No Cage For Conquerors

£

$11.95

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PERCY JANES

No Cage for Conquerors

No Cage For Conquerors

A Novel

by Percy Janes

Harry Cuff Publications Limited St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada 1984

©

1984, Percy Janes

Appreciation is expressed to the

Canada Council

for publication assis­

tance. The publisher acknowledges the financial contribution of the Cultural Affairs Division of the Department of Culture, Recreation and Youth, Government of Newfoundland and Labrador, which has helped make this publication possible.

The characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is coincidental.

Printed in Canada by CREATIVE PRINTERS & PUBLISHERS LIMITED

803-807 Water Street, St. John's, Newfoundland ISBN 0-919095-63-1

11

to The Rodgers Family Gordon, Paula & David

Ill

Books by Percy Janes House of Hate Light and Dark Newf(mndlanders Twelve Newf(lllndland Short Stories (edited jointly with Harry Cuff) EastmaH Requiem for a Faith The Rehels and The Renegades (Requiem for a Faith

II)

No Cage for Conquerors

)\'

PART ONE: The Offence

ONE

April is the springtime of nature, but for some people there is a kind of second spring that comes with the renewal of vitality in the month of September and readiness for a fresh attack on all the problems of life. Especially is this so in the northern countries of the world, w here seasons are sharply defined; more espe­ cially so in the cit ies of the north when autumn plucks away the blanket of heavy summer hea t , bri nging a time of ease and respite before winter clamps down over the world agai n . I n the city o f St . John's there is usually the mild sting of a salty breeze from the At lantic to en hance this feeling of September luxury. It flutters in through the Narrows cool and capricious, with no roaring in it, tickling the nose like an ast ringent perfume but making a person inhale and long for more i nstead of drawing back as he often will when a sharp scent cuts across his senses. Stepping out of her front door o n one of these autumn eve n ings, Marion Squires was suddenly, acutely aware of this new quickening of life. And she was certainly ready for a fresh attack on her problems, Mario.1 was still young - well, she was more or less middle-aged, though not yet officially admittin g to thirty­ n ine; she was fed up with the TV and all its raucous, bullying ads, particularly her h usband's; and so she had determined that this t ime oft he year was a really good time for her to start over. No more of those draggy, depressing evenings gaping at prog�ams that had no meaning for her and left her with a headache and an almost suicidal melancholy. This above all was her September resolut ion . A fter doing the dishes she had sat dow n for a minute all by herself in the kitchen , glancing through The Evening Telegram while wondering just what she could do that would be not only different but really interesting. Something about a Demonstration of Drawing to be given that very evening had caught her eye and roused her curiosity. Art! That would certainly be a new departure for her. It was something she had never thought of trying, either i n appreciation OJ" participation. She felt a sudden desire to go and find out all about it. But of cou r·se she couldn't go alone. Marion had shed most o f the old-time local foolishness and prejudice about what it was proper for a woman to do in public and all on her own, yet still there lingered in her mind that aversion to mixed gatherings u n less she had an escort. She always fel t self-conscious. No use asking her husband to take her to an art gro u p. Quite hopeless. That left only her son Kirk, if she were going to avoid ganging u p with the girls again . There was another and an ominous bore. Kirk was only thirteen , but already h e w a s an inch taller than she a n d neither handsome enough t o take away all attention from herself nor commonplace enough to be w hat he would cal l , i n other circumstances, a drag. Quite a n adequate companion for t h i s occasion. 2

Besides, he was just starting Art in h is first year of H igh School, so t h is would be a good chance for him to get some idea of what the subject was all about . O utside t h e house Marion became aware once again of t h e beauty o f h e r city : mou ntains to protect you on t h ree sides, shafts of golden light splitt ing the darkness above the harbor, and u p on E lizabeth Avenue w here she lived, a wonderful sense of fr·eedom in spaciousness. She decided to walk instead oft aking her car, and felt almost happy with .Kirk loping along beside her, too fast as usual but at least not so u nwillingly as to irritate her into mot herly protest. He wasn't such a bad son, really, not too hard to handle. She had called him Kirk because at the time of his birth Kirk Douglas had been her favorite actor. And he still was. Marion felt grateful to the boy for not spoiling this litt le adventure of hers with sulks or rowdiness. It was not often that she managed to gather into her days or nights a tiny bit of genuine happiness. A t the A rts & Culture Centre, w here this Demonstration was to be held, she found j ust i nside the lobby a sign saying that the guest artist this evening was Cabot Carter and that he would be starting his sketching in t he art gallery at eight o'clock. I t was t h ree minutes after eight now . Marion hurried Kirk along to the main salon, which she found surprisingly full, with nearly every chair taken except three or four in the very first row, quite near the platform where she assumed the artist would be doing his t hing. In such an unfamiliar setting she had not intended to barge right up to the front, but there was nothing else to be done now if her evening were not going to be waste d ; so, taking Kirk's arm , she marched all the way to a seat almost within touching distance of the platform's edge. Only two or three more minutes passed before the star attraction came on stage, but that was long enough for Marion Squires to reflect that the name Cabot Carter was not entirely new to her after all. She seemed to remember something about a picture of his that had caused some trouble or raised some unfavorable comment or something, because it had been thought not exactly flattering to the city of St. J oh n's or the province of Newfoundland. The Chambe r of Commerce, she recalled her husband having said, had considered it outrageous, publicity-wise - giving Newfoundland a black eye. She found now that the vague recollection of this petty fuss over a painting, which she had not followed at all closely, if only because she had not then been i n terested in art, made her all the more eager to set eyes on the artist w ho had been the centre of that storm. When he finally appeared, her very first impression was that here was a man who would be pleasing to women. Cabot Carter walked briskly across the platform and stood tensely with one arm resting in a kind of defian t way on the top edge of the easel. He was casually dressed, but without sloppiness or disharmony: the colors he wore were right for him, Marion noticed, and his slim-line cord pants and bulky-knit sweater, if not exactly lau ndry fresh, were at least not disr·eputabie. He smiled before speaking - a rather tight smile but charming too, although when it widened his slightly inward-turning front tee t h gave a suggestion of bitterness, perhaps of some har·shness as well. I n a ewfound land-I rish voice with an echo of the bay in it, he told his audience that his demonsu·at ion would take the form of choosing a subject at random and doing a sketch of him, or her, on the spot. There was a long wait while his eye moved back and forth over the crowd . 3

Silence. Expectancy. At last t hat professionally appraising eye came to rest on the end of t he fron t row, t hen began to slide across - until after a moment or two Marion became aware that t he artist was looking straight in her direction. A nervous t h rill. She had never been in a situation at all like this before. Effort not to look too self-conscious. She gave a jog of Kirk's elbow. to keep him quite still so as not to spoil the artist's concentration. At lea s t she knew how i m portan t that was. Pity this sketch would not be in coloI" ! Marion was a redhead who p1·eferred to think of her hair as bu rn ished copper; she had escaped the straw-colored eye­ brows and lashes usual in her type, and even her skin was still fresh and fine­ grained. Her special shades in clothes were lime green, hyd rangea blue, and all those pastel tones t hat made her feel soft and shimmery. Lilac was magic for her. And her features weren't all t hat bad, eit her. Wait and see what a real live artist would make of her. It was amazing how swiftly he worked . H is hand seemed t o sail through the air like a bird flying close t o t he pape1·, ca1·essing it rather than impinging on it. Deft as a woman, decisive as a man. Once he had begun t here was almost no hesitation, only a pause now and t hen wh ile he glanced at Marion's place in the row of seats and then resumed h is s t roking and t he touching-u p of his wo1·k. He had placed the sheet so that his subject could not get a direct view of it but would have to wait u ntil the job was quit e fi nished bef01·e she could see herself as another saw her. When at last she did go u p t o examine the sketch, Marion was at first fi lled with dismay. Then she burst out laughing. I t was not a drawing of her at all ! Cabot Carter had taken Kirk as his s ubjec t ; but she was i m mediately im pressed by the fact t hat his q uick d rawing had caught something in her child's face that she herself had become conscious of only rece ntly. It was not j ust. the signs of the upheaval of pubert y. t he sym ptoms of physical and mental dislocation com mon to that state ; no, this was somet hing deeper and almost spiritual in its meaning, and Marion at. once longed to talk with t h is rat her s t range-looking artist about it. B ut first she had to endure an interval during which t he d rawing was displayed for all to see and questions were asked, or comments made, wit h varying deg1·ees of knowledge, intelligence and st upid i t y. Cabot Carter did not. seem to be en joying this part of the show very much. He was certa i n l y not as fluent with his tongue as with the pencil, seeming q uite shy about. discussing his work and eager to escape his tormentors. There was an awkward momen t too when Ki1·k Sq ui1·es had t o stand u p front and cen t re to have himself compared w i t h h i s likeness, at t h e req uest of several members of t h e a u d ience; b u t t he boy took i t a s w e l l as co uld be expected, and seemed a t least. to have the sympathy of the artist in his ordeal. As soon as t he crowd had cleared away Marion went smartly u p to the plat­ form, dete rmined to have speech with the artist no matter how he or she might feel under t hese circumsta nces. Once agai n , and even with only one person to deal with , he showed reluctance l o make any kind of serious or meaningful remark about his work. She pressed him a linle, yet even then all she co u l d get. out of him was t hat t h is head of her son contained whal e\·e,· q ualities she chose to see in it. That was awfully fmst rat ing! Marion \\'anted some clarification of t he dim feeling she a l re a dy had aboul the sketch. She persisted . Surely as the subjeel's mother she was ent i t led lo more enligh1e n men1 than thar? S t i l l he was not forthcomi n g. She s tudied h is face again dt11·ing a moment of silence between them. Did that oblique 4

and see mingly permanent line running across the lower part of his forehead indicate stubbornness? Marion fancied herself an expert on faces, even if she was momentarily s t u mped by art. This man's face was rather baffling, though, like h is work; she must get to know both a little better for her· own perso nal satisfaction. All at once she t hought of a new tack with regard to the sketch. - By t he way, M r. Carter, would you consider selling it? - Yes. - (ah, t hat got you ! ) How much? - A h u n d red bucks. - I t's a deal. Marion checked her wallet, rooted around in her bag for a while but found she did not have the fu ll amount. - I'm awfully sorry. I don't have a cheque book with me, eithe r. Could I just pay you so much, and send you the rest of the money later? My nedit rating is good. - Sure. Now Marion had another im pulse. I nwardly she hoped t hat she was not being too hasty or even bold. - Better still, would you care to come t o my house one evening, soo n , and I'll pay you the balance t hen? We . . . . . we might be able to talk a little, and without all this clatter. - Okay. Than ks. They exchanged add r·esses and she gave him her phone number as well,just in case. A t this point more people came surging up toward the platform, but before they cornered him Marion managed to have t he artist do one more thing for her. - Would you mind signing you r work? Cabot Carter laid the sheet against t he easel and casually, almost carelessly, scratched two initials, interlocked and followed by t wo figures, in t he lower right-hand corner·. It came out like t h is: CC '84 - I s t hat you r usual signature as an art ist? - That's it . - Than k you. She still wished t hat t h is man wer·e more commu nicative, but perhaps whe n he was a guest i n the qu iet and privacy of her home he would show up bet te r in t hat way. For t he prese nt she would have to be conte n t w i t h waitin g. j ust now he was being badger·ed by some silly woman who wan ted him to do her as a funher demonstrat ion. Marion wa,·ed to him in sympathy as she wen t to collect Kirk and start for horue. being very careful to roll the sket ch, not to fold it - according to his instruct ions. Kirk himself. when she finally asked what he t hought of the port rait , was almost as brief and non-commit tal as t he artist: had been. - I t's okay. Mom, I guess.

5

TWO

Lower-level S t . John's, where Cabot Carter lived, was also the district for lower-income people. A place where you survived but lacked money power and aspired to no social distinction in t he city. Behind Hotel Newfoundland, in one of those rocky back streets running ultimately out to a sheer d rop at the harbor's edge , stood an old-fashioned t h ree-storey house that had escaped City Council demolition and instead had been done up i n to a boarding house where even an artist might afford to live, if t he proprietors were sympathetic to him. Het·e one day in late September came a you ng woman carrying what looked l i ke a typewriter and seeking out t he man w ho had done a pai n ting called sim ply Mullen Street, a work that had roused her i nterest to the poi n t of making her ask for the prese n t assign ment. She finally found the st reet of that name, then the right ho use, and eventually she stood in the fron t doorway facing the �nost amiably ugly woman she had evet· laid eyes o n . - Pardon me, does Cabot Carter live here? - He does. - Could I see him, please? M y name i s Roma H art, and I'm from the Daily News. I'd like to interview him about his rece n t work. - I don't know. I'll see. But come in, my dear, come in. Get ting cold already, ent it? Even though 'tis such a lovely t i me i n the fall o' the year. - Yes, it is. Thank yo u. They went into t he tall old house which was not u p to much, as Roma saw it, i n the w a y of decor. S h e w a s most defin itely unimpressed . Oddball plat.:e fot· an artist to live. How could anybody with any real taste stand it? Hunying u p the stairs i n this homely gloom was Cabot Carter, who paused w he n he saw his landlady coming i n with a su·anger. This was o ne stranger who did not look like t he kind of girl who would be looking for a room here. The i n t roductions were managed with casual haste. - I 'm Mrs. Reilly. Roma Hart, did you say? Cabot, this young lady wan ts to interview you . - My paper i s doing a series of features o n intet·esting a n d un usual local figures, and there's a spot for a n a nist . I 've been assigned to you. Can I come up to yolll· studio? Roma was qu ite at her ease, smiling with t he self-confident.:e of one who is aware of having excellent teeth, well t.:ared for. Her figll l·e was good too - rather tall but lithe; and she obviously liked to set off her d usky mloring with higher­ toned, slashing t.:olors. A striking you ng woman from any point of view. Cabot Cart e t· t.:ame down off t he stai t·s and turned not altogether grat.:i ously toward t he living-room door, but Roma did not follow him i n . 6

- Can we do t he interview in your s t udio? I 'd like just to get the feel of it. May have to describe it too. That is, if you don't mind. Or you, M rs . Reilly. - N o t a-tall . Help yourself, my dear, far's I'm concerned. But I hope you don't mind the smell of paint and turpe n tine, and God knows what else ! I had t o p u t Cabot u p o n my third floor where he's a l l b y himself, a n d c a n get a cross-draft t o blow o u t the s t i n k once in a while. Phew ! I d o n ' t know h o w h e can stand it. Well, I must get back to my dishes. I'll call you for your su pper six o'clock, Cabo t . Mind now ! - Okay. Thanks, Feem. The two younger people went u pstairs, Cabot leading the way and now and then looking back at his companion with a kind o f impatien t curiosity. A t a shabby door very h igh u p he stood aside and waved her in. - My "studio". He observed as she stood in the doorway, taking the room in, that the1·e was a fine length of leg, muscular but not masculine, showing from the top of her suede boot to the hem of her wide skirt; yet a q uite opposite effec t was made by t he long straight hair that hung almost to her shoulders and caressed her cheeks like a delicate, wavering picture frame. H alf amazon and half madonna - t ha t was t he i m pression she gave. The room was only an ordinary one, t hough it did seem to the visitor to have some t h ing of t he a tmosphere of a studio. There was a spacious wi ndow t h rough w hich the sun would come to wake Cabot Carter up in the morning and then go away during his (presumably) working hours. There seemed to be a minimum of fu rniture . In fact , bareness was the note of the w hole place, its best featu re being a small brick fireplace t ha t appeared to be in good working order. No sign of any object that could be called beautiful, but then Rom a k new that artists often tended to live in surroundings where there was not m uch that was exquisite or conformed to their inne r search for beauty. Hadn't even Beethoven lived in squalor? She took one of t he two chairs and placed her tape recorder on t he meagre little table that stood between them. - By the way, wha t was t h a t you called you r landlady? - M rs. Reilly? - No, her first name. - Oh. Feem . Euphemia. - Quite a face. - She's all right . - I didn't mean i t like that! - Okay. Skip it. - I only meant she's remarkable. Lord, I hope t o hell you're not going to be touchy, because when I interview someone I like to sock it to t hem . Now t he n , my idea is to do a fea t u re that's kind of h uman interest and also partly artistic. I don't mean a compromise. A blend . In o ther words, professional. - You1· pmfession or mine? - Bot h , for Ch rist sake. B u t I haven't got any set. questions. I like to play i t by ear and let the i nterview just grow. Of course I 'll need some illustrations of your work, and a photograph of you . But first I want to set t le something for m y own private satisfac t ion . That picture Mullen Street . I thought it was A-okay, frankly, but some 7

people claimed you showed those three little girls skipping rope in this kind of dark s treet. as if t hey were dancing around in t orture . / fel t your canvas was really a s t udy of milieu . For i n s tance, did you have the roofs of those old houses almost meet ing across the s t reet to suggest the . . . . t he overpowering influence of enviro n ment in this neighborhood? - H ave yo u got many questions l i ke that? - No. This is off t he record . Why? Do you object to making any comment or answering my questions? - Loo k : suppose you went to a concert . Would you go up to a singer after he'd finished his song and ask him t o explain it? - Of course not ! But this is entirely differe n t . I just wanted a little private comment , fmm the horse's mout h . - When anyone asks m e a question like t hat, I fee l like t he horse's ass. - I see. Well, at least it's not false modesty. Right. Now I'll push my little button and ask you some other kind of q uestions? Ready? - Shoot. - Is Cabot Carter your real name? - (Ch1·ist ! ) Yes. - A 1·e you a nat ive Newfoundlander? - Yes. - Born where? - Bonavista. - When? - J u ne 24t h . , 1 956. - J une 24t h. That's Discovery Day. I s t hat why the "Cabot?" - Oh yes. - H ow long have you been pain ting? - Few years. - Are you a free-lance? - That's right . - Success? Here Cabot made a face and kept silent. Roma stabbed at another button, saying sharply and again off t he record : - Spea k , please! This machine doesn't register expressions. There. Now we're on tape agai n. - Limited success. A re you really going to pri n t this? - Are yo u a sorehead? - No, I don't think so. - I won't necessarily print everyth ing we record . I'll cut away the fat, edit the thing, and hope for the best. B u t I need some co-operation from my interviewee, and I think my 1·eaders will be interested in t he success angle. - Okay. Well, I t h ink it's possible for a guy to survive as a pai nter and get along without. any dealers, or crit ics just saying w h a t kind of th ing they like best , and t hat kind of t h ing. - You don't think m uch of those people? - A guy is lucky if he has his subject , and enough cash t o buy materials. And free time. The rest is mostly crap. 8

- I want to mention a point that all my readers w i ll want to know about: modern art. You're making a face again . I realize it's a vague expression, especially for an artist, perhaps. O f course there are all kinds of modern art, but I mean what's called abstract art. The non-figurative or· non-representational style. H ow do you stand on that? - H ow do I stand? Jesus! All I can say is t h a t it's okay fm its purpose. - Wh ich is? - No, it's no use. I can't stand these phoney artistic discussions any more . - Well, did you ever pain t in that style? - Yes. - Where are the results? I don't see any abstracts aro u nd here. - I burnt them all, along with the sel f-portraits. - I was wondering about those too. But you still think that good work can be done in the abstract style? - Why not? - Exam ples? - What? Oh, hell, there's H ofmann, Albers, and Rothko. Mark Roth ko. He did some terrific things with just color alone. I don't see any reason why a perfectly good picture can't be made like that. - What are you working on now? - A picture. - No further com ment? - Too soon. And bad luck, i f you talk about it before it's finished. About all I can tell you is that it's a Still Life. - Coming to somebody else's com ment, M r. George West, the Director of the art gallery, said that Mullen Street was an exciting picture because it showed an artist j us t at that point where h is work is taking on its . . . its characteristic style. I think that was it. The style, or at least a manner or period, that he may come t o be known by i n the future. H e said your picture might very well become known as an "early Carter". What was your react ion to that? - I was very grateful to George West. I hope he's right. - Can I come back to abstract art for a minute? As I u nderstand it, you started out painting in the t raditional way, switched to the abst ract, and then gave it u p for a more orthodox style again . What was your reason? - I didn't exactly give u p abstraction , but I found t hat after I 'd come through the jungle of action painting, pop art, op an, and Andy Warhol . . . . . well , when I came out on t he other side of all that I realized t hat nature and people were still there, i f anybody wanted to paint the m . And I just felt that that was what I wanted to do. A fter I came back home . . . . . - When was tha t ? - Few m o n t h s ago. After I came back, I just felt t h e u rge to represent again, if you want to put it like that . Question of subject j ust as much as t reatment. - Do you feel you'll ever go abstract again ? - I m ight. - Well, that gives me a basis for the art side of my piece. What's w rong? You seem kind of i m patient. Have you got another· appointment? - Yes. 9

- I s it far off? - Right here. With my Still Life. - Can I come back another time? - Oh, sure, sure. - Don't be too pressing. Well, that's it, I guess. I 'm tryin g to get my article out in a cou ple of weeks. Goodbye, and happy pai nting. Sorry if I 've kept you . - (saucy bitch! ) S o long. *****

Downstairs Roma Hart paused to look in through the living-room door and thank M rs. Reilly for giving her the opportun it y of doing the i n terview , even though i t was a scrappy one which she herself would have to rou n d out and organize in some coherent way. She was promptly invited in to sit and have a cup of tea, along with a middle-aged man whom the landlady introduced as her husband. Roma seized this chance of getting more infonnation. - I t was a little chilly u p there, and I don't mean the temperature of the room . I s h e always l i k e that? Kind of snappy? Maybe he j ust d i d n ' t like the c u t o f my jib. - A w , you haven't got to mind yo ung Cabot. He's not so bad. - I ' m glad to hear tha t , M r . Reilly. Can we go i n to it a little more? - Be happy to . The young fel la, he just gets kind of took up with his pain ting, you see. Lost in it. A nd he's a m i te touchy in the bargain . - When he stood u p and started 1·ubbing his hands u p and dow n the sides o f his pants in that i m patient way, I thought I was going to be shown the door. - If you knew him like I do, you wouldn't let the like o' that fizz on you, not a-tal l . But h e do hate t o b e kept from h i s work. That's a fact . Why, sometimes 'tis a j o b t o . get h i m t o come clow n t o e a t , even. M01·e than once I had t o march u p there and haul him clown to his supper. - You've k nown him a long time? - Oh, over te n years now . E n t it, Feem? - Handy about. - Mr. Reilly, and M rs . , I really don't mean to pry, and I ' m not going to tape anythin g else, but would you mind telling me a little more along those lines? I ' l l just make some notes. I t's for background and h u m a n interest, mainly. And I sure need it. - Be glad to help you, M iss Hart. But you tell it, Jam ie. You're the one got the gift of gab. - Well, I can mind the very first time he came to this house. A skinny, gawky young fella st raight from the out-harbor and green as a fish in the sea. H ardly a cent to his name, the ass out of his pants - oh, excuse my language, Mi�s! - That's quite all right. And please call me Roma, will you? - The pore lad was all by his-self too. When he knocked o n me door and I went out and saw him standin' there like he had no right to be in this world a-tall, well, I knew who I had to deal with. I wasn't always a St. John's-man, you know. A n yway, he had nothin g to call his own, bar one small suitcase and one o'them big square things the art ists use for carrying their d rawings i n . - A portfolio. - That's it, a portfolio. M e and Fee m , we kind o' took pity on him, I guess, and so we took him i n and started to look after him. Feem fatte ned him u p the best she 10

could and I tried to help him to get on his fee t here in St. John's. He found a job i n Dicks & Com pany doing those advertising cards, b u t he didn't seem to like that very much. Couldn't content himself. Well, he kept on with his drawing and painting, and about a year· after he first came here, by gar, he u p and won a prize in that Arts & Letters competition they have every year. A n old dory hove over to one side on a bit o' landwash, that's all it was. Hey, Fee m ? - Nothing a n y more fancy than that. - Then the next thing we knew, he got a grant t o go away and study on the mainland. - His r·ecord doesn't seem to be so bad, _after all. - Well, no. You could say that, maybe. But things didn't go too good u p ther·e in Toronto . - I had a hint of something l i ke t hat upstairs. Didn't h e take well t o higher inst ruction or criticism? - Eh? Oh , I couldn't say on that, Roma. I don't like to go above meself. But w he n Cabot came back home again it was never t h e same . I don't mean h e w a s spoiled or . . . . . or stuck u p or anything like that. No, no. H e j ust seemed kind o' restless and out o' sorts all the time. Couldn't even settle to his work, and that's sayin' some­ thing with a man like him. He went back home to Bonavista for a spell, and that was even worse! So he told me, anyhow. Pretty soon after that he took off for E u rope and we lost touch with him, though we had a card now and then to show he wasn't forgetting us altogether. And then , about a year ago or less, I drove up to my front door one day, and there he was standin' on the step j ust like the first time I ever met him. Only he was a few years older, of course, and more experienced. So naturally we took him in again and he been with us ever since. Seems a little bit more settled now. - Oh, thank you, M r. Reilly! That's exactly the kind of thing I needed. J ust the thing. One point : I gather that those years i n Europe weren't exactly successful ones for Cabot Carter, in any sense. Do you think that that, along with the fiasco or trouble up in Ontario, might have turned h i m just a bit sour? - Maybe so, maybe so. H e barks now and then, don't he? H al Did he take a little bite out o' you too? Right now t h is is his workin' time, you see. - He should have told me that straight out! I ' m capable of appreciating a thing like that. Well, thank you ever so m uc h for all the help. And I hope we'll meet again soon. - You're kindly welcome, Roma. Come and see us again . *****

No sooner had the door closed on Roma than M rs. Reilly bmke out i n excitement: - I'm glad she said she wasn't prying, anyway. First I thought she was slumming. - What are you gettin' at? - Don't you know w ho that was? - She said she was a reporter from the Daily News . - Yes, but that's Jack Hart's girl. - John W. Hart , the big lawyer? - No less, J amie. H is one and only daughter. - I'll be buggered! That's a good family. There's money there. But what i n the II

hell is she workin' on that paper for? - Who knows? The last I heard about her, she just got back home from some finishing school or ladies' college. or whatever they call it. And then the next thing, she had her pict u re in the paper all dolled up to go to the Lie utenan t-Govemm·'s Annual Ball, if you please. - Aw. she wasn't so grand, not in her manner, anyway. - No, t hat's t rue enough . I suppose. - Maybe she's a girl with some spunk, and wants to make her own way. Not depend on her old man's pull to get ahead. Seems like she didn't get much change out o' Cabot, t hough. - She's not finished with him yet . - Now, Fee m , there you goes again. You're always com in' out with them kind o' dark statemen ts. I wish you'd come right out and say what you mean. - Never m ind what I mean . Just you wait and see.

