William Richardson

“ But it is by no means so easy to dispose of Richardson, who was neither an observer of the one, nor a describer of the other; but who seemed to spin his materials entirely out of his own brain, as if there had been nothing existing in the world beyond the little shop in which he sat writing. There is an artificial reality about his works, which is nowhere to be met with. They have the romantic air of a pure fiction, with the literal minuteness of a common diary. The author had the strangest matter-of-fact imagination that ever existed, and wrote the oddest mixture of poetry and prose. ”

“ Richardson’s nature is always the nature of sentiment and reflection, not of impulse or situation. He furnishes his characters, on every occasion, with the presence of mind of the author. He makes them act, not as they would from the impulse of the moment, but as they might upon reflection, and upon a careful review of every motive and circumstance in their situation. They regularly sit down to write letters: and if the business of life consisted in letter-writing, and was carried on by the post (like a Spanish game at chess) , human nature would be what Richardson represents it. ”

“ Richardson's great favourite was as much of one as possible. Some satirical critic has represented him in Elysium 'bowing over the faded hand of Lady Grandison' (Miss Byron that was) —he ought to have been represented bowing over his own hand, for he never admired any one but himself, and was the God of his own idolatry.—Neither do I call it living to one's-self to retire into a desert (like the saints and martyrs of old) to be devoured by wild beasts nor to descend into a cave to be considered as a hermit, nor to got to the top of a pillar or rock to do fanatic penance and be seen of all men. ”

“ In casuistry this author is quite at home; and, with a boldness greater even than his puritanical severity, has exhausted every topic on virtue and vice. There is another peculiarity in Richardson, not perhaps so uncommon, which is, his systematically preferring his most insipid characters to his finest, though both were equally his own invention, and he must be supposed to have understood something of their qualities. Thus he preferred the little, selfish, affected, insignificant Miss Byron, to the divine Clementina; and again, Sir Charles Grandison, to the nobler Lovelace. ”

“ He was succeeded by Richardson, the first English painter that stood at the head of portrait painting in this country. Richardson had merit in his profession, but not of a high order: and it was remarkable, that a man who thought so well on the subject of art, and more especially who practised so long, should not have been able to do more than is manifested in his works. He died in 1745, aged 80. Jervais, the friend of Pope, was his competitor, but very inferior to him. Sir James Thornhill, also, was contemporary with Richardson, and painted portraits ”

“ W. H. Richardson is now living retired in Dayton, but for many years was actively identified with farming interests and owned and cultivated an excellent tract of land. He was born on St. Joseph's island in Lake Huron, in the province of Ontario, Canada, February 1, 1864, his parents being W. T. and Jane (Holland) Richardson, the former a native of Ontario, Canada, while the latter was born in Ireland. During her girlhood days the mother crossed the Atlantic with her parents, who established their home in Ontario. Soon after their marriage Mr. and Mrs. Richardson took up their abode on St. ”

“ On the kerbstone, a knot of the latter, tittering among themselves, shot furtive glances at Dove and Maurice as they passed. Here, a pretty, laughing face was the centre of a little circle; there, a bevy of girls clustered about a young man, who, his hands in his pockets, leaned carelessly against the door-arch; and again, another, plump and much befeathered, with a string of large pearlbeads round her fat, white neck, had isolated herself from the rest, to take up, on the steps, a more favourable stand. ”

“ He had hung his coat and hat on a peg, and now came forward to the table.” Move?” he said once again, and prolonged the word as though the channel of thought it opened up was new to him.
“Good gracious, yes!—If one’s not satisfied with one’s rooms, one moves, that’s all. There’s nothing strange about it.”
He murmured that the idea had never occurred to him, and was about to draw up a chair, when his eye caught a letter that was lying on the lowered flap of the bureau. In patent agitation, and without excusing himself, he seized it and tore it open. Madeleine saw his face darken. ”

