Henry Adams
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Title: Esther
Author: Henry Adams
Release Date: December 21, 2004 [EBook #14409]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

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A Novel

Published in 1884 by Henry Holt and Company

Chapter I
The new church of St. John's, on Fifth Avenue, was thronged the
morning of the last Sunday of October, in the year 1880. Sitting in the
gallery, beneath the unfinished frescoes, and looking down the nave,
one caught an effect of autumn gardens, a suggestion of
chrysanthemums and geraniums, or of October woods, dashed with
scarlet oaks and yellow maples. As a display of austerity the show was
a failure, but if cheerful content and innocent adornment please the
Author of the lilies and roses, there was reason to hope that this first
service at St. John's found favor in his sight, even though it showed no
victory over the world or the flesh in this part of the United States. The
sun came in through the figure of St. John in his crimson and green
garments of glass, and scattered more color where colors already
rivaled the flowers of a prize show; while huge prophets and
evangelists in flowing robes looked down from the red walls on a
display of human vanities that would have called out a vehement
Lamentation of Jeremiah or Song of Solomon, had these poets been
present in flesh as they were in figure.
Solomon was a brilliant but not an accurate observer; he looked at the
world from the narrow stand-point of his own temple. Here in New
York he could not have truthfully said that all was vanity, for even a
more ill-natured satirist than he must have confessed that there was in
this new temple to-day a perceptible interest in religion. One might
almost have said that religion seemed to be a matter of concern. The
audience wore a look of interest, and, even after their first gaze of
admiration and whispered criticism at the splendors of their new church,
when at length the clergyman entered to begin the service, a ripple of
excitement swept across the field of bonnets until there was almost a
murmur as of rustling cornfields within the many colored walls of St.

In a remote pew, hidden under a gallery of the transept, two persons
looked on with especial interest. The number of strangers who crowded
in after them forced them to sit closely together, and their low whispers
of comment were unheard by their neighbors. Before the service began
they talked in a secular tone.
"Wharton's window is too high-toned," said the man.
"You all said it would be like Aladdin's," murmured the woman.
"Yes, but he throws away his jewels," rejoined the man. "See the big
prophet over the arch; he looks as though he wanted to come
down--and I think he ought."
"Did Michael Angelo ever take lessons of Mr. Wharton?" asked the
woman seriously, looking up at the figures high above the pulpit.
"He was only a prophet," answered her companion, and, looking in
another direction, next asked:
"Who is the angel of Paradise, in the dove-colored wings, sliding up the
main aisle?"
"That! O, you know her! It is Miss Leonard. She is lovely, but she is
only an angel of Paris."
"I never saw her before in my life," he replied; "but I know her bonnet
was put on in the Lord's honor for the first time this morning."
"Women should take their bonnets off at the church door, as
Mussulmen do their shoes," she answered.
"Don't turn Mahommedan, Esther. To be a Puritan is bad enough. The
bonnets match the decorations."
"Pity the transepts are not finished!" she continued, gazing up at the
bare scaffolding opposite.
"You are lucky to have any thing finished," he rejoined. "Since Hazard

got here every thing is turned upside down; all the plans are changed.
He and Wharton have taken the bit in their teeth, and the church
committee have got to pay for whatever damage is done."
"Has Mr. Hazard voice enough to fill the church?" she asked.
"Watch him, and see how well he'll do it. Here he comes, and he will
hit the right pitch on his first word."
The organ stopped, the clergyman appeared, and the talkers were
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