12

THREE

Cabot got off the Elizabeth bus near Memorial U niversity and walked quickly along to number 234 Elizabeth Avenue , the address he had been given by Marion Squires. He was not feeling keen on this visit, but funds were getting low again and the•·e was some dough to be collected here, perhaps a little more to be quarried later on. H is casing of the house and double garage told him clearly that there m ust be money or sound credit behind t he layout, w h ich was one of those spreading, one-storied, ranch-style places with square yards of fron t window and also room enough on either side of the house for a wide verge of grass. I t was Marion herself who greeted him at the front door, fussing and fluttering a little as she led him into a spacious living-room that was furnished according to the full-page ads w hich the big department stores were able to take in the news­ papers or display on the TV. It was not in jarring bad taste. Just not interesting, as Cabot saw it. He was soon aware, though, of a jarring note emanating from the t hird person in t he roo m . This was a heavy man collapsed in one of his heavy armchairs directly in front of the TV set. Frederick Squires, otherwise and more notoriously known as Squires Electrical, was to h is business allies and henchmen a smart man, a real go-getter; to his competitors and his victims he was simply t he biggest crook in St. John's. He had one s):ore u p in Churchill Square as a showcase, and to i m press t he General Electric agents who came down from the mainland, and anot her place down at the shoddy end of Duckworth Street where he played the commercial H i t ler, all debt-collection campaigns being launched from there, all repossessions im plemented, and t he law systematically treated as w hat Squires could get away with. No cheques, for instance, down there. He ha•·dly bothered to get u p when introduced to Cabot and grunted acknow­ ledgment of his name - a thing that was visibly irritating to Marion right from the s tart; but she passed it off with a wobbly smile for Cabot and soon was doing her best to keep the conversation on what she clearly thought of as a high level. I n the teeth of her husband's lethargy and indifference, she clung to art. - I 've been admiring your sketch of Kirk even more since I 've had more time to study it. - Thanks. - B u t neit her Fred nor I can put our finger on its real point. I mean . . . . . well, its secret, I suppose. Can we, Fred? - Um . - Are you going to be coy, M r . Carter? You don't look coy. Or are you going to break down and tell us how you got that special effect, i f that's the right term, into Kirk's picture? - (sweet Jesus! More crap) That 's the wrong way to go at it, M rs. Squires. Too 13

easy. - Oh, let's make it Marion and Cabot, shall we? And Fred. - What I mean is, you have to realize the t h ing for yourself. Otherwise it's no good. - Do you mean memorize? Visually, of course . - N o . Realize. - I ' m not really sure I u nderstand t hat, Cabot , but I 'll have another think about it. Have you been painting very long? - (what a d rag you are ! ) Amund ten years. This seemed to rouse the interest of Fred Squ ires. He looked at Cabot in­ credulously, this thought almost visibly t u rn ing behind his eyes: ten years in a racket, and still doing one-shots in art galleries! Charity, pract ically. - Art is tough going, eh, Carter? - At times. - You ought to be in my business. Twelve t o fourteen hours a day, most days, and t he bloody phone going all t he weekend too. I'll tell you what my business is, mainly : it's taxes and parasites. Well, I figure I can handle the gover'men t , but what I really need and what this cou n t ry needs is a darn good parasite killer. A weed exterminator. I mean , like lazy salesmen, for instance, and bad debt s and all t hose kind of cop-outs and bumming bastards t hat want something for nothing. Human parasites. I had one in my office t he other day who act ually . . . . . - Oh, Fred, Cabot isn't. a business man . He won't be i n terested in all that. - Well, I 'm not inter-ested in art, goddam it. Why should I be? It was a painful moment. Fred slumped back in h is chair, suddenly resentfu l , and clearly determined not t o listen t o any art y crap hom a t wo-bit nobody whom he could buy and sell, probably, without even going to the ban k ; while this same guy was su pposed to be too high and refined to listen to him on a subject. of real i m portance to t he whole nation. Shag that . That was not. democracy as Fred Squires u nde rstood i t . Gradually t h e silence in t he room became s o dense t hat. Marion began t o fidget and show signs of panic. - Would you care for some coffee, Cabot? - Yes. Thanks. Marion felt. so nervous about leaving t he two men toge ther, with Fred in such a cantankerous mood and Cabot rather grimly silent, t hat she hu rried as m uch as she could with the coffee. Who knew but that Fred might acLUally go and t u rn on t he TV t·ight in t he face o f this special guest? In t h is mood and t i red as he was, Fred was capable of anyth ing. But at least Marion had t he compensation of feeling Cabot's eyes on her body as she moved toward t he kitche n. His glance was compensating rather than rude or embarrassing because she sensed admiration in it: he gazed on her in his calm way without impert i nence and without lust. Perhaps i t was professional appt·eciation . At any rate she took his interest as a t ribute to her smartness and femininity. This evening she was wearing a new t rouser suit. , t u rq uoise, with a beautifully flared jacket long enough to cover hips that were a problem t hough not yet an embarrassment, and t hin high heels (she had last week read an article in t he Evening Telegram in t he synd icated medical column desuib­ ing high heels as t he most powerful aphrodisiac yet known). And Fred had been 14

complaining that t hese new styles did not suit her! Tiresome. H aving brought the coffee and biscuits into a still soundless living-room and tried to start a t hree-way conversation again, Marion was spared further pain by t he u nexpected arrival of another person who was welcome if only for the distraction she brough t . A t least she was talkative. Cabot himself was not much in a talky way, Marion t hough t . Observan t , yes. Those odd blue-serge, almost opaque eyes seemed to take everything in, but whatever he might be th in king, he seldom revealed it. So Marion felt glad of another guest, even if it was her mother. This was M rs. Olive Bastow, a tall, fierce-faced old woman, perhaps seventy or more, but still aggressive in bearing and clearly not at all preoccupied with her bodily complaints. She showed a sharp interest, if not exactly admiration, when she was int roduced to Cabot and then realized who he was. - Oh yes. I saw you r drawing of my grandson. He's bet ter-looking than that. You didn't altogether flatter him. - A quick sketch. - Where is Kirk, M arion? - Doing his homework. - Cabot Carter. You the one did t hat picture called Mullen Street too? - That's right, M rs. Bastow . - Too dark and d reary to suit me. - Mother, it �as probably meant to be symbolical. - Hey? - Symbolical. - Looked like the Roman Purgatory to me. You a Catholic? - No. - Mother, you're taking i t as a literal thing, not as a1·t. - Ar t or no, I don't see t he need for anyone to go running down his ow n home with that kind of a picture. I 've lived fifty year in t h is one place now, and I don't like the idea of an artist or anyone else going around showing u p t he dark side of t h ings in this city or anywhere else in Newfoundland. No need, I say. Once again Marion fel t embarrassed, though soon relieved to notice that Cabot was not taking her mother's hedgehog remarks with any visible sensitivity. I ncredibly, he was smiling at her in an almost kindly way, taking her in too, as well as her words and t he thrusting, self-con fident gestures that rei nforced them. So interested did he seem to be that Marion suddenly fel t left out. Not jealous, b u t neglected; a n d Fred's coming t o life again did not make h e r feel a n y better. Fred spoke to his mother-in-law in an affectionate, indulge n t tone, calling her "mother" q uite naturally. - Mother, tell him about that pict u re you once saw t ha t 1·eally hit you . - Oh yes. Two or t hree great lumps it was, that were supposed to be a woman, with t h ree eyes and a nose about a yard long. I can't think who it was by - some Frenchman or other. - Picasso? - That's it! That was t he one. Now, do you paint t hat kind of stuff too? - Not yet, M rs . Bastow. It was always Picasso, and he had always emigrated from his native land.

15

The old woman went on talking copiously, stridently unaware of Cabot Car­ ter's scrutiny or, if she was aware of it, not showing any reluctance to be observed ; while the young painter j ust let her words pour over him without so much as bli n king any faster than usual, and Mario n , scrutinizing him in turn, was again struck by the aura of assurance and power that he gave out u nconsciously. She fou nd this remarkable in a man who was not physically very big (not as large as Fred, at least) and who did not seem to make any effort to impose h imself. Now she longed to talk with h im privately and at their ease, so as to have a better chance of discovering his secret. She would have no chance at all as long as he1· mother was around, riding over everybody in conversation like a bulldozer. But at least M rs. Bastow was diverted from her attack on "modern" art by the sudden appearance of her grandson, looking worried. H e greeted Cabot with an almost hippie casualness, then broke out in a wail to h is mother. - I finished m y Geometry and French, Mom, but I can't get going on my essay. I t's really bugging me. - What's the topic, dear? - A Great Newfound lander. M rs . Bastow took over again , indignant, but using a slightly softer tone than her ordinary one now that she was talking to Kirk. - Did anyone ever hear tel l o' the like! A Newfoundland boy, and he can't even think of one great Newfoundlander. - Aw, everyone will be writing about Premier Smallwood, Gran. - Who's tal king about Joe Smallwood ? - Who, then? - Who? Why, Captain Bob Bartlett, that's w ho . How many times am I after telling you about him, how he was my uncle and all? I was Olive Bartlett, you know, M r . Carter. From Brigus. A n d I was Captain Bob's favorite niece when I was a child, i f I d o say s o myself. - What was he really l ike, Gran ? - Like? He was a man . And you don't see too many of his kind, not these days. H e wasn't l i k e those young scarecrows w i t h their long hair a n d their motor cycles a n d all t h e rest of it, that's on t h e g o now. Two hundred pounds i f he w a s an ounce , a voice that could carry against a gale, and Master of h is own vessel before he was twenty. That's what he was like. And on top of that, he could run behind a team of dogs for a w hole day and not feel any the worse for it. Kirk was franticall y making notes. - Gran , tel l abo u t what his Commander said about him, w hen they were out on the ice and running for the Pole. - You young rascal ! Sleevee n . Want me to w 1·ite your essay for you, hey? Well, Commander Peary, he said that out on the ice Bob Bartlett was as good as an Eskimo any day. And that's h igh praise w hen you're farthest north; farther than any man ever got before, anyhow - at that time. - What was that funny stuff they used to eat o n the trip? - Pemmican? - Yes. What did i t taste like? - Oh, very ric h . Kind of l i ke a heavy cake cut u p i n bars, but gone stale. - Did Captain Bob plant the flag on the Pole? 16

He stayed behind. But th at was only by t he Commander's orders. He had to see? - So m e t h i n g about his young days. I'll have t o p u t t ha t i n . - H e never had t oo m uch school i n g, b u t. h e w a s a ligh t e r a l l t he w a y . Make n o m is t a ke o n t h a t . B u t look, Kirk, you come u p to my apart m e n t t o morrow a n d I 'll read what you 've got done and give you a book on Captain Bob I got from New York. Some c h ic ke n and c h i ps too, eh? - I ' l l be t he re with bells o n , Gran . - No .

look after t. he base camp,

- H a , y o u n g sca l l ywag. K i r k's boy-m a n , t ra n si t ional face had reverted t o pure c h i l d hood in a grin of delight a n d a n ticipation a t the m e n t i o n o f h i s favmi t e food, and now he we I l l off happily knowing t h a t his homework was as good a s fin ished . - Th a n ks, Gran. B ye , M r . Cart e r . - So long, K i rk . Soon a ft e r t h i s Mrs. Bastow decided t o leave Loo , as d u ri n g t he evening t he t·e had been a first s prin k l e of snow in t h e c i t y and t h e s t reet s m ight be geLLi n g slippery. Fred decided t o d rive h e r home h imself i n stead o f c a l l i n g a taxi, and Marion Sq u i res took i m me d iate advamage o f her husba n d ' s absence to give Cabot an e nv elope w i t h h i s money i n it. She t he n sat down beside him on t he chesterfield in a pose t h a t was i n t e nded t o be casual and gracefu l , not s u gge st i v e . - Poor you ! A re you floored? M o t h e t· is relen t less, isn't she? When her l as t h usband d ied she wamed to come and l i ve with us. Fred was sat i s fied, but I had to p u t my foot clown for once. She's m y own m o t h e r , but she can also be p re u y gri m . D o y o u t h i n k I was t o o hard? - Probably not.

- Yo u saw how she is. Could you stand a steady d iet o f her? I ' l l bet nobody could . Mother is a t a ke-ovet· e x pe rt . I f sh e join s a Lodge or a n y t h i n g. she's t h e Secretary w i t h i n two weeks and President in four. I f I had her he re I 'd never be able t o call m y s o u l m y own o r m y house. Did she bore y o u v e r y much? - N o , she d i d n ' t . I fo und her i n t e rest ing. Quite a head. B y t h e w a y . do you have any photos of her? - Yes, t he re a re w hole a l b u m s . But isn't it kind of corn y to show people fa m i l y

snaps? O l d - fashione d ? - I don't m i n d . Le t ' s have a loo k . H a v i n g fet c hed a t h ick albu m t h a t looked l i ke a me mot·ial vo l u m e . M a rion sat down a l it t le cl oser t o Cabot t h is t i me, so t hat she might readily identify t he pe opl e who we t·e s h o w n . A gain Cabot showed most i n t e rest in old M r s . Bastow , who a p pe
bo n y . s t i ffly d e fi a n t . not

beau t i fu l . - Go t a n y o f h e r rece n t l y , M a ri o n ?

- I t h i n k so . F u n n y , your i n terest

in mother. She has been described as gnteso m e .

Look at those wrin kles. Gnr!

- Yes. B u t ma rked faces are more i n t e re s t i n g than u n ma rked o nes.

- I see w h a t you mean, o f co u rse . But tell m e . wouldn't you, for i n st a n ce . as a painter, be more i n t e rested in pa i n L i n g a rea ll y bea u tifu l w o m a n ? - I f she had s o m e spec i a l q u a l i t y . - That let s most o f u s o u t . H o-h u m . Give m e a n e x a m ple. I7

- From real life? - No, from art. Some pain te r who did w hat you have in mind. - Hell, t here are tho usands. B u t it's tough u nless you're already familiar . . . . . - I know I'm ignorant, Cabo t . Tell me all the same. - Well,just now I was thinking of M u nch, Edvard Munch, and his ponraits of E va M udocci. - Edvard M u nc h ? I 'll look him up. Another album was fetched after a while, and t here they found some loose snaps among w h ich was one of Olive Bastow that looked glossy and bright. Marion turned it over. - There. That's rece n t . See, I 've marked i t M OTHER, St. John's, 1983. - I t 's a good one too. Tell me a bit more about her. - Goodness, did n't she overwhelm you already? Well, as I said, she's bossy. Very religious too . Presbyterian , and strict. I think that's mainly why I couldn't have her to live with me, come to t hink of it . I'm no heathe n , but I j ust couldn't stand having my soul saved twent y-four hours a day, could you ? And I am t rying to bring Kirk up as a C lwistian. I t 's just that mother on t he ram page is too much for me. Besides, she's all right on her ow n . She has her own money and no real worries of any kin d . Good health too, for h e r age, a n d qui te active. - She had a hard t i me in her early life? - Pretty gri m . Or so she's fond of saying. - She made up for it by her own efforts , I guess. - She su r·e did. - Well, t hanks. Why, Marion was t h inking, didn't he ask a few q uestions about herself? She began t o have t hat frustrated feeling agai n . At least he seemed now to be off the d reary subject of mot her. - Like some more coffee? - Okay. But I 'd better push off soon. - (to avoid Fred? ) No h ur ry, Cabot. I 'll just be a minute. Wh ile she was out in the kitchen Cabot slipped t he recent photo o f M rs. Bastow, and one or two others , into h is pocket, closing the album q uietly and just p u tting it casually to one side. Marion called o u t to him ove r the gentle glug of perking coffee, as if to hold on to h im all the time that she could not see him. - Cabot, you need n't be too shy about get ting in touch with me, you know. I . . . . . well, I feel out of touch myself where cultural th ings are concerned and I need somebody's helping hand . Can you understand t ha t ? - Su r·e. - Do you ever feel t hat kind of need? Oh no, I suppose not. I imagine you're too wrapped up in your own work. That 's the i mpression you give me. A lone wolf. B u t surely it's not a good th ing for any per·son to be too cut off fmm the life around him, espe cially an artist? - That could be argued either way. You can't work in a circus. - What are you working on now? - Too soon to talk about i t . - Meanie ! Y o u really are t he damedest person to g e t anything out of. Well, I hope it will come out all right. for you, whatever it is. I hope to see i t soon. And I 18

meant w hat I said about becoming shut off. I don't believe that any person can become too involved in humanity. After they had had the coffee and a few m01·e spells of silence had fallen between them, Cabot suddenly got up and showed by his manner that this time he was bent on leaving. It seemed as though meeting Mrs. Bastow had killed his interest in M rs . Squires. His abruptness and strangeness, not to say rudeness, filled Marion with dismay, but she covered up by making a face that was intended to be comic, girlish. - I wish you wouldn't rush off. Hope we'll meet again soon. - Okay. Good night . And thanks.

19

FOUR E u phemia Reilly w a s begi n n i n g to fee l t h a t her l i v i n g-room was more l i ke Raw l i n s Cross t h a n a private parlor, to j u d ge by t he a m o u n t of new t raffic t h a t w as passing t h ro ugh it. s ince Cabot had m ade a l i t t le s t i r w i t h h i s pai n t i n g . Good t h i n g she h a d J a m i e t o t a ke t he bru n t o f i t a n d l e t her g e t on w i t h her work ; otherwise s h e w o u l d n e ve r i n t h i s w o d d b e a b l e t o man age a l l the coo k ing, cleaning, orde ring groce ries a n d a l l t h e e n d less ro u t i n e o f board i n g a crowd o f h u n g ry, d e m a n d i n g people w h o n u m be re d a dozen o r s o at a n y gi ven t i me . She a n d J a m ie had l o n g s ince agreed o n a system whneby h e d i d a l l t h e act u a l shoppi n g ( a r m e d w i t h a l i s t from h e •- a bo u t eighteen i nches long) a n d dealt w i t h a l l m a t t e rs o f r ules, rack e t , e tc . , w h i l e she k e p t t h e t a ble a n d t he h o u se i n e very o t h e r w a y . A ft e r t he w e e k l y c l i m a x o f S u n d a y d i n ner and washing up, s h e had J a m ie t ake h e r o u t for a d rive fol lowed by tea a t a n ice res t a u ra n t , with maybe a movie to ro u n d o ff her o n l y h a l f-holiday. Boarders a n d a l l h a n d s else had t o fe nd for t h e m selves t he n u n t i l M o nday m o rn i n g . On t he w hole t h i s s y s t e m worked well ; i t provided a fai rly good l i v i n g too, and most of t he t i me t he re was peace in t he i •- home. It was c h iefly t he women w ho a n noyed E u phemia - not he r regu l a r woman boarders b u t t hose w h o t u rne d u p u ne x pected l y a n d seemed to t h i n k she had all the t i me i n t h e world t o s i t a n d chew t he fat w i t h t hem over n o t h i n g at all. T h i s e ve n i ng, fo r i n stance , j u st abo u t seven o'clock, and w he n she was u p t o her elbows in suds a n d soap bubbles from the d ishes, t h a t girl R o m a H a rt had come to t h e fro n t d o o r a g a i n loo k i n g for Cabot . W e l l , s h e had t o b e asked i n , see i n g t h at t h e y a l ready k n e w h e r , and t h en she h a d plan ked het-se l f d o w n in t he l i v i n g-room a n d chat ted on as if prepared t o s t a y t he w hole evening. E u phenia had bro u gh t J a m ie i n t o ente rtai n her, and these two seemed to get along q u i te w e l l , fi n d i n g t h ings to t a l k about e ven w hen Ro ma had been t o l d t ha t Cabot w a s o u t a n d not e x pected at. a n y part i c u l a r t i m e . - I s t h a t guy a fugi t i ve, M r. R e i l l y ? I m e a n J a m ie . ! _j u s t. can't seem t o c a t c h u p w i t h him . O r is h e t ry i n g t o t. e l l me somet hing? - Yo u haven't got to m i n d Cabo t , my clear. H e's j u s t one o' t hose q u i e t fe llas w ho comes a n d goes of his own accord w i t h o u t t ro u b l i n g a n yone e l se very m u c h . - H a s he heard o f t h e t e lephone? - H e don't t ro u ble t h a t very m uch e i t h e r.

I got m y orders not. t o butt i n o n h i m for

a n y t h i n g w h e n he's up t here in t he loft . Generally I t a ke t he n u mber a n d I say he'll call back.

- W hoever answered t he phone when

I called d i d n ' t say t. h a t .

- M u st ' a been o n e o f t he n e w boarders. - He pai n t s a ft e r l u n c h , does he? I mean a ft e r d i n ne r. What does he d o in t h e morn ings?

20

- Oh, mostly he j ust walks around, I think. - Royal leisure . But I suppose he's loo king for subjects, in that case. I ' m really inter·ested in t h is point , J amie, and this is not really j u st a social call - t hough I do like coming to see you and Feem. You see, my anicle on Cabot and h is work came out last Saturday in our weekend edition. That's four days ago and, to tell you the truth, I thought I might have had . . . . . well, some reaction from Cabot about it. Has he seen it, do you know? - Oh yes. We t ake the Daily News reg'lar·, along with t he Telegram. - What did he say about my piece? - Nothing special, I ' m afraid , not t hat 1 can remember. He may have passed some remark to the wife. Fee m ! His wife q u ickly dried h e r hands, flicked off h e r apron and adj usted h e r dress before going i n to the livingroo m . But she had nothing at all to report on the subject of Cabot, and Roma's interview w i t h h i m . - I do think it's k i n d of fu nny, Feem. Don't you? - Yes, I suppose i t is. - Because artists here in St. John's don't have all that many chances to get their name i n the papers and have t heir wor·k become known. You'd think t hat if this guy had any sense or· practicality, he'd welcome a lit tle publicity, and be more co-operative. Or I should maybe say appreciative. Darn it, Jamie, he can't live in a vacuum. - Well, don't be too h u rt. I daresay he don't mean to be ungratefu l . - I guess I am kind of h urt. Sore. I took a lot of trouble over that article, a n d some of my readers have said it wasn't too bad . So I thought when I couldn't get M r. Cabot Carter on the phone, he m ight write me a note or something about i t . There are u nofficial rules about t hose t h ings. And wouldn't you feel hurt, Feem, if you went to a lot of trouble for a man and then he acted like th is? - I 'm past all that where men are concerned! Past worrying over what they will do or they won't do. A good many of t hem will take advan tage every chance they get. - I s Cabot like that? - Well, not usually. Now and then he has some thought. - That's exactly what l mean , Feem . Even though I don't know Cabot much personally, I felt he m ight have had a lit t le thought in a case like this. - Bu t I su ppose when they get mixed u p with what they call art , you never know what they'll do. Sti ll, like Jamie said, Cabot is not so bad in other ways. Regard o' giving trouble or boozi ng and t he like o' that, he's good as gold. There came another ring of the doorbell, which tu rned out to be Marion Squires, and she too was enquiring for Cabot Carter. Fe em was irritated again, b u t w h e n Marion said why s h e h a d come t h e landlady a t once asked h e r i n , a s it might mean some kind of commission for Cabot . God knew he could use one. With smiling ease and no hesitation or reluctance, Marion came i nto the living-room and introduced herself all mund, also mentioning t he acq uaintance she already had with Cabot Carter. She seemed su rprised to find Roma Hart there. - I don't often meet people who ar·e in,t he public eye, so to speak. I saw your piece on Cabot in the paper. I t was . . . . . it was interesting. - Thanks. 21

- He did a portrait of my son , you know, and it's still a puzzle to me. - How old is your son? - Thirtee n . Gawky, bu t nice, though I says it as shouldn't. You know about these t h ings, Roma. Can you imagine t he kind of mystery or puzzle I'm talking about? - Yes, I think so. I n a boy t hat age t he . . . . . the essential quality might be, for an artist , a sort of t ransitional quality: t he begin ning of the change-over from boy to man or child to ad ult, if you want t o put i t like t hat. You see what I mean. - I just never thought of it like t hat! - I s the sketch a good likeness too? - Oh yes, I t h ink so. - There you are. The individual, and a touch of the universal. Every really good portrait has that. Your son is himself and at t he same time he may stand for all boys around the age of pubeny. - That's t rue, I suppose. Thank you for t he explanation. This little bit of en lightenment really was appreciated by Mario n , even if she did t hi n k that Rom a Hart was t·ather assertive and Katharine Hepburnish in her tone. Roma went on in the same style. - This guy Carter seems to be not too bad with kids. Look at Mullen Street. - But he has no children himself, has he, Mrs. Reilly? - Not as far as I know. H e was never married, anyhow. - I t's amazing he can show such sympathy for the m . Don't you t h i n k so, Roma? - I don't know about that. A person doesn't necessarily have to have kids, to understand them or have sympat hy with them. There is such a t hing as the imaginatio n . - Yes. But I m ust say he doesn't look like t h e k i n d of m a n who would be very good with ch ildren in real life. He seems so remote and wrapped up in his own t houghts. Kind of u napproachable, and such a hard person to catch hold of too. I ncidentally, it's not just young people he shows interest i n . I had him over to my place for coffee some time ago, and my mother was there. Mrs. Olive Bastow ? And he seemed quite taken with her too. Could hardly keep h is eyes off her. And she's an old woman by now. I t 's true, of course, that she's quite a character and full of zip for her age. You know, tonight she's actually giving a lec t ure, a two-hour lectut·e, up at the Pt·esbyterian Church Hall. - On what? - Education and Missionaries in Newfoundland, Roma. - God! - Yes, I see what you mean. - Are you going? - No. I ' m afraid I 've heard it all befot·e . But you must all excuse me! Here I 've been nattering away, and I still haven't told you the real reason why I came here tonight . I really wanted to ask Cabot's advice about a frame for his sketch of Kirk, and I couldn't seem to reach him on the phone . I'm afraid the paper is going to crinkle, and I'm so an xious to keep it in perfect conditio n . Guess I 'l l have to wait a bit longer. U nless . . . . . do you happen to know about framing, M r . Reilly? - Pardon ? - I thought perhaps t ha t having Cabot living with you, you might have some knowledge of t hat kind of thing. 22

- Too busy with other t h ings, I ' m afraid. This old barn is a ful l-time job for me. - Oh. Well, a t least I know what you mean about the bu•·den of a house. And that reminds me, I really should be get ting back home. Please tell Cabot I called, will you ? Perhaps he'll get in touch with me himself. Bye-bye. and thank you. A re you . by any chance going Elizabeth Ave n ue way, Roma? - No. But I guess I 'll be shooting along too. Goodnigh t , Feem . - Bye, now. - Be seei ng you, Jamie. - Good night, ladies. Call again . *****

After they had gone E u phemia's mild irritat ion changed to a m useme n t . The blurred asse mbly of lumps, highlights and irrelevant pieces t h at, like the sca ttered parts of an accident, made up her face, was now twisted in a gri n . She d rew down t he longbow of her mouth and spoke in a railing tone. - Did you hear t: he two o' them go in' on, J am ie ? Ove•· my head, most of i t . The universal t h is and the i magination t hat ! And the paper crinkling too. Gawel help us! What will I hear next? - I don't know. Young Rorna don't seem so bad . I t's a fu nny t h ing, t hough, Feem , about women and a r t . . . . . - A rt my eyeballs! - Women , they seem to get kind of fascinated by art . - You mean, by t h e artist . So why don't t hose two come right out and say what they m ean? - Wait till I ' m finished, girl ! I wasn't only t a l kin' about Roma and M rs. Squires. - Well, I was. And a no the•· t h ing I 'll tell you : t hem two will put each ot her's nose out o' joint before very long. - There you go again . You always narreys a t h ing clown , and I'm t ryin' to talk to you on t he general subject of art. - Stop coclclin', .J amie. What you knows about art you could write on a postage s tamp and t hen have room left over. - I don't know. Si nce Cabot came back I ' m after get t in' more of an idea . . . . . - Go o n with yot 1 1· foolery ! Cabot, he got some talen t , I expect , and t hey' re startin' in t o make some fuss over h i m . And he's welcome t o stay here, low board a nd all, long as he wants to. I'm glad t o help t he poor young mortal o u t ali i can . but let's not you and me start puttin' on , J amie, only because we got an artist livi n g in t he place. - A nd do you know w ha t I'm glad of? Hey? I 'm glad I got a woman with more bark to her t han bite. That's a fact. . - So ft soap, like a lways. Blarney. ·

*****

Out side the house things were not quite as cordial as on t he i nside. Roma still sounded dogmatic to Marion , and Marion herself showed a tendency to address Rom a in a kind of motherly way which t h e younge r woman took to be pat ronizing. - Su re I can't give you a lift , Roma? - No , t hanks. I . . . . . I have anot her appointment, near here. 23

- Well , glad to have met you. I did e njoy our little chat about art. - (phoney bitch ! ) Yes. Goodnigh t . - Goodnight, my dear. They parted without any of the usual polite not hings about hoping to meet again soon, etc . , and at once Roma became conscious of the fact that she did not feel irked whenever J amie and Feem called her "my dear".

