Harriet Beecher Stowe.

Pink and White Tyranny A Society Novel online

. (page 1 of 19)
Online LibraryHarriet Beecher StowePink and White Tyranny A Society Novel → online text (page 1 of 19)
Font size
QR-code for this ebook


Produced by David Edwards, Emmy, Curtis Weyant, Tim Koeller
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images
generously made available by The Internet Archive)










“MAKE THEIR ACQUAINTANCE; FOR AMY WILL BE FOUND DELIGHTFUL, BETH VERY
LOVELY, MEG BEAUTIFUL, AND JO SPLENDID!”—_The Catholic World._


LITTLE WOMEN. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. In Two Parts. Price of each $1.50.

“Simply one of the most charming little books that have fallen into our
hands for many a day. There is just enough of sadness in it to make it
true to life, while it is so full of honest work and whole-souled fun,
paints so lively a picture of a home in which contentment, energy, high
spirits, and real goodness make up for the lack of money, that it will
do good wherever it finds its way. Few will read it without lasting
profit.”—_Hartford Courant._

“LITTLE WOMEN. By Louisa M. Alcott. We regard these volumes as two of
the most fascinating that ever came into a household. Old and young
read them with the same eagerness. Lifelike in all their delineations
of time, place, and character, they are not only intensely interesting,
but full of a cheerful morality, that makes them healthy reading
for both fireside and the Sunday school. We think we love ”Jo“ a
little better than all the rest, her genius is so happy tempered with
affection.”—_The Guiding Star._

The following verbatim copy of a letter from a “little woman” is a
specimen of many which enthusiasm for her book has dictated to the
author of “Little Women:”—

—— March 12, 1870.

DEAR JO, OR MISS ALCOTT,—We have all been reading “Little
Women,” and we liked it so much I could not help wanting to
write to you. We think _you_ are perfectly splendid; I like
you better every time I read it. We were all so disappointed
about your not marrying Laurie; I cried over that part,—I
could not help it. We all liked Laurie ever so much, and
almost killed ourselves laughing over the funny things you
and he said.

We are six sisters and two brothers; and there were so many
things in “Little Women” that seemed so natural, especially
selling the rags.

Eddie is the oldest; then there is Annie (our Meg), then
Nelly (that’s me), May and Milly (our Beths), Rosie,
Rollie, and dear little Carrie (the baby). Eddie goes away
to school, and when he comes home for the holidays we have
lots of fun, playing cricket, croquet, base ball, and every
thing. If you ever want to play any of those games, just
come to our house, and you will find plenty children to play
with you.

If you ever come to ——, I do wish you would come and see
us,—we would like it so much.

I have named my doll after you, and I hope she will try and
deserve it.

I do wish you would send me a picture of you. I hope your
health is better, and you are having a nice time.

If you write to me, please direct —— Ill. All the children
send their love.

With ever so much love, from your affectionate friend,

NELLY.


_Mailed to any address, postpaid, on receipt of the advertised price._

ROBERTS BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
_Boston._




AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. With Illustrations. Price
$1.50.


“Miss Alcott has a faculty of entering into the lives and feelings of
children that is conspicuously wanting in most writers who address
them; and to this cause, to the consciousness among her readers that
they are hearing about people like themselves, instead of abstract
qualities labelled with names, the popularity of her books is due.
Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy are friends in every nursery and schoolroom,
and even in the parlor and office they are not unknown; for a good
story is interesting to older folks as well, and Miss Alcott carries
on her children to manhood and womanhood, and leaves them only on the
wedding-day.”—_Mrs. Sarah J. Hale in Godey’s Ladies’ Book._

“We are glad to see that Miss Alcott is becoming naturalized among us
as a writer, and cannot help congratulating ourselves on having done
something to bring about the result. The author of ‘Little Women’ is
so manifestly on the side of all that is ‘lovely, pure, and of good
report’ in the life of women, and writes with such genuine power and
humor, and with such a tender charity and sympathy, that we hail her
books with no common pleasure. ‘An Old-Fashioned Girl’ is a protest
from the other side of the Atlantic against the manners of the creature
which we know on this by the name of ‘the Girl of the Period;’ but
the attack is delivered with delicacy as well as force.”—_The London
Spectator._

“A charming little book, brimful of the good qualities of intellect and
heart which made ‘Little Women’ so successful. The ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’
carries with it a teaching specially needed at the present day, and we
are glad to know it is even already a decided and great success.”—_New
York Independent._

