Rensselaer Republican, Volume 12, Number 34, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 May 1880 — THE PHILOSOPHER’S BABY. [ARTICLE]

THE PHILOSOPHER’S BABY.

I had been considering for about a year whether I should marry Winifred Hanway, when I heard that she was engaged to the Philosopher. Why did she accept him? It is true that he is both imaginative and critical, but faculties exercised in the formation of psychological hypothesis, and the laborious destruction of those of one’s neighbor do not usually rouse the sympathy of a bright and beautiful girl, who is more fit to lire than to think about life. He is certainly handsome, but as certainly his clothes are barbarous. His trousers can’t keep their shape for a day, and hjf hats are never new. If he notices the rain, he opens an umbrella which might have served as an ineffectual protection at the time of the Deluge; if ne finds out that it is cold, he assumes a garment which might hare been the every-day coat of Methuselah. His mannersare as strange as his appearance. He may often be seen walking in the park at the fashionable hour with a far-off look in his eyes, and his hat thrust back as if to lessen the external pressure on his active brain; more rarely yon may hear him bursting into enthusiasm in Piccadilly, though Piccadilly is the last place in which a man should allow himself to be enthusiastic. In short, though he is ,a true friend, he is an uncomfortable acquaintance ; and his volcanic utterances, after long periods of calm contemplation, cause such shocks to one’s nerves as would be conveyed to the Sunday eitizen by the eruption of Primrose Hill. But if it was odd that the beautiful Winifred Hanway should marry my friend, it was yet more odd that he should marry any one. There were no topics more certain to excite an explosion in the Philosopher than the excess-ive-population of the country, and the wholesome solitude of the Thinker. “ How,” he would fiercely ask, “ can a man think effectually on fundamental subjects who is compelled by the desEicable circumstances of his life to exaust his analytical faculty in considering how to pay his butcher and when to buy his coals? I tell you, sir, it’s better to starve with cold and hunger than to debase one’s noblest part to a game of skill with a grasping grocer.” Again ■ and again I had heard him declaim in this preposterous fashion; and, after all, he was. going to the altar like any other victim, and would doubtless take a house upon his back with the docility of a snail. I could not solve the problem; I would not give it up. So, full of the determination to drag Diogenes out of his tub. and the secret out of Diogenes, I stepped round to offer my congratulations. My friend was in his study, apparently writing, really eating a quill pen. He rose at me with a rush, wrung my hand till it ached, and blushed rather uncomfortably. Congratulations arc the curse of the Briton. Whether he is offering them or receiving them, he is generally obliged to take refuge in intermittent handshaking, and most of His sentences tail of into grunts and groans. But on this occasion it was evident that the Philosopher had something ready to say. and was nervously anxious to say it Indeed, I had hardly said more than “My dear fellow, I don’t know when.... I reallyam so awful glad. 1.... it’s in every way so, such a satisfactory, vou know. I really do wish all possible, and all shat sort of thing, you know”— when he burst in-with a speech so fluently delivered that I knew I was not his earliest visitor that morning. “Of course it’s taken you hy surprise,” he said, “as I knew it,would; but the truth is that I have been thinking of it for a long time, and lam sure lam right” Here I tried to get in an impression of wonder at his new notion of duty, but he was bent on being rid of the matter, and hurried on to his reasons. “In the first place,” said he, “I am sure that instead of increasing my domestic worries, my marriage will transfer them in a body to my -wife; and, secondly, when I consider the vast number of fools who are every day born into the world, I am terrified by the picture of what the next generation will be, if the thinkers of this are to be without successors.” Having discharged his reasons in this wise, the orator stood blinking at me as if he feared dissent, bat I was too astounded bv his magnificent audacity to reply. Slowly a look of peace stole back into his face, i pleasant light dawned in his eyes, and the promise of a smile played at the corner of his month. His remarkable fluency was gone, and, indeed, his voice sounded quite choky when he said: “Johnny you don’t know what an angel she is/’ A light broke in upon me. “Philosopher,” 1 said, “I believe you are going to be married because you fell inlove?” you are right,” said the Philosopher. After the wedding, the Philosopher and his wife went abroad for an indefinite period, and their friends heard but little of them. He wrote to nobody, and she did not write to me. Yet there were occasional rumors. Now they were breathing the keen air of the Engadine, now sinking to the chestnuts and vines of Chiavenna; now he was lashing himself to frensy over the treasures of Rome; now she was gazing with sweet Northern eyes across the gfowiuosplendor of the Bay of Naples. Then they were in Germany, and about to settle for life in a university town; but anon bad fled from it in haste after a long night’s dispute, in the course of which my learned friend had well-nigh come to blows with the university's most celebrated professor. At last I heard that they were again hi London, and, frill of enthusiasm, Parted round the corner to welcome home. Nobody was with them Hanway, Winifred’s mother.