24

FIVE

Left alone in t he sombre desolation of Mullen Street, Rom a felt frustrated a nd sad. N o t that t he slight tension between herself and Marion Squires was troubling her much; she soon forgot about that if only because she felt quite capable of dealing wit h t he older woman in any kind of situation . No, it was something more. A restless feeling she often had t hese days, a feeling t h a t even though she liked her job and did it to her editor's satisfaction, t hat su pet·-charge of enet·gy inside her was never being used u p - not even tapped. She began to walk towards Hotel Newfoundland, turning away from the harbor t hat looked like an endless menacing black tunnel, once the eyes passed beyond t he cresce n t of lights along the shoreline. Roma shivered in t he snow­ lade n . cutt ing air. Why was she so gloomy and uncertain? Was she get t ing morbid i n t h is at mosphere; or was she just mad at Cabot for fai ling to give any kind of response to her efforts to put him on the local map? Still, t here m ight be some explanat ion other t han what she had a l ready heard, and she was certainly in a mood to demand one. These t houghts and the recollection of t hings Marion had said gave Roma an idea. Well, a h u nch. Acting on this, she ext ravagan t ly took a taxi at the Hotel stand and gave t he Presbyterian Ch urch H all as her destination. In her present mood she j u st couldn't stand the t hought of waiting for a bus. Twen t y-one, and sn·andecl ! Once in motion she took a moment oil melancholy to grin at herself in the darkness. I t was some kind of action that she needed. The Hall itself was not reassuring. God , what architec t ure ! Or what lack of it. Rom a braced he rse lf for worse horrors inside. The place was about t wo-thirds full, with most of the audience packed into t he seal s nearest the lec t u rer but a wide empty space towards the back of t he auditorium. M rs. Olive Bastow was already in full swi ng. vigorously grasping the lectern and holding fon h on t he subject of educat ion by m issionat·ies in the early clays of colonial Newfoundland. How could anyone act ually sit t h rough a thing like t h is? Roma was stymied. But sure enough , there on a bench in t hat empty space, only five or six rows behind t he bulk of t he audience, sat Cabot Carter. He had one foo t arrogantly perched on t he bench in front ofhim, a c l rawing pad on his knee, and he seemed to be totally absorbed i n sketching the speaker - getting her clown, hitting her off w ith fierce concem ration. Clearly he was paying no atte ntion whatever to what t he woman was saying. From time to t ime he was t he target of curious, not-certain-of­ approving eyes LU rnecl on him from the front , but he paid no atte ntion to these either. Roma had to smile, however mort ified she might feel too: he looked so oblivious and alone, so absurdly out of place, in t h is set ti ng. She took advantage of a brief splat ter of applause, when M rs. Bastow had made a telling poi n t , to walk up 25

an aisle and sit down about a yard behind Cabot. No h u rry to let h i m know she was among those present. H e was still sketch i ng away contentedly. The only stir he made was moving from one side to the other to get a diffe•·en t view of his subject, and Roma h e 1·self remained quite unobserved by h i m . M rs. Bastow, having reached t h e year 1 800, about a cent u ry after t h e British lord had fou nd Newfound land to be in need of salvation, took a glass of water and audibly d rew breath for another cen t ury or so, without any sort of break for a rest o r questions from t h e audience. D uring t h is quiet moment or two Roma decided, half against her will, to move up and join Cabot . She glided silently along to his bench and sat dow n , not beside h i m , but near enough for w hispered conversation. - Hi , Roma . - You actually remember my name! - You interested i n religion and missionaries? - No, I ' m here f01· my paper. Got st uck with the job. You? - Ch rist, no. - Don't let me distu rb ge nius at work. Or have you fin ished? - Al l t h rough . And cut t he co medy. Look, there's a pam phlet you can get all the jazz on this lecture from . They're out i n the lobby. - So? - Let ' s split . - First can I have a look? - Help you rself. - These are good! Maybe t oo good for comfort. I thi n k maybe we'd better cut o u t before anyone else sees them. I n the street i t was even colder than when Roma had gone i n to the Hall. When Cabot suggested coffee at a nearby place she made him ask twice, then accepted casually, not wanti ng to leave him until she had more or less had it out with h i m . Also, she wanted to have a more leisurely look at those sketches h e h a d clone, for to her su rprise they had shown h umor i n the perception of the artis t as well as ruthlessness in his execution. Up to now she had not t hought of this clench-faced fellow with the somb•·e, watching eyes as having m uch h umor about h i m . He had seemed grim rather than inwardly amiable. Facing him aggressively i n the small cafe booth, warmed and q u ickened by the smoking coffee, Roma went for him again . - You're a n ungrateful bastard , do y o u know that? - Bastard ! W hat have I clone? - You haven't done. You neglected m y opus on you i n the News . - This is really a co-incidence ! I was just going to mention it when you started calling me names. - Really? - Honest to God . - Kind of late. - I . . . . . I get kind of hung up on a picture. I forget . Time gets away from me. Feem and Jamie can tell you that. - I t so happens t hat I take my work seriously too. My editor thinks I show promise. - I don't doubt it. - I wish you'd let me know sooner about my article ! I t's q uite a while since it came 26

out. A nd even if you were too busy or preoccupied to write me a note, there's a little black thing called the telephone. - I . . . . . I 'd rather talk to people face to face. Roma kept o n at him for a while longer. H e was gagging a bit, twisting his shoulders uncomfortably. She hoped she was making him squirm inwardly too. - It's not as if I were a complete ignoramus on the subject. Once I even did a whole year of Fine Art, in college, so I have some qualification to write about it. - Sure, sure. - I might be able to do you some good, darn it! - Next time I'll read you like the gospel. - No need for sarcasm. I've been hooked on art for years, apart from the college stuff. Let me see those sketches again . Yes, they are good. Your really nailed the old bird. And I'm notjust trying to . . . . . to accommodate you by talking art. But a couple more questions have come up in my mind since I did my article. For iristance, don't you feel very cut off and out of the main stream, here in St.John's. I mean, as a painter. - I 'm okay long as I 'm working. - You might be able to get a job o n m y paper, illustrating. Oh, I don'.t mean commercial junk, dead stuff. I was thinking of something like caricature. Like Daumier or somebody in that . . . . . that category. M aybe you could free-lance i n art. - I tried it years ago. The papers here, they don't want anything with any bite to it, certainly not from a local artist. You put a little acid i n something, and they shy away. What they want mostly is illustrations for girdles and pretty pictures of the local bigwigs. Sugared crap. His mouth tightened and he looked as if he wanted to spit. Roma turned to another point. - But with that attitude, how do you survive? - None of your business. But I grub along, that's all. Feem and Jamie are pretty good. - I like Jamie. He ambles around in his number thirteen slippers, he talks so I rish i n that absurd growling voice, a nd he's so . . . . . so reassuring. Is he kind of like a father to you ? - What? Oh yes, maybe h e is. - What about your folks over i n Bonavista? - My mother is dead. - Don't you ever hear from the others, if there are any? - Christmas card, maybe. - How come, if you don't m ind my asking? - They gave me up as a bad job, till I'm ready to go to work. What they call work. - W hat do they call art? - Arsing around. - You're lucky you found the R·eillys. - Yes. Realizing that he was not keen to go on in the personal vein, Roma was at least glad that she was getting him to talk on his own initiative. She judged that he might very well be contented as long as he was actually at work on a picture, but as a man 27

and a human being he m us t at times be so forlorn within himself! Perhaps a little encourageme n l , from somebody who could talk to him or listen to him more or less on h is own level, was what he r·eally needed. And there were two things that made Roma want to help him now , in spite of the casual way he had t reated her: t he first was cu riosity, and the second t h is remarkably sure talen t he showed as a draughtsman, w h ich might soon develop into someth ing more .-ich and powerful. That idea she fou nd exciti ng. - What will you do with those sket ches? - I don't know. - I'm afraid t hey won't be saleable. Why did you pick that old biddy? - J ust wanted to see w hat I could do with her. - I agree she makes a good subjec t . A nd J can see, if you'll pardon my saying so, why you're not the richest man in t h is place. - Why do you t rouble about art , Roma? - What does t hat tone imply? Are you testing me? - No. - The n w hat do you mean, exactly? - What I said. Why do you bother? I was t hinking about something Feem said abo u t your old man being kind of h igh up in t he local world, or· something like t hat. - What t he hell has that got to do with art or anyt hing else I'm interested in? Don ' t be s o narrow-minded. Boy, this a t t i t ude really bugs m e ! I s i t m y fault if Dad's got a few bucks and a solid profession? I 've run i nt o t h is same kind of thing on my job. I t's even been said that I shouldn't be working at all, because ! might be taking the job away from some poor girl who really needs i t. B u t what the bloody hell am I supposed to do with myself? Sit around t he house in a purely orname n tal capacity, gazing up at my framed B . A . diploma . . . . . - You wouldn't. be so bad in an ornamenal capacity. - What? Thanks. B u t let me fi nish. Do I just sit around the house with my diploma and have t he life bu gged out of me by my mother? - About what ? - Take one guess. - Marriage. - You're so rig h t . Mother seems to think thatjust because J have a bit of education and I "came o u t " (God, what a ph rase !), I should be a good match for t he Prince of Wales or somebody like that. It drives me up t he wall . And she's in such a rush! You'd think I was a . . . . . a sour t hirt y-seven and nobody ever made a pass at me. - That last bit can't be true. - A nd I'm not fishing for compliments. I mean it. Do you want to hear all this? - Go right ahead . - I warn yo u, I get pretty steamed u p . - Blow it off. - I t's not so bad being tormemed with everlasting hints about a "n ice young man". M y mot her's vocabulary, by the way, is really prehistoric. There's the religious q uestion too. - That's not su rprising around here. - No, but there's a li mit. to what a person can stand. And come to think of i t , 28

Charlie wouldn't do for me, because the Royal Family is not R.C., is it? You see, my mother was Catholic originally but she turned to Dad when they got married, and then later she turned back again. - Recently? - Oh no. It was a long time ago. - Round the time you were born ? - As a matter of fact, yes. Why? - I just wondered about your name. - You think my mother gave me this name just because . . . . . ? - Not consciously. - That's very interesting. You know, Cabot, i n all my life I never thought of that. Are you a psychologist as well as an artist? - It just crossed my mind, that's all. How does your father see this whole thing? - Oh, Dad is cool. We sort of dig each other. - Your mother doesn't bug him to turn? - She k nows it wouldn't be any use. - What is it , peace between them? Agreement to differ? - More or less. But she keeps on at me. Did you ever have any kind of a problem like t his? - Not exactly. Or not to the same extent. - I don't imagine you bother about religion very much. - No. My people, as it happens, were Salvation Army. - Did you beat the drum or play the cornet? - Not since I was about fifteen . But it wasn't so bad. They're good enough people in the Army. The trouble is that what you're expected to believe is an insult to the intelligence. - That's exactly how I feel about Mother's religion! Roma was feeling distinctly better when they left the restaurant than she had felt down in the misty gloom of Mullen Street, or in the oppressive, slightly fantastic atmosphere of that Hall. Having unburdened her heart and mind on the subject of religion, she was quite ready to come back to art and to the artist, whom she now felt to be a little less remote and u npredictable. A good deal of her pique had vanished in the rather personal sympathy Cabot had shown for her own problems and hang-u ps. - What are you working o n in your room now? - Trying to finish two or three pictures. - For the Autumn Show at the Culture Centre, of Newfoundland arts and crafts? - That's right. - When is it? - Opens next week . Roma, how about comin g there with me one evening? - Do you mean it? - Sure thing. - All right then. And thank you. But if you forget about it and stand me up, I ' m coming after you with an axe. A n d right here a n d now I 've got t o g o back a little, to settle something with you. When I first came to interview you, you were kind of edgy because I was asking you questions about your painting. Almost rude. I n fact, you were mde. And now all of a sudden you're being rather nice talking about your 29

work. Why is that? - That day you came with the tape, it was just time for me to start work, and I get kind of tense if anything holds me up. I'm neurotic that way, I guess. It was nothing personal. Some people get the idea a guy is snooty if he j ust wants to work in peace. - Self-important? - That's it. That's w hat they think. - Is it that you feel nervous before starting work, and good afterwards if it goes well? Like tonight? - H ow did you know? - Told you I'm not a dumbhead. I understand some things. - Were you speaking from experience? - No. I guess I haven't got the a nistic temperament, at least not as far as actually doing anything in the arts is concerned. But I'm able to imagine you r: feelings, and I 've done a litt le reading on the subject. Biography, criticism and so on . - Well, you hit the nail this time. - I 'll remember your· kind words. - And I 'll remember our date. H ome now? - All right. I live over on LeMarchant Road.

30

SIX

- Congratulations, Cabot. - Than ks, George. - Your pictures are fine. A step forward in one of the m . - Good news. George, this is Roma H art. - Hello, Rom a . I should congratulate you too. I've seen one or two of your articles o n· pain ting. Keep plugging. You can write us up tonight, after you've seen the show, if you like. - I 'l l try, Mr. West. - Never mind the formality. Call me George, seeing you're a friend of Cabot's. George West looked like a man w ho had problems, but problems that he enjoyed grappling with. Behind his rumpled, agitated exterior and the horn­ rimmed harness of his glasses, he gave the impression of a man w ho was funda­ mentally contented because he loved the work he was doing. Roma sensed this, and she also felt an immediate sympathy for him, perhaps because there was at this time a similari t y in their relationship to Cabot: they were both less creative than he but personally concerned i n the growth and encouragement of his work. Cabot and Roma had come to the Arts & Crafts Exhibition on the third night after its opening. H e did not like first nights, still less private views or occasions of any special kind, which tended to be saturated with h umbug and crowded with twittering enthusiasts of all three sexes. I t was only after h is pictures had settled o n the walls and their individuality n o longer seemed t o clash with the surrounding works, that he liked to come and have a somewhat furtive look at them. Roma was amused by this u nexpected shyness in h im and laughingly offered to hold his hand while they were i n the gallery; but she realized too that this might very well be an ordeal for him, to see pictures that he probably had sweated and yearned over for weeks or months, and parted with reluctantly - to see them staring down at h im from those crowded walls and also to put u p with the sight ofhordes of people pressing toward the pictures in various stages of audible misunderstanding. But if, like George West, Cabot did not care for any sort of formality and had little sense of occasion, Roma was pleased to notice that he had made at least some effort to dress up for their evening together. She had a special reason to be grateful for his jacket and tie, even if that seedy duffle coat were still billowing out from his lean body and showing permanently knee'd cord pants that were some­ thing less than elegant. He was dean-shaven too, except for a dramatic, slightly sinister gaucho moustache. Not exactly handsome ; but a man who would be noticed, Roma thought, and one w ho had no phoney air of dissipation, felt n o apparent need t o b e a dru n kard or a junkie be fore taking t o himself the name o f artist. B u t what Roma really liked was the thoughtlessly graceful w a y he moved •.

31

and also the thick russet hair glistening and crowding all over his ears in a very sexy way. She was taken by George West too. With his rather swinging gear and casual manner he was definitely not her idea of a Director or Curator for an art gallery; he was much younger than she would have expected, with no pomposity or grave cultural responsibility about him. Old enough to be an adviser to Cabot and young enough to share tastes and sympathy in a genuine friendship. Perhaps he re­ garded art as a living, kicking thing, not just wall covering for museums. Roma hoped so. Anyway, it was hard to imagine him gaping through a magnifying glass, pondering attributions, and all that kind of thing. He had seemed, too, more like a host coming to greet them at his front door, when they arrived, then an em ployee of the state or the province. And he also showed some care for all those nervous newcomers who paused in the lobby, obviously tentative in the u.nfamiliar pre­ sence of art. George shepherded Roma and Cabot toward the main salon, but paused on the way as they passed a side room which seemed to be a very lively place. - What's in there? - Not much of interest, Roma. In there we have all the calendars, chocolate box covers, family portraits, housewives' abortions, imitations and misu nderstandings of Jackson Pollock, etc. The Chamber of Horrors. - It seems kind of crowded. - Usually is. - But if it's only junk, why do you take it? - Got a lot of extra wall space, and not all that much real painting to hang on it. And it's not all absolute junk in there. Some of the people who did that stuff may one day do better. - I sn't it lowering people's taste and giving them false values? - Not necessarily. They can graduate, as I said, to better things. What do you think, Cabot? - I think the majority always prefer junk. - True, true. But if we can move only one person from junk to some appreciation of the real thing, then my time is not wasted. You see, Rom a, I think of my job here as kind of like store-keeping, and the first job of a store-keeper is to get people inside his shop. Right? After they're in they may still buy shoddy goods, but t here's always the chance that they'll see something good and go for it, eh? - Yes, I have to adm it that. - As for giving the perpetrators of those horrors false values, or hanging false values on the public, I don't tell the painters of them that they're destined to clear up all the confusion since Cezanne, and I do try to steer the public the other way. Believe me, Roma. - Maybe I was a little hasty. - Never mind. Now come along and I 'll show you where we've hung you , Cabot. Then I have to leave you, to get out the red carpet. Expecting t he Premier at nine o'clock. Cabot's two pictures were well placed, smack in the most eye-catching location , and very curious Roma was to see them. A s Cabot had not yet told her what the subjects were, she in turn had not wanted to take the edge off this experience by 32

previously coming to the gallery on her own, and neither had she wanted to spoil his pleasure in giving her a little surprise. The first of his canvases was simply a small house perched on craggy hills, which Rom a recognized as those above Fort Amherst at the Narrows, incongruous in its grim setting and pathetically lonesome against an infinite expanse of north­ ern, milky-blue sky. She liked it at once. - Water color? - Yes. - It sure is the right medium for a scene like that. A lot of those little houses up there have that kind of pastel coloring and that . . . . . that temporary look, as if they might all be suddenly blown away and only the bare hills left there. You've caught that feeling very well. Is this your other picture? Quite a contrast. The second one Roma found m01·e unusual and also more satisfying, in a technical way. I ts subject was a plate of cod tongues, five of them lying in a firm elliptical composition on a black enamelled plate, with a table edge running obliquely across the bottom of the picture space and the traditional w h ite cloth tumbling sumptuously down into the foreground. The tongues themselves had a startlingly real, glaucous texture, like oysters. - That's a Newfoundland subject if I ever saw one. Ug! - What do you mean, ug? - I can taste them, and I don't like cod tongues to eat. But, you've certainly done a good job. Marvellous brushwork to get that sort of jelly look. I s this the picture George West meant w hen he said you had taken a step forward? - I think so. I think he meant the brushwork too. - So w ho's your best critic? Don't answer that. But if I write up this show, w i ll you promise to read my article? - Soon as it comes out. - And give me your opinion, not a year later? All right, then. I may say just one or two nice things about you. Oh, look, Cabot! There's a red tab on your Still Life. Did you know it was sold? - Yes. - Why didn't you tell me? - Surprise. - Oddball. But I'm glad. Maybe you have a patron. - I 'm afraid it's a one-shot, so far. - Who's the buyer? Can I ask you that? - Anonymous. H e doesn't want me to get ideas about a patron, I guess. - Will you tell me i f you find out who it is? - Okay. At least t h is picture is clear· profit. I haven't got any debts to pay. Have to get some new brushes too . - And a new pair of pants? - That'll have to come later. - I swear, if I could sew, I'd get some mater·ial and run you up a pair, for Christmas. They moved along in the thin swirl of people doing the gallery clockwise, amid laughter at the abstracts and occasional giggles over the N udes. Suddenly Cabot found h imself being i ntroduced to two middle-aged people of more or less 33

pleasant appearance, but cautious, wait-and-see in their manner. He had the feeling of being weighed by one pair of eyes, almost accused by the other. Roma took over again and tried to be casual. - Cabot, I'd like you to meet my mother and father. Mother, Dad, this is Cabot Carter. John W. Hart eased up his gold-rimmed glasses with his middle finger under the nose bar and took his time about sizing the young stranger up. Hart was a solid, bold-looking man w hose appearance suggested more or less what Roma had so far told Cabot about h i m : no violence i n the e yes, but a steady probing look and at the same time a willingness to reserve judgment. A lawyer's look. Roma spoke again, nervously, in the silence that lay between these four tense people. - Dad, have you seen Cabot's pictures yet? - Yes. I thought the little house was good, and the cod tongues a treat. - Wonderful. Mother? - Well, I thought they were very nice too. Obviously Angela Hart's mind was not on the paintings. Apart from that verbal bromide and her indrawn, sort of pre-Raphaelite look, she was also physi­ cally nervous, which was a thing Cabot found hard to tolerate - perhaps because people like that made such bad sitters. And she was almost visibly calculating the cost of her daughter's friend's clothes. That accusing look which she tried vainly to hide by trite amiability was now turned on Roma as well, so that the tension between those two women became quite painful to witness. Soon Cabot found himself thinking what a pain in the ass this woman must be, and what a bore to live with! Roma's father he found more interesting and approachable. - How do you like the show as a whole, Mr. Hart? - Pretty good . Very good . Even the Chamber of Horrors is not all torture. Or would you say so? - Maybe. - As for this room, I think it's remarkable w hat an . . . . . an upsurge of art there's been here in St.John's over the past few years. Really remarkable. I only wish I had more time . . . . . Now, I suppose a good many of the people exhibited here are what they call Sunday painters. Is that right? - Yes, a good many of them. - And you, Cabot? - Monday too. - I see. - I prefer not to do anything but paint. - That's w hat some people would call a rather aristocratic view, in a sense. I mean in a society like ours. I hope you don't mind my saying so. - George West thinks very h ighly of Cabot's work, Dad. - So I hear. He mentioned it to me, as a matter of fact. And if you can get away with such a view of life, Cabot, more power to you, I suppose. But I can see w hy you're not the fattest man in this neck of the woods. Despite H art's geniality, it irked Cabot to be quizzed and commented on in this fashion. He felt that the next question might be: haven't you got any other job? A thousand times in recent years Cabot Carter had been faced with this question, until nowadays he just felt like telling his questioner to go to hell - he didn't owe 34

him any money. Nobody seemed to u nderstand that art was a full-time job w hether

you had a brush in your hand or not: and survival was another problem entirely, to be solved as best one could and on one's own terms. And yet Cabot, sensing at least a shred of sympathy and perhaps understand­ ing in the older man's look, was concerned not to offend John H art. He was surprised at how quickly this thought came to him, and he realized that his feeling had to do with Roma now. They exchanged a glance, Roma guessing at once that he wanted her to suggest cutting out for the present, and she herself had only wanted to break the ice with her parents on this occasion . The aw kward situation was made worse for her by Angela Hart's calling out as the young couple started to move away. - Don't be too late, Roma! - (Christ) Oh, all right. - I'm s � pposed to be a bad influence, is that it, Roma? - I t's not you, Cabot. I wish that once, just once, mother would not say the wrong thing in the wrong place at the wrong time. She makes me feel about thirteen. W hile Roma was developing this familiar theme, she and Cabot found them­ selves approaching two other people w ho m she did not think likely to i mprove her mood . She drew Cabot to one side, behind a knot of people large enou.gh for cover. - Look, there's M arion Squires and her mother. - What the hell is the old girl doing here? She's totally clueless about painting. - Guardian of morals? She seems fascinated by those nudes. Or maybe she and Marion are here to see if you're showing any of your d rawings of her. Old creep. - Let's go. Cabot was afraid that if they could not avoid Marion and M rs . Bastow, the latter m ight start to question him about those drawings, and for his own very good reasons that was the last thing( he wanted at the moment. He and Roma escaped from the danger by sidling rapidly back to the place w he re the Still Life was hung. - I just wanted to have another look at that red tab, Cabot. - I don't m ind myself. But off we go now . - We can always come back another evening and see the rest of the show. As they passed out Roma started to kid him about Marion fluttering dow n on him to take possession, and also about something else on which he turned out to be a little more sensitive. - I like the way your sign your work, but aren't you afraid of getting m ixed up with the other CC? - The other . . . . . ? - Corot. His first name was Camille. - But he always signed just Corot! - I know. I j ust wanted to see your face w hen you thought there might be another CC running around loose . Egoist! Taking a final look backward before leaving, they now saw Roma's mother in conversation with M rs . Bastow. - That's an odd confab, isn't it, Roma? Your mother and the old hawk? I mean, R .C . and Presbyterian getting together. Don't look at me like that. I don't give a damn for either religion. I'm only saying that old Mother Bastow being so fierce i n 35

her faith, according to all I've seen and heard of her, it's a wonder she even speaks to t he opposit ion. That 's all I meant. - She and Mother are on one or two committees together. Non-denominational. Mrs. Bastow rules the roost, t hough, in that line. She's President of Practically Everything. Our social editor says she's fed up with getting out her photo to print. As for Mother, well, if I were going to t ry and be fair, I wouldn't say she's bigoted. Dogmatic as hell, b u t not bigoted. That reminds me, it's confession time. I was the one who suggested t hat Mother and Dad come to t he centre tonight. I guess there was a bit of ulterior motive in i t . - I had a n idea i t might be that. - I don't mean your j ust meet ing t hem. Cabot, you've done portraits, haven't you? Full-scale ones, in oil? - Some. - Well, I was thin king I might be able to get you a nice fat commission. That's partly why I arranged t he meet ing tonight. - Paint your mother! - Why not? - For one th ing, she'd never go fo1· it. - How do you know? - I saw i t in t he back of her eye, when she was giving me the once-over. - Don't be too sure. Once upon a time she was supposed to be a kind of beauty, according to the family tradition. There might still be a spat·k of the old vanity there, and secretly, she might like to be done. If she did go for it, I'm pretty sure Dad would give you a good price. H e's not tight with his money, so I could wangle that. Well? - No. Not just now , anyway. - So you't·e a tough nut all down the line, is that it? - Sorry. - B u t why won't you do it? - I've got a lot of other stuff on the go at the moment. Wan t to concentrate on tha t . - I t'd b e like a bonus fo1· you. And t here's another reason w h y I hoped you'd do the job, if I could swing it for you . - W hat's t ha t ? - Another personal motive, I guess. I sort o f t hought that if y o u did a real, serious portrait of Mother you might be able to bring out whatever it was t ha t got into her about religion, and then we'd all be in on t he secret and be able to handle her better, maybe. She really is an awful d rag at home, and I for one would be able to stand it better if I knew the t rue reason for it. I mean her fanaticism . - Think yow· mot her would appreciate those reasons? - She'd neve1· need to know them. Aren't you interested at all? - No . - What's your reason? Come on, now, it's s t i l l confession time. - The job would bore me . - That's honest, at least. - As a subject , Rom a, your mothet·just doesn't grab me. I look at her, and I don't care w hy she clings to the cross, or what the secret of her behaviour is, if there is 36

any secret. - Only trying to help. - You sore? - Maybe. But I might as well say it - I l i ke your gutsy independent attitude too, in a way. They strolled along in the icy night air, passing one m two cafes without any suggestion from Cabot t hat a cup of coffee might again be a good idea. At last Roma came out with the idea. Cabot hesitated. - Well, I 'm kind of broke, as a matter of fact. Haven't got my cheque for the picture yet. - Don't be silly. I 'll pay. - Rather not. - Come on! I understand how it is with people in the arts, even if some of them are pigheads. - Come back to my place. I 've got some biscuits and nescafe, and a hotplate. - Yes, I remember your furnishings. Okay. Roma did not go on to insist that if he were not so choosey ove r his subjects, he would never have to wony about spending a dollar or two on coffee and doughnuts , and even on herself. He was hard to make out: she su pposed he liked her; at least there was no one else in his life, as far as she could tell, and he seemed to be slowly accepting her as companion and ally. How much farther it might go, she had no idea, nor any firm opinion about what kind of man he was o•· would turn out to be. Her disappointment over the portrait plan was softened a little by this invitation to his room, although there had bee n nothing suggestive in h is manner. Now another question came into Roma's mind. - Cabot, J amie and Feem won't mind my coming to you r room ? I imagine them as being kind of old-fashioned. - I t's okay till midn ight. After that, all hands out except those w ho live there. J amie had to lay down the law. You know how he talks: "Got to have rules, Cabot me son . Got to have rules. Specially with women on the premises. If I didn't have rules, first thing I know , I 'd be runnin' a w horehouse." - You've got him dow n to a T! Amazing. So okay, we keep to the rules. B y the way, I'm sorry I can't invite you to our house f01· coffee and some food. It's nothing personal, or to do with you•· not wanting to paint Mother. Really. I t's the other thing I told you about, her attitude to men. My men . If one of them so much as phones me at home, she wants to know right off the bat who his " family" are. I t would drive a saint cuckoo. S o I don't have any pe•·sonal o r social life around home, hardly. I handle it all from the office. At his studio-room Roma was less presumptuous than on her first visit, Cabot not so impatient. At least she did not pick up things uninvited, turn pictu res that had thei•· faces to the wall, or peer under t he cloth hanging loose ly from h is easel; she seemed content just to sit and observe h is working place more closely; and more sympat hetically now , wh ile he went about boiling water and sketchily setting his little table. He was vague and slow over it all, at once amusing her and getting on her nerves a bit, yet he insisted on doing everything himself and treating her strictly as a guest. For the climax to his efforts he brought out a pile of stale-looking biscuits and urged hn to help herself. 37

- I say again, ug! What is it, Cabot? Another form of dope? - Lemon-cream biscuits, with caraway seed. - Caraway seed! Boy, that's really weird. Where in hell do you find these things? - There's a little store down in one of the coves off Water Street that still stocks the m . - I'm glad your taste i n art is better than your taste i n food . - Don't you like the m ? - I d o not. - I'll make you some toast. - Thanks. - You never ate caraway seed? - No. I remember my grandmother talking about it. - We u sed to have them when I was a kid . St raight from England . - Maybe it's just as well that Feem feeds you, on a regular basis. For Roma the evening ended in more disappoin tment , or at least self­ questioning, because Cabot was not at all suggestive in his behaviour and, though clumsily sincere in his attempts to be agreeable, failing to show any real personal interest in her. H e had no etchings; at any rate, not for showing; he made no move to do any kind of (art) work on her, and until he took her home kept his distance i n a friendly b u t noticeable way. She felt that no man had ever roused her i m patience with so little obvious effort.

