The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-03-20

got to the middle of the story, the char
acters took their fates into their own
hands, and I literally had no power"
Which is pretty much,"I observed.
what Mr.. Howells told me occurred with
him always. He was always, he said
obliged to let them work out their own
lives"
Besides" went on Mr.. Hardy. "don't
you see by her violent death poor Tess
makes some reparation for her sins. and
so justice is satisfied. 1 can assure YOU
many of my feminine readers feel that
very strongly"
Don't some people," 1 asked. "fnd
fault with you for calling Tess pure wo-
man?"
well, perhaps they do. consider that
she was to all intents and purposes a pure
woman until her last fall Then she was
as a mere corpse drifting in the water to
her end, an absolutely irresponsible be-
ing. No." went on Mr.. Hardy in reply to
a remark of mine, II hate word painting.
/ never try to do it; all endeavor is to
give an impression OF scene as it strikes
me. For instance, Stonehenge l describe
exactly as l saw it on that sad day when
decided Tess must die-can ever forget
the misery of that day? There was the
lowering sky and the wind booming past
the great temple of the Druids; | always
go to place first before attempting to de-
scIIpe II. went puipoSeiy 10 winchester
when described Angel Clare
and her sister climbing I'D the
hill to see the black flag run up that was
to announce the doom of Tess" "Are
many of your characters from life, Mr..
Hardy?" "Oh, yes. almost all of them. l
knew those three dairy maids, as a boy,
loved vicar in this very neighborhood.
Bathsheba Everdene, in Far from the Mad
ding Crowd was my own aunt. Now
and again real people with their own
names walk into my pages. Do you re-
member Admiral Hardy in The Trumpet
Major. well there he is" and Mr.. Hardy
pointed to the portrait of a handsome old
naval officer that hung upon the wall;
that is Sir Thomas Hardy in whose arms
Nelson died; he was relative of mine.
Then Shepherd Oak knew well when I
was boy"
And you find these simple country peo-
pie interesting to write about?"
why, certainly l do. They have far
more sentiment and romance than the
ever going on within its ranks for petty
social superiority. If you live among
these people after time that variety takes
the place of monotony. The people begin
to differentiate themselves as in a chemi-
cal process. They become beings of many
minds, infinite in difference; some happy,
many serene, few depressed, one here
stupid, others wanton; others aus
tere: some mutely Miltonic, some
potentially Cromwellian. The men
strong heroic SOULS the girls dainty hero
ines. Remember as l have saio, they, or
many of them, are the representatives of a
magnificent antiquity" Upon one point
Mr.. Hardy and were well agreed. 1t was
this. Women of the loftiest rank, and
these girls whom he describes so we'll, in
their essence are alike. In the duchess as
in the dairymaid, there are the same rudi-
mentary passions, the same impulses.
Women of fashion and girls in the field
resemble each other very closely. The
ioftier you go in the social scale, and, as
the hopeless British middle classes would
term it, the lower you descend the more
natural are the women in each class.
"Les extremes Sc touchent."
On the following morning Mr.. Hardy
and l walked in to Dorchester which is
indeed the celebrated "Casterbridge"
which SO often figures in his charming
books. In the Church of st. Peter, to
which he took me, he showed me the mon
ument erected in the reign of Elizabeth to
his ancestor, John Hardy, who was in the
days of Edward VI. a rich old philanthro-
pist. MY family" said he, "have lived
here for good many hundred years. And
even now there are in our family tradi-
tons of the Monmouth rebellion which
are not known elsewhere" As we passed
out of the town he pointed out to me the
house in which Judge Jeffrey lodged
when he was conducting that terri
BILE bloody assize. There" said Mr..
Hardy. as we stood outside the handsome
old red brick building, "on the very spot
upon which we now stand he one morning
hanged eighty people before his breakfast.
The place to this day is called Gallows
HILL We then walked on till We came to
the old Roman amphitheater. Readers of
Mr.. Hardy's books will remember that it
was in this very place that Abraham
Trenchard. mayor of Casterbridge, met
his wife. The scene was very fine. Far
and US rolled great stretches of down,
across which fitted waves of alternate
light and shadow. The amphitheater
itself, although not less than l 800 years
old, is in state of perfect preserva-
ton and is wonderfully interesting.
Here the old Roman games went
on. Here the gladiators fought. Here
rang the plaudits of Roman and
British spectators as now man and now
wild beast gained the victory. We stood
In the very center of the great circle.
Here" said Mr.. Hardy, "in 1705 they
burned alive q poor woman who had
poisoned her husband. They say that
100000 people were gathered together on
that occasion" 1t was time for me to
hurry to the station. As did so l cast
lingering glance at the immense ramparts
of the old British camp, upon which, be-
fore even the Romans came to this island,
stood Maiden castle. Behind it were roll
ing up huge masses of cloud, now lumin-
Gus with the splendor of sunset, anon
livid with the tones of approaching night
and tempest. The ramparts themselves
rose against the sky with Titanic per-
sonality that compelled the senses to re-
gard them and consider.
RAYMOND BLATHwAYr.