“ The sun had gone down in a cloudless sky; an hour afterwards, the pavements were still warm to the touch, and the walls of the buildings radiated the heat they had absorbed. The high old houses in the inner town had all windows set open, and the occupants leaned out on their window-cushions, with continental nonchalance. The big garden-cafes were filled to the last scat. In the woods, the midges buzzed round people’s heads in accompanying clouds; and streaks of treacherous white mist trailed, like fixed smoke, over the low-lying meadow-land.
Maurice and Louise had rowed to Connewitz ”

“ It was the first moment of silence since she had come home at midday. From the willow-curtained island against which they were moored came little crepitations and flittings. Ahead of them the river blazed gold and blue, hedged by high spacious trees. “Come-to-tea, come-to-tea, hurryup-dear,” said a bird suddenly from the island thicket.
“D’you know what bird that is, Gerald?” asked Miriam.
“Not from Adam,” breathed Gerald, swaying on his seat with a little laugh. “It’s a bird. That’s all I know.”
“We’d better unmoor, silly,” muttered Harriett briskly, gathering up the tiller ropes. ”

“ Here she found herself on a verandah facing the grounds of the school. There was a long bench, on which several people were sitting: she took a modest seat at one end. Two of the younger governesses looked at her and laughed, and made a remark. She saw her room-mate, Lilith Gordon, arm in arm with a couple of companions. The winker of the tea-table turned out to be a girl of her own age, but of a broader make; she had fat legs, which were encased in thickly-ribbed black stockings. As she passed the bench she left the friend she was with, to come up to Laura and dig her in the ribs. ”

“ A man in a heavy ulster—notwithstanding the mildness of the day—stalked on ahead, unconcerned about the fate of his family, which dragged, a woman and two children, in the rear: like savages, thought Louise, where the male goes first, to scent danger. But the crackling of paper recalled her attention; Maurice was folding the sheet, and replacing it in the envelope, with a ludicrous precision. His face had taken on a pinched expression, and he handed the letter back to her without a word. ”

“ She liked her house so well as it stood; and it was amply big enough: there was only the pair of them. . . and John's child. It had the name, she knew, of being one of the most comfortable and best-kept in Ballarat. Brick for solidity, where wood prevailed, with a wide snowy verandah up the posts of which rare creepers ran, twining their tendrils one with another to form a screen against the sun. Now, what must Richard do but uproot the creepers and pull down the verandah, thus baring the walls to the fierce summer heat; plaster over the brick; and, more outlandish still, add a top storey. ”

“ Then Herries rose. With her hand in his, he said earnestly: “Now you must be merciful and relent. I shan’t give up hope. Any time in the next fortnight is time enough, remember. ‘Pon my word, I’ve dreamt of those waltzes of ours ever since. And the floor at the PRUSSE is still better, don’t you know? You won’t have the heart not to come.”
From under her lids, Louise shot a rapid glance at Maurice. He, too, had risen; he was standing stiff, pale, and solemn, visibly waiting only till Herries had gone, to make himself disagreeable. She smiled. ”

“ She felt she could have walked through him. She was quite near him now, her face lifted towards the strange radiance of the thin white face, the glow of the flaming beard; a man’s face, yielded up to her, and free from the least flicker of reminder.
“What do you think? What do you see?” she heard herself ask. Words made no break in the tide holding her there at rest.
His words followed hers like a continuation of her phrase:
“Mademoiselle, I see the People.” His eyes were on hers, an intense blue light; not concentrated on her; going through her and beyond in a widening radiance. ”

“ The position, therefore, of Richardson in our literature is that of a great Nonconformist. He was not manufactured according to any established process. If I may employ a metaphor borrowed from his own most honourable craft, he was set up in a new kind of type. He was born in 1689 in a Derbyshire village, the name of which, for some undiscovered reason, he would never tell. The son of poor parents—his father was a joiner—he had never [Pg 8] any but a village school education, nor did he in later life worry much about learning, or seek, as so many printers have done, to acquire foreign tongues. ”