38

SEVEN

Fred Squires had had a rough day. Rough , tough, and binding. To start with, he had found in his morning mail confirmation of a new hike on the sales tax for electrical goods, w hich meant a raising of prices all round, and that in turn meant a drop in sales, probably, until the increase had been absorbed into the local economy and people had come to accept the new prices. Of course it meant also that he could get rid of old stock at the new prices, but that was no compensation to Fred. It was routine. Then during the afternoon a gold filling which he had recently had inserted into one of his eye teeth, at a cost of one hund red and forty-seven dollars, had dropped out, and the tooth jumped like a jackhammer whenever he sucked in cold air. And finally, he had been obliged, just before leaving the office, to fire one of his representatives (commonly known as salesmen) for l�aprg around the store and talking about w hite-collar u n ions. Tal king •·ed. . · ! ,' , · W hen he arrived home the house was quite dark, an d very cold because Marion had apparently put back the furnace before going wherever she had gone for the afternoon. The evening too, it seemed. Totally disgusted, Fred made no move to start dinner for her or get anything for h imself; he just fetched his bottle and favorite glass from the cu pboard and fen back on that to warm him until the furnace had brought some heat into the living-room. That was the only thing that had the power to unwind him these days - a solid belt of bourbon on the empty gut, hitting him hard and quick, and after that a slower drink, then a couple more while he relaxed in front of the TV, trying to forget his rage against the creeping Welfare State. He liked funny programs like the re-run of Sergeant Bilko and detective series such as Killerfor Kicks or Hunt the Man Down . None of that goddam CBC cultural crap, or what they called realistic plays or information programs. He couldn't even stand to hear about that much less to watch it. After an ass-griping day at work he just couldn't take anything at all con troversial or serious. A s for taking work home, that was out too. Still able to beat the Chamber of Commerce guys at the wolfs game, he could not now take m01·e than ten or twelve hours of it at a stretch, and he seldom felt like any social life . A guest or two, perhaps a visit, on the weekend; bu t during the week all that was for the birds. Fred thought in any case that St. John's was getting t o be t.oo much of a fancy or sophisticated town . He knew that one o•· two punks in the Chamber called him, behind his bac k, a red-necked, jumped-up baywop, but let them equal his record of achievement from absolutely nothing in Fogo to a leading position in the business community of this city, before they started to talk and show off. His salesmen hated his guts. Fred went on brooding, inwardly cursing. Where the hell was she till nearly eight o'clock in the evening? And where was Kirk? H e got up and phoned his ..

39

mother-in-law to find o ut if she had any word for him, being careful not to let the liquor show in his voice. Yes, Kirk was with h is grandmother for supper and the n ight, as expected; but there was no news of Marion. Well, at least the boy was all right, and the field was clear for action w he n the bitch did come home. By Christ, he would have somet hing to say to her this time! Being close on fifty and having been manied for twe n t y yeat·s, Fred had long ago given up any t hought of tryin g t o understand h i s wife or a n y other woman. There was no q uestion of tha t . The whores were all of them tot ally baffling. What he lamented and fumed over con tinually was that where Marion was concerned he had less and less of a clue to her mental processes as t he years went by, no idea how she would waste his money, w hat nutty scheme she would take u p next, or what new craze might absorb that m ystifying bird-brain for a few days and weeks, until anothet· cult came to take its place and reign over her life for an equally short time. Of course he could make allowance fot· t he change of life and all that filthy business, but he also knew from talking to one or t wo othet· guys in his position that not all women were as bad as his wife during this t i me. Sometimes he suspected that she was touched or perhaps had never been all t he re. But above all, what he could not understand was this: he had given t hat woman everything - everything, godclam it - that any woman could wan t , even includ ing her own car, and still she did not seem satisified . She h a t·clly recognized h is sacrifice. He might just as well have treated her like the sl u t tiest old bag clown around Mullen S t reet , or even one of the waterfront wh01·es, for any sign of appreciation that he ever got . J esus.Jesus . It was enough to knot you r gut s, permanen t ly. Freel took another swill to try and wash away some of his exasperation. He flicked on the TV to d ivert his t houghts, but j ust as he did so his eye was caught by the sketch of Kirk, now ft-amed and glazed and standing in what looked danger­ ously like a place of honor on top of the set. Su ffering Ch rist! More money down the d rai n . His expression changed t o suggest that he was d rinking piss instead of bourbon. He was about to shove t he picture out of sigh t when at last he heard sounds of Marion co ming in th rough the front door. Off went the TV. Fred cradled his glass carefully i n one hand and went back to his armchair, making no move to go out into the hall and help w i t h parcels that he could hear dropping and bumping all over the place. He started on her, using the hectoring voice that he favored for frightening debtors over the phone, befme she even came i n sight. From this their q uarrel flared u p and blazed all even ing, het·e and there, like an ill-suppressed forest fire but, u nlike a forest fire, always coming back to its point of origin. Cabot Carter. - Where the hell you been ? - Trying to start on my Christmas shopping. - More bullshit and waste. - Well , you can do it, if you like and see how m uch you'd save. - I ' m starving. - Wait t i ll I ru n up to the bathroom, if you don't mind , and I ' l l get something. - What kept you so late? - Crowds. And I had a lit t le trouble w ith the car clown on M ilitary Road. I t was awfully slippery. I had to get a garage man to come and tow me past the ice. - Any damage to the car? 40

- Only a small dent in the back. - Sweet Jesus! Another bill . - Now don't stan nagging at me. Don't torment me. I 've had a hard day already. - Yo�'ve had a hard day! - And now I ' m going to miss my A rt class tonight. I 'l l be too late. - That's no loss. - It might be, to me. - Aw l Crap. - That's what you always say about anything with a cultu ral aspect. - Cultural aspect! I ' m telling you, you're getting as phoney as a three-dolla1· bill . A n d a s for those a r t classes of yours, first it was Psychology, then it was Sociology, and after that it was Anthropology . . . . . - Pology. - And what I want to know is, when in the name of the good and merciful Christ are you going u p to the University or that goddam place they call the Culture Centre, which men like me got to pay to keep u p - w hen are you going up to one of these places and take a good stiff cou rse in Common Sense? Hey? Answer me that. That's the course you should-a took, long ago. - Yes? Well, you m ight benefit from it too. - But this latest, this art kick, that's the worst one of all. - You don't know the fi1·st thing about it. - I know it cost me a hundred bucks ah-eady, and then some. - Oh, don't fuss. We can afford it. - I can't. A nyhow, that's not the point. The point is, I don't like being had. And that's what happened to you, girlie . You were had. A hund1·ed bucks for a few marks on a piece o' paper! And a poor job at that. - Some people don't think so. Educated people. - Go on! It makes the boy look like some kind of a fairy, for God's sake. - Well, I think Cabot showed great insight. - Here we go again. I nsight. Can't you even talk in ordinary language any more? I can't hardly understand you at all since you went and met that arty-farty gang. You seen that Caner guy again? - Yes, I saw him. - Bastard. - B ut I 'm not likely to be overrun by his company, not after the way you behaved when he came here to the house. 1- What d'you expect m e to do, congratulate the prick j ust because I ' m supporting him ? - That's ridiculous. - Is it? Carter has no job, has he? And don't tell me that he or anybody else can make a living just out of "art" in this tow n . He can't be drawing U nemployment I nsurance, because the lazy bastard pmb'ly never worked long enough to get any stamps. So what does he live on? I ' l l bet a god dam he sucks u p to the Welfare for a few bucks a week. And what does that come out of? Taxes. Okay, w ho pays the taxes? I do, and people like me. God, it makes my blood boil for me to be sweating and scraping and working my guts out six days a week , to make an honest living, and half the dough I shell out to the gover'ment going to support a bunch of 4I

parasites! Don't tell me. That's all this Carter is - another bloody parasite. This country is made up of two kinds of people: tax payers like me, and parasites l i ke him. - I n the olden days, the C h u rch or the R u ler was a patron for the artists, but that's all past now. So the government has to step in. Or private people. Maybe that's w hat I am, a patron. Or patroness. - Is that another word you picked up from the arty crowd? If it means handing out any more of my dough to "Cabot", you can j ust forget it. If you so much as pay h im another red cent, for anything, I 'l l go after the bastard myself and take i t back, out of his hide. Let the son of a bitch work for his bread, same as I do. - You just don't understand , Fred. Not a glimmer. - Yah ? I understand one thing aboutyou, anyhow . You·'re getting in the bad habit of running around too much. Know that? - I t sounds like Mother talking. - She talks sense. She's got Carter's number too. All this crappy talk about high art and Picasso. Why can't you admit you don't u nderstand any of it either? - I'm trying. - Don't st rain your· brain. You're wasting your time. Better you'd have a man's dinner ready for him when he comes home from work. - I have plenty of time to run this house and still take an interest in some things besides pots and pans. - I t don't look like it today. H u rry up, will you? I tell you I'm gut-foundered. Dinner w hen it came at last was canned soup, an omelette, thawed-out french fries, canned pears and coffee. Digestion was bad too, there being no relaxation of tension at the table. H usband and wife kept on sniping at each other across the length of it, from the ambush of yet deeper resentment than had so far been expressed. And Fred brought his booze to the table again, which was a thing Marion the teetotaller could hardly stand ; it seemed like a rejection of her very presence, even her existence, and a form of gross manners that made her physi­ cally wince. She really was irked by the sight of that vicious whiskey he was drinking and especially the ugly thick tumbler he always insisted on drinking it from . That was purely and solely to annoy her, she was sure . When finally she could not keep quiet about it, Fred cut her off as sharp as a guillotine. - Ever seen me drunk? - Well, not dr. . . . . - So shut u p about it. - You don't need to be so rude! - Rude, my arse. - And vulgar. - Least I'm not a phoney. - You just can't give anybody credit for making a . . . . . a sincere effort to im prove themselves, can you? And yet it would do you all the good in the world to take up somet hing besides your business. - Crap. Besides, what time have I got? - You could make time, instead of j ust goggling at the TV every night like . . . . . like some kind of a zombie. 42

- We only j ust got our 26-inch ! - That's irrelevant. - Now don't go getting fancy again. Tal k plain Canadian. And I still don't know what you're talking about, far's improving yourself is concerned. F'rinstance, you and Mother went to that art show a while ago and spe n t a whole night there. Now, how did that improve either one of you ? W hat good did it do? - I'm afraid it didn't do Mother much good, morally. She didn't seem to find much that was indecent there, and I think that was a disappointment to her. Mother still believes that all artists come straight from the Devil, in Paris, with loose morals, naked obelisks . . . . . - Naked what? - I mean odalisques. - What the hell is that? - Nudes. - I f you mean naked women, say so. - A �d w hat are called subversive ideas. - She may not be too far wrong. - Oh Fred, don't be so narrow and provincial ! - I ' m talking sense. - Anyway, after Mother and I finished the main salon at the gallery, we went into a side room where there were a lot more pictures, and Mother was quite happy with those. Of course it turned out that this was the Chamber of Horrors. - I don't see w h y you should laugh at Mother for that. At least she was honest about w hat she liked, and understood. - Bu t those pictures were shocking. Not in the moral sense. I mean in the artistic sense. That's w h y they're all shoved into the one room together. I t's . . . . . it's notorious. - Stick to the poin t for once. W hat good did it do you? - Well, the point is that looking at really fine art, it . . . . . it enlarges your consciousness. - Plain Canadian, I said. - It makes you more aware of the world around you, and gives you a sense of beauty. - Beauty in cod tongues? - How did you know about those? - I get around. I hear things. - The idea Cabot had there, I think, was to show the beauty in h umble things. - And you'r� telling me I should give up the only free time I got, and when I'm whacked out making a buck , to waltz over there to the Culture Centre and get myself a sense of beauty? - It wouldn't h u rt you to try once in a w h ile. That's all I'm saying. - And all I'm saying is: horseshit! - Oh, it's quite hopeless trying to talk to you about anything regarding esthetics. - There you go again. I'm telling you, it's getting so I don't know if it's you talking, or some gutless two-bit professor up there at Memorial. - A person doesn't have to rely only on four-letter words or mere crudity of expression . 43

- So how long is this one going to last? - This what? - The art kick. - It's not a kick, and it's not just a talking poin t either. I'm getting really interested. - In art, or artists? - Now you're just being silly. - That so? I'm not the only one wonders on that, about artists. - Mother again. - I wish there was more like her. Half those people who go to these art shows and music symphonies and all that, they don't understand it any more than Mothn and I do, only they haven't got t he gumption to come right out and say so. - You shouldn't judge everyone by your own limitations, and certainly not by Mother's. Come on, let's have the coffee in the living-room , if you want anything else to d rink. Fred lowered himself carefully into his armchair after switching on the TV in the living-room , and prepar·ed to lapse into vacancy of mind. He felt he had had enough chit-chat for· one evening - too much, in fact, of what he considered his wife's pretensions to cultural superiority. But as he gazed at the set his eye was offended again by that sketch of Kirk, and he could not contain himself al­ together. - There's another th ing! You never told me, not to do it right, w hat it is you see in that thing as a work of art. - I tried to. But I'll try again if you'll only listen. Turn down the sound on the TV, will you? There, that's better. Well, in the first place, that sketch is done very well from a technical point of view. - How long did it take to do? - What? Oh, about fifteen minutes. - Fifteen minutes for a h undred bucks. Kee-rist! I'm not exactly considered a failure in this town, but I don't know if I ever made that kind of dough . - It's no good looking at it that way. Can't you value anything except in time, and dollars and cents? Can't you at least imagine , for the sake of argument, that certain other things may count? - No . - You're n o t even trying. - I suppose w hen the great artist was doing this little masterpiece for a hundred of my bucks, he was getting paid too for giving his demonstration at the Centre? - I suppose so. - I tell you , the guy is running a racket. It's all a bloody scam. - You tal k as if he did one of these portraits every hour. - How do you know he don't? Doesn't. If he can get away with it once, why not again? And Agai n . This kind of stuff . . . . . By this time Fred had moved again to the TV to make his point more directly, and he gave a backward swing of his arm to indicate the sketch, his contemptuous gesture sweeping that and one or two other things right off the set into the angle of the wall behind it. The re was a thin silvery sound as the glass broke. Marion gave a cry of horror. While Fred remained just where he stood, gaping, she rushed over 44

and squeezed awkwardly in behind the TV to gather up the pieces. Although the damage was not serious, there was a corner broken off the frame, with white composition material showing, and worse, little arrow tips of glass digging into a corner of the sketch itself. - Fred, you did that on pu rpose ! - It was an accident. - There's no such t h ing as an accident, in a situation like this. - Now don't come the psychology crap again. I don't like that bloody thing and I never will like it. Also I hate like hell being conned or having a price set for me. But I did not try to knock the picture oveL - It certainly wouldn't have happened, t hough, if you weren't half drunk. - Few shots o' bourbon. - Fred, what's the matter with you ? Why are you really so discontented and destructive? You've been like t his for months now. Years. - Who wouldn't be discontented, fer Christ-sake? - I can't hear you . You're mumbling. Fred got back u nsteadily to his chair, seeming to forget for a moment the TV, Marion herself, and everything but his own deep grievances. He was just s ul king and talking to himself, to j ustify himself. - Yah . Who wou ldn't be discontented? Work my arse off, beat those snooty bastards down on Water Street at their ow n game, come out on top o' the whole goddam 'lectrical goods gang, provide a good home, best of everything for my fam'ly, and w hat do I get out of it? Word o' thanks? Word o' crap! - What are you gabbling about? Listen to me, Fred! I don't really care about having an automatic can opener or my own latest model Chevvie . . . . . - And scorn. That's all I get . You, you're always scorning me, just 'cause I'm not cultur·ed and don't chase around after a lot o' little crap-outs, talkin' fancy and praisin' up a lead-swingin', sneaky young parasite like this guy Carter. - That's just pure nonsense. - And you're not stoppin' there, are you? Tryin' to turn my son against me too draggin' Kirk off to t hem art places. At least Mother got more sense. She'll keep him straight. - Now don't be childish along with everything else. I only took Kirk once, and how could it possibly do any harm? - Better off with Mother, that's what he is. No bad influence. - I rese nt that! - Like I said, runnin' ar·ound. - Oh, for God's sake ! - I'm telling you , Marion, you're thin kin' all wrong and you're headin' all wrong. Turnin' away from your own kind and gettin' mixed up with a lot of screwballs and hippies, and maybe worse. I t won't do you any good. Those people are poison for you, but you can't see it. - And do you know what you can't see? That you're already dead. Dead before your time, Fred. Look, why don't you retire? - Re . . . . . ! You flipped your lid? I'm still only forty-nine years old. I'm in my prime. - That's what I mean . 45

- Talk sense. - You're still young enough to save yourself. - Who'd run my business? - Anyone but you. H ire somebody . - A n d what about Kirk? Who'd pay for his education? I always thought you w anted him to go to college and be a doctor. - We'd manage. And any student can get a grant now . - Not if his old man has got means. So how would we manage? - On something less . . . . . less demanding for you. - But all I k now is electrical goods. Been at it all my life. You know that. - Time for a change, then . - Let everything I built up go down the drain? J ust like that? - Yes. - You really must be crazy! I got obligations to meet. This country is in a credit squeeze right now, and to ride it out, I got to fight. Besides, what would I do? If I turned the whole show over to somebody else, how would I put in my time? - Start to live . - Now you're talking' crap again. - No, I'm not. I'm simply suggesting that you could do something less strenuous and have time for other things. - Next thing you'll be tetlin' me, I ought to take up painting. -Something. Don't you see, your business has become a coffin, and I don't want to live in it with you. I fee l choked. I j ust want you to do one thing that you have a real impulse for. - W hat did you mean, something less strenuous? You're not sayin', by any chance, that I should go to work for someone else, are you? - That wouldn't kill you . - No? Well, let me tell you, what I got an impulse for is to run my own business and to run it just like I goddam well please. And anyone that thinks otherwise is a goddam fool . - Can't you stop swearing? - It's enough to make anybody swear. You got no idea! There's a million wolves waiting to jump on me, if I give them so much as half a chance. And besides, I can just see myself kissin' some other guy's ass, after I been my own boss for twenty­ five years! - You're obscene too. - No wonder. And some people might think you ought to show some appreciation for all I done for you and Kirk, instead o' naggin' at me with a lot o' bullshit. - You just don't understand. - No, I don't. I don't understand fl. woman go in' dead against her. h usband and telling him to give up all his life work on . . . . . on some kind of a w him. And what's more, I don't want any more conversations like this. Remember that. Retire! You talk like a bloody youngster. - It's hopeless. I think I'll go to bed. - Go to hel l . - Sometimes I really do hate you ! In the tone of her voice there was a sudden rise to near-hysteria. Fred scowled 46

like a man w ho has tb brace himself for an u npleasant task, but one that he has faced before. - Startin' in o n that again, are you? What are we workin' up to - another head-shrinker? Don't you drop that crap on me agai,n . I'm not payin' no fi fty bucks an hour for you to be told all over again how your dumb husband don't under­ stand you. That's a worse racket than art, by Jesus. So just shag off, will you, and leave me in peace for a w hile. Fred had got up and now he stood glowering over his wife, menacing like a mountai n . Disgustedly he gave her a shove, a hard, surly, almost vicious shove, in the direction of the hall stairs; but Marion came back again, sniffin g up her tears, trembling but stubborn. Fred made a fist and showed it. Did she want more? No. Marion just went across the room to gather up the pieces of Kirk's picture, w h ich she held out in fron t of her like an offering or a sacrifice, as she turned again to make her w ay upstairs. And so to bed - her own bed - and her top dose of pills in the hope of oblivion u ntil there came yet another morning w hich, however fair it might be, she could not welcome with a full heart. Fred went back to his TV and its canned laughter.

