Miss Halls School - Hallmark Yearbook (Pittsfield, MA)

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THE MAUVE FACADE THE WAY OE ALL FLESH by Samuel Bufler is a novel buf if seems more like a biography of Ernesf Ponfifex, eldesf son in a middle-class English family. He was born in fhe year I85O. fhe year of Samuel Bufler's birfh. His fafher was fhe smug and snobbish recfor of a counfry parish: Bufler's grandfafher was a greaf bishop. The sfory is fold from fhe poinf of view of Ernesf's godfafher who expresses fhe aufhor's personal views. During fhe years befween l872 and I885 when fhe book was being wriffen. fhe Vicforian family was highly revered and orfhodox in ifs beliefs: as an insfifufion if had been alfernafely senfimenfalized and safirized in fhe novels of Dickens and Thackeray. Bufler. however. wrifing somewhaf laferfsaw only fhe prefenfiousness. snobbishness. and hypocrisy of fhe period and in fhis book affacks bifferly fhe cus- foms and beliefs of fhe Vicforian family. The sfory is abouf a young man's sfruggle fo free himself from fhe influence of a domineering fafher and fo become The person he was meanf fo be. Bufler shows fhaf fhe seemingly mosf uprighf parenfs can be sfupid. and fhaf a child's failure fo conform fo a sysfem may be caused by faulfs in fhe sysfem rafher fhan by faulfs in fhe child. The sifuafion is made more searing because fhe fafher in fhis case is a clergyman. The sfory. beginning wifh Ernesf's sfifled childhood. carries him fhrough his sfruggle fo become a clergyman-'ro please his fafher. his disgrace in having fo serve a prison ferm, his blind and unhappy marriage. and finally his becoming a wrifer and an individual. All fhrough his life he is immafure and naive in his sfruggle be- fween whaf he has been broughf up fo believe and whaf he really fhinks is righf. His spirif seems fo be broken af firsf, buf slowly and painfully by each experience he is freed from fhe bondage of his family. he finds his own sense of values, and is able fo sfand on his own feef. If fhis book had been published before fhe fwenfiefh cen- fury, Vicforians reading if would have winced or else been delighfed fhaf someone had af lasf dared fo fell fhe frufh. Published in l903, if became' a confroversial and in- fluenfial book which ripped fhe mauve facade from The Vicforian home. Even foday ifs frufh is powerful. Ernesf is fhe black sheep of his family, fhe sorf of person who was shunned by polife sociefy of his fime. Buf Bufler dissecfs his sifuafion so fhaf fhe reader sees fhe frufh abouf him. He is really a nicer-fhan-average young fellow who has been spirif- ually crippled by narrow discipline and casf ouf helpless info a world which he is wholly unprepared fo meef. His fafher, florid and bloafed from foo much food and wine. is much more concerned wifh fhe affendance af his church fhan wifh religion ifself. Secrefly frusfrafed in his own life, he fakes his rebelliousness ouf on his chil- dren, buf always in fhe name of building characfer. Really he does nof like children, and Ernesf, looking back lafer. remembers his fafher only wifh fear and dislike. The recfor lives according fo sfricf roufine. rules fhe house wifhouf humor. and dicfafes a code of moralify fo family and congregafion wifh pompous verbosify. Family pray- ers as seen fhrough fhe eyes of Ernesf as a small boy are fypical of life af fhe rec- fory. When Ernesf, as a man, refurns fo his home, he finds himself disfracfed by fhe same fhings which bofhered him as a child. While his fafher drones on. fhe house- hold bow fheir heads in bored submission. He finds fhaf nofhing has been changed, excepf fhaf his picfure has been removed. The paper on 'rhe walls was sfill un- changed: fhe roses were sfill waifing for fhe bees. and in fhe dining-room fhe ravens were sfill frying fo feed Elijah over fhe fireplace. He finds fhaf even as a grown man he is uncomforfable in fhe dining-room because if was always fhere fhaf his fafher had punished him as a boy. Ernesf's mofher. Chrisfina Ponfifex, is porfrayed by Buf- ler as fhe virfuous and priggish Vicforian mofher. She prides herself on being a marfyr and prefaces each remark wifh, Your dear mama- or Your beloved fafher and l- She succeeds in making her children feel absolufely guilf-laden. And when she dies. her beloved husband buries his face in his handkerchief for wanf of emofion. Page 39