nonneed, isurprised myself. tonSgntnwmlfTLSb room was engaged in an exercise wholly unconnected, as it seemed, with those of the rest. My friend’s wife, the lady whom I had almost loved, queen of all grace sad eomeliness, was Appearing and disappearing like a flash behind the (tar’s Tima, Showing at the moments of disclosure a face flashed with excitement, and lustrous ooUs of hair, tumbled into the wildest disorder, while she accompanied the whole performance with strange and inarticulate sounds. Hot mother, the same Mrs. Hanway who was so perfect a model of drees and carriage that many of her lady, friends were wont to lament among themselves that she gave herself such airs, was seated on the floor dressed for walking, but without her bonnet. Yes, she was certainly drumming on an inverted teatray with the wrong end of the poker. And the Philosopher? It was perplexing, after three years’ separation, to meet him thus. The Philosopher was cantering round the room on all fours, wearing on his head hifl own wastepaper basket. Briskly he cantered round, ever and anon frisking like a lamb in spring time, until he reached my feet, which were rooted to the spot with astonishment. He glanced up sideways, rose with a cry to the normal attitude of man, and grasped me by the hand. At the sound of nis voice, his wife dropped the paper from her hands, raised them auickly to her hair; and his mother-in-law 1 , with as much dignity as the effort would allow, scrambled on to her feet. Then in an . instant the cause of their eccentric conduct was made clear. Throned upon the hearthrug, and showing by a gracious smile a few of the newest teeth, sat a fine baby of some fifteen months. In one dimpled fist was tightly clenched the brush, which had so neatly arranged the mother’s braids; while the other was engaged in pounding the grandmother’s best bonnet into a shapeless mass.

We were all somewhat embarrassed except the baby. The ladies knew that they were nntidy, and I that I was an intruder. As for the learned father, he stood now on one leg and now on the other, while he shifted the waste-paper basket from hand to hand, and* continued to smile almost as perseveringly as his amiable offspring. Yet it was he who at last put an end to our awkward position by expressing a wild desire to have my opinion on the new curtains in his study. Rather sheepishly I said good-by to the lady of the house, trying to express by my eyes that I would never call again unannounced. I knew that Mrs. Hanway had not forgiven me, as I humbly took the two fingers which she offered; and I felt like a brute, as the most important member of the family condescended to leave a damp spot by the edge of my left whisker. When, however, I had been swept down stairs by my impulsive friend, and was alone with him in his den, my courage returned, and with it some indignation. I confronted him and sternly asked why I had not been told that- he was a’ father. “Not been told?” echoed he; “do you mean to say that you did not know about the Baby?” “Not so much as that it was,” I replied gloomily. He was overwhelmed. Of course he had supposed that every one knew it from the Queen downward. Of course fifty people ought to have told me, who of course had told me everything else. At last my cariosity got the better of my indignation, and 1 cut short his apologies by beginning my questions. “Does the shape of its head content you?” I asked. "The shape of whose what?” cried the Philosopher, apparently too surprised for grammar. “Of the baby’s head, of course,” I replied, tartly; “I merely wish to know if the child is likely to be as intellectual as you hoped.” “Isn’t the hair lovely?” he asked, inconsequently. This was too mnch, and assuming my severest manner I delivered myself in this wisest" I thought, though no doubt I was wrohg, that the use of a baby to you would be partly to furnish you with raw material for a philosopher, partly to enable you by constant observation to gain further evidence bearing on such vexed questions as, whether the infant gains its ideas of space by feeling about, whether it is conscious of itself, etc.” “ Well,” he said, laughing, “I don’t expect much help from my infant in those matters, unless I can get inside her and think her thoughts.” “ Her thoughtsP” cried L in amazement; “you don’t mean to say it’s a girl? Good gracious! you are not going to educate a female philosopher?” He looked rather vexed. “Of course It’s a girl,” he said. “The fabher of a female philosopher!” I gasped. “Dear me!” said he, somewhat testily; “isn’t it enough to be father of a noble woman?” Now I have often pat up with a great deal from my learned friend, ana am quite aware that I have been spoken of as “ Bozzy” behind my back. But there is a turning point even for the worm, and noboay will sit forever at the feet which are constantly kicking him. I had been snubbed more than enough by the illogical parent, and assuming my most sarcastic manner, I inquired, with an appearance of deference —“ls it not rather early to speak of your daughter as & noble woman?” I had kept aloof from the Philosopher for some weeks, nursing my wrath, like Achilles, I said to myself—cross as a bear, I overheard my landlady say in the passage—when I received a hasty note begging me to come to him at once, 1 fancied myself summoned to a council of chiefs; so, having donned my shining armor, I left my tent fitting dignity, and descended with a clang into the plain. Yet I could not but be aware of my landlady’s eye piercing me through the crack of the p trior door purposely left ajar, and of the hasty flapping of loose slippers which told of the startled slavey’s flight into the abyss below.