47

EIGHT

Cabot had finished his evening meal and come back to his room to have another look at t he afternoon's work. He smiled at it with the creator's benevo­ lence, as if to say t hat it was not too bad, this port rait ; it was shaping up slowly but fairly well for a work that he thought of as a challenge to whateve•· skill he had so far acquired. He shoved back the sleeves of his sweater and was patiently adding touches of ochre to the ground of his picture, where canvas still showed, when he heard F:eem Reilly's voice from dow nstairs an nouncing somebody to see him. Dam n ! H e had a spasm of irritation. But after all , it was past his regular working t ime, t his had been a day of some accom plishment, and nowadays he was always glad to see Roma Hart . He found that she was growing on him because she seemed willing to accept him as he was, shabbiness and all, and more o r less on his own terms. These were fundamental things wi th him. From a few years' experi­ ence he had found that unless a woman showed some real desire to help him in his work, he rapidly lost in terest in her. But t his was not Roma Hart coming to see him. He could now hea•· the voice talking to Feem and it belonged to somebody less welcome than Roma would have been. Cabot sighed heavily, covering his work-in-progress because he hated talk­ ing about it prem atu rely, except perhaps to somebody who might be able to make some in telligent technical com ment on it. The visitor arrived at his door breath­ less. - Hello there, Cabo t ! - Marion. - I 'm not distu rbing you , am I ? - It's okay. - Sure? I 've tried once or twice since Christmas to •·each you, but as usual you were either busy or o u t , and I had a very special reason for wanting to see you. Some time ago I was dusting my living-room and I . . . . . well, I accidentally knocked over you r sketch of Kirk. I j us t can't forgive myself f or being so clumsy and I am awfully sorry. Look, t here's not a great deal of damage, but I wan ted to show i t to you personally and get your advice about havin g i t •·epaired. The main body of the drawing is still all •·igh t . By the way, I don't know if I should ask you this, but would you be interested in doing it again - a comple tely new drawing? - No. - I 'd pay you t he full amou nt agai n , of course. - I'm tied up with other t h ings. - ( Fred \vas wrong!) Well, can this one be properly repai•·ed? - Yes. A hot p•·ess with tissue, t hen processing is okay i n s tead of glass. The frame can be done with poly!i lla. 48

- Do you think I chose well? Is that frame right for this kind of picture? - Sure, H ogarth is fine. - Thank you . Shall I leave it all with you? - No. I'll give you the address of the framers. - I'll never remember all those technical things you mentioned. - J ust give them the work and mention m y name. They'll know what to do. - Oh, thank you so much! This is a relief in more ways than one. I was afraid you might be upset by your work being slightly damaged. I know how sensitive artists are in t hat way. Cabot t·eplaced the sketch in its paper and wrote an address hastily on the outside. He could not help wondering if this was the only reason for Marion's visit. She seemed nervous, hadn't sat down yet, but was vaguely fidgeting around the room touching things, picking at this and that, pausing at the window to gaze out over the gold-dotted harbor. - Such a wonderful view from here, Cabot. Did you choose this room because of that? - Not entirely. - I s grand scenery inspiring for an artist? - I f he's a landscape man. - Are m y questions out of order? Or am I really intruding? Tell me honestly, did you have any plans for this evening, work or anything? - Not exactly plans. - I 'm glad. I 've been longing to tal k to you again, Cabot. I don't mean just social chatter. I mean about things that count. A nd you're so . . . . . so unavailable. - Kind of busy these days. - When I say things that count, I'm speaking about the kind of things that you do. - I t's mostly slogging. - But creative slogging. Now, isn't it? Do you know , this is the very first time I 've ever been in an . . . . . an atmosphere like this. A studio. It's fascinating. - Feem says it stin ks. - For me it's refreshing. A nice change from the conventional. Marion moved back to the easel and took an edge of the covering cloth between thumb and forefinger, raising it gently. - Is this the picture you're working on now? Can I peek? - Don't! - Oops! Sony. - It's wet. - Pardon my ignorance. I boobed. Just female nosiness. - Could be a hell of a mess. - Well, I'll behave. Care to tel l me w hat it is? - Not yet. It hasn't jelled. - I see. What's that picture over in the corner, with its face to the wall? - A deadhead. Of no interest. - You know , Cabo t , all this may be old stuff to you , but for me it's kind of romantic. Don't laugh. I t's true. I get so fed up and stifled in my kind of life. Were you ever in the business world? - Once, for a few weeks. 49

- You were lucky to escape. - Not everybody would think so. - You mean Fred? Don't mind him. He's callous. But the real reason behind m y question w a s that I wondered if you ever compared the business world with the artistic world. - The art market? Christ, that's a jungle too. Name-blowing, price-fiddling, quotations on Wall Street . . . . . - How awful! Cabot, I 've been wonderi n g - and I hope you'll forgive me if this is too personal - I've been wondering how in the world you manage to survive. ls the world of art really so bad too? - Pile of steaming horseshit. - Ugh! But couldn't I help you? Tell me, what happens to your pictures? - What happens to my pictures? - Yes. W hat do you do with a picture, ordinarily, once you've finished it? - I show it anywhere I can. I put a price on it, and once upon a time I used to hope somebody would buy it. I get a backlog. - It must be terribly frustrating. W here is most of your work? - In a closet across the hall. I f you have any ideas about a sale . . . . . - I didn't mean that, exactly. But do you remember a thing you said at my home about marked faces being more interestin g than unmarked ones? - I think so. - Well, I have an idea. Marion sat down with the light behind her, looking bravely up at the artist and, after taking a deep breath, speaking coyly: - Then here you are. - Pardon? - Th is here map of mine has got one or two marks o n it, I'm afraid, but it's not ready for the scrapheap. Not yet, I trust. At least, one or two people have been kind enough to say so. It might be,still paintable, mmmmm? - Oesus!) Oh, sure. - So my idea was to ask you if you might be interested in doing me. I was thinking of a portrait in oil. Full color, of course. It's also been said my coloring is not too bad. Like Titt-ian . Kind of artistic in itself, if you know w hat I mean. Oh, of course you do! And I'd have plenty of time to pose for you, every afternoon if you wanted me. You see, Cabot, I realize how hard it must be for an artist to locate models. And then so expensive! - That's for anatomy mostly. - A nd there'd be no problem about marketing. I would guarantee to take the picture and pay a fair price. I have confidence. Well? Wouldn't that help you? - Yes, but . . . . . - Surely you can't have any buts on an offer like this? - Question of time. - Are you worried about whether Fred would pay you for your work? You needn't be . I have some money of my own, that came to me w he n I was married, and I have full control of it still. So, any takers? - Too much other work. - You're too honest. 50

- I ' m doing two oils for the Winter Exhibition at the Centre. A nd work has to be sent in in advance, you know. - Do you want a rain-check? - Okay. - I 'll wait. Tell me, don't you find this a very lonely life? I mean, J amie and Feem are q uite nice, no doubt, but they're not really on your level. Don't you find that the shortage of money, if you'll pardon my mentioning that again, and this rather dismal part of town sort of cripple you, and get you down ? - No. This part of town h a s more juice in it than t h e newer developments. - More what? - J uice. Color, if you like. Atmosphere. - Only an artist could say that about Mullen Street! - Color in the h uman sense. - Oh, of course. But I still wonder if too much solitude is good for you. Don't you have to get out and experience people before you can paint them? - There's a point w here experience leaves off and imagination takes over. - I don't fully understand that. Never mind, though . Or do you fee l like going into it more deeply? - No. - Just as well, perhaps. I 'm not you r equal in that field, so I really couldn't argue with you. But there is one field w here I am your equal, and that's w hat I was j ust talking about. - ??? - Loneliness. I was so glad to have a reason to come and see-you tonight! Though I'd probably have come anyway. I want to be honest too. Follow your good example. And I want to tell you that if you eve r are unbearably lonely, and you feel like a change of surroundings or just a chat or something, without any social stuff, you're welcome to come to my house at any time. - Thanks. - You might even meet Mother again. I guess she is kind of colorful, in your sense. By the way, are you going to show me those sketches you made of her? I heard about those, naturally. Marion got u p and walked around behind Cabot, at the same time taking a handful of sheets from a shelf and placing them on the table in front of him. When she leaned forward she was not particular to avoid touching him, nor careful to keep her breast away from his face whenever she turned to speak to him. Her pe rfume was u nastringent, ultra-feminine. Cabot began to squirm, sensing tenta­ cles and trouble. - Are these the ones, Cabot? - No. - Where are they? - Somewhere around. - You don't want to show them to me? - Let's not mess with the merchandise, okay? - Did I boob again? Have patience. But tell me at least why the ban on me where your work is concerned. I really am interested. - No ban. And these drawings . . . . . I . . . . . I haven't worked them up yet. They 51

were only q uick studies. - All right. B u t my in vitation to you st ill goes. A nd l might get Mother to buy some of your work if she l iked it. - She m ight not like it. - Now you're making me madly c urious. Promise I ' l l see them w hen they are all complete? - Yes. - Guess I 'll have to be sat isified with that for now. l n the mean time, are you sure you don't want to tackle me? l might be a challenge. Look at that skin texture. Still fine, isn't it? And you may have not iced t hat I 've kept my figure, or most of it, and where it counts. - (Rape? That what you wan t ? ) Not now, though. - Perhaps lat e r you could come t o the house and we could arrange somet hing. That would be a wonderful opport u nity for u s to talk. Do you allow your model s to talk? I need someone t o communicate wit h. Fred is a boor, and he's so ignorant. You know, once I mentioned Whistler to him and he thought l was talking about a cabat·et act. I ncredible, but t me . - Some people catTy a round a sack of misinformation w i t h t h e m . They don't find it a burden. - Yes, I 'm su re you're t·ight . But ! do need an outlet for what I thin k and feel . For expression. Tal k is my besetting sin. I can't hel p it. You have no idea how h u ngry I get for some real conversat ion. As I said, I run u p against a blan k wall with Fred. And Kirk . . . . . well, Kirk is my son and I really do love him . I adore Kirk. Oh, here I am, get ting all emotional! Stupid! What was I saying? Oh yes, Kirk is a fine boy, and I know I have some blessings to count , but . . . . . but it's not enough . l ' m a woman, and from time to t ime at least I need to be treated like one. Recognized. And not just in the obvious way. That's all I ever got from Fred. That, and sarcasm if I ever took so much as one tiny lit t le step o utside t he narrow circle that he lives in. B u t do you know what really makes me laugh, Cabot? People saying that we ­ Fred and Kirk and I - seem like the ideal family. Oh yes, that used to be said quite often when Kirk was smaller and we all used to go to church together. l suppose i t ought t o make m e cry, now . I t's a good many years since w e were a n ideal family, I can te ll you t hat. Since long before we started taking Kirk to church. - Oh ? - Yes. And l can't fi nd t h e reason . I t torments me. A l l l know is t h a t the years passed and after a while Fred and I , we j ust seemed to be going our own ways, living in differe n t worlds. If you asked me to put my finger on the time or name the year w hen we started to drift apart, I j ust couldn't do i t . Besides, aren't I boring you with all this personal and family stu ff? Ot· at·e you studying me, in preparation for doing my portrait later on, when you're free? I don't mind. B u t you'lljust have to put up with all the o utpo uring. l feel so bottled u p ! And the re's no one else I can talk to. Mother is about as sympathetic as i ron w here my feelings are concerned, and as fot· the women in my own social group, they always seem to be completely taken up with things . Time after t ime I 've tried to have a serious discussion with one of my friends, and always it comes down to the newest kind of hand lotion or the latest bat·gain dow n on Water S t r·eet or the new car her h usband is getting. Don't you think that's horrible? 52

- Ty pical. - Yo u seem to accept it m01·e calmly than I do. Oh, but don't let me get morbid! Perhaps your attit ude is the best one. Look, why don't I make us some coffee? A nd I must be going then. I still get missed at home , even if it is f01· t he w rong reasons. Do you like it with milk and suga1·? Right , sir. And by the way, do you realize that you are one of the l ucky ones in this world? I don't mean because you have me here to make coffee for you. Silly! No, I mean that a person l i ke you isfree, free from all these material things and not tied down by the m. You have a doubtful sm ile on your face. I sn't. what I'm saying t rue? - I t's baloney. - But you've got you 1· art. I t must be wonderful to have a really ueative talent! I feel absolutely certain that's true. And by the way, isn't this kind of talent rare in Newfoundland? - I t gets a little more chance to come out nowadays, maybe. - That's very inte1·esting. Do you care to tell me why you don't feel free? Even with all the practical difficu lties in your way, which you do not help, you ought to be one of the liberated. H e re's your coffee. Now you talk . - A lot of the time I 'm either hung u p on a picture, or else I finish i t and then I have to start worrying how to get some more money, so that I can get time to work on something else . I t's kind of like moving from one prison to another. - Yes, but basically you're free, aren't you? Free in your mind and your actions? - Like a galley slave. - You're not taking me seriously. Well, at least you paint what you want to. Now isn't that true, a t least? And isn't it t he really important t hing for you ? - I t's oxyge n . - Thank you ! You admit I 'm right about one t h ing, anyway, n o matter how much I may chatter. Fred calls me a gusher , but of course he has no conversation himself. Coffee all right? - Yes. - A 1·e you going to keep your promise t o come and see me soon? Would you like to set a date for one afternoon? - That's working time. - Oh , you are difficult. Never mind. j u st let me know when. But do you mean that you paint every afternoon, whet her you feel like it or not? - H abit. I st. art LO feel like it at a certain time. Or it could be that just standing in front of t he job or hiking my gea1· out in the open makes me feel like it. - I don't really understand that eit her. I 'll just have to take your word for it. Right now I think I 'd better dash . - Wait! Don't forget the sketch. - Oh yes. Than ks. I 'll take it in tomorrow. You know how I t reasUJ·e it, Cabot. There's heaps more I want to say to you, but I su ppose you'll ignore me again now, will you? - No. Be seeing you. - Vague, vague, vague. You don't realize that when I came here tonight I was thinking that, afte r you showed such insight into Kirk, you might . . . . . well, you might do the same f01· me . Paint me and clarify me. Then I 'd understand myself better. Sometimes I do get awfully confused and bewildered over my own life. But 53

it looks like you're not ready for me. Ho-hum. Another time, another place? Bye for now, Cabot. Don't bother to come downstairs. I have my car right outside the front door. Goodnight. - (phew ! ) So long.

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NINE

Should she give him another chance, just one more? Or should she simply tel l him to g o t o hell with a l l h i s paints and h i s brushes and h i s self-absorption too? That was Roma H a rt's frame of mind one morning in the new year as she beat her way down Water. Street en route to a boring assignment for her paper. It was a very cold day - paralyzing, with the kind ofjigsaw wind that smacked you in the face w hen you were walking in one direction , and then seemed to smack you just as hard if you turned around to go in the other. A skin-chapping, north-easterly day. Roma was feeling neglected and sore as well as icebound. She felt exasperated with herself for even continuing to think about this guy Carter, and furious because he seemed to have resumed his old pattern o flife in jogging along without troubling too much about other people. Even herself. And the last time they had been together he had been q uite pleasant, almost human. Several weeks had now gone by since that evening the two of them had spent at the Centre and then back i n his room where he had offered her those horrible old-fashioned biscuits. A nd in all that time, only one o r· two con tacts with him , of the most casual kind. So why did she bother? Darned if she k new. Roma was a girl who might have plenty of opportunities with other men, yet it was his lack of enthusiasm for her that ran kled. She thought it must be some germ in him connected with his painting that had infected her too. She must be touched; otherwise, would she still be thinking of tolerating him even, w he n he had never said so much as a word to her about New Year's Eve? Of cou rse she had never· expected him to take her anywhere special or expensive, because in the first place he probably had no clothes for any kind of formal occasion, and in the second place, he was the kind o f man whom she could not imagine capering around at the H otel Newfoundland ballroom or in some fancy private club where tips were big bribes and drinks cost a small fortune. B ut he might have asked her to some art party which would have been more casual and where he at least would have felt more at home. Or would he? It was very hard for Roma to imagine Cabot as a party man, in any sense of the word. I f only he were not such an oddball and loner! Was he really so lost in his work that he actually forgot about occasions and people, going around from one week to another i n a kind of trance? Yet even if he were a genius, he must have to slow down and unwind once in a while, or e lse he would develop into a monster. What about crossing him off her list once and for all? One thing was certain : he deserved that treatment, and a kick in the pants as well. Suddenly, as she walked swiftly along, Rom a w a s plucked out of her musing by rude noises from across the way. Complaints, oaths, blasphemous railings were pouring out of a rough-looking character slouched in fron t of a beer par·lor but occasionally rousing himself to stamp his feet, beat his arms against his ribs, and 55

generally huff and puff to try and drive away some of the arctic cold. Roma saw t hat it was only Sailor Burns, t he most notorious bum in the whole city of S t . John's. Sailor was add t·essing t he air: -John Cabot ! Dat son of a bitch, dat bastard. Why did den he stay home where he belonged to? H e had no goddam business comin here . No siree! Dass w hat he didn't. Cause diss place, ' twas never mean t fer uman habitation. No, by Jesus. All right fer d'caribou and d' Eskimos, but de Good lard never meant it to be settled here by anybody else . Too cold. Cold enough to freeze the arse off of a brass monkey. Nevet· mean t fer uman habitation. Hey? Every day like de Nart Pole. Every Jesusly day. Why, if you so much as takes a piss, you got a icicle all down the side o' yer laig. J esus H. Christ , listen to dat wind. Someting fierce, ent it? I'd soonder live in Iceland, I wou ld. But dat John Cabot, he got to go co min here discoverin de place. And what / sez is, 'twas never meant fer 'uman . . . . . Roma passed on with a sigh , but in a momen t she was again startled by the sight of another familiar figure h u rrying along hunched u p against the wind l i ke everybody else but with a characteristic air of intense concentration to make him seem even more self-enclosed . Cabot Carter was going in the direction of Sailor B urns and on the same side of the street. Now Rom a recalled Jamie Reilly saying that Cabot often went out in the mornings just walking around. But on a day like this? As t here was no great rush with her assign men t , Roma dodged into a sheltering storefront with t he intention of observing him for a little w hile. Cabot came up to where Sailor Burns was airing his views o n the local climate, and stopped to speak to him as if they were already acq uainted. Then in a few minutes they bot h went into t he beer parlor, the very moment it opened. Roma now felt even more disappointed, let dow n . She had still been thin king of Cabot as a serious painter, perhaps a dedicated one, and here he was apparently boozing it u p in t he middle of t he day, just like any of t he local bums and those numerous shabby men who did nothing much except hang around certairt parts of the city earning themselves the name of the Sons of Rest. Was Cabot after all just another phoney bohemian w ho sat amund in those filthy beer dives loudly cherishing his own integrity while running down all othet· artists who made some money by their work? At this thought Roma fel t almost personally offended. Anger welled up in her at t he idea of havi ng been so taken in. She felt like busting Carter on the nose, at the very least telling him what she t hought of him now. She would! She'd tackle him right away and let him have i t . Three ot· four minutes later Roma was striding along o n t h e other side of the street and coming up to the beer parlor. She didn't even care about going in there by herself among those boozers and spitters and stinking loafers and leet·ing old men . J ust to face M r. Cabot Carter and tell him one or two things straight from the shoulder - that was all she t hought about. She was thrown off her mental balance and abruptly disconcerted by almost bumping into Cabot and Sailor as they came out of that place, just when she was about to go in. And she could not help staring at Sailor now t hat she saw him for the first time at dose range. The man's head was a skull, with sucked-in cheeks and two or three scurfy snags of teeth in the fmnt of his mouth, permanently visible. H e had skin that was densely studded with pustulant blackheads, and a bad case of the haw in his eyes. Looking as wild and fearful as a crazy hermit, Sailor took off a t 56

once on seeing Rom a examining him, with a nod to Cabot and a vestigial gesture of touching his forelock to both of them. Now Cabot came back into Roma's focus. - Why, hello, Roma! What's the matter? Did Sailor scare you? Rom a kept silent and j u st gave him the cold eye, waiting for him to go on, j ust to see w hat he would say. - Say, I like that coat and the fur hat. You look like a Russian princess. I s it new ? - From one of my admire•·s. Very nice. - What was all that? - All w hat? - The bit with Sailor Bums. Did you enjoy your booze? - I don't dri n k much. Can't face beer in the moming. I ordered two, and Sailor fou nd he was able to drink both. - What were you doing in there at all, then - if I am not being nosey? - I want to get Sailor on canvas, and I was t rying to fix it u p with him. - For a couple of beers? He'll do it for that? - I doubt it, but he might do it for a warm place to stay: I 'll have to square it with Feem and J amie. - I see. Will you paint Sailor in his three overcoats, one shorter than the other? - I may paint him u pside dow n. Don't know yet. The real job will be to get him to stay put. Sailor is kind of a mobile character. - H asn't he got a place of his own to live in? - He's got a shack somewhere. U p on the Blackhead Road, I think. But if I know Sailor there wouldn't be much heat in it in this weathe•·. and above all not much light. No chance of working there. Besides, I want him on my own ground. I'm hung u p on m y other portrait, god dam it. I mean the big one I told you about, but I think I could handle Sailor now . I've got to have him. - There shouldn't be any problem getti ng him to stay inside . He seems discon­ ten ted with the climate, anyway. - Oh, that means nothing. Only one of his pet topics. H e likes to sound off sometimes. - You've met him before? - Yes. Down around the docks. I did a few sketches of him too. I n some ways he's a good subject. I 'd even pay him to sit if I could afford it. - Is this his favorite stand? - I guess so, in the winter time. He hangs around here hoping someone will take him in for a beer before the cops come and move him along. By the way, how do you happen to be here, Roma? - J ust passing by. - Are you going downtown? - Yes, as it happens. - That's my way too. Come on. - Honored. - What is it? You sore at me again? - No. I j ust want to congratulate you on your social cha1·m. - Wow ! You're about as warm as that wind. I seem to remembe•· this happening -

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before. - Are you quite sure you can remember? A little time has passed since we com municated . - How long? - Matter of weeks. - Is it that long? Christ. - I ncluding a well-known holiday and festive occasion . - What d o you mean ? O h , New Year's Eve. - That was the occasion I had in mind. - I forgot all about it. Did you have a good time? - Yes, I did! No. Look, are you really such a weird-o? - Weird-o! - Stop making faces, and j ust pretending. Or did you honestly forget? Tell me the truth: w hat exactly were you doing on N ew Year's Eve? - I don't know. Working, maybe. Don't look at me like a judge. - I don't understand. The last time we met, you seemed so nice. And then a big Nothing. You may not realize it, but that kind of thing is hard on a woman. You neglect me on New Year's Eve, of all times, and then when we do meet again you just seem to think we can carry on w here we left off. - I t . . . . . it's not intentional, Roma. - What does that matter? A person would almost think you had no imagination, but that can't be t rue. Or is it that you only have imagination for people you use in your painting? People you can use. And you miss out in . . . . . in life situations. Is that it? - No, I don't think so. - Well, what is it, then, for God's sake? - About New Year's Eve, l don't go for special occasions very much. - Or for special people? - Some. - You really do puzzle me. You know, aU along I 've been thin king of you as a sort of fugit ive , a person w ho runs away from people and life, except in his work. But just now with Sailor, w hen you were walking along behind him, l had a very strong im pression of you as a h un ter. You h unt people. - I don't know about hunt ing. Some people I find interesting and some I don't. - And you want to paint the interesting ones. I can see that, of course, but are your really so obsessed? To the point of forgetting about everyday life and human beings? You seem inhuman, somehow. Almost cruel. - That's bullshit. You draw a person, or you paint them , and personal feelings never come into it. Not the way you mean. l thought you would u nderstand that. - You don't get my point. But maybe I ' m taking it all too pet·sonally myself. - I t's okay. We're all entitled to a little sentimental bull shit now and t he n . I see, by the way, you're doing all right in your own racket. - How do you mean? - You got your by-line. - On w hat? - Your review of the Arts & Crafts. - Well, maybe you're not entirely dead to the world. Yet. So you read my new 58

article? - I l i ked it. Even better than your last, because there was more real criticism. - Tell me w here the re was more real criticism. - I was thinking about that bit where you said Stilt Life is inanimate but not dead. Life pushing out through the forms and . . . . . and glowing in the tones. Some­ thing like that. It was welt expressed, I remember. - Did I say that about your picture in particular? - No. I t was where you were talking about m y Cod Tongues and two or three other pictures. - I went for you once or twice. - Wh y not? You were supposed to be a critic . - You realty don't mind? - Why should I , i f you made an honest and intelligent comment? - I know some people who would. Welt, at last you've read me. But why the hell do you avoid me, if you're not sore about m y comments? - Not avoid. - That's what it feels like to me. N ice as pie w hen we meet, and then goodbye u n til we happen to meet again. - Time . . . . . it . . . . . it gets away from me. - That would seem to be an understatement. - I 've been kind of taken up with Sailor, chasing him around. - Second place to a bum! Is that where I stand? - I was only talking about work. - Even so. - Can't you understand my going for Sailor? - Yes. Yes, I can understand that. Of course I can. But he needn't monopolize you . - Want to come and watch me do him? - At your place? I don't know. Wouldn't I d istract you? - I t'd be okay. - When? - As soon as I can fix it. - When the moon is blue? - No. Next Sunday if I can. Why don't you come and have d inner with us? Feem is a great cook. Not fancy, but good. - I don't feel sure about this. Sometimes Feem gives me a questioning look. A little mistrustful. - I think that was w hen you first came to the house. But now she l i kes you, and admires you . - Why, when I first came to the house . . . ? - I think it was because you come from the upper part of town, and we're definitely down in the lower. - That's unfair! People should be taken for what they are and not by what part of town they come from . - Feem and Jamie need a little time for that. - I f I came to dinner, they should ask me, not you . - They wilt. 59

- I suppose the minute I'm out of sight you'll forget all about this. - No. I'll phone you. I swear. - Don't strain yourself. As they hurried along side by side in the frosty snow-mist, Rom a was begi nn ing to feel just a lit t le less angry; she might perhaps give him one more chance, if only for the novelty it would make when the phone rang at the office and she answered it to be greeted by his u nfamiliar voice. Something in her, or perhaps in him, made it impossible for her to let him go e n tirely without t heir having one mot·e try. But if he should cross her up again - that was it! That would be ac t u al h umiliation for her, and curtains for him. There might be one final meeting d uring w h ich she would blast his concei t or his blind ness or whatever it was, into seven different kinds of hell and dam nation. A nd t hen goodbye for ever. If only he didn't make the other boys or you ng men she knew seem so dull! No matter w hich of her male acquaintances she went out wit h , she nearly always had the feeling of being able to see not only thro u gh t hem but all around t he m ; and it was t he reserve in Cabot's c haracter, the sense of possibilities and dimensions q uite unexpl01·ed, which decided Roma in the present case. Thinking over the meet ing with Sailor Bu m s along w ith Cabot's plan and his invitation to her, she was st ruck by another possible diffic u l t y. - I f Feem felt leery of me when I fi rst met her, what's she going to feel about Sailor? The reverse, because he's not u pper level St. Joh n's? - Could be. She may want to fumigate him first, but I think she'll let him come. U ndemeath t hat unfortu nate face, she's a pretty decent individual. She'll go out of her way to oblige anyone she cares about. - Yes. And the Reillys think a lot of you . That's t rue. I s it because you're sort of like an adopted child - the son they neve1· had? - Maybe. I owe them a lot, too. - They don't mind your . . . . yoUJ· vagueness i n things personal? - Hell, no. They're used to me. - You're probably right that Feem will take in Sailor, on conditions. Why is he called that, by the way? - He once had a job on the harbor tugs and he never got out side t he N arrows. So the boys gave him that name. - I s he just a bum now? - He's not exactly a bum. Sailor has an occ u pation. He's a streetcomber. - A street . . . . . ? Oh yes, I see. - But if he stayed outside all day and half the night i n t h is bloody weather, he'd freeze to dea t h . So I think I ' l l get h i m . - Why i n t h e world did he r u n away like that, a couple of minutes ago w h e n I met the two of you ? - Maybe for t he same reason t h at Feem gave you the cool eye at t h e start . - Are you serious? - Yes, I am. You see, t o a man like Sailor you represent the rulers, or the daughter of rulers. Those who have powct· over h i m . - That's crazy . Besides, how r a n he tell w ho or what I a m ? - Partly d ress, part ly your manner o r bea t·ing. You walk like o n e of t h e lords (or -

60

ladies) of the eart h . - O h , c u t t he cra p ! - I t 's n o t crap. And w i t h Sailor it's a matter of instinct, or feeling. Class feeling. - Class! I t hought t hat went out with Confederation in '49 . Or before that. - It built u p ove r the cen t u ries. Do you think it would just disappear in o ne generation? - Well, no, I su ppose not . - Sailor still feels t h e rod of power. - All right, tell me t h is : what would Sailor say if I went and told him t hat I ' m just a worki ng girl and fu rt hermore I had to fight for my job and have to work fairly hard t o keep it ? - He wouldn't believe you. Sailor is what you might call t h e last of the primitive colonials, and he pmbably thinks t hat a girl in yolll· position, t he daughter ofJohn W . H art , can have anyt hing she wants, just for the asking. - I t's incredible. - I t ' s in the blood . - You seem to know quite a lot abo u t Sailor already, before you pain t him. - We've talked a bit, t hough I didn't get a chance to say much . - And you figured out all t his from just listening to him? - No. Only t he superficial things. - Then how do you know about the o thers, assuming t hey're t rue? - Because I come from the same kind of people, origi nally. The same as Sailor in many ways. I mean t he rock-bottom laboring class, with no real stake in the com m u ni t y. No prope rty. But even so, i t took me a w hile to convince Sailor that I wasn't a cop and t hat I wanted him to stay still, not move along. - A t least you'1·e not a bum now. I mean a streetcomber. - There's quite a lot of people in S1 . John's who still regard a painter as not much more t han a bum - literally. - I never t hought so. - Thanks. You't·e almost my only fan . - There's t h a t old M rs. Squ ires too. - You mean Marion? - Yes, I mean M arion. - She's got no discrimination. - Bu t I may begin to t hink yo u're a bum, in ano t her sense, if you start ignoring me agam . - That won't happe n . - Remains to b e see n. B u t I hope i t won ' t . I always enjoy talking t o you. A nd Cabot. , don't worry about t hose people who may think you're only a bu m . They don't co u n t . - They wag t h e world. - They don't wag you. - I won't fl t·aw slime for the ad-men, if t hat's what you mean, and I won't pain t crap for anybody. - You don't. need t he sponsor, or pat ron. - Shag the sponsor! - Right. You can survive. I 'm sure of that. And you can get your work clone too. 6I

But don't forget me, will you? There's such a thing as sharing, you know. - I 'll remember. - Well, I t u rn off het·e. Where are you bound now, by t he way? - Back home. Come and have a cup of tea with us. Warm you up. - I can't right now. Honestly. I 've delayed too long as it is. - Okay. Be seeing you, Roma. ( I hope) Bye for now.