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I nodded proudly, swallowed hard, and Tried To speak. ' ' ' She's a Tine looking dog. Doc conTinued. I beT she was a good hunTer when she was young. My words came ouT quickly. BuT she. isn'T old. Doc. You iusf waiT Till she geTs onTo a scent . - - w i ' . Doc was noT IisTening To me. He was'IisTening To The plans being made Tor The game dinner The following evening. The crowd of men was beginning To break up, The dogs sTarTed To bark, and Doc Turned back To me. I I ' . Why don'T you head easT and I'Il head.norTh. We can meeT aT The edge of The meadow and work our way back up Through The ravine. ThaT is, if you don'T- have a parTner already. I - - I grinned. nodded. whis+Ied Tor Mex. and sTarTed off. Very soon we had IefT The sounds of The camp behind us. Suddenly Mexie sTopped. circled a Tallen Tree, and began running, nose To The ground. She was onTo a scenT! Her deep-ThroaTed baying rev,erberaTed over The whole mounTainside. IT was a pleasant musical sound. Like a bugle. Dad had always said. I.isTening To ThaT mellow sound drifTing Through The nighf was The besT parT of The hunT. I ThoughT. My TooT caughT in a rooT and I sTumbled. Picking myself up, I cursed The rooT sofTly. cradled my gun in my arm, and sTarTed running aTTer Mex. I knew ThaT once she had The coon Treed. I would have no Trouble. Only an old dog or a very poorly Trained one ever IeTs a coon drop from a Tree. Mex had never IosT a coon. and she would cerTainIy never IeT one drop. I found Mex circling The base of a scrubby pine Tree. barking up inTo The branches. I flashed my lighT around. No coon. Moving To The oTher side. I flashed my lighT again. STiII no coon. Mex became quiet She lowered her head andsbegan To Tremble. There was no coon. IT musT have dropped. I rubbed The sTock of my gun unconsciously. Then began To unload iT. I puT.The shells in my pocket - Come on. Old Lady. I said quieTIy. We're going home. A sound in The underbrush made me Turn around. Doc Andrews was sTanding There. .T You're noT leaving The hunT. are you? he asked. Yes. My breaTh caughT as I answered. lT's geTTing IaTe. Deborah Washburn. I955 - 'Wea rafts will 'I e M , X21 Cn, , gt I GQ.. Kiwi fe? Jessi. Q Ae , I QQW L4i'l'.J l II . li... -- , xfv'f 1 . 'wwf 1 'X fra ? I fu- e a ' cyl V Q.,f ' iiii QQ. 'e??:'7QE' L G., h.ii'Il!e?uD fM4 Hi K il H Whse? I 'ill' ii ' .- QW Q'4?aSsf I Q I Q s geiffv -. ' Tl I Tie' Page 38

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Samuel Bufler has wrilfen a book which has survived ifs age wifhouf seeming daled. He was ahead of his age. A book like UNCLE TOM'S CABIN does noi' affeci' us deeply any more because we do nof feel emofional abou? slavery Today. Buf THE WAY OF ALL FLESH carries a lasfing significance because il cries oul 'ro anyone. in any age. who has ever been +hwar+ed. or regimenfed. or pushed in+o a mold of any kind. Ernesl' seems To have really lived and his slory has verisimilifude even Today. The fifle ifself suggesis The bifferness of The 'rrufh aboul The frailfies of human na- fure. Bu+ler's sfyle has a dry. comic force which is biling and direct Alfhough he is oflen bilfer and nega+ive, he makes one fhink. l+ is noi for me +0 say whefher he wenf foo far or noi wifh his salire, buf his honesfy and fearlessness have cerfainly convinced me 'thai' he was speaking The +ru+h. ' Alix Hegeler. T955 HODIE CHRISTUS NATUS EST Grey and muffled, K The foofbeafs pool small echoes Amid vaulfed arches of fhe corridor. The massive oaken door inches shui, Sfanding once more closed . Againsf fhe hurling snows. Pafienf halls reverberafe wifh canficles Thai issue from a chamber As a cassocked monk opens +he Golhic door. Feel whisper on flagsfone And priesfs refurn 'ro Their cells 'ro pray. Inside 'rhe dimly lit scripforium Eighf brofhers Deep in concenfralion Labor over manuscripfs. Color flares, gold and ruby. Gold and sapphire and emerald, As rush lighl flickers over vellum. Across 'rhe hall Drone +he voices of monks in chapel. Praying for +he +roubled world Whence 'rhey have fled. Ann Lauer. I'-756 O Page 40,