“Miss Alcott’s new story deserves quite as great a success as her
famous ”Little Women,“ and we dare say will secure it. She has written
a book which child and parent alike ought to read, for it is neither
above the comprehension of the one, nor below the taste of the other.
Her boys and girls are so fresh, hearty, and natural, the incidents of
her story are so true to life, and the tone is so thoroughly healthy,
that a chapter of the ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’ wakes up the unartificial
better life within us almost as effectually as an hour spent in the
company of good, honest, sprightly children. The Old-Fashioned Girl,
Polly Milton, is a delightful creature!”—_New York Tribune._

“Gladly we welcome the ‘Old-Fashioned Girl’ to heart and home! Joyfully
we herald her progress over the land! Hopefully we look forward to
the time when our young people, following her example, will also
be old-fashioned in purity of heart and simplicity of life, thus
brightening like a sunbeam the atmosphere around them.”—_Providence
Journal._


_Mailed, postpaid, on receipt of the advertised price, by the
Publishers_,

ROBERTS BROTHERS,
_Boston._




MESSRS. ROBERTS BROTHERS’

RECENT NEW BOOKS.


A VISIT TO MY DISCONTENTED COUSIN. Handy-Volume Series, No.
8. 16mo. $1.00.

BURNAND (F. C.). More Happy Thoughts. 16mo. $1.00.

ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN. The Forest House and Catherine’s Lovers.
16mo. $1.50.

HELPS (ARTHUR). Essays Written in the Intervals of Business.
16mo. $1.50.

—— Brevia: Short Essays and Aphorisms. 16mo. $1.50.

—— Conversations on War and General Culture. 16mo. $1.50.

HALE (EDWARD E.). Ten times One is Ten. 16mo. $0.88.

HAMERTON (PHILIP G.). Thoughts about Art. 16mo. $2.00.

INGELOW (JEAN). The Monitions of the Unseen, and Poems of
Love and Childhood. 12 Illustrations. 16mo. $1.50.

JUDD (SYLVESTER). Margaret: A Tale of the Real and the
Ideal, of Blight and Bloom. 16mo. $1.50.

—— Richard Edney and the Governor’s Family. 16mo. $1.50.

KONEWKA (PAUL). Silhouette Illustrations to Goethe’s Faust.
Quarto. $4.00.

LOWELL (MRS. A. C.). Posies for Children. 16mo. $0.75.

LANDOR (WALTER SAVAGE). Pericles and Aspasia. 16mo. $1.50.

MAX AND MAURICE. Translated by Charles T. Brooks. 12mo.
$1.50.

MICHELET (M. JULES). France Before Europe. 16mo. $1.00.

PARKER (JOSEPH). Ad Clerum: Advices to a Young Preacher.
16mo. $1.50.

PRESTON (HARRIET W.). Aspendale. 16mo. $1.50.

PUCK’S NIGHTLY PRANKS. Silhouette Illustrations by Paul
Konewka. Paper Covers. $0.50

SEELEY (J. R.). Roman Imperialism and Other Lectures and
Essays. 16mo. $1.50.

STOWE (HARRIET BEECHER). Pink and White Tyranny. 16mo. $1.50.

JOHN WHOPPER’S ADVENTURES. 16mo. $0.75.


“MISS ALCOTT IS REALLY A BENEFACTOR OF HOUSE-HOLDS.”—_H. H._


LITTLE MEN: Life at Plumfield with Jo’s Boys. By LOUISA M. ALCOTT. With
Illustrations. Price $1.50.

“The gods are to be congratulated upon the success of the Alcott
experiment, as well as all childhood, young and old, upon the singular
charm of the little men and little women who have run forth from
the Alcott cottage, children of a maiden whose genius is beautiful
motherhood.”—_The Examiner._

“No true-hearted boy or girl can read this book without deriving
benefit from the perusal: nor, for that matter, will it the least
injure children of a larger growth to endeavor to profit by the
examples of gentleness and honesty set before them in its pages. What
a delightful school ‘Jo’ did keep! Why, it makes us want to live our
childhood’s days over again, in the hope that we might induce some
kind-hearted female to establish just such a school, and might prevail
upon our parents to send us, ‘because it was cheap.’ ... We wish the
genial authoress a long life in which to enjoy the fruits of her labor,
and cordially thank her, in the name of our young people, for her
efforts in their behalf.”—_Waterbury American._

