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I gave him a statement." Mr. Greenough frowned. "It would have been as well to have waited. However." "Oh, Banneker," put in Mallory, "Judge Enderby wants you to call at his office." "Who's Judge Enderby?" "Chief Googler of the Goo-Goos; the Law Enforcement Society lot. They call him the ablest honest lawyer in New York. He's an old crab. Hates the newspapers, particularly us." "Why?"
I saw it was going to be a regular poetic outburst, such as Mammy would have called a tantrum in Sam or me, and that Mabel was positively scared and Miss Greenough much pained. "Crittenden will be here," said Judge Vandyne in a perfectly calm and certain voice. "Don't worry, son!"
These and a thousand other kindred reflections, relating also to my own circumstances, crowd upon me at the moment of again entering this famous city." Takes rooms with Horatio Greenough. Political talk with Lafayette. Riots in Paris. Letters from Greenough. Bunker Hill Monument. Letters from Fenimore Cooper. Cooper's portrait by Verboeckhoven. European criticisms. Reminiscences of R.W. Habersham.
Of especial value we reckon the reminiscences of Allston and his methods; and it seems a little singular, since the scene is laid chiefly in Florence and in 1847, that we get nothing more satisfactory than a single anecdote about the elder Greenough, whose life and works and thoroughly emancipated style of thought have done more to honor American Art than those of any other man, except Allston.
Horatio Greenough and Walter Savage Landor are the chief persons he speaks of as having met upon the Continent. Of these he reports various opinions as delivered in conversation. Emerson hardly knew his privilege; he may have been the first American to look through an immersion lens with the famous Modena professor. Mr.
Immediately upon graduation, he sailed for Italy, which was, sadly enough, to be the Mecca of American sculptors for many years to come. For Italian sculpture was bound hand and foot by the traditions of classicism, to which our early sculptors soon fell captive. Greenough was no exception, and some years of study in the Italian studios rivetted the chains.
He betrays it in this striking passage from his Journal, about the sculptor Greenough: "What interest has Greenough to make a good statue? Who cares whether it is good? A few prosperous gentlemen and ladies; but the Universal Yankee Nation roaring in the capitol to approve or condemn would make his eye and hand and heart go to a new tune."
Tommy Burt, to whom Banneker had confided his action, was of opinion that the city desk was merely waiting "to hand you something so raw that you'll have to buck it; something that not even Joe Bullen would take." "The joss is just tricky enough for that," said Tommy. "He'll want to put you in the wrong with Gordon. You're a pet of the boss's." "Don't blame Greenough," said Banneker.
"Where were you educated?" "Nowhere. Wherever I could pick it up." "Which means everywhere. Ever read George Borrow?" "Yes." The heavy face of Mr. Gordon lighted up. "Ree-markable! Keep on. He's a good offset to to the daily papers. Writing still counts, on The Ledger. Come over and meet Mr. Greenough."
Greenough would apply suitable remedies. If Banneker were, indeed, taking a good conceit of himself from the conspicuous position achieved so unexpectedly, the morning papers did nothing to allay it. Most of them slurred over, as lightly as possible, the fact of his journalistic connection; as in the evening editions, the yacht feature was kept to the fore. There were two exceptions.
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