-

62

TEN

Up on Elizabeth Avenue the Sabbath Day quiet was more oppressive than usual. Or so it seemed to Marion Squires. Yet another blowy winter's day, with a pewter sky hanging low as a sodden tent roof and hardly any visibility at all. More snow coming. The world outside her house seemed to Marion as bleak and barren as the far side of the moon. And the human scene was not more comforting. Right after dinner at one o'clock Kirk had galloped off to his Rock Club and his own mysterious, secret world that he guarded with teenage intensity, at least from his mother - giving her the impression that if he talked about it to anyone, except his own group, the magic would instantly go away from it. Marion was proud and happy to see him growing up so promisingly in a physical way, but oh, how she wished it were not happening so fast and their separation into the generations were not so d rastic! A s for her husband Fr·ed, he had done h is usual amountofburping and fartin g after t h e meal a n d then gone for a snooze. That meant t h e whole afternoon, i f previous experience could b e taken as a guide. T h i s w a s o n e more t h i n g that troubled her: how middle-aged he was getting in h is habits. Perhaps they were getting like that as a couple. But they were too young! Yes. Still much too young to settle for mere bodily comfort and the scuttle for security. Well, she was, anyhow. Too young in years and spirit, too full of vitality and "untapped potential" to give up on life. That favorite phrase of her husband's was for once just suited to her own feel ings. Marion was not at all ready to lie down u nder the axe of resignation . Worst of all, she had had h e r mother t o dinner, and this just following on the old lady's attendance at church, w hen Mrs. Bastow was at her peak of u npleasant­ ness: she was ful l of righteousness, do-goodery, self-congratulation and copious criticism of other people. Marion was neglecting her home, she was letting Kirk run wild, she was not making Fred happy (there was a task for any woman, a full-time job in itself), and above all she was spending far too much time on her own appearance and such-like foolishness. Finally, she was drifting away from God. So it had gone on and on during dinner, until Marion had felt like sloshing the gravy straight into that carping old face and shouting at her to shut up and go to hell! No use trying to argue or reason with her mother, any more than with Fred. Frozen m inds - that's what they were. Frozen into two different kinds of narrow pride. Especially Mother, who was so fu ll of prestige w ithin a limited circle that she could not even imagine herself being wrong about a single thing, much less admitting it. Pride and power had done her a great deal of harm in the h uman sense, probably to the point where nothing but a real shock, a catastrophe, would serve to make her aware of any values other than her own. And even Marion's friends, or those women w hom she had thought of as 63

friends, seemed to be changing toward her. She was no fool. She co u ld read the reserve, the questions and the flickering mockery i n t heir eyes. There was a lot of talk going on too . Gossip was being circulated about this sudden i n terest of hers in "art", and one loudmouth had been running around saying, apparently, t hat the next thing they knew, Molly Squires would be taking private lessons. And she u tterly detested that name Molly. It was so cheap. V ulgar. How sick and nauseated it all made her feel! How lonely too. Right now, at this vet·y minute, her home was like a tomb. Tombs were for the dead, but was she alive in any •·eal or meanin gful sense? If so, how was it that she fel t so i n tensely desolate? Gloom like a filthy fog went seeping t h rough her mind. spreading i n to every recess of he•· tormented being. The only blessing of the day was t hat her mother had gone off soon after dinner, because Marion felt. fiercely certain that she co uld never have endured t hat pat ronizing presence fot· the whole afternoon as well. Either she would have started screaming, or she would have been fot-ced to put her own mother o u t of the house. Was she really and t ruly alive? I nsistently her mind came back to this question. But surely life. if it meant anyt h ing at all, meant a saving and a sharing of things, precious things, and this was exactly where she seemed to be missing o u t. The more she t hought about t h is, the more she felt a wave of panic rising in her mind. Marion was now seized by an acute physical restlessness. Wandering from room to mom in the spacious, echoing house, she paused for an instant to rest her eyes and mind on the sketch of Kirk, now as good as new after repair, that she had put back i n its proper place on the TV. At least she had had her own way over that. One real victory in the midst of a t housand frustrations and defeats. But no word fmm Cabot, not for days and days. A lthough she was piqued, Marion was inclined to be indulgen t too. She knew w hat artists were, how charm­ i ngly irresponsible t hey wet·e apt t o be in everything that did not relate to their wm·k. One had to make allowances. Still, it was an awfully long time since theit· last meeting. Had she gone a mite, j ust a tidgin, too far or said too much, so that he might have got a wron g im pt·ession? No, that was not likely. Artists did tend to be casual and unpredictable. No sense in worrying about a thing l i ke that. She wal ked back w the big fro nt window in her living-mom and stood to one side gazing out across the bmad white avenue. Dimly she could see two you ng lovers passing by on the far side of it. She could tell they were lovers by the way they broke violently away from each other now and then, obviously for t he pleasure of swinging back together again. Mat·ion could see right away t hat t hat was what their horseplay and snowballing was all about. Were they happy w ith each other, that way - in the dark and private hours? And were t hey planning to get married? If t hey d id, would that slender girl in the woolly stretchpants and with brightly tasselled cap pen:hed on long waveless hai r - would she eve•· come to regret it? Grrr1 Marion felt she was getting morbid . Her restlessness rose to a point where she just had to get out of the house for a while. It did not matter how or where. She was already Sunday-d ressed, so it was only a question of slipping her apron off and het· car-coat on; then out. to the garage, a couple of minutes to wat·m up t he engine after several stalled attempts, and even t ually she was off on the advemure of a Sunday afternoon d rive all by herself. *****

64

A t the Reilly house t here had been a pleasa n t Sunday feast as u sual, after which J amie had taken h is wife out for· the d r·ive and bit of recreation that was t he only daytime rest she had during the whole wee k. Cabot as family favorite and Roma as guest had had the best of t he food , and when all was finished and the other boarders had gone out or q uiet ly back to t heir room s, t he t wo young people were left entirely on their own. Except for Sailor B u rns, who was now installed in t he basement near the furnace and get ting abundant left-overs from Feem's table. She was reconciled to his presence down below, at least for t he cold spell , and Jamie went down once i n a while to give the dehydrated bum a drink of something s t ronger t han tea and keep him as happy as a man could be who had Sailor·'s grudge against the world. A s soon as he and Rom a wer·e alone Cabot went to the kitchen to get a pan of hot water which , along with some soap and an old razor, he started to take dow n to the basement. Rom a was puzzled. - What are you doing, for God's sake? - This is for Sailor. - He cares abo u t shaving? - No. But I 've got to persuade him to clean h imself up. I want to do some profile d rawings on him now, and I don't want all t hat bush cluttering up his face. M aybe your being t he re will help. - Won't Sailor mind my being there? - I 'll pave the way ; Besides, he'll be able to tal k to you w hile I wor·k. He likes an audience, sometimes. - I f you say so. - Sailor's profile is worth doing in itself. Must be some good bone in h is past somewhere . Did you notice? - I admit I didn't. - You'll see. Now wait a min ute and I'll let you know w hen Sailor is ready. Okay? - Okay, maestro. At last t he tension between Roma and Cabot was breaking dow n. The unfor­ t unate pattern that t heir relationship had seemed to be falling into was changing to a h u man now between them by Cabot's keeping in touch with her on his own initiative, and not only salving her pride but giving her a taste of t he personal triumph t hat every woman believes to be her· pr·ivilege. Now as Roma was going downstair·s in answer to Cabot's call she felt m uch easier in mind, as well as being extremely cu rious to see what Cabot would make o f Sailor· Burns. Sailor was already in full spate , spitting out his grievances, prejudices and rages i n t hat gutt ural, old-time Newfoundlandese which was rapidly passing away with people like Sailor and their whole way of life. All Roma had t o do was put in an occasio nal sign of a t tention, a q uery or a bit of prompting to keep t he old fellow on the boil. As for Cabot, he paid no at tention to what was being said, his whole attentio n taken up with catching Sailor's right profile, left profile, t h ree-quarters profile, lost profile and every ot her view of t hat gaunt, eroded head. The subject fumed on with litt l e regard for ladies being pr·esent : - Dem goclclam Canadians! Dere d'ones clone it . Dem goddam Canadians took over. Yah. Dey took over de whole shebang. And / lost me job. Du ndant. Dass wat 65

dey calls it. Dey went and dey cut down on all de harbor service, first ting dey done. Friggers. - Aren't you a Canadian, Sailor? - No, miss us, and class wat I 'm not! I'm a Newfoundlander barn and bred, and I'll never be nutting else, long as I got bret i n me body to say so. Dey kin all go to hell, wit deir pinsions and deir welfare and all de rest of it. Bunch o' bastards, every one of em. - Don't you draw any benefits? - No, and I got no intention to. Dey knows what dey kin do wit deir benefits. I'm after telling em often enough . I takes nutting from a furrin goverment. - But how do you live, when you're not here? - Hey? Ah, well, I never starved yet. I got me ways. Not robbin, eeder. I knows diss town like the back o' me own hand. I k nows w here to find tings. Not too many kin get ahead o' me on dat, education or no. N aw , starvin - class not me trouble. I t's dem you ngsters. Dey folleys me around, see, firin rocks and callin me Santy Claus, cause most o' the time I got a bit o' w hisker and carries a sack wit me. How kin I save meself from de' like o' dat ? - Don't the police ever bother you? - Aw, dey gets after me once in a wh ile. But I 'm cute. Dere's a good many places around here I kin dodge into and dey can't ketch me, even if dey are d'Ryal Nart West Canadian Mounted Pleece. - Ever been in jail, Sailor? - Waal, once i n a while, when de wedder is too bloody cold, I breaks a window on one o' de big merchants; and de Magistrate, he gives me tree munts in de clink. - How is it? - I 'd radder be out o n me own. In dere you even got to piss on skedule, and accardin to de rules. I wouldn't mind so much if 'twas a good old-fashion New­ foundland jail, but now 'tis all Canadian, fer Christ-sake, and nutti ng but rules and reglations. I tell you, de man dat sold out diss country, he ought to have his arse kicked. - But all that is a long time ago, Sailor. - Shore signs! De country is gettin wot·se and worse. Ent dat true? By gar, dere's times I tinks dere's something gettin wrong wit de people. All gone cracked, and no sense to nutting. Not like d'ole days. And 'tis all on account o' diss Confedera­ tion. People is no better off, fr'all dat. - That's a lot more social service. - Wat? - You know, charity and all that kind of thing. - Awwwk! - Tell the truth now, Sailor. Didn't you ever have a visit from anyone in that line? - H a l Dey come after me once. A big fat ole woman be d'name o' Bastow I tink it was. Arse like a barn door. Yah. She had herself dru v right up to me shack in her car. Christ, I tought 'twas d'Archbishop or somebody com in. Anyhow, it was her. She raps on me door and when I opens it, de first t ing she does is start stickin a han kerchief up her nose. I had a mind to tell her to stick it up her arse. She acted like I was pison. Oat set de divil in me right offa de bat. - Didn't you ask her in? 66

- Ask her in be shagged! I give her one look, and den I tole her to go to hell. Well, by Jesus, after dat she don't bodder m e no more. Dey kin all go to hell, and Joe Smallwood along wit em. H e's d'one got us in wit dem goddam Canadians . . . . Sailor moved again into his major key, and Roma remained fascinated by his point of view no less than by his way of expressing it, while Cabot went on with the various studies he wan ted to get done t his afternoon . H e seemed contented with the way it was all going, frequently giving Roma his bitter, oddly charming smile and murmuring old tunes that Roma found grotesque but vaguely familiar. When the sketches were all done, Sailor came over to have a look at them. He had never seen himself on paper. - Lard Jasus! As they went upstairs Cabot and Roma could hear him gurgling down another drink and starting all ove1· again on one of his fantastic monologues. Though better with an audience, he did not absolutely req uire one. Roma felt glad of the ten-dollar bill she had slipped into his pocket while he was looking at his likeness, but she soon forgot about Sailor in he r enthusiasm for the other work that Cabot had recently done . There were whole shelves of drawings, stacks of canvas and all kinds of projects in various media and different stages of completion. - I'm beginning to u nderstand why I haven't seen too much of you, Cabot. This ' p lace is jammed with work. You've been going through a prolific period, is that it? j She could tell right away by the answering smile in his eyes that at last they were really communicating, truly relating to each other. - But be careful. Don't overdo it. You look a little worn. Got to nail it w hen it comes. 1 So this is why I was neglected. ' - Not deliberately. - You'll have to ease up sometime. - Then we'll go out to dinner. - Carefu l ! I'm holding you to that. - Fish and chips at a greasy spoon. - I'm holding you . Can I see your big picture? - Wait till the big show , okay? - Of course, if you'd rather I did. - Help yourself with all the rest . - Than ks. Well, what's this one? Good Lord, it's funny! A portrait of Feem? - Yes. - Cabot, it's a real jeu d'esprit. Wicked too. Has it ever been shown? - Yes. At a show of graphic wo1·k a few months ago, before you were on the paper, I guess. - First I thought it was a Rorschach blot test. What in the world did Feem say about it? - She was a bit staggered at first. Then after a while she burst out laughing and said I should ente r her in a beauty contest, or send the sketch to Hol lywood for a screen test. - She must really be a friend of yours. And this is more t han a su perficial likeness. You've somehow caught her good nature too. Maybe she sensed that , and forgave you the realism. What's this little oil? Landscape. That 's u n usual for you, isn't it? I r--

67

find t h is good too. H o w did you m a ke t he grass sparkle l i ke t h a t , l ike it was a l i ve a n d grow i n g? - The l i g h t . - I know t h at. , c h e r maitre. W hat e l se ? - You m e a n t he broken brushwork? - Yes. I t. ' s like po i n t i l l ism . O t· was t h a t. d ivisio n is m ? - Let ' s not get. t oo t ec h n ic a l . - A l l righ t . You 're a sly o ne, do y o u k n o w t h a t ? M oo n i n g a ro u n d a l l o v e r t h e place looking so . . . . . so . . . . . so remote and preocc u pi e d , but you don't m iss m uc h , espec i a l l y w h e re people a re conce med . T h a t t h i n g of Feem i s a real e x p loration and a ge n u i ne achieve m e n t . I like yo u r i n si g h t into Sailor too. W h a t ' s this? A caricatu re of yourse l f. B ravo. There's one fu n n y t h i n g, t hough, a bo u t your work as a w hole. - What's t hat ? - Cabot , you re member t h e first t i me I came here to in terview you, I noticed t h a t y o u had n o se l f-poru·ait s hanging a ro u n d ? - Oh yes. Y o u were kind of sassy abo u t i t . - H ave you forgiven m e for bei n g such a slob? - N o t slob. You just had a sharp edge or t w o . - We l l , t h e re's a nother t h i n g I 've noticed since t hen : y o u never seem t o h a v e a n y n udes l y i n g a ro u n d . O n c a n vas, I mean . H a ven't y o u e ve r d o n e a n y ? - Plent y . - W here are t h ey? - Pai n ted out, most l y . I needed the canvas for some t h i n g e lse . And n udes are h e l l ish hard to do.

- I t ho ug h t i t m ight be t h a t you had t rouble fi n d i n g models. People are st i l l so prudish here in S t . J o h n ' s . B u t you need n ' t h a ve any t rou ble at a l l . You don't h a ve

to look any fart her t h a n you're loo k i n g right t h is m i n u t e . Or do you t h i n k I ' m too

t a l l and awkward ? Somet i m es when I s i t clow n I fee l l i ke I ' m a l l knees. - You're not a w k w a rd . You

are

kind o f t a l l , but you're bea u t i fu l ly made.

- You not iced ? - Long ago. - We l l ? - I ' m h o l d i n g y o u t o your offer.

- Any time. R i g h t now I 'd l i ke t o look a t t he rest of t hese drawings.

- Pu t t h e port folio on t h e flo01·, and I ' l l light t h e fire. - Good idea. O ne o r t wo more port folios i n here, and you'd have a space problem . B u t a t least t h i s place looks li ved i n , and cert a i n l y worked i n . A t o u r place t he re's ple n t y of roo m , but i t 's l i ke a t h ree-story m a u sole u m . I t c a me d ow n t h rough mot her's fa m i l y . So metimes

I wish I had m y o w n place.

They sat or lay for a long t i m e neat· t he fit·e, t heir heads co m i n g close a s t hey s t u d ied t he d rawi ngs, and t heir voices risi n g and fa l l i n g at 1·andom w h i l e t hey moved from uitical comment on t he work to a more personal and i n ti m a t e kind o f talk. *****

M a rion was not rea l l y su rprised w he n she realized t ha t her car was hea d i n g for M u l len St reet and t h e Rei l l y house, and Cabot. . Ruefu l l y she accepted t h e m e mory

68

of his neglect and even t he idea t hat this destination must have been in her subconscious mind all along, but farther t han this latter t hought she did not allow herself t o go for t he mome n t . All she fel t sure of was t h a t her whole body was so full of longing. it fel t like grief; her mind so depressed and confused t hat she had the sensation of a net hanging clown over her - a ghast l y web of u n reality. She vaguely supposed t hat this so-ange t rip of hers was just another effort to escape from t his sensation by communicating with another human being, one in whom she had some confidence and who mig h t offer her a t least some measure of u ndei-stancling. But it must not go any farther than that ! Not today. Even as she s topped the ca1· to check her face in the rear-view mirror, before drawing up to t he house, Marion's mind was buzzing with the one word that she had always thought of as the ugliest in the English language. Adultery. At the Reillys' front door she had to wait after ri ngi ng, until a stranger whom she took t o be one of the o ther boarcle1·s came and let her in. The impulse to fly from here as she had flown from her own house now came on her strongly, but she told the stranger t h a t she knew her way up to the right room and then brushed past him with her face averted. Quickly, with heart pumping like a runner's and flesh aching for com fort and caress, she climbed up t o the door of Cabot's room . I t was closed. B u t a s she leaned close t o i t , trying t o still her raucous breathing, she could hear in t h e Su nclay afternoon quie t . voices - Cabot's first , and soon those confident, disti nctive tones of that young thing Rom a Hart. Marion I·emem­ berecl t hem wel l . She had always thought them so self-co n fiden t , unfeminine. Presently came the sound of laughter, low responsive laughter from a man and a woman who are above all pleasing to each other; tender chiding and finally the murmur of delight t ha t a man's caresses bring. Marion was listening in on t h e u nmistakeable, im memorial m usic o f two yo ung people falling in love. She was horrified beyond speech or any further action, dizzy 1vi t h disappoint­ ment and chagrin, so that she had to lean against the door-facing for s upport . That door was locked. Of t his she fel t u t terly certain, yet she had to restrain herself from raising one hand to t ry the knob. No! That nasty superior young creatu re in there with Cabot would only laugh at hn. I t would be j usltoo embarrassing and humiliati ng. That was all Marion could feel sure of now. Somehow d uring the next few minutes, with her emotions in a whirl , she managed to stumble downstain, let herself out and more or less collapse in the car. Later t hat day it was found abandoned in a snowdrift near t he main bus terminal, but t here was nobody in it.

69

ELEVEN

About two weeks after that Sunday afternoon which had been so decisive and so delightful for her, Roma got into a terrific hassle with her mother. Their life together was a long-drawn-out tension, in any case; now this tension blazed into open quarrel - cold war into hot, and their brief battle was all the more violent i n that it w a s purely a catfight or a woman's war in which congested emotions could find no purge in physical action. There was only the bitterness and virulence of words. On this particular afte rnoon Roma arrived home early from the office, not feeling as well as usual and already in an edgy mood. I t was just coming up to her period, which was always a bad time for her, worse than for most women, and a time when she was in the habit of hoping and praying that nothing else would bug her much, because she was so quick to fly off the handle. Coming into the house, she immediately had the feeling that Mother was lying i n wait for her. And sure enough there she was, linge ring in the hall with that aggrieved look and hovering while Roma took off her snowboots and got rid of her heavy clothing. Mrs. H art's look was sheepishly determined too. Roma was only too familiar with the whole syndrome : it meant chiefly that Mother was having another attack of religion and morals, and of course had to take it out on her. Roma sighed, casting her thoughts back over recent events in her private life. A nything there to start a fuss about? Roma could not think of a single thing. She started silently up to her room in the hope of by-passing whatever it was that made her mother clench her hands in that nervous, symbolic, battling way. - Roma! - J ust a minute. I 'll be right dow n again. - Come here. - Oh, all right, for God's sake. - A nd mind your language. - Oesus ! ) Mother, what is it this time? - I have to tal k to you. Come into the living-room. - About w hat , For G . . . ? You've got that Holy I n quisition look again. What's happened? - Don't you be so saucy. And that's what / want to know, what's happened. Have you seen that Cabot Carter lately? - Cabot! No, not very much. - I don't want you to see him at all . - Now, Mother, we're not going to start that all over again . I choose my own friends, and I intend to go on doing just that . I won't be dictated to about it. - Friends like him can lead you into trouble. 70

- Friends like what? J ust because he's a painter? - You don't k now the people you associate with. They may have all kinds of bad habits. - Like what? - Drink, for one. - That's nonsense ! The truth is, Cabot is too much the other way. Too m uch of a sober-sides. I ' m always kidding him and telling him he should get out more and live it up a little. What in the world has got into you , to make you go on like this, when there's no basis to it? - I don't want you to see him. - I like him, I admire him, and I 'm going to see him . Why is it you object to Cabot, really ? Is it money? You want me to settle for some creep with a good safe job and lots of loot. Is that the idea? - I t's not a q uestion of money at all. - What's wrong with Cabot, then? To judge by your look, anyone would think he was a criminal. - People like him have nothing to guide t he m in life, Roma. - Say w hat you mean, please, Mother. Now we're coming to it. You mean religion, don't you? - Your tone is not very nice. - Nice! Do you expect me to fall down on my knees and start praying? - It wouldn't do you any harm. - It wouldn't do me any bloody good either. A s for the question of religion, Cabot is a fine artist, and that's religion enough for the two of us. - Wicked blasphemy. - Mother, drag yourself into the twentieth century. - I suppose art is the religion of the twentieth century, is it? - No. It doesn't belong to any cen tury, but it could be a religion . It is, for some people. - Maybe that's what got people who practise it the way they are. - At least it tries to be more honest than a lot of old-fashioned threats and bribery. The stick and the carrot: flames of hell 01- pie in the sky . . . . . - I will not hear you moc k ! - I ' m going t o finish what I started to say. A good many of the things you believe are just supe rstition , and l won't be put dow n by it. I just can't understand you , Mother. Y o u grew u p in this century, you were educated, you've seen a little ofthe world in travel and so on, and yet you've sunk right back into the very same beliefs and superstitions that people here in New foundland had to put up with ages ago. I feel there'd be some excuse for a poor fisherman's wife down in M uddy Hole w ho co uldn't tell an idea from an elephant and never had any contact except with the Jesus freaks. But you ! Doesn't living in our time mean anything to you? - Some things don't depend on a particular time or place for their value. - That's true. The same could be said of art. But there is such a thing as progress in ideas. So what I ' m asking you . . . . - You have no regard for my feelings, not a peck! - Oh, now , don't get weepy and start blubbering. - No wonder if I did. The heathen notions you've picked up. And pride. I dread 71

to t h i n k of your fut u re . - What I ' m a s k i n g y o u is t h i s : how c a n you l i v e s o long in o u r t i me a n d not

be

a ffected by i t ? H ow is t h a t possible? - H owever I l i ved a n d w ha t e ve r

I

do be l ieve, I always kept clear o f t h e worst

dange r for a w o m a n . - Oh Ch rist , not t he pregnancy bit aga i n ! - I never lost m y good name. - W h a t ! W hat do you mea n ? There's someth i n g else, i s n ' t t h ere? Somet h i n g t hat s t a rted you off aga i n . Te l l me what it is. Roma loomed over her m o t he r i n an a l m o s t menacing way, a n d at t he same t i m e A n ge la H a rt ' s clenc hed hand loosened to reveal a small sheet o f notepaper, w h ich Roma seized and on w h ich she read these hand-prin ted word s ; YOU A RE A B A D M OT H E R . Y O U R D A U G H T E R IS A W H O R E . A ft e r t he first shock wave had passe d , Roma knew at once w h o h a d se n t t h is fou l note even t hough she could n o t recognize t he pri n t i n g or go by a n y external c l u e . But how had Ma rion Sq u i res co me to know a n y t h i n g o f her private l i fe ? W hat had spa r ked t h e n u t t y o l d bitch off t o do a t h i n g like t h is ? Roma q ui c k l y decided t o k e e p t hese t ho u g h t s to h e rse l f, a t l e a s t fo r t he prese n t . - W he n d i d t h is come? - A few c l a y s ago . - Th a t ' s j u s t l i ke you, to kee p it and brood over i t . - I fe lt s o asha med . - O h , crap! - H ush ! - I s u p pose you've been m u m b l i n g to t he priest ove r it too. Well , I hope you're not goi n g to believe d i rt y s tories and false accusations about m e . - That Cart e r m a n is t he o n l y o n e you 've been go i n g o u t w i t h l a t e l y . I t m u s t be about h i m . And I d o n ' t know w ha t to believe. W h at . . . . . w h a t grieves me most i s t ha t s u c h a t h i n g s h o u l d e v e r h a v e t o b e w ri t t e n at a l l . - I t d i d n ' t have t o b e w r i t t e n . I wish y o u w o u l d n't j u s t a s s u m e t h e worst.

- Then w h y ? - Spit e .

- B u t who did it? - I d o n ' t k now . W h a t 's t he post m a r k o n t he e n velope ? - Topsai l . - That t e l l s m e not h ing. - H ave you been sky-larking o u t t h e t·e? - Don't be s i l l y . A n yone could post a letter i n Topsa i l . Sky-larking. W h a t an expressio n ! Does Dad know abo u t a l l t h is? - N ot yet . - W h y did you wait to t e l l m e ?

-I

w a s s o t o r m e n t e d , I hardly knew what to d o . Ro m a , m y dear, t h o s e a rt i s t and

h i ppie peo ple you're geu i n g m ixed u p w i t h , t h e y have no morals and t he y seem to l ive j u s t wild. A n d probably d rugs and t h ings. - J u s t because a few nazy kids with pop m u sic o n t he brain maybe s moke a l i u le pot, you t h i n k everybody co n nected w i t h t h e a rt s in any way is a h o w l i n g d ru g fie n d . Cabot i s not l i ke t h at at a l l . You've j u s t got a m o rbid imaginat io n .

72

-I

hope it is a l l i m agination.

- What?

- Th i s l e tter. - I t' s a filthy l ie ! I ' m go i n g to keep this t h ing, and some day I'll prove what it is. But y o u t h i n k I ' ve been sleeping w i t h Cabo t , j u s t because some koo k says so . You'd rather believe t h e m t h an m e . - Yo u s h o u l d b e ash amed, too . - We l l , I ' m n o t . W hat's t h i s a l l a bo u t , rea l l y ? A re you s t i l l afraid I ' m n o t a v i rgi n . God , h o w I h a te t h a t w o rd ! I t's s o med ieva l . I guess it a l l comes from t h a t crap i n t h e bible. - Roma! - I ' m begi n n ing t o see w hy Dad blew h i s stack t h a t time he came home and fo u n d a priest craw ling around t he house. - I w o n ' t l i sten to you. - An d I'm going to have m y say. You started t h i s . Y o u ' re pract ical ly acc using me yourse l f o f bei n g a s l u t , a n d I have a right to answer. - Yo u have no re ligion yo u r se l f, and no respect for a n yone else's. - Yes, I have. I can respect anyone w ho holds an honest a n d reaso nable belief, b u t

I

do n o t l i ke it w h e n somebody e l se's religion starts b u t t i n g i n to m y private l i fe .