“Miss Alcott, whose name has already become a household word among
little people, will gain a new hold upon their love and admiration by
this little book. It forms a fitting sequel to ‘Little Women,’ and
contains the same elements of popularity.... We expect to see it even
more popular than its predecessor, and shall heartily rejoice at the
success of an author whose works afford so much hearty and innocent
enjoyment to the family circle, and teach such pleasant and wholesome
lessons to old and young.”—_N. Y. Times._

“Suggestive, truthful, amusing, and racy, in a certain simplicity of
style which very few are capable of producing. It is the history of
only six months’ school-life of a dozen boys, but is full of variety
and vitality, and the having girls with the boys is a charming novelty,
too. To be very candid, this book is so thoroughly good that we hope
Miss Alcott will give us another in the same genial vein, for she
understands children and their ways.”—_Phil. Press._

A specimen letter from a little woman to the author of “Little Men.”

June 17, 1871.

DEAR MISS ALCOTT,—We have just finished “Little Men,” and like it so
much that we thought we would write and ask you to write another book
sequel to “Little Men,” and have more about Laurie and Amy, as we like
them the best. We are the Literary Club, and we got the idea from
“Little Women.” We have a paper two sheets of foolscap and a half.
There are four of us, two cousins and my sister and myself. Our assumed
names are: Horace Greeley, President; Susan B. Anthony, Editor; Harriet
B. Stowe, Vice-President; and myself, Anna C. Ritchie, Secretary. We
call our paper the “Saturday Night,” and we all write stories and have
reports of sermons and of our meetings, and write about the queens of
England. We did not know but you would like to hear this, as the idea
sprang from your book; and we thought we would write, as we liked your
book _so_ much. And now, if it is not too much to ask of you, I wish
you would answer this, as we are very impatient to know if you will
write another book; and please answer soon, as Miss Anthony is going
away, and she wishes very much to hear from you before she does. If you
write, please direct to —— Street, Brooklyn, N.Y.

Yours truly,
ALICE ——.


_Mailed to any address, postpaid, on receipt of the advertised price,
by the Publishers,_

ROBERTS BROTHERS, BOSTON.




PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY.

A Society Novel.

BY
MRS. HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,
AUTHOR OF “UNCLE TOM’S CABIN,” “THE MINISTER’S WOOING,” ETC.

“Come, then, the colors and the ground prepare;
Dip in the rainbow, trick her off in air;
Choose a firm cloud before it fall, and in it
Catch, ere she change, the Cynthia of this minute.”
POPE.


BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1871.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

HARRIET BEECHER STOWE,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.


CAMBRIDGE:
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SON.




PREFACE.


MY DEAR READER,—This story is not to be a novel, as the world
understands the word; and we tell you so beforehand, lest you be in
ill-humor by not finding what you expected. For if you have been told
that your dinner is to be salmon and green peas, and made up your mind
to that bill of fare, and then, on coming to the table, find that it
is beefsteak and tomatoes, you may be out of sorts; _not_ because
beefsteak and tomatoes are not respectable viands, but because they are
not what you have made up your mind to enjoy.

Now, a novel, in our days, is a three-story affair,—a complicated,
complex, multiform composition, requiring no end of scenery and
_dramatis personæ_, and plot and plan, together with trap-doors,
pit-falls, wonderful escapes and thrilling dangers; and the scenes
transport one all over the earth,—to England, Italy, Switzerland,
Japan, and Kamtschatka. But this is a little commonplace history,
all about one man and one woman, living straight along in one little
prosaic town in New England. It is, moreover, a story with a moral;
and for fear that you shouldn’t find out exactly what the moral is,
we shall adopt the plan of the painter who wrote under his pictures,
“This is a bear,” and “This is a turtle-dove.” We shall tell you in the
proper time succinctly just what the moral is, and send you off edified
as if you had been hearing a sermon. So please to call this little
sketch a parable, and wait for the exposition thereof.




CONTENTS.


