 | CHAPTER XXXI.
THE TRUSTEES MEET. Antony Brade |  |
31. CHAPTER XXXI.
THE TRUSTEES MEET.
The meeting of the Trustees had been called to
occupy Mr. Parmenter's house on an evening during a
three-days' absence of the owner.
The day had been rainy, and the night was so; but
the room was bright with chandelier and candles, and
a quiet blaze of cannel coal from a long and very low
and open iron basket, laid across a pair of handsome
andirons.
A majority of the Trustees came. The Judges were
absent. Counsellor and Law-lecturer Pethrick had been
made sure of.
Dr. Farwell was bland to a high degree. Dr. Buttonn
twirled his thumbs, while he awaited whatever
action might be proposed. Mr. Manson was not, this
time, reading and pencil-marking, but apparently indulging
himself in absolute leisure; talking, listening,
keeping silence, as might happen. Mr. Pettie wakefully
held his place, looking out from under his eyebrows,
and entered into little conversation, as if afraid
of delaying the opening for business. Mr. Don was in
a condition of grave importance, as having been the
chief occasion of this meeting, and likely to have a
chief hand in the furtherance of its action. Mr. Merritt
was in a state corresponding to that of Dr. Farwell:
and wise and beaming, the other was, perhaps, more
than usually quick and to the point.
Between Dr. Farwell and his friend a by-play had
been going on, in which more than one familiar,
and therefore inoffensive, joke had been let off by
familiar hands. The younger divine had been already
called, with emphasis, a Merritt-orious trustee, and a
Merry-ttorious man, and also an e-Merritt-us officer.
Very likely even then the reverend Doctor had not
emptied his quiver of half the bright-tipped weapons
with which he wore it loaded.
The meeting was called to order; and Mr. Merritt
retaliated by saying, as he leaned over, “And now Farwell,
a long Farwell, to all thy brightness!”
Dr. Farwell entered upon business in the happiest
state. His eyes twinkled at each side of his nose like
lighted windows in fishers' cots nestling at each side of
a jutting promontory. (There's a pretty figure for our
tasteful readers!) He sat there, ready to do justice to
every thing in turn, and to carry all, if needful, along
with him. His last private act was to call Mr. Manson's
attention, aside, to the artistic taste and beauty of a
pair of andirons, of gold bronze, on the hearth, and
which represented furnace-men, shielding their faces
with mittened hands from the heat.
The minutes of the last meeting having been read,
and a pause ensuing, Counsellor Pethrick employed the
empty time in laying out the business, as “it seemed to
divide itself naturally, into two parts, each of which
was capable of further subdivision: I. Shall the Trustees
institute commemorations of benefactors? a. Shall
individual benefactors be recognized in their several
II. What shall be the character of the commemoration?
a. Shall it take the shape of a School holiday?
b. What shall be the character of the public celebration?”
This systematic treatment of the subject had an
effect which it often has, of making everybody ready
to proceed to the immediate consideration, and, if possible,
the speedy settlement of the business. Dr. Farwell
felt that it was his time to give that direction to
things. There was in him now no trace of pleasant
levity: he was all himself.
“We have heard,” he said, “the matter well laid
out, — laid out with the largeness of scope and accuracy
of definition of a legal intellect. It was proper —
it was fitting — that it should be so laid out. He had no
doubt that every one present felt, as he did, the eminent
propriety of the thing. The word which he [Dr. Farwell]
had in his own mind to say was that, as there
were moments for reflection and deliberation, so there
were moments for action. It seemed to him that the
time had now come for action.”
At this point his friend Mr. Merritt “moved that, in
order to bring the subject in a tangible shape before
them, the propositions which they had just heard
should be reduced to resolutions and acted upon separately.”
Mr. Pettie offered a ready pencil to the mover
for this purpose.
The subject was now open for discussion, in the consideration
of the first resolution: Shall the Trustees
institute commemorations of benefactors?
Upon this point the opinions seemed already pretty
well made up. Dr. Buttonn, smiling, said that “those
Pettie “saw no objection: people when they give like
to be recognized.” Dr. Farwell “did not know that
there was any objection: people give, because they
have got something to give. There is the broad fact.
