The Portland daily press., 1877-05-28
THE PRESS.
New York Times.l
Esthetic Furniture.
A Victim TO Renaissance.

A Victim TO Renaissance.
1t first developed itself by an antipathy to
stone-ware, Windsor chairs, horse-hair Gov
cred furniture, whitewash, revolving casters,
and other useful necessaries of life.
If l, Mary Jane Hodge, then, am not ex-
actly contented with my lot, can, however,
place my hand On my heart and solemnly de-
clare that the crosses in my existence arise
from no fault of my own. Perfectly aware
that the condition of marriage should entail
on the wife a certain amount of consideration
for the tastes, inclinations, whims, or even
follies of her husband, / must state that, at
the very outset, Byzantine, the Cirque Cento
and the Renaissance all set against me, and,
by continually turningup when least expect
ed, at one time threatened to wreck my hap
piness. One thing which early disturbed me
and has been the cause of many a good cry
on my part, is my nance our name, in fact.
Is my husband Lawrence Martin Hodge or
Lorenzo Medicis Hodge? Am / English
Mary or a Frenchified Marie? Now, al
though l have no very great or positive aver
sion to being called Marie, flor men when
they are affectionate can be very foolish at
tmesl for me to call him Lorenzo is quite an
other thing. But if in moment of weakness
may have yielded to the Lorenzo, the Me-
dicis my husband had printed on our first WIS.,
ltlng cards never have been able to swallow.
Those fatal cards made their appearance dur
ing our honeymoon, which occurrence took
place not so very long ago.
We were in summer-hoCse in the coun-
try, overlooking the water of an evening, and
the mosquitoes were terribly annoying. Lo-
renzo had insisted on having our little bit of
a flower garden nightly Illuminated with
Chinese lanterns, which hived all kinds of
horlid bugs. am not exactly what you
might call romantic. I do not in the least
object to full moon, but l can't for the life
OF me go into ecstasies over it. That is too
absurd. The moon was rising that very night
quite clear and fine, and making the Chinese
lanterns look supremely ridiculous. 1t wasn't
much of flower garden and not the least
like Paradise, as Mr.. Hodge called it. What
was nice about the garden were the gravel
walks, which were always dry. Eve, tramp
ing around at night in the dewy grass, might
have liked it, but wouldn't. For some par
tcular reasons that never could divine, Mr.
Hodge had given imperative orders that no
one save ourselves should enter the garden.
Paradise was fastened with paddock which
gave no end of trouble to open.
This is like Venetian night" said my
husband to me; zone might fancy that stream
lagoon and yonder boat some gondola with
its freight of love and mystery" Now seeing
that was born on the place in New Jersey
where he and l were actually spending
week or so, and for me to listen to any one
call Snapper Creek Venetian lagoon, and
an old dug-out one of the nelghbors was bob
bling for eels in gondola, was entirely too
funny. Maybe should not have commenced
so soon, but l thought that just then and
there L ought to come to some kind of an ex
PLANTATION about our name.
Lawrence" said.
"Lorenzo, Marie, if you please"
Lorenzo, then. But how about that M
on our cards?" and drawing card out of my
pocket, l spelled it out under the Chinese
lantern. when l was girl 1 remember
your mother, such dear old lady, with nice
frilled caps, her maiden name, / am sure, was
Martin. The Martins were good Pennsyl-
vania Quaker family. L was always led to
believe that your given names were Law
renee Martini" dearest Marie" my hus-
band replied, ''Hodge is an absurd name and
stultities me. The Lorenzo, in mild way,
takes away something from my nothingness.
overbalance the boorish rusticity of Hodge.
Listen. There is drop of Italian blood in
my veins. 1t came into the family on my ia
theirs side many years ago; at least the New
York College of Heralds has clearly shown it
to me. l have often surmised as much N.Y.
self. How otherwise could Hodge have
such love for color-the longing for aesthetic
expression? A Hodge under another name
centuries ago, must have had high station in
Florence. l shall incorporate the three balls
of Medicis in our coat of arms" "Why. that
is what the pawhbrokers use for sign,"
SAID. 81 don't know anything about coats
of arms, but indeed I shouldn't like it.'
"Marie," he went on, suddenly, ''listen. l
have mission in life-an end to perform.
Will you not help me?"
l don't know what I said, for he startled
me so-perhaps might have committed my
self-when just then one of the stupid Ian
terms began to splitter, and the fame of the
candle inside caught to the dimsy paper, and
the whole of the neat and clean whitewashed
summer-house was in blaze.
Lawrence! LawrenceP' I cried. 81 can't
answer you now or promise anything, but
run to the vegetable garden-quick! You
will find watering pot there" and 1 clapped
my hands in Impotence. But my husband
the lambert flames, how they devour the lat
tice work! There is nothing SO beautiful as
the unforeseen" That was all he said as he
apparently stood in raptures. SIT is shame,
Lawrence, to see valuable property ruined
this way. Quick, the watering-pot," replied,
really cross this time.
"What a tragedy it would Make" was all
he said. Though he held me fast by the
hand, of course we were outside of the blaz-
l.
and you are my widow, and you perform suit
tee'
l lost my temper entirely then, and break
ing loose from him ran for the kitchen gar
den and returned with the watering-pot,
which put in his hands. At last he seemed
to understand the situation, and as pointed
to the creek he filled the watering-pot, and 1
kept him busy for half hour. Though he
extinguished the flames the summer-house
W. rr1inn6 and both Of us
smoked and bedraggled. The worst of it all
was that the man fishing in the creek would
not help us bit, but kept on bobbing for
eels, and the servants, with their very strict
orders not to intrade into Mr.. Hodges Para
disc, stood looking over the fence palings and
never lent hand. They supposed, so they
said, that the fire in the garden was portion
of the illumination. ''Kind of ioy," said the
colored cook, fireworks, jes' like Fourth of
july"
When the last smouldering woodwork on
the unfortunate summer-house was extin-
guished we left the garden.
l didn't like to blame the lanterns just
then. I only said:
"a nicely whtewashed summer-house
which was SO sweet and clean"
WAS it whitewashed, Marie?' inquired
Mr.. Hodge cody: "Then it has met its
proper fate. Whitewash is the curse of
N5S' oAh Sioo ~ noo UuluCu3 OuCC
whitewash stamped out in this country
those whitened sepulchres done away with
like phoenix from its ashes, Renaissance
will trim its wings and take it's fight.'
This incident of the scorched summer
house was my first discovery of Mr.. Hodges
peculiar mania, and here my antipathy to
Renaissance had its origin.
Now, good, serviceable block-tin coffee
pot, provided 1t is well secured and bright, is
admirable in its way. Tin things don't
break. Stone.china coffee-cups, too, are SER
viceable and lasting. want to know what
is the use in making coffee or tea cups too
light and thin, unless it is to encourage the
china makers? If a person is not strong, or
hasn't energy enough to lift coffee.cup to
his or her mouth, he is certainly not in
proper condition of health to drink coffee,
and ought not to have any. l don't want
to have anything on my table that you can't
pick mp or put down again, or servant can't
handle without thousand precautions. Now
my pet coffee.pot and these honest cups are
Mr.. Hodges utter detestation. To humor
his fancy did not go to dollar store and
buy him myself, a splendid cup with "MY
HTSRAND'' in the hippaSt kind of oiIt latferS