CHAP. PAGE
I. FALLING IN LOVE 1
II. WHAT SHE THINKS OF IT 19
III. THE SISTER 31
IV. PREPARATION FOR MARRIAGE 39
V. WEDDING, AND WEDDING-TRIP 56
VI. HONEY-MOON, AND AFTER 63
VII. WILL SHE LIKE IT? 74
VIII. SPINDLEWOOD 86
IX. A CRISIS 92
X. CHANGES 104
XI. NEWPORT; OR, THE PARADISE OF NOTHING TO DO 112
XII. HOME À LA POMPADOUR 126
XIII. JOHN’S BIRTHDAY 137
XIV. A GREAT MORAL CONFLICT 152
XV. THE FOLLINGSBEES ARRIVE 161
XVI. MRS. JOHN SEYMOUR’S PARTY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 181
XVII. AFTER THE BATTLE 197
XVIII. A BRICK TURNS UP 213
XIX. THE CASTLE OF INDOLENCE 228
XX. THE VAN ASTRACHANS 243
XXI. MRS. FOLLINGSBEE’S PARTY, AND WHAT CAME OF IT 250
XXII. THE SPIDER-WEB BROKEN 268
XXIII. COMMON-SENSE ARGUMENTS 281
XXIV. SENTIMENT _v._ SENSIBILITY 284
XXV. WEDDING BELLS 291
XXVI. MOTHERHOOD 297
XXVII. CHECKMATE 304
XXVIII. AFTER THE STORM 321
XXIX. THE NEW LILLIE 326




PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY.




CHAPTER I.

_FALLING IN LOVE._

[Illustration: LILLIE.]


“WHO _is_ that beautiful creature?” said John Seymour, as a light,
sylph-like form tripped up the steps of the veranda of the hotel where
he was lounging away his summer vacation.

“That! Why, don’t you know, man? That is the celebrated, the divine
Lillie Ellis, the most adroit ‘fisher of men’ that has been seen in our
days.”

“By George, but she’s pretty, though!” said John, following with
enchanted eyes the distant motions of the sylphide.

The vision that he saw was of a delicate little fairy form; a
complexion of pearly white, with a cheek of the hue of a pink shell;
a fair, sweet, infantine face surrounded by a fleecy radiance of soft
golden hair. The vision appeared to float in some white gauzy robes;
and, when she spoke or smiled, what an innocent, fresh, untouched,
unspoiled look there was upon the face! John gazed, and thought of all
sorts of poetical similes: of a “daisy just wet with morning dew;” of a
“violet by a mossy stone;” in short, of all the things that poets have
made and provided for the use of young gentlemen in the way of falling
in love.

This John Seymour was about as good and honest a man as there is going
in this world of ours. He was a generous, just, manly, religious young
fellow. He was heir to a large, solid property; he was a well-read
lawyer, established in a flourishing business; he was a man that all
the world spoke well of, and had cause to speak well of. The only
duty to society which John had left as yet unperformed was that of
matrimony. Three and thirty years had passed; and, with every advantage
for supporting a wife, with a charming home all ready for a mistress,
John, as yet, had not proposed to be the defender and provider for any
of the more helpless portion of creation. The cause of this was, in
the first place, that John was very happy in the society of a sister,
a little older than himself, who managed his house admirably, and was
a charming companion to his leisure hours; and, in the second place,
that he had a secret, bashful self-depreciation in regard to his power
of pleasing women, which made him ill at ease in their society. Not
that he did not mean to marry. He certainly did. But the fair being
that he was to marry was a distant ideal, a certain undefined and
cloudlike creature; and, up to this time, he had been waiting to meet
her, without taking any definite steps towards that end. To say the
truth, John Seymour, like many other outwardly solid, sober-minded,
respectable citizens, had deep within himself a little private bit
of romance. He could not utter it, he never talked it; he would have
blushed and stammered and stuttered wofully, and made a very poor
figure, in trying to tell any one about it; but nevertheless it was
there, a secluded chamber of imagery, and the future Mrs. John Seymour
formed its principal ornament.

The wife that John had imaged, his _dream_-wife, was not at all like
his sister; though he loved his sister heartily, and thought her one of
the best and noblest women that could possibly be.

But his sister was all plain prose,—good, strong, earnest, respectable
prose, it is true, but yet prose. He could read English history with
her, talk accounts and business with her, discuss politics with her,
and valued her opinions on all these topics as much as that of any
man of his acquaintance. But, with the visionary Mrs. John Seymour
aforesaid, he never seemed to himself to be either reading history or
settling accounts, or talking politics; he was off with her in some
sort of enchanted cloudland of happiness, where she was all to him,
and he to her,—a sort of rapture of protective love on one side, and
of confiding devotion on the other, quite inexpressible, and that John
would not have talked of for the world.