The question is, Shall the fact be recognized? Well,
Shall the sun be recognized? Will you recognize the
rain? Then, as to a public recognition. We are a
public body; the world looks upon us as a public
body: we can't hide ourselves, — we can't put ourselves
out of sight, — as a public body. We” —
Mr. Merritt “thought that, if the Trustees were
ready, the first resolution might be submitted to a
vote;” and Dr. Farwell, falling back into his armchair,
expressed all the rest of his sentiments, as well as
his concurrence in the general tide of opinion, by a
wave of the hand. The resolution was adopted.
Upon the second resolution, about recognizing individual
benefactors, a great deal of good sense and
discrimination was shown. Dr. Buttonn expressed a
large truth when he said that “there were but three
hundred and sixty-five days in a year, and if you have
three hundred and sixty-five benefactors you may
have three hundred and sixty-five holidays; and then
you'd have no time for school.”
To this Mr. Manson answered that “each might take
his turn — one a year — for three hundred and sixty-five
years.”
A difficulty was apparent here. Mr. Manson's proposition
could hardly be intended seriously to meet it.
Dr. Buttonn inquired whether “you could set a certain
stent, and say all who came up to that stent should
have a day?”
It “struck” Mr. Counsellor Pethrick “that this arrangement
might be inconvenient; for, unless you set
your mark pretty high, you would not obviate your
difficulty, and, if you set it high, you seem to cut off
Mr. Parmenter, who (as the Counsellor understood it)
was only giving five thousand dollars.”
“Excuse me, sir,” said Mr. Don, for the first time
taking part. “I understand Mr. Parmenter to be giving
five thousand dollars at a time: he may give ten times
five thousand dollars, or he may give twenty times five
thousand dollars.”
“But five thousand at a time?” said Counsellor
Pethrick, “and not more than five thousand, yet?”
“Suppose we lump 'em all together, as I believe was
proposed last time,” said Mr. Merritt, “and that'll
settle two of your resolutions” (looking at his paper).
“You'll recognize individuals, and you'll recognize
Mr. Parmenter, who is your first benefactor;” and he
moved the adoption of a resolution to that effect. It
was carried.
It was now proposed that the Counsellor's second
head, with its two subdivisions, should be disposed of
in the same compact way: “There shall be a School-holiday,
with such arrangements for the celebration
as a committee may determine.” The resolution was
adopted, and Dr. Farwell, Mr. Merritt, and Mr. Pettie
were appointed the committee.
Every thing seemed to have gone well. The evening
was rainy: the Trustees were all to sleep in Eastham,
— there was no hurry. Instead of adjourning, therefore,
when the business was done, the members stayed
together, talking; the chairman of the Committee, Dr.
Farwell, remarking that, “in making their plans, the
expression of the views of the Trustees.”
“The Committee,” said Dr. Farwell, “are establishing
a precedent for posterity, — for all time. They will
want to have large views. They cannot prevent their
action from being scrutinized ages hence, — it's one of
the conditions of their office. Posterity will say, `Here
was a committee, composed of such and such members,
— why did they make this arrangement? We see the
name of one Farwell here. What was the determining
consideration in his mind? What was the ground of
his action?'”
Mr. Manson suggested that the chairman of the Committee
might leave on record, for posterity, an account
of the processes of his mind, in coming to a conclusion.
Dr. Farwell, acknowledging that this might be done,
thought that it would be better to have their action
explain itself, so that it might be said, “Here was such
a one (Farwell or any other): his course is a track of
light.”
“Suppose we talk it over,” said Mr. Merritt. “What
is proposed? You want something that the boys can
take part in.”
“It occurred to me, sir,” said Mr. Don, modestly,
“that a procession, with some decorations, — perhaps
some exercises —. There are two boys, — Gaston
and” —
“You must remember you've got winter,” said Mr.
Merritt.
Dr. Buttonn, who had seen the inside of trade himself
said: “It'll be a pretty good advertisement.”
“Suppose it is,” said Mr. Pettie: “it's all fair and
legitimate.”
“Oh!” said Dr. Buttonn, “I don't object at all. I
wouldn't object to any thing that's proposed.”
Mr. Counsellor Pethrick, the moment it had been
understood that the Board was going to relax a little
of its order and stiffness, and be informal, had lighted a
cigar, and stretching out his legs, and resting his head
on the back of his chair, was comfortably and reflectively
blowing slow and long streams of smoke up
towards the ceiling. Acting on his suggestion, the
Reverend Doctor Buttonn had cloven a huge lump of
cannel coal, and brought forth a blaze of light and
warmth.
