point. But Madame Grandoni has disliked Roderick from the first, and if I were to take her advice I would wash my hands of him. You will laugh at me for my long face, but you would do that in any circumstances. I am half ashamed of my letter, for I have a faith in my friend that is deeper than my doubts. He was here last e

extreme ill grace to being bored, and he was now evidently in a state of high exasperation. He had lately begun a representation of a lazzarone lounging in the sun; an image of serene

tly just transferred his un

f the Dying Gladiator?" h

seriously, "he 's not d

ejoined, "is not a proper subject for sculpture. Sc

attitude! Nothing is more permanent,

chael Angelo which seemed to me a deplorable aberration of a great mind. I myself touch liquor in no shape whatever. I have traveled through Euro

a very pretty set of muscles," said Roderick.

as if to exorcise the spirit of levity, while his glance journeyed with leisurely benignity to another object-a marble replica of the bust of Miss Light. "An ideal head, I presume," he went

yad," said Roderick, "and her na

r. Leavenworth b

owland interpos

e European aristocracy were present-duchesses, princesses, countesses, and others distinguished by similar titles. But for beauty, grace, and elegance my fair countrywoman left them all nowhere. What women can compare with a truly refined American lady? The duchesses the other night had no attractions for my eye

there!" cried Rode

be there. I suppose you ha

ned, fiercely poking at his lazzarone; but at Mr.

probation succeeded in making himself acceptable. Miss Light has at last said yes, and the engagement has just been announced. I am not generally a retailer of gossip of this description, but the fact was alluded to an hour ago by a lady with whom I was conversing, and here, in Europe, these conversational trifles usurp the lion's share of one's attention. I therefore retained the circumstance. Yes, I regret that Miss Light should marry one of these used-up foreigners. Americans shou

t of his eloquence floated him past the short, sharp, startled cry with which Roderick greeted hi

er a European princess can command the respect which in our country is exhibited toward the obscurest females. The civilizatio

lections upon it. He saw that it had instantly become one with the acute irritation produced by the poor gentleman's oppressive pe

tones, demanding with a gesture the unveiling of the fig

nd scanned the unfinished image. "I can conscientiously express myself as gratified with the general conception," he said. "The figure has considerable majesty, and the countenance wears a fine, open expression. The

ck over the statue. "Oblige me, sir," he said

on it? Why m

n it. It 's a

nation! M

Roderick. "It 's none

" said Mr. Leavenworth ste

smash it!" cr

ir. You must keep

Did you ever hear of inspiration? Mine is dead! And

of righteous wrath. "You 're a very ungrateful boy! If ever I encourag

on't wish to be uncivil. But your encourage

an!" said Mr. Leavenworth, as i

nfernal humor!" R

felicitous allusion to

to offend you; I beg your pardon if it does. I say it

you suffer anything that has passed to interrupt your work on that figure, you take your plunge. It 's no matter that you don't like it; you will do the wises

at still inexorableness made almost

d into the adjoining room with a sense of sickening helplessness. In a few moments he came back and found that Mr. Leavenworth ha

ttempt. "You decline to

olut

hat you shouldn't, for a

ere this

is an ut

things as nece

cting; you are spe

do you mak

it also necessary that you shoul

up. "That 's for

mself near the lodging of his friend Madame Grandoni. He frequently paid her a visit during the hour which preceded dinner, and he now ascended her unillumined staircase and rang at her relaxed bell-rope with an especial desire for diversion. He was told that, for the moment, she was occupied, but that if he would come in and wait, she would presently be with him. He had not sat musing in t

here," she said simpl

in? It is very bra

when one thinks of it!

he moment. But

w s

en minutes; I expect her

And she glanced into the

rello counts,"

awhile, looking into the firelight. Then at last, glancing

happy to hear of

kfast, that it has lost all sense. I mean some of those unexpected,

en," said Rowland.

o you? Why have n'

hesitate for an explanation. "I have c

re to be just. If I have many faults I know it, in a general way, and I try on the whole to do my best. 'Voyons,' I say to myself, 'it is n't particularly charming to hear one's self made out such a low person, but it is worth thinking over; there 's probably a good deal of truth in it, and at any rate we must be as good a girl as we can. That 's the great point! And then here 's a magnificent chance for humility. If there 's doubt in the matter, let the doubt count against one's self. That is what Saint Catherine did, and Saint Theresa, and all the others, and they

y dear Miss Light!" sa

"I have been waiting for the ineffab

n to me!" R

s come of it. I have passed t

are a very terrible you

you mean

lk them over. But first, forgi

er hands into her muff. "That means nothing. Forgiveness

I don't u

g suddenly, "You don't believe in me!" she cried; "not a grain! I

portieres was raised, and Madame Grandoni came in, pulling her wig straight. "But

give you a very solemn kiss, my dear; you are the he

they

ought to

ood with her hand in Madame Grandon

id the old lady, "for a young person

into ecstacies over that! Could anything be more vulgar? The

isotto. But I imagine y

ima dines there, en famille. Bu

ry wicked? I have half

I were dead!" The tears rose to her eyes, she struggled with them an instant, and buried her face in her muff; but at last she burst into uncontrollable sobs and flung her arms upon Madame Grandoni's neck. This shrewd woman gave Rowland a significant nod, and a little shrug, over the young girl's beautiful bowed head, and then led Christina tenderly away into the adjoining room. Rowland, left a

ence he could at least more freely decide upon his future movements. He felt profoundly, incurably disgusted. Reflective