That's a n in vasion o f basic h u ma n r i g h t s . A n d w h y i n h e l l does it always h a v e t o be a bo u t sex? Because t hat's w hat's buggi n g you rea l l y , isn't i t ? Simply a m a t te r of sex. To screw o r not to screw , before t he cere m o n y . That i s the question.

- Oh , s to p i t .

- Y o u j us t can't stand rea l i t y or t r u t h , can yo u ? - I t's t h e . . . . . t he consequences of i m morality t h a t worry me. - No , I don't believe it i s . I t's the pure, or rather t he i m p u re, idea of sex i t se l f that's got fo uled u p i n y o u r m in d . Besides, what co n seq uences? That s t u ff abo u t get ti n g k nocked u p a n d t hen d raggi n g a l i t tle bast a 1·d a ro u n d be h i n d me? O h m o t h e r , a l l t ha t i s passe. A n d girls d o n ' t have to s u ffe r t h e fate t ha t i s worse t h a n d e a t h a n y more . T h e y c a n g e t r i d of i t . - Yo u're v e r y s u re o f yo u 1·se l f, a n d y o u t a k e a l l t h i s very ligh t l y , b u t y o u m a y find o u t t h e re are other conseq u e nces from a girl r u n n i n g a ro u n d . - W ho's t a l k i n g abo u t r u n n i n g a ro u n d ? I f y o u m e a n pro m i sc u i t y , I h a t e t h a t as m uch as a n ybod y. A n d I agree that a n y woma n w ho l i v e s l i ke that is bou n d to w i n d u p sooner o r l a t e r w i t h a good dose o f clap. - Oh ! - Al l right, t h e n . S y p h . B u t w h at I was t a l king abo u t i s t he basic q u est ion o f sex between one man and one woman . - A n d t ha t is a q u estion of mora lit y.

- M a ybe. I t's not j ust a q u e s t ion of yo u r m o ra l i t y . t h o u g h . S o m e t h i n g t h at w as shoved on yo u by some li t t le Father who j u st j u m ped o u t of t he bogs of I re l a n d .

T h a t ' s d e a d s t u ff, a n d it should h a v e been bu ried a n d for·got ten l o n g ago. - Yo u accept n o t h i n g b u t yo u r own wic ked w i l l , and t ha t ' s what you'll have to s u ffe r for. - Yo u mean t he fires o f hell will b u rn m y ass? Liste n , mot her. I will not accept any a r t i ficial dogma, no matter who t ries to shove it down my t h roat . A n d I will not accept a m o ra l i t y that is based o n s u pe rst i t i o n , or o n e that

73

IS . . .

- Stop t his instan t ! Evil child. - No, I won't stop now. I t's the truth . Mother, you escaped from all that crap once, so how could you sink back into it? Will you at least tell me that? If only I could u nderstand it! - You'll never understand anything w hile you talk like that. You show no respect for anybody or anything . Foul language, that's all you have, and dangerous ideas. Sometimes I think your father made a big mistake i n sending you to college. You o nly learned wic ked ways. - I learned to t ry and t h i n k for myself, not j ust to accept ready-made ideas. I t wouldn't be so bad, though, i f your own religion was a bit liberal and open­ minded, like it is in some parts of Europe or t he modern movement inside the Churc h ; but you, you're gone back to the narrowest and most provincial and puritanical kind of Catholicism there is in the world . That's what they have i n this province. I t'sj ust ignorance, l suppose, really. B u t how could you become a part of it again? Especially after marrying Dad . Because God k nows he's not hung u p on any dogma. Why won't you tell me? - God himself can't speak to a hardened heart. - Oh , what crap! Pat formu lae again. M y heart is no more hardened that anybody else's. I'm just t rying to preserve a little freedom of mind. - You're so u nwomanly. - I ' m a human being, Mother, a human being. Not j ust a female. - Ti me will show you your wrong ideas. - Time? Maybe. I know I 'm not the law and the prophets. But I might as well tell you something else w hile we' re at it. I don't think I can go on living here like this. I feel so choked and stifled every minute I 'm in the house. I t's too frustrating. And I find it awfully hard living u nder the shadow of disapproval all the time. Can you at least u nde1·stand that? - I 've had some experience of d isapproval. - What? The way you said t hat, I m ust have touched a nerve. I . . . . . I'm sorry. B u t I 've been t h inking about a move, anyway. This friend of mine who's an air hostess was going to take an apartment here in S t . John's, but she's been suddenly transferred to H alifax, so I can have that if I want to. I t's available 1·ight away, and I think I'll take i t . Well? - You'll do whatever you like, no matter what l say. - I'm not j ust taking off, inesponsibly. I want you to u nderstand why I'm going. I thought we might talk it over a bit more. - Your father will be home any minute . Ask him w hat he thinks. - Oh, all right. Mother, do you really t hi n k I'm a whore? I don't need the money, for God's sake! And I wish you wouldn't just sigh like that and look like a martyr. I t's awfully irritating. I j ust have the feeling, even without this letter, that you always believe the worst against me, automatically. - Go your own way. I t was my duty to warn you . About your associates and about your future, I mean . - You're u ptight over what I said about religion . Okay, I ' m sorry for that too. But I j ust had to have my say ! I t was killing me. Oh, I wish Dad was home! When John W. H art finally came, Roma was up i n her room pac king. With dogged deliberation she went ahead with gathering clothes, culling books and 74

sorting all kinds of acc u m ulated gear, while her parents were having their debate about her down in t he livin g-roo m . She made no effort to hear them, because she fel t she j u s t had to go, no matter what either of them m ight think of i t . This was going to be her real break-away, and not even the kindly persuasiveness of her father was going t o make any real difference t his time. Fiercely she t h rew out piles of stufffrom her dead lives, to be given away to char·ity. A fr-esh sta rt in more ways than one. This would be a good t i me t o replenish her wardrobe. Soon she heard her father's heavy, responsible t read on t he stairs. This was a moment for bracing herself. - H i, Dad . - H ello, sweet hear - t . - Sorry about a l l t he crisis. - I understand. - Do you? - Well, I try. And maybe I succeed a little more often than some people think. - I guess you do, if anybody does. I s Mother still crying in her tea? - More or less. - She makes me feel so darn guilty, wit hout any cause. That's what I can' t stand. - Me too, sometimes. - You ! Guilty about what? - Oh Lord, t hat's life history, and we can't go into it now . - I'm too young? - No. I j ust t hink we should t ry to cope with one problem at a time. - She told you about t he letter? - Yes. - Dad, you don't believe it, do yo u ? - Certainly not . But it's a very serious matter-. I may have to take some action. - I'd rather you didn' t . Not public or legal action . You u nderstand why. - Yes, of course. But I'm not too fond of havi ng my daughter insulted and libelled by anonymous letters of t hat kind. - La ter, when I'm in m y new place, you come and have dinner with me and we'll talk abo u t it t hen. I feel too strung out right now . - You'r-e set on going, Roma? - I just have to. There's too much tension here . You see, with Mother and me, it's the generation gap - plus. A m I going to have t o argue it out with you too? - I 'm going to miss you awfully, but I guess you have to go. You've been the light of m y life in t his house, my dear. You know that. The boys are not bad boys, but t hey we r·e neve r the same t o me as you. When you first left home and went away to college, I hardly knew what to do with myself when I was here at home. The place seemed so dead. - Oh, I'm sorry, I ' m sorry! - I t ' s all right , dar-ling. Come on, now. No tears. ! t is t rue I dread to see you go, but perhaps it's nearly time. I 've always known you were a plant t hat couldn't grow in the shade . - I ' m going to m iss you too. I love you , Dad ! - Now t hen, where is this place? - I t's down on Kingsbridge Road. 75

- You say it's all ready? Heated and so on? - Yes. My friend was about to move in. I t's completely furnished too, but of course I'll have to hide some of the old-fashioned junk. One or two of the pieces are strictly from Queen Victoria. B u t it won't cost much to do up the place. - I'll drive you down when you're ready. But do one thing first: go down and say goodbye to your mother. Go on now. - Yes. I will. - And I want to talk to you about Cabot Carter too. No, I don't mean tonight. W hen I come to see you, maybe. - That's all right, Dad. I have nothing to h ide, not from anybody. - H m m m . Need any money to start yo':l off? - You're sweet. But no, I'm okay for dough, thanks. Well, I'll go down and try to comfort Mother a little, and then we can take o ff, if that's okay with you.

76

TWELVE

Roma had no guests in her own place u ntil she had found time to decorate it in accordance with her income and the req uirements of a free soul. There was very little to remind het· of the family atmosphere up on LeMarchant Road : a good deal of primary color was in evidence, as well as furniture that looked more cot1tem­ porary than comfortable. Only her chesterfield was both trendy and inviting. One of the end walls in her compact living-room had been pw·posely left bare and t hen painted a neutral color so as to accommodate and show off one of his pictures t hat Cabot had given her - the small landscape in which she had so m uch admired his handling of the grass. Apart from the t h ings Rom a herself had brought i n to the apart ment , she also had a three-quaner size bed, a private entrance and, as far as she could tell u p to this poi n t , t he luxury of a landlady who would mind her own business. Roma took intense pleasure in making and possessing her very first home­ away-from-home, and f01· a few days revelled also in the feeling of complete independence and self-determination it gave het·, especially when she came in at night and locked t he do01· behind her. But vet·y soon she began to suffer from loneliness, and so she was all t he more anxious to have everyth ing ready and cozy when her first. guest came to dinne r. Of course she had seen Cabot once or t wice since taking t he apartment, and he had looked in at t he place, but she had wanted him to wait u n til she had really finished it to her liking and could then feel free to do justice to him as well. It was a Saturday she chose, which gave her plenty of time to shop, start the cooking operations, and have a long steamy bath before t he leisurely process of d t·essing. He came to her door about seven, wearing a smile as joyous, as radiant as a child's; and seeing him like t hat, Roma wanted to fall st raight into his arms with pleasure and relief. - H i. - H i. - Well, come on in. How do you like the pad? - Pretty good . - Not. too extreme? - Not for you . A touch of flamboyance, that suits you . Here. Here's t o christen it . - Wine! Aren't you living it up? - This is a special occasion. - W hich is? - Well, a double occasion. To drink to you , and because I finished my big picture. - Cabot, t hat's wonded-ul! Tell m e about it in a minute, but first close the door. Now put your am1s around me. Harder. 77

- Hey, are you all right? - I just feel so glad to see you! Once or twice lately I 've had a kind of scary feeling, since I moved out on my own. - That's not like you , is it? - Don't be too sure. - You always play it so cool. - Camou flage. I just don't like ad mitting that some things get to me. B u t I feel better already. - Not hing else has happened, has it, about t hat bloody letter? - No. Only what I told you. - Nasty bitch, t hat Marion . - Let 's not talk abo u t her. Here, give me your coat. M y ! We're all d 1·essed u p tonight . Apache scarf, in technicolm. I s a l l t his for my benefi t ? Enchantee. - No irony tonight, please. - All right, darling. No irony tonig h t . I promise. And no bitterness from t he pany of t he second part ? Deal? - What do you mean, bitterness? - There have been t imes when you were not exactly all sweetness and light. - Come on! I'm practically gentle Jesus. - Some people might not think so. I s it. a deal? - Righ t . - Thanks for the w i n e . Now l e t !lJe j ust look a t the meat. I t 's almost ready. - Don't rush away. W hat's making you look so sexy tonigh t ? - Su nlight soap and Sweet Maiden Mist. - I rony, irony. - Sorry. Cabot , do you really t hink I'm sexy? Sometimes I feel . . . . . well, just braw ny. - Bunk. You're red-hot sexy. - That kind of talk could get you a good dinner. Now pour some wine while I check the pot , and then tell me a bit more about your picture. - The perspect i ve was bothering me. For weeks I couldn't get it to come right, and t hen suddenly I realized, when I was thinking about something entirely different, that it was no problem at all. I stopped knocking my head against i t , and the solution came. - Yes, I know . I 've often had that trouble with a piece of writing. I'm dying to see your picture in t he Winter Exhibition. H as George West seen it, and your other en tries? - Oh yes. He's keen on them. - Great ! - So I'm a free man, fo1· the time being. - How does i t feel? - I itch. Had my nose in pai n t for so long, I can hardly smell anything else either. I feel sort of like a balloon with the ropes cut - out in orbit. - You know w hat I j us t thought of? Maybe your feelings are a bit like leaving home. - Could be. Here's your wine. - Thanks. Here's to success at t he Exhibition! 78

- Million-buck sales? - Some sales, anyway. - Rom a, I . . . . I'll be with you m01·e now. I just want to tell you, I'm sorry if I 've been offhand at t i.mes. - I t's all right . I didn't really mind. No, that's not t rue! I did mind, very muc h . I thought you were an arrogant male . But I am glad you're out of t he woods with your work, and t hings are different between us now . - Here's to happiness in your new home! - To us. .

Din ner was less bulky but more recherche than what Cabot was used to at Feem's table. It was satisfying and pointedly stimulating. They finished the bot tle of wine and t hen moved in a leisurely way to the small chesterfield, for coffee. Neither of t hem thought of going out, as somehow they took i t for granted that t h is evening was to be theirs alone, with no outside distractions and no need of other company. No TV eit her. Roma had no set ; but she did have some records of Hoagy Carmichael, whose double gift of melody and rhythm she had recently discovered for t he first time and whom she was now in the habit of raving about to her friends. Rom a and Cabot lay back against her brilliant throwaway cushions, listening to Hoagy's oddly metallic baritone in a delicious safe-and-warm companionship: Ole buttermilk sky, I 'm keepin' my eye Peeled on you. Wanna see my honey, Wanna see her bad . . . . . - Why didn't anyone ever tell me about him before? He's lovely. - He's been amund for quite a while. - That's what I mean. - Maybe he got buried fot· a while under all t he Groups. - I'm glad I found him. Want some m01·e coffee, Cabot? - No. No, t hanks. Let's just stay t·ight whet·e we are. - Al l righ t . - You look different tonight. - How? - So.fter. - Softer to your eagle eye? - And to t he touch. - Kiss me again like that. - You really are beautiful, Roma. - Dading. Do you want me closer? There. And do you know what's so nice? The feeling t hat I have you all to myself for the very first time. I don't mean j us t here in my apartment . I mean tha t you're really with me. I was beginning to think I 'd never make it. - I get hungry for you now. - Do you, Cabot ? 79

- Beautifu l breasts. - Bite them. Oh ! - Darling. - What a surprise you are ! - I love you, Roma, I love yo u. *****

They went to bed early, and they had a perfect nigh t . It was a safe time for Rom a, as safe as might be, so t here was nothing to bl unt the edge of pleasUJ·e; but aft e r the first ecstasy of feeling his semen flood into hn body, she d id not care w hat happened afte rwards. She just wanted more. Then came rest, and for a while that volu ptuous, companionable ease and flow of talk wh ich follows the sat isfact ion of desire and is the second-best part o f love. They laughed and frolicked like children, wandered wildly in t heir talk as childre n do, a n d werejust as delighted with each o t h e r as two kids w hose game h a s come off the very first time, u nexpectedly. - Nobody ever switched me on like t ha t , Cabot . - You're good to make love to. Not blase . - Are you happy with me? - Very. - Pleased? - Yes, yes. - A m I womanly? - Delicious. - Do you want me again? - I n a little w hile. - Don't let me go. - All righ t , darling, all right . - Want. t o know something? I t 's fun wit h you, too. Cabot , did you feel this was going t o happen tonight ? - I was determined. - Why d id you wait so long? You know, until t hat Sunday aftemoon i n your room , you hardly even touched me. - I was just waiting for t h e right time. - Really? - Didn't you know t hat? - I do now . ! j ust wondered , befm·e . - I always wanted you, Roma. Every time you were near me and I watched you move , I wanted you . - You are st range. You shouldn't h ide your feelings like that . - I don't want to hide t hem now. - Don't ever again. Why in t he world should you? - I don't know . .J ust a bad habit, maybe. - You've got a lot of fu nny habits. I wonder w hat caused t he m ? Cabot, tell me more about you r past . - Like what;, You mean my love life ? - Not just t hat . I mean more like what h a s happened t o yo u , ge nerally. For instance, what was it u p at O.C . A . t hat put you ofT and made you drop out? I feel 80

that if I knew about things like that, I 'd be closer to you as a . . . . . a person. - Can we be closer than this? - Be serious now. Were you expelled from O .C .A . ? - No. I j ust realized I might a s well be on my o w n and that I 'd have to learn about painting the hard way. I've never been able to learn anything any other way, I ' m afraid . - What did you d o after you left the College, and Toronto? - Wandered around . In Europe, mostly. - Paris? - Nat urally. - Well? - How do you mean , well? - Didn't you live it up a little? I thought that was . . . . . well, classic. - Once I ordered a glass of absinthe. - What was it like? - Oh, I didn't drink it. I only took one taste. Paaawk ! - Idio t . N u tcase. Well, how did you spend most o f you r time i n the City o f Light? - I spent a certain amount of time looking at pictures, of course. - And? - I did a lot of painting myself. - What did you paint? - A good many things like Pollock. N u m ber N i neteen, and all that. Then there was Composition I V , I m provisation XI I I , and so on. There was even one called Mindscape. You know the kind of thing. - I'm afraid so. - And the1·e were lots with no title at all, because I felt they could stand before the world, and the critics, entirely on their own as paintings. Of course they never stood anywhere except in my roo m . - You never sold or exhibited? - I tried. - How long were you in Paris? - Couple of years. - Didn't you like the place, really? - Oh, Paris is okay. Paris is fine, except that it was so goddam expensive. And of course you couldn't get a show until you were k nown, but you couldn't become known u ntil you'd had a few shows. Catch-22. - What's the answer to that riddle? - You get your head down and you bull your way through. You just keep on workin g and knocking against the door till something cracks. - But how did you live? - Joe-jobs. When I couldn't afford Paris any more, I buggered off to Spain. I always l i ked Spanish painting. Zurbaran especially. Then it was London and more of the same. You either had to jump on the bandwagon and produce what was in vogue, or you just didn't make it. - But you went on painting. - And painting. - But was that the only trouble, the market? 81

- No. The other trouble was me. I was painting to a theory, or to a number of theories one after the other, and t hat's no bloody good . I t's the cart before the horse again. - What's t he horse, t hen? - There are lots of fancy names for it : vision, perception, originality, and so on. I t all comes down t o seeing the world with your own eyes i n your own way, and painting it with a certain amount of honesty. - You kept on all those years withou t any success. You must have had a really terrific urge to pain t , Cabot. Weren't you awfully lonely at times? - Yes. And awfully frustrated. You know, once in London I got so desperate for a show t hat I worked like a dog at my bread-and-butter job and actually saved u p enough dough t o rent a gallery for a week. O f cou rse i t was a com plete fiasco. I was taken for a hundred quid , and I sold one d rawing for five pounds. What a farce! Jesus. - That w hole period i n your life was grim, wasn't it? - I t was hell, Roma. Abso l u te sh uddering hell. - Darling! I'm glad you're telling me about it. What happened after London? - I worked my passage to N ew York. Wandered around t hat jungle too for a while, still looking for t he magic key, I su ppose, t h at would make me a real artist. - You are one, now . ----'- It's coming, maybe. - Did you find t he magic key after you came back to Canada? - Not exact ly. B u t I realized at last that t here wasn' t any one key. I . . . . . I accepted the fact . And I realized too t hat every pictUJ·e has to be tackled by itself i n terms of what y o u w a n t to d o , on t h a t particular canvas or boa1·d or w h a t have you. There's no rule or style o•· ready-made or do-it-yourself crap that can help you . You're on your o w n . A fte•· I saw that, a n d once I seemed t o f i n d t h e right subjects, i t all started to work out. The knots inside me started t o loosen up. - That's fascinating. But what a h umbug you are! - H u mbug? - Yes. Because once u pon a time you t old me, with a ve•·y solemn face, t hat you couldn't stand talking art. - Tonight I fee l like talking about it. - That's nice. - Besides, you started i t . - I'm glad I did. You've always been too bot t led up. I ' m good for you, see? A n d you're n o t on your own a n y m01·e. - I don't want to be, any more. - Are you get ting sleepy now ? - J ust a lit t le. - But don't l ll rn away . Is your arm half pa•·alyzed ? Let's just change sides. I want t o fall asleep in your anns. There. Good n igh t . Good night, my darling. - N ight , sweethea rt. - One more kiss. - W hat's t hat? Tears? - Good tears. Oh Cabot, I feel so good when we're toget her like this! Let's make one promise. 82

- What? - Let's never let each other be lonely again. - I promise. - I don't really care about our not going o u t much, or presents, or even about what other people think of you as a pai n ter. I just want to feel close to you and . . . . . and help you all I can. * * * **

They woke up early but they did not get up early ; they made love again and then had another long, hotly sensual sleep before Rom a finally got out to make the coffee and coddle her man for a w hile, en joyi ng the pleasure of having someone to do for. W hen everyt hing else was ready - after the bat h , a light touch of make-up, her hair u nder casual con trol and in her favorite filmy robe - she carried a t ray to the --bed and woke him with caresses. - Come on, CC. Wake u p ! This is for you. - Morning, beaut iful. - Morning. Can I call you CC now? - Only with reve•-ence. - Pig! Eat some egg and t oast . And cream cheese. You said you liked that. - Great . First time I ever had breakfast in bed . Tell me it won't be the last. - Depends if you're a good lover boy. - We aim to please. - And so you do, CC. - Did you ever have a nickname? - Once I did, when I was small. - Well? - Oh , it was silly. J u s t one of those family n icknames. I f I tell you, will you promise never to use it? - Not eve n in private? - Bu t not in public. O kay. Well, it was . . . . . it was Rumbles. - Were you t roubled by gas? - N o ! It was because I was kind of a rackety kid, I guess. - A re you s till? - Not so much. I t's fu nny. People always seem to think that because I'm tall and have some education and don't u-eep around like a mouse, I'm . . . . . well, brash . - Not brash . But sometimes you do seem p•·ett y sll l-e of yolll-self, you know. - I s it bad? - Not to me. You know I hate h u mbug. - Maybe you give a rather false im pression too. Some people would say that in the permissive age, you don't seem much like an artist. - You don't want me to slouch around like a yow ling yippie , do you? - No, I don't want you to be extreme. I'm glad you haven't got hair all over your face, and bare filthy feet. - Re minds me, I need a shave. - Finish your breakfast first. Then up, CC; up, up and away. - Where to? - The bat h . - Want to go out somewhere? I t looks like a fine clay. 83

- N o t yet. Maybe later we can go for a w a l k . D u r i n g t h e afternoon Cabo t showed a t o u c h of h i s chronic restlessness b y w a l k i n g u p a n d d o w n t h e small l i v i n g-room a n d a t t h e same t i me r u bbing bot h h a n d s fie rcely agai n s t t h e sides of h i s pan ts in t h a t o d d ge s t u re which R o m a h a d b y n o w become fam i liar w i t h . As s h e n o t o n l y recognized t h e s y m p to m s b u t realized that they were u nco n scious with him, she was not offend e d ; i n fac t , she saw �hat he h a d n o t yet cooled or t apered off from h i s long bo u t o f work, a n d she really s u rpt·ised h i m by s u d d e n l y producing a large d rawing pad along with a c l u tch o f h i s favorite h a r d gra p h i t e pe ncils. - H ow come? Are you taking t.o t h e racket too, R u m bles? - N o . B u t I 'm ge t t i n g to k now m y CC a little. Prepared f<w e me t·gencies.

- Th a n k s !

- Go on . Work r i g h t now i f you w a n t t o . I 'l l clear u p from b m n c h . W h a t w o u l d you l i ke t o d ra w ? There a r e lots of good v i e w s o u t t h ro u gh t h e b i g window. - I prefer t h e one in h e re . - Wh ich one? - Yo u . - D o y o u rea l l y mean i t ? A l l righ t . W h e re do y o u wan t me? - B y t h e window. Cut the light a b i t , w i ll you? Too m u c h glare . That's i t . Now d rop you r robe. One k nee on t he p o u ffe. T u rn t h i s way more - yo u r head. H o l d i t ! N o t col d , a r e yo u ? - No, i t ' s okay. - Fine. S t a y j u s t l i ke t h a t . - CC . - Hmmm? - W h y did you wait s o long for t h i s too? - I d i d n ' t want to do a line on you, somehow, u n t i l I was s u re that we rea l l y did care for each o t h e r . - Th a t ' s a rea l l y n ice t h ing to say! A n d I u n d e rstand how you feel . Roma broke h e r pose to r u n over and kiss h i m i n grat i t u d e and d e l igh t . A ft e r t ha t she became t h e perfect model u n t i l i t was n e a r l y d a r k , i n spite o f pins a nd needles a nd agonizing ache ; while Cabot worked on happily, h u m m i n g a n d m u rm u r i n g abstract e d l y s o m e old t u ne t h a t R o m a cou l d not p u t a name to. - W hat i n t h e world i s it? - W h a t ' s what, sexpot? - That o l d song y o u ' re m u rd e ring. - That ? O h , it's a gospel song cal led

Will There Be Any Stars in My Crown ? Salvation

Army. - I re m e m be r i t now . K i n d o f appropriate, is i t ? I mean, do y o u fi g u re you're going to get a few s ta t·s from now o n , for your work? - W e l l , maybe for t h is work. H o l d u p a few m i n u tes more, R u mbles, a n d then come and have a look.

I

t h i n k I 've got yo u .

W hen Ro ma finally d id relax and go over be h i nd him t o have a look, Cabot had com pleted well ove r a dozen sketches of h e r in vario u s poses, all showing the power, the bea u t y and pride of her young bod y , as well as the t ransformation t h a t glowed i n h e r face on t h i s cmcial d a y in h e r life. T h e y w e re bot h pleased w i t h h i s

84

work. They did not go out after all, but spent their day eating, listening to more music and just lounging around in physical closeness and warmth. At last it came time for him to go. - No more d rift i ng away now , CC? You and me, t h mugh thick and thin? - I t's a tough racket. - That's not t rue ! Love is easy, and n ice. - I mea n t pai nting. - Oh, I see. Well, t hat's tougher, maybe. B u t you're going to make it, and I want to be right in there with you when you do. Also in the meantime. - Okay, sweetheart . You and me. Bye-bye for now, Ru mbles. I 'll phone you abo u t w h e n we're going to the Exhibition. - I'm taking that as you r first real promise. B ye, darling. - Goodnight. When he had left her at last, Roma found herself in a sti·ange state of uncer­ tainty. Walking to t he mirmr, she saw that she did not r·eally look any different; i t was just that, apart fro m this exquisite sensation of physical well-being, someth ing new was entering i n to her consciousness. I t was something disturbing but not at all unpleasant. A fter some reflection she was awar·e of it as a feeling of responsibility. That was the nearest she could come to identifying it: a dawning conviction that her love for Cabot was a responsibility as well as a pr·omise of pleasure. Above all, she was happy.