Out of his serene infolding, the lawyer spoke: —
“Parmenter's made a wonderfully good thing out of
that `Melitrech.' Who gave him the name?”
“One of the results of having a classical school at
his elbow,” said Mr. Manson.
“And now he wants to have a Latin speech, on the
Great Day, eh?” asked the lawyer.
“You'll have to have your `exercises' in-doors, if the
weather isn't good,” said Mr. Merritt. “It's proposed,
I believe, to give a Latin speech to one or two of the
best scholars, — Brade, the Great Unknown, and Gaston”
—
“There is something about that boy, isn't there?”
Counsellor Pethrick asked. “Mr. Parmenter went at
the guardian, or agent, Bates; but Bates got his funds
through other people, and when Parmenter tried that
string he found there was a lawyer at the other end,
and it wouldn't come. Is he Russian? or what?”
“I don't believe he's any more Russian than I am,”
said Mr. Manson. “He's quick at languages, — you've
heard of that funny paper Gaston and he got up, — but
a fine-spirited, generous-hearted fellow.”
“I shouldn't like to dismiss the subject too hastily,
sir,” said Mr. Don.
“Talking of a turn for languages,” said Mr. Merritt,
drawing from a pocket a scrap of paper, crumpled and
soiled, “can anybody make something out of this? —
You've seen it before,” he added to Mr. Don, who, after
eying it sharply, said, —
“The same document that was picked up, I think,
sir?”
“Yes: `Ekat Nryai,'” said the possessor of the paper,
reading, with some grimace, and handing it to his next
neighbor, who happened to be the Rector of the Parish
and Editor of the “Church Post.” “There's one curious
thing about it, certainly: `swa' is a good Anglo-saxon
word, I find, in the books.”
Mr. Manson did not keep the paper; but having
glanced hastily at its front, and then at its back, put it
out of his hand. “Yes,” said he, in answer to the last
speaker, “I believe there is such a word as `swa' in
Anglo-saxon.”
The Trustees, in one way or other, gave more or less
attention to the paper; Mr. Pettie scrutinizing it closely
for a few moments, and handing it on, without comment;
Dr. Buttonn holding it long enough to say that
“he could understand the arithmetic, but wasn't any
hand at languages;” Mr. Pethrick eyed it only from his
comfortable distance as it traversed the circle; Dr. Farwell,
with a face of happy blandness, read some of the
words, with emphasis and gesture, and called upon the
company to say how it compared with the Classic
Tongues, but hoped that he might not be asked to commit
“to have been some little doubt about the spelling,
here: `gaterrapin,' — no, it's `gatrapin,' first with two
p's, and then one scratched out.” He turned with a
knowing look to Mr. Manson, sitting at his right: “you
know something about this, — I saw you smile.”
Mr. Manson disclaimed all knowledge of it, and “had
no opinion about it at all.”
Mr. Don, as the attention to Mr. Merritt's paper
flagged, produced one of his own, containing a single
word, of which no one present could make any thing.
“We shall have to make ourselves into an Inscription-society,
if this goes on,” said Mr. Manson. “Where
did this last come from?”
“I copied it from a very ancient and curious watch,
belonging to Brade” —
“That old silver watch?” asked Mr. Merritt. “Oh!
I know all about that: that isn't Brade's, it's Remsen's.
It never was Brade's; only Brade had it. There's one
thing more about that other paper,” he continued, returning
to his own, after having dismissed Mr. Don's,
“It's written in a girl's hand. — That `swa,' I think, is
rather curious.”
“So you're going to have the celebration, and speechifying;”
said Counsellor Pethrick, who had taken no active
part in the examination of the papers. “You've
settled that?”
“That's a sudden pop given to the Committee;” said
Dr. Farwell, condescending to a familiar word capable
of a sudden emphasis, which he gave it, with his
lips, in uttering it. “Shall we resume our deliberations?”
“I'm getting a little sleepy,” said Dr. Buttonn, who
We can trust the Committee. Suppose we adjourn.”
No one was unwilling; and gathering itself up again,
from its relaxation, into an official body, the Board formally
adjourned.
“An informal Committee-meeting at Mrs. Wadham's
party?” asked Mr. Pettie, of the Chairman, as they
shook off the weariness of sitting. So it was agreed, it
being understood that one or two others of the Trustees
were likely to be there.
| CHAPTER XXXI.
THE TRUSTEES MEET. Antony Brade | |