“ Louise answered hurriedly. “No, no. And please go! I shall be all right. I’m sorry.—I had enjoyed it so much. I will tell you another time, how much. Good night, and thank you. No . . . PLEASE!> . . . yes, a delightful evening.” Her words were almost inaudible.
“Delightful indeed!” said Herries with warmth. Then he stood aside, raised his hat, and let them pass.
Maurice had his hand on her wrist, and he dragged her after him, over the frozen pavements, far more quickly than she could in comfort go, hampered as she was by snow-boots and by her heavy cloak. ”

“ If once you sell off and leave Ballarat, you can never come back. And then, if you regret it, where will you be? That's why I say don't hurry to decide. Sleep over it. Or let us consult somebody--John perhaps--"
"No you don't, madam, no you don't!" cried Richard with a grim dash of humour. "You had me once . . . crippled me . . . handcuffed me--you and your John between you! It shan't happen again."
"I crippled you? I, Richard! Why, never in my life have I done anything but what I thought was for your good. I've always put you first." And Mary's eyes filled with tears. ”

“ She was going driving to Yarangobilly that day with Archdeacon Long to see a new arrival Richard had recently brought into the world; and now she laid plans to kill two birds with one stone, entering into the scheme with a gusto that astonished Mahony. "Upon my word, wife, I believe you're glad to have something to do."
"Will my own papa gimme a dolly? ... like Uncle Papa?" here piped Trotty.
"Perhaps. But you will have to be a VERY good girl, and not talk with your mouth full or dirty your pinnies. Oh, here's a postscript!" Polly had returned to the sheet, and was gloating over it. ”

“ Nor had Long Jim turned up as ordered, to shoulder the heavy luggage. These blunders made Mahony very hot and curt. Having himself stowed the things inside the bar and borrowed a lantern, he drew his wife's arm through his, and hurried her away.
It was pitch-dark, and the ground was wet and squelchy. Their feet sank in the mud. Polly clung to Richard's arm, trembling at the rude voices, the laughter, the brawling, that issued from the grog-shops; at the continual apparition of rough, bearded men. One of these, who held a candle stuck in a bottle, was accosted by Richard and soundly rated. ”

“ Her face lost its brightness; she rose from his knee and roamed about the room, watched from the wall by her pictured self.
“But is there ever a moment in the day when you don’t want me? You are never satisfied.” He spoke abstractedly, without interest in the answer she might make, and, relieved of her weight, leant forward again, while his fingers played some notes on the table. But when she began to let her hands stray over the loose papers and other articles that encumbered chairs, piano and washstand, he raised his head and watched her with a sharp eye. ”

“ Beamish flourished open the door, exclaiming in a hearty tone: "An' 'ere you'll find 'em, gents--sittin' at their needles, busy as bees!" the most conspicuous object in the room was a very neat leg, clad in a white stocking and black prunella boot, which was just being drawn up over the sill. It flashed from sight; and the patter of running feet beat the floor of the verandah.
"Ha, ha, too late! The birds have flown," laughed Purdy, and smacked his thigh.
"Well, I declare, an' so they 'ave--the NAUGHTY creatures!" exclaimed Mrs. Beamish in mock dismay. "But trust you, Mr. ”

“ She gazed at him meditatively.
“Why wouldn’t you let me have my way at first?” he cried. “Why were you against it? We could have kept it a secret: no one need have known a thing about it. And I should never have asked you to go to England, or to see my people. Call it narrow, if you must, I can’t help it; it’s the only thing for us to do. Why won’t you agree? Tell me what you have against it. Listen!” He knelt down and put his arms round her. “We have still a fortnight—that’s time enough. ”

“ Maurice went a shade paler; he was clear, now, as to the object of Dove’s visit. But he answered in an off-hand way. “Oh, there’s time enough yet.”
“No. That’s a mistaken point of view, if I may say so,” replied Dove in his blandest manner. “Time requires to be taken by the forelock, you know.”
“Does it?” Maurice allowed the smile that was expected of him to cross his face.
“Most emphatically—And we fellow-students of yours are not the only people who have noticed a certain—what shall I say?—a certain abatement of energy on your part. Schwarz sees it, too—or I am much mistaken.” ”