He was disappointed, and his disappointment had an angry spark in it. The sense of wasted time, of wasted hope and faith, kept him constant company. There were times when the beautiful things about him only exasperated his discontent. He went to the Pitti Palace, and Raphael's Madonna of the Chair seemed, in its soft serenity, to mock him with the suggestion of unattainable repose. He lingered on the bridges at sunset, and knew that the light was enchanting and the mountains divine, but there seemed to be something horribly invidious and unwelcome in the fact. He felt, in a word, like a man who has been cruelly defrauded and who wishes to have his revenge. Life

m, distinct, and in a certain way imperious. During the day he tried to banish it and forget it; but it fascinated, haunted, at moments frightened him. He tried to amuse himself, paid visits, resorted to several rather violent devices for diverting his thoughts. If on the morrow he had committed a crime, the persons whom he had seen that day would have testified that he had talked strangely and had not seemed like himself. He felt certainly very unlike himself; long afterwards, in retrospect, he used to reflect that during those days he had for a while been literally beside himself. His idea persisted; it clung to him like a sturdy beggar. The sense of the matter, roughly expressed, was this: If Roderick was really going, as he himself had phrased it, to "fizzle out," one might help him on the way-one might smooth the descensus Averno. For forty-eight hours there swam before Rowland's eyes a vision of Roderick, graceful and beautiful as he pass

l in the chapel and the corridors, and he passed rapidly through them into the delightfully steep and tangled old garden which runs wild over the forehead of the great hill. He had been in it before, and he was very fond of it. The garden hangs in the air, and you ramble from terrace to terrace and wonder how it keeps from slipping down, in full consummation of its bereaved forlornness, into the nakedly romantic gorge beneath. It was just noon when Rowland went in, and after roaming about awhile he flung himself in the sun on a mossy stone bench and pulled his hat over his eyes. The short shadows of the brown-coated cypresses above him had grown very long, and yet he had not passed back through the convent. One of the monks, in his faded snuff-colored robe, came wandering out into the garden, reading his greasy little breviary. Suddenly he came toward the bench on which Rowland had stretch

said, "did you ev

ely, and crossed hims

an hour ago. But have no fear; I drove him out." And Rowland stooped and picked up his hat,

d, my brother?" asked

eous

e resisted-a

e I have

ised! It is well done. If you lik

Catholic," s

th dignity. "That i

h me," Rowland added; "that will do as well; and suf

ck into the convent, and paused long enough in the chapel to look for the alms-box. He had had what is vulgarly termed a great scare; he believed,

n with his back turned to the crowd, looking at the sunset. "I went to Florence," Rowland said, "and I thought of

" said

e of responsibility to-to those various sacred things you hav

ared. "For

her-and for M

faintly, his face flushed. "For Mary Garland

but till now I have forborne to ask. Y

wned darkly,

you pleasure, t

ents answered nothing. "Pleasure!" he

ntinued. "In such a case Miss Garland wo

skance, mistrustfully. "Is this a

a has been simply this. Try, in decency, to understand it. I have tried to befriend you, to help you, to inspire you with confidence, and I have faile

eservedly, he had received the blow with touching gentleness. On the other hand, he had often resented the softest taps. The secondary effect of Rowland's present admonition seemed reassuring. "I beg you to wait," he sai

that occur to one!" And he broke into a light laugh. "To see Mary Ga

ll writ

ome, at whatever cost. Striker

ick, took a form which seemed singular even among his characteristic singularities. If redemption-Roderick seemed to reason-was to arrive with his mother and his affianced bride, these last moments of error should be doubly erratic. He did nothing; but inaction, with him, took on an unwonted air of gentle gayety. He laughed and whistled and went often to Mrs. Light's; though Rowland knew not in what fashion present circumstances had modified his relations with Christina. The month ebbed away and Rowland daily expected to hear from Roderick that he had gone to Leghorn to meet the ship. He heard nothing, and late one evening, not having seen his friend in three or four days, he stopped at Roderick's lodging to assure himself that he had gone at last. A cab was standing in the street, but as it was a couple of doors off he hardly heeded it. The hall at the foot of the staircase was dark, like most Roma