So when he saw this distant vision of airy gauzes, of pearly whiteness,
of sea-shell pink, of infantine smiles, and waving, golden curls, he
stood up with a shy desire to approach the wonderful creature, and yet
with a sort of embarrassed feeling of being very awkward and clumsy.
He felt, somehow, as if he were a great, coarse behemoth; his arms
seemed to him awkward appendages; his hands suddenly appeared to him
rough, and his fingers swelled and stumpy. When he thought of asking
an introduction, he felt himself growing very hot, and blushing to the
roots of his hair.

“Want to be introduced to her, Seymour?” said Carryl Ethridge. “I’ll
trot you up. I know her.”

“No, thank you,” said John, stiffly. In his heart, he felt an absurd
anger at Carryl for the easy, assured way in which he spoke of the
sacred creature who seemed to him something too divine to be lightly
talked of. And then he saw Carryl marching up to her with his air of
easy assurance. He saw the bewitching smile come over that fair,
flowery face; he saw Carryl, with unabashed familiarity, take her fan
out of her hand, look at it as if it were a mere common, earthly fan,
toss it about, and pretend to fan himself with it.

[Illustration: “I didn’t know he was such a puppy.”]

“I didn’t know he was such a puppy!” said John to himself, as he stood
in a sort of angry bashfulness, envying the man that was so familiar
with that loveliness.

Ah! John, John! You wouldn’t, for the world, have told to man or woman
what a fool you were at that moment.

“What a fool I am!” was his mental commentary: “just as if it was any
thing to me.” And he turned, and walked to the other end of the veranda.

“I think you’ve hooked another fish, Lillie,” said Belle Trevors in the
ear of the little divinity.

“Who. . . ?”

“Why! that Seymour there, at the end of the veranda. He is looking at
you, do you know? He is rich, very rich, and of an old family. Didn’t
you see how he started and looked after you when you came up on the
veranda?”

“Oh! I saw plain enough,” said the divinity, with one of her
unconscious, baby-like smiles.

“What are you ladies talking?” said Carryl Ethridge.

“Oh, secrets!” said Belle Trevors. “You are very presuming, sir, to
inquire.”

“Mr. Ethridge,” said Lillie Ellis, “don’t you think it would be nice to
promenade?”

This was said with such a pretty coolness, such a quiet composure, as
showed Miss Lillie to be quite mistress of the situation; there was, of
course, no sort of design in it.

Ethridge offered his arm at once; and the two sauntered to the end of
the veranda, where John Seymour was standing.

The blood rushed in hot currents over him, and he could hear the
beating of his heart: he felt somehow as if the hour of his fate was
coming. He had a wild desire to retreat, and put it off. He looked
over the end of the veranda, with some vague idea of leaping it; but
alas! it was ten feet above ground, and a lover’s leap would have only
ticketed him as out of his head. There was nothing for it but to meet
his destiny like a man.

Carryl came up with the lady on his arm; and as he stood there for a
moment, in the coolest, most indifferent tone in the world, said, “Oh!
by the by, Miss Ellis, let me present my friend Mr. Seymour.”

[Illustration: “Let me present my friend, Mr. Seymour.”]

The die was cast.

John’s face burned like fire: he muttered something about “being happy
to make Miss Ellis’s acquaintance,” looking all the time as if he would
be glad to jump over the railing, or take wings and fly, to get rid of
the happiness.

Miss Ellis was a belle by profession, and she understood her business
perfectly. In nothing did she show herself master of her craft, more
than in the adroitness with which she could soothe the bashful pangs of
new votaries, and place them on an easy footing with her.

“Mr. Seymour,” she said affably, “to tell the truth, I have been
desirous of the honor of your acquaintance, ever since I saw you in the
breakfast-room this morning.”

“I am sure I am very much flattered,” said John, his heart beating
thick and fast. “May I ask why you honor me with such a wish?”

“Well, to tell the truth, because you strikingly resemble a very
dear friend of mine,” said Miss Ellis, with her sweet, unconscious
simplicity of manner.

“I am still more flattered,” said John, with a quicker beating of the


1 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Online LibraryHarriet Beecher StowePink and White Tyranny A Society Novel → online text (page 1 of 19)