An unusual silence held my friend’s house that morning. The door was opened before I had time to ring by a melancholy footman, who, walking before me with the el&b irate delicacy of 411 noiselessly ushered me into the study. It was my lot to be again rooted to the spot with amazement. By the bookcase, in a shaded oorner of the room, with his head bowed low upon his hands, knelt the Philosopher. Here was a long step from the siege of Troy, from the simple wrath of the childlike hero to tbe most complex embarrassment of an heir of all the ages. What should I do. The dismal menial had fled to the shades without a word, without even a glance into the room. If I retreated,. 1 left my friend unaided and remained ignorant of the cause of his strange conduct. If I advanced, I was again the intruder on a scene not prepared for my inspection. In an agony of hesitation I fell to brushing my hat with my elbow; but not finding the expected relief in the occupation, I was about to desist, when my hat decided what my head could not, by falling with a crack on the floor. The effect was electrical.' Without one glance at the intruder, the Philosopher made a grab at the nearest book shelf, dragged ont a volume which had not been touched for half a century, and hunted for nothing in its pages with frantic eagerness. He was stul at it, when I stood over him and noted without wonder that he held the book upside down; then with the poorest imitjriou of surprise which I have ever seen, he rose and grasped my hand. “You found me on the track of something,’* he said; “I was looking it out in—in—”

-.’ST*? JSTi UL” 1 felt positively guilty. I had been angry with that bafy for making my arise friend foolish, for not being a boy, for being called a noble woman.” Was it not shameful that a great hulking brute should sneer at a weak thing that could not even answer with ataont? Were not my clumsy sarcasms enough to crush so delicate a plant? The poor little “ noble woman” was in danger and I could do nothing to help her. There were tears in the eyes which were looking into mine for comfort, but I had nothing ready to Say. “ I oould not stand being alone,” he muttered, after a short silence; “the doctor is with her now, and in a moment I may hear that my little daughter must —in fact, may hear the worst” While he was speaking, I seemed to have fifty oonsoling remarks to offer; but when be stopped no one sentence would disengage itself from the rest What I blurted out at last seems almost* ridiculous as I look back on it “ You must hope for the best” I said; “ you know she has youth on her side.” The words were scarcely out of my mouth when I heard a measured step upon the stairs; presently the door was opened .by the noiseless footman, and the most famous of London doctors entered the room. My friend leaned heavily on my arm, but looked at the man of science with seeming calm. “lam happy to say,” said the phys! cian, cheerily, “ that our little friend is going on as well as possible.” “ And she is out of danger?” “ She never was in it” “Never in danger?” cried I, almost disappointed. “ She has nothing the matter with her,” he replied, “but a slight feverish cold. I have seldom seen a liner or more healthy child. Good mQrning.

I never was more annoyed. Here was a waste of my finest feelings. Here was I stirred, to the depth, well-nigh moved to tears, by a baby’s feverish cold. Of course I was vety glad that it was no worse; but my friend was too absurd, and I would not spare him. “ Won’t you resume your studies?” I asked, sarcastically, pointing to the disturbed book, which was lying on the ground at our feet. His humility might have disarmed me. «• I am afraid I’ve been a fool,” he said; “ but if you had seen her all flushed and breathing hard; and then she is so small and fragile.” • “Yes, for a noble woman,” I remarked. He received the dart meekly. “ Philosopher,” said I, suddenly, determined to" rouse him at any cost, “ when I entered this room you were engaged in prayer.” His color certainly deepened. “ May I ask,” I inquired with an appearance of deference, “ whether you were addressing yourself to the Personal First Cause, or to the Unknowable—but perhaps you were merely bowing to the rational order of the Universe?” He made a gesture of impatience, but answered still with studied admiration. “I was alone and in trouble.” “And the efficacy of prayer?” I asked. “For Heaven’s sake,” cried he, bursting into excitement, “stop your jargon! Nothing shows such ignorance of a subject as having all its cant phrases on the tip of your tongue. Can’t I speak to Goa without expecting to be paid for it?” This was turning the tables. If he was going to take to questions, I knew I should end by admitting myself a fool. So to avoid a Socratic dialogue I put my hand on my friend’s shoulder and said: “ You are a good man, PhilosoEher; may you and the • noble woman’ ve a thousand years.” “ Thank you,” he said, simply; “ and now you must let me go and sing a psean with the nobler woman, my patient Penelope, my sweet wife.” So he went with long strides ovpr the asphodel meadow, ana I took myself to my tent full of pleasant thoughts.— Blackwood's Magazine.