Cincinnati daily press. [volume] (Cincinnati [Ohio]) 1860-1862, 1860-03-20
From Hawthorne's new Romance.
t,eaahd af the fouutain,


So the young count narrated myth OF one
Of his progenitors--he might have lived q
century ago, or q thousand years, or before
the Christian epoch, for anything that Dona,.
tello knew to the contrary--who had made
acquaintance with fair creature belonging
to this fountain! Whether woman or sprite
was a mystery, as was all else about her, ex-
cept that her life and soul were somewhat
interfused throughout the gushing water
She was fresh, cool, dewy thing, sunny and
shadowy, full of pleasant little mischiefs
itful and changeable with the whim of the
moment, but yet as constant as her native
stream, which kept the same gush and flow
forever, while marble crumbled over and
around il. The fountain woman loved the
youth-a knight, as Donatello called him
for, according to the legend, his race was
akin to hers. At least, whether kin or no,
there had been friendship and sympathy of
old betwixt an ancestor of his, with furry
ears, and the long lived lady of the fountain.
And after all those ages, she was still as
young as May morning, and as frolicsome
as q bird upon tree, or breeze that makes
merry with the leaves.
She taught him how TO call her from her
pebbly source, and they spent many happy
hour together, more especially in the fervor
of the summer days. For often as he sat
waiting for her by the margin of the spring,
she would suddenly fall down around him in
shower of sunny rain-drops, witha rainbow
glancing through them, and forthwith gather
herself up into the likeness of beautiful
girl, laughing--or was il the warble of the
rill over the pebbles2-to see the youths
amazement.
Thus, kind maiden that she was the hot
atmosphere became deliciously cool and fra
grant for this favored knight; and, further
more when he knelt down to drink out of
the spring, nothing was more common than
for pair of rosy lips to come up out of its
little depths and touch his mouth with the
thrill of q sweet, COOL dewy kissl
"It is delightful story for the hot noon of
your Tuscan summer" observed the sculptor
at this point. "But the department of the
watery lady must have had most chilling
influence in midwinter. Her lover would
find it, very literally, a cold reception"
81 suppose" said Donatello, rather sullxily,
'you are making fun of the story. But see
nothing laughable in the thing ITSELF nor in
what you say about it"
He went on to relate that for q long while
the knight found infinite pleasure and COM
fort in the friendship of the fountain nymph.
In his merriest hours, she gladdened him
with her sportive humor. 1fever he was an
noyed with earthly trouble, she laid her moist
hand upon his brow, and charmed the fret
and fever quite away.
But one day-one fatal alnoontide-the young
knight came rushing with hasty and irregu-
lar steps to the accustomed fountain. He
called the nymph; but-no doubt because
there was something unusual and frightful in
his tone-she did not appear nor answer him.
He flung himself down, and washed his hands
and bathed his feverish brow in the cool, pure
water. And then there was sound of woe;
it might have been woman's voice; it might
have been only the sighing of the brook over
bo
the youths hands, and left his brow as dry
and feverish as before.
Donatello here came to dead pause.
"Why did the water shrink from this UNI
happy knight?' inquired the sculptor
"Because he had tried to wash off blood
stainl' said the young count, in horror
stricken whisper. "The guilty man had pol
luted the pure water The nymph might
have comforted him in sorrow, but could not
cleanse his conscience of crime"
"And did he never behold her more?"
asked Kenyon.
"Never but once" replied his friend. "He
never beheld her blessed face but once again,
and then there was blood stain on the poor
nymph's brow; it was the stain his guilt had
| left in the fountain where he tried to wash il
off. He mourned for her his whole life long
and employed the best sculptor of the time tC
| carve this statue of the nymph from his de.
scription OF ner aspect. But, though my nm
cestor would fain have had the image weai
her happiest look, the artist, unlike yourself
was so impressed with the mournfnlness O
the story, that, in spite of his best efforts, he
made. her torlOrn, and forever weeping, ii
you see."
| Kenyon found certain charm in thi:
simple legend. Whether so intended or not
he understood it as an apologize, typifying the
soothing and genial effects of an habitual in
tercourse with nature, in all ordinary cares
and griefs; while, on the other hand, her
mild influences fall short in their effect upon
the ruder passions, and are altogether power
less in the dread fever fit or deadly chill
of guilt.