85

THIRTEEN

The Winter Exh ibi tion at t he art gallery of t h e Arts & Culture Cen t re showed Cabot Carter hung in the place of honor. As the visitor came i n to the main showroom he saw facing him on the opposite wall, and dominating the entire room, two works that wet·e both arresting in themselves and a pointed, am using contrast. to each other. A couple of explosions seemed to have taken place on that wall . Cabot. and Roma had now come for the second time, and they found the big room again crowded with m urm uring, scandalizing viewers w ho were always drifting back to and massin g amund those pictures by Cabot. On entering t he room Roma had wound her fingers tightly into his, squeezing his hand in deligh t ; a n d t h a t was h o w t hey w e n t around t he gallery, gradually fighting t heir w a y t o a position where t hey had a good view of his w01·k. Rom a was keen to have a second, leisurely look, also to hear t he comments that people made, because on her earlier visit she had been totally absorbed in her surprise and admiration. Now she tried to study Cabot's ent ries in a more crit ical frame of mind. These pictu res in oil on canvas were simply and jointly t itled Two Portraits . O n the left w a s t h a t of an o l d woman set boldly forward in t h e frame, w i t h hardly a n y recession in t he pic t u t·e space, h e r sallow-tinted skin making a vibrant contrast with the ochre ground of the whole canvas. The pose was predatory: nose curving like a scimitat·, mouth bitterly clownclraw n , eyes haunted by melancholy and yet still hu ngry for domination and power. Wit h her hands claw-fast on the lower edge of t he pictme, she was like a lonely old hawk ready to fly right off her perch and gobble up anyone who would not bow to t ha t power. It was amazing how t his urge seemed to emanate physically hom t. he picture and permeate the whole roo m . But satire was n o t b y a n y means t he o n l y non-plastic value of this work. There was tragedy in it too, in the look of horrot· and disgust with life t hat. lay on those pale-bluish lips - so t ypical of many faces in old age. And what was t h at strange, other look in the eyes? Or rather, behind the eyes. A suggestion of pterodactyl m indlessness, at once bot h comic ancl tetTible. Or it might be a hint of fear at the approach of death. In any case, here was a brilliant and savage summation of charactn, a devastat ing criticism of t.he subject's life. The second portrait was of Sailor Burns: not as tall as its companion but wider, and dee pet· in perspec t ive, and clone almost entirely in tones of grey - the color of Sail01·'s life. The figure of Sailor himself was almost a diagonal in t he composit ion, perhaps to suggest the unsteadiness of his existence and the cont i n ual wavering of his spirit . The head was part ly t u rned away but with t he eyes slewed around toward t. he front in a sidelong, furtive look that was also t ypical of Sailm·'s 86

m is t r u s tfu l progress t h rough t h i s world . T u n ne l s of w h i rl ing, s u c k i n g space stretched away beh i n d h i m , so t h a t t he figure i tself seemed hardly more than an accide n ta l , fort u i t o u s t h i n g i n t h i s viole n t l y hostile l a n dscape. Sailor's face was t w isted with t h e col d a n d with h i s p u l sating anger, b u t i t was defi ni te l y recogniza­ ble to an yone who k ne w t he origi n a l . H e re aga i n i t w a s psychological i n terest a n d n o t mere tech nique t h a t gave b i te a n d s t re ngth to the picture. Despite i t s grimness, t h e re was h u mo r t here too - a touch of h u m o r in t h e face of hardship, and a t h i n g very typical of N ew fo u nd l an­ ders l i ke Sailot· B u rn s . Q u i t e noticeable too was t he fact that t h is portrait showed more compassion i n the pai n te r t ha n d i d t he o t h e r, but t o Roma the t w o of t h e m seemed a n a lmost perfect marriage of insight a n d tech n iq ue , l i ft i n g Cabot's work i mo t h e i m pe rsonal and t i meless realm o f true art. She fe lt l i ke h uggi ng h i m as t h e y moved slowly away from the represe ntation of Sailor and passed a long i n to circulation with t h e crowd. It was the pic t u re of the old woman t h a t rea l l y grabbed Roma. - Yo u nailed her, CC! Y o u nailed her soli d . I 've n o ticed bef01·e t hat your best pic t u res always have very strong ideas be h i nd t h e m . B ac k bone. And you were t ry i n g to convey some t h i n g t h rough Sai lor too, t h at I haven't q u i te grasped yet. That kind of floa t i n g look. W a nt to help me? - You k now Sailor i s not too keen on N e w f(, u n d la n d , a t least not on t h e climate. A n d ye t he doesn't t h i n k m uch o f t h e o t h e r provinces e i t her. Y o u m ig h t say Sailor's m i n d i s a state w i t h i n a state. He doesn ' t recognize t he Dom i n io n . H e' s a real dangling man . - Is t h a t t h e key idea in t he pid u re ? -- That, and homelessness and a few other t h i n gs. - An y repercussions yet , from the o t h e t· pictu re ? - I 'm n o t t oo s u re. There's George West ovet· t h e re. Le t ' s a s k h i m . H e l l o , George. - Cabo t . Roma. nice to see you aga i n . - H i . Y o u 've g o t a busy shop tonigh t , George . - Th a t ' s t h e way I l i ke it . - Any specia l react i o n s

to

Cabot's poru·aits?

- We l l , t hey're t h e ce n t re of att ractio n , as you can sec . - Thanks again for t h e hanging job, George. - You deserve i t , Cabo t . - I t h i n k R o m a m e a n t , a n y special reaction to N u m be r One? - I t's been ge nera l l y ident . i fied as M rs . O l i ve Bastow. - H as she been here herse l f? - Ye s . Appare n t .l y she'd heard somet h i n g abo u t i t as soon as we opened t h e exh ibit i o n . S h e was here o n e afternoo n , a n d I d o n ' t t h i n k s h e w a s please d . -- A n y co m plai n t ? - N o t a fom1 al complai n t . A l o t of t a l k i n ge neral, though, a n d one o r t w o i n t i m a t i o n s from local bigwigs t ha t t h e f i r s t po rt rai t s h o u l d b e removed . - W hat d i d you say to t h a t ?

- I told t h e m pol i t e l y to g o t o hel l , Cabo t . I r u n t h is ga l l e r y , and n o ignorant s l o b i s goi n g to t e l l me w hat I c a n show o r n o t show. - Great , Geo rge ! - Yo u see , Roma, it real l y gripes me, a n y kind of nanow-minded i n t e rference

87

like that , or censorship. - You're t he man we need in this town . - What d o you think o f t h e show a s a whole? - Very good . - Not so m uch sl udge this time. We're making progress. Well, take you r time looking around, and t hen come i n to t he office and have a cup of tea before you go. Although we ought to have christened your pictures in something stronger, Cabot. - Thanks again , George. See you later. - Bye for now, Roma. This is a pretty talented guy you've got here. Keep him a t i t . - I don't exactly have to use a whip. While Cabot and Roma were admiring t h ree new works by Mary Pratt , t hey happened to notice a face in the crowd that was by no means as friendly as that of George West. It was Fred Squires, and he was standing close to Cabot's pic tures with a sour scowl on his face, slowly shifting his gaze from one to the other, and then back again . Beside him stood an elegant. figure who looked less indignant b u t no less interested t h a n Fred himself. Seeing t he m toge t her, Roma w a s vaguely alarmed. - CC, don't you know who that is, with Squires Electrical? - No . Who? - You really are bushed with your pai n ting! That is Mr. K . K . Darlington, and he's t he A ttorney-General of this here province. Cabot, I don't like his being here with Fred Squires. And that boy Kirk is with him too - see? Why him, I wonder? - You think t hey're going to gang u p on me? - This may not be anything to joke about . - Co-incidence? O r maybe Squires knows Darlington t h rough his business, and they j ust happened to meet here. - Could be. I happen t o know t hat Darlington is a sort of collector of pain tings. He's a bachelor· and pretty well off. Has a whole wall covered wit h Canadian art. - No kidding? - I t's a fact . - How d o you know? - Dad's been to his apart ment , for legal dinners, and he saw the collection. Apparen tly it's not too bad. If you were a little more with it, maestro, you'd know about these t hings and maybe even try to do something about them. Even sell. B u t I guess i t ' s n o u s e my t rying to make a sow's e a r o u t of a s i l k purse. I n a manner of speaking. I 'll just have to be practical for you. - A politician being a collector. Christ! - Darlington is no ordinary politician. He's connected with the University too, and he was t rained in England. But something else just occurred to me, Cabo t . M aybe Squires i s talking to him about the o t h e r t h ing. - Come again? - His bitchy wife. She still hasn't show n up, in case you didn't know that either; and the cops are looking for her now . - Feem and Jamie told me that Squires himself came to the house one day, looking for me . Wanting to ask me some questions. - He's giving you some pret t y hard looks right now . Can he really think you had 88

anything to do with Marion's disappearance? That's obviously just a phoney dramatic act to get her picture in the paper and have a fuss made over her, like those nuts who "atte m pt" suicide, or fake death just to read their own obit. I figure she'll show again when she thi n ks it's the psychological moment. - The point is, Squires knows his wife called at Mullen Street the day she disappeared. - What? But that was Sunday, the Sunday I was there with you and you were doing Sailor dow n in the basement. - Yes. - But Marion never came there that day. Did she come in the morning, before me? - No. - Then how does Squires know she was there, if she was? - He found out from the man w ho let her in when she arrived at the house, some time during the afternoon. She asked for me by name. This man realized who she was after her picture came out in the paper. - Well, how do you know ? - The same guy told me. - Wh y in the world haven't I heard all this before? - I only fou nd it out recently m yself, and I guess I didn't think it was all that important. - Not important! - I had nothing to do with Marion taking off, so why should I worry? - That's not the point. You could be in volved all the same. That silly old redhead was falling in love with you . . . . . - Come on, Rumbles! - And i f she heard us in your room that afternoon, she might turn nasty. She did turn nasty. Look at that letter she wrote to mother. You just don't realize the . . . . . the full implications of all this. - But I still don't see what Squires Electrical could do. He doesn't even know about the letter. How could he? - That's true. But there's such a thing as circumstantial evidence. Has anything else happened? - No. I can count on Jamie and Feem to let me know anything that happens at the house. - I think I'm going to ask Dad about your legal position, just in case. - Okay. - I magine it! That Squires woman trying to get sexy with you . That's really rich, at her age. H ow did you ever keep out of trouble, CC, without me to look after you ? - I just w a n t t o get back t o work in peace, a s soon as t h i s Show is over. - You mean the reservoir in that strange mind of yours is starting to fill up again? - Feels like it. - Does that mean I won't be seeing so much of you? - No . - That's w h a t happened before. - It's differen t with us, now. 89

- So it is. I'm sorry, CC, and I ' m glad you said that. And I promise, cross my heart, that I'll never interfere with your working time. J ust don't hide from me other times. I couldn't bear that now. - I promise too. - All 1·ight . Now I think maybe we should go and have some tea with George. He may have heard someth ing more at this encl . You don't want to speak to Fred Squires, do you? - Lord , no. - He's giving you the beady eye again. I still don't like the set-up. What a mean face that guy has! Like a consti pated rhinoceros. I t's no wonder his wife took off. - You're making too m uch fuss. Besides, if I do get into trouble, you can w 1·ite a big fat article in the News, defending me. Then I 'll be safe. - I 'm only saying it could be serious. - Ru mbles, what I'm trying to say is that it's n ice to have you around. - You're such a different person w hen you smile and say things like that! Well, come on. Let's go see George. Art and anxiety have made me awfully thirsty.

90

FOURTEEN

Only a few days after that visit to the Winter Exhibition Rom a's uneasiness had risen to a state of chronic worry. Nothing else had happened to Cabot that i ndicated danger, but all kinds of rumors were now percolating through the city ­ some of them to do with those two portraits and the sensation they had caused; more of them concerned with the painter and Marion Squires, who had still n ot been found. The w hole Squires gang, as Roma now thought of them, were being cagey i f t h e y really we1·e after Cabot in a n y legal w a y . Very quiet. Also, some public outcry agai nst Cabot's exhibits had been raised by Letters to the Editor which showed more ineptness than k nowledge or understanding, and no awareness whatever of art as a separate entity, a thing of value i n itself as a contribution to the city's culture. Roma's own paper had received a few, which she had taken a fierce pleasure in answering; it was some relief too for her worried state, even though she did not answer the letters directly, but in the form of an aggressively favorable review of the Show placed on the Saturday Arts Page - not in the same place as her usual colum n . To h ide the personal connection with Cabot and seem to make her praise of his work more objective to any readers w ho might know them , she did this feature u nder the name of Berthe O'Keeffe. It was not that she wanted to h ide her actual relationship with Cabot; she just felt that their intimacy was still such a private and precious thing to he'r that she was reluctant to do anything at all w hich might seem to advertise it, or put a false value on Cabot's work. Besides, who could tell what new viciousness Marion Squires might get u p to if she should read another article signed by Roma Hart and praising Cabot? Wherever the woman was holed up, she was probably reading the papers to see if a good picture of her came out i n the m . The · review itself had also been a swinging defence of every artist i n the Exhibition w ho had tried to do some honest work in any style or with any subject. Some of Roma's language h�d had to be toned down by her editor, in deference to family readership, but even after that it came out as pretty lively stuff; and she had too the real satisfaction of knowing (whatever the office gossips might think) that her manifesto was more than just an overflow of personal emotion . Her father complimented her. Then George West phoned to say he had been deeply impre­ ssed by some of the critical points she had made and her piquant way of making them . Yet n o critical outburst centered i n h e r o w n feelings nor a n y genuine praise o f h e r work could quite assuage Roma's anxiety a t this time. Nothing could d o that short of Cabot's being absolutely safe and free to go on with his work. One morning the special antennae she had developed since she and Cabot had begun 91

making love, became so active, and Roma felt so u neasy, that she just left her desk before l u nc h t ime without te lli ng anyone and went stJ·aight down to M ullen Street to see him. Phoning was no good , the way she fel t . She had to see him, touch him, and hear· him say that he was all r·ight and ther·e was no bad news. It was exasperating to find that he was not at home. I n her state of tension she had ent irely for·gotten that he hardly ever stayed in his room during the morning. I t was Feem who came to the door, welcoming her sincerely and drawing her into the warmth of the kitchen for a bit of woman talk. Feem easily guessed at the relations between the two young people now and she accepted them wholehear­ tedly, if only because Roma seemed to be good for Cabo t . - I'm awfully glad to see y o u , Feem. I need t o tal k t o somebody. I mean somebody who k nows me and Cabot . How are you, anyway? - Oh, t he same as always, my clear. Working like a horse. - Cabot all right? - H e was this morning. - That's good news. I 've had a strange feeling about him lately, kind of spooky. Where's Jamie? - Downstairs stowing away the groceries. He'll be up in a m in ute . Would you like to wait for Cabot up in his room? - No. No, thanks. I 'd rat her stay here and talk to you till he co mes. - I was just peeling me spuds. We use about half a sack a clay, you know . - I'll help you. - Aw, don't sile your hands. - Don ' t be so foolish, Fee m . A bit o f real work will do me good. I feel so nervous! - All right, t he n . Here's a knife. B u t ar·en't you well , Roma? - It isn't t h a t . I t's worry, and because I don't know w ha t the hell I'm worried about . Fee m , have you seen Cabot's two pict ures at the Exhibition? - Yes. Meself and J amie took a m n u p there one nigh t . My Gawel! - You mean the one of M rs . Bastow. - Her especially. Lord help us, w hat a sight for sore eyes! - You don't exactly think she'd buy her port rait, t he n ? - Haw! But s h e co uld w e l l afford to, mind, i f a l l t h a t I hear tell is t me . - What makes you say that ? - Common talk, my clear. And common k nowledge. Do you k now. t hat old woman wears two h u n d red dollars u nder her d ress, if she wears a ce n t ? Every c l ay of the wee k . - Two h u n . . . . ! How do y o u mean? - Special underwear. Foundation garme n t s and the like o' that, to st raighten her u p and brace her up and kee p her goin'. So she must have the cash, hey? - Yes. she must. - A nd t hat's on a 1\·eekday. W hat i n t he world would she have on her of a S u nday, I wonder? - Fcem. did you hear anything o n the grapevine about her daughter? - The woman t hat disappeared? No, I can't say as I did. - She was here with me once, last fall. You remember? - I do. - W hat did you t h i n k of her? 92

- I wasn't fussy about her, tell the truth. She kind of put on . - Do you think she m ight have been the type to commit suicide? - Oh my glory ! I got no idea on that. - Well, I don't think she's the type. - You sou nd pretty sure. - Marion Squires thinks too m uch of hersel f, ever to do away with herself. And yet there've been suggestions that that's what may have happened to her, and even that Cabot might in some way be con nected w ith it . - What next? M u rder talk, I wouldn't be surprised ! - Of cou rse I don't mean there have been any suggestions like that in public, or anyth ing official. Nothing that's actionable, as my father would say. But private talk. I hea•· Fred Squires moved heaven and earth to try and get something on Cabot, but so far he's failed, thank God. Soon J amie came up from the basement h u ffing and puffing and ;:>leased, as always, to see Roma in his home. He stayed for a few words with her while Feem went i nto the dining-room to set the table for dinner. - I ' m kind of worried, you know, Roma. Not easy in me mind. - You too! What about? - Cabot and that M rs . Bastow . She's a bad one for him to go gett in' tangled u p with . - I n what way? You mean because she's got the cash ? Feem told me Mother Bastow is loaded. - No, I don't mean that. I mean she's one that got the nature for a fight, and she generally comes out on Lop. A tough cookie, that one is. I wouldn't like to take a bite out of her. She's already after puttin' three men under the ground. Did you know that? - No, I didn't! - She's th •·ee times a widow. Oh yes. Her first h usband was a clergyman. He didn't last long. Then she married a schoolteacher. He went. And her last husband was a gove r'ment contracto r - old Sammy Bastow from ove•· on the South Side. That's where she got the cash from. She buried Sammy five or six years ago. - This is rather cold comfort, Jamie. - Hey? Oh well, you and Cabot, ye j ust got to look out. That's all I'm sayin'. With that holy terror maybe afte r him, and that fella Fred Squires behind, her too. - W hat did you think of her portrait, Jamie? - I thought it was a scream . Not bad like her either. - You saw the h umorous side of it more than the serious, did you? - Cripes, I could n't help it. I had to laugh. - But you feel Cabot is i n fo1· trouble? - Ah, that I couldn't say. I only got a feeling in the back o' me mind. But I can garantee you this: if there is any trouble, the young fella can count on me and the wife to stand by h i m . I own me own property, and long as Cabot wants to stay here, he's welcome. A nd he'll never starve either, if we got a bun o' bread in the house. - You and Feem really are good to him. And for him. - 'Cou rse I got no money, not w hat you'd call a boodle, but I'd help him any other way I could. - Why, Jamie? 93

- Why? - Yes. What is it t hat you like about Cabot? You must ad mit he's something of an oddball. - Well, he's willing t o live and let live. That's one good p'int he got. B ut right from the first go in' off I liked him for one thing, main ly: he was never out to do anyone. Cabot got his own ways, and they'1·e not everybody's ways; still and all, he was never anything but fair and square. I'm in this boarding-house racket for over twenty year now, and some of the things I 've-a had to put up with, why, wme of them would lift the hair right offa your head, if I started in t o tell them. But not a peck o' that trouble or dirty work ever came from Cabot, and he been with us a good spell altogether. Once you know him, you can trust him. Feem came in to tell them that dinner was ready, or nearly, and to fuss a little over Cabot not being back yet. - He'll be frozen to death and half starved, the poor young mortal. - That reminds me, Fee m . Is Sailor Burns still with you? - Yes. But he's getting restless w hen he's sober. We may not have the pleasure of his company much longer. At last Cabot ret u rned from his wandering and the fou r of them had a pleasant dinner before the crowd of boarders came home and Feem was swamped in the rush. A s soon as they decently could, Roma and Cabot went up to his room, w here she noticed that he was not in his usual sweat to get right down to work after his dinner. Formerly he had been so tense and almost neurotic about that. Progress? Roma hoped so, and hoped all the more that she was responsible for this change for the better on his h u man side. At one time she had o ften asked herself whether he had any h u man side. They sat on the edge of h is bed, very close, and talked about what he consi­ dered her foolish worrying. Roma found her tension eased as his fin gers lightly brushed her neck, moved lovingly down under her armpit, slid over to indent and then enclose her breast. Now she was just waiting, aching for him to thrust her back on the bed and take her. Even the chan ge in his breathing excited her. But j ust at this moment an ominous sound came, to pluck her back to reality. I t was a n u rgent step o n the stairs. Tense tapping o n Cabot's door, Feem calling to him in genuine fright. Roma sprang up from the bed, straightening her hair and clothes, and p ulled Cabot o utside with her to see what had happened. It was a police constable downstairs, asking for Cabot Carter in person. - My God, CC, maybe something has happened to Marion Squires after aU, and they're trying to pin it on you ! - I never knew you were such a worry wart. - I can't help it. Hurry up. - Relax, Rumbles, or you'll knock me down over the stairs. At the front door they found that this call from the law had nothing whatever to do with Marion Squires. The minute Cabot confirmed his identity, he was served with a writ for libel.

94

FIFTEEN

That same evening Roma persuaded her father to come to her apartment for dinner and, urgently, for a long private talk . She coddled him by taking the trouble to get some seal meat - the very first ofthe season - and baking it under a rich, browny crust such as she knew he had been used to in earlier times but seldom enjoyed in contemporary St. John's. Roma herself was not keen on it, because it was so dark and oily, but she did her best to swallow some of the pie and keep her father company in every way while they were working up to the main purpose of this meeting. She wanted nothing w hatever to strike any kind of a jarring note between them. John H art was not totahy surprised by all this thoughtfulness, not at all taken aback w hen at the coffee stage of dinner Roma began coaxing him to take Cabot's case. - Without a good lawyer he may not even have a fighting chance, Dad. He's awfully funny about things like this. Not realistic. And you know he has no money. Neither have I, and legal aid would be no use, probably. Some student just out of Law School, or some beat-up old drunk of a lawyer getting a handout from the courts. - I once served as legal aid myself. But I doubt if the courts would ever grant any aid in a case of this kind. I doubt it very m uch. - If you defended Cabot, at least it would be a fair fight. - Maybe. - Who'd have thought Mrs. Bastow would go and sue him, though ! - I would. - Really? You never said anything, until this minute. - Better to wait until something actually happens, where the law is concerned. - Would it be a very great sacrifice for you if you did act for h im ? We could probably pay you back, in time, but I couldn't say exactly w hen. - It's not fees that make me hesitate, Roma. - You're too busy. - I'm always busy, but not desperately so. Frankly, I can take the time if I want to. That's not it. It's you, and your position in all this, that I'm worried about. - You're afraid Cabot and I will get together, as a couple, and pretty soon we'll be on the rocks financially and then fall back on you. Is that it? - Not primarily. Although that has been known to happen, in situations of this kind. No. I was wondering whether there would be enough of Cabot left over for you. - You mean, from his work? - Yes. That young fellow has a rather fanatical gleam in his eye. 95

- You have a point, I 've thought about that, Dad, and the t ru t h is I ' d rather take my chances with Cabot t han be sure of some other man in every way. I . . . . . I feel committed to him now. Please help him! I'll never forget it if you do. I guess you haven't seen Cabot's two portraits . . . . . - Bu t I have. - Oh. - I'm not altogether a philistine, Roma, and there are one or two t h i ngs outside t he firm's business t h a t I take an interest in. You shouldn't assume the con t rary. - Sorry, Pops. I only meant you probably didn't have the time. - I made the time. And only just i n time. I hear M rs. Bastow has applied for an inj u nction to have her picture removed. - Can she get it at this point ? - I don't think so. - What did you think of the portraits? Now don't pull any p unches with me . - I was deeply impressed. The contrast in them is superbly effective. - H as t he old girl really got a case on t his libel t hing, do you think? - She could have. - I never thought of libel! - I doubt i f Ken Darlington would touch i t i f there weren't something solid in it. A case to answer. - So that's why he was with Fred Squires! I saw t hem together at the art gallery. - I t was no doubt Squires w ho laid the information with the police, and of course the A ttorney-General's office would take i t from t here. - Do you think Darlington himself will prosecute Cabot? - I would think so, i f he launches the case at all. - Dad, do you think Cabot is a person worth defending? Tell me the truth again. - Ah . . . . . it's too soon for me to answer that. I 'd have to know him bet ter in a personal sense. B u t I admit the case might be i n teresting in itself. A rest from cui

bono .

- What's that? - The grab for dough, roughly. - I sn't this the same t h ing, from the Squires side? Won't they be after damages? - Not mainly. - Ju s t to get Cabot? - N o t t ha t either, perhaps. You're bound to take this thing personally, of course, but there is such a thing as an infringement of the law and somebody being called t o acco u n t for i t . J us t on that basis alone. - B u t do you think Cabot has broken the law? - An irreleva n t question. What I personally think does not m a t te r i n t he slightest. And, looking at it from t he prosecution side, i t's always a good dodge for them to say they're acting on a matte r of principle. - Mrs. Bastow has the big legal eagle o n her side, hasn't she? Wouldn't you like t o have a go a t Darlington? - I had thought of t hat. - Cabot is so defenceless in every way! - Are you really gone o n this peculiar guy? - He's not peculiar! He's got . . . . . individuality. And t h e answer is yes. I a m gone 96

on him. - Why? - ( I j us t like his hands o n me ! ) Gosh , that's har·d t o answer. It happened so fast, i n o n e way. - Mmmm. - I'm still a little confused, I guess. First w h e n I m e t h i m I t hought h e was j ust another art phoney and a sorehead. Then I t hought he was a hardhead, as far as his work is concerned, and one of those men w ho are so selfish t hat other· people just don't exist for them. But t hat was wrong too. Cabot does have sympathy for other people. Look a t his port rait of Sailor Burns. I 'm not just talking about his work, though . I know he's quite human. Then lately I 've had an entirely new feeling about him, even before all t h is t rouble started. - What's t hat ? - A fun ny feeling. He's so alone within himself and so . . . so naive in some ways. Yes, he is. Sometimes I look at him and I see just a . . . . a simple-hearted boy from Bona vista who happens to have a deep talent for drawing, and a terrific eye for color. I feel so an xious to help him, Dad . You know, I often t h i n k too what i n the world would happen to him, say if Feem and Jamie Reilly were killed in an accident when t hey're out on one of their Sunday afternoon d rives. Where would he go? You're smiling. Why is that? - I was only t hinking you're growing up, and I don't mean you're getting any taller. - Thank God for double blessings! - I see w hat you're driving at abou t Cabot. A rt and sympathy. B u t he must have some will of his ow n . - You bet. B u t i t seems to be mostly absorbed i n his work. That's t h e point. And maybe that 's the thing t ha t really draws me to him. He's a truly creative person, and I feel that's important. I want to be right in there with him, because he's got the guts to do what he really wan ts to do, and what he has to do, in this world. - I s this my daughter talking? W hat about your feminism and all that? - I t 's there st ill. - But? - Well, not so urgen t . - ! must say, I 'm geu ing a rather differen t idea o f this Cabot Carter. H e looks such a quiet chap. - I told you, his feelings explode in his pict u res. - Only t he re? I thought you were tal king about sex, too. - So I was. A re you going to bawl me out ? - No. B u t I 'd like to feel sure that you' re going to look after yourself, and if a n accident should happen - no sneaking around to quacks? - Promise, Dad. - Righ t . So you'r-e happy with Cabot in t ha t way? - Oh yes! And he seems to l i ke me. - Don't be afraid to love him, my dear, if you really do care for him, and this is not just a . . . . . a casual coupling. Answer him. - I do. But you look so sad, all of a sudden , when you say that. And your tone was so diffe re n t . What is it ? I s it something to do with Mother? .

_

97

_

- Yes. - I could tell. How is she, by the way? - Oh, the same as usual. Pious. - What happened? I always k new there was something awfully wrong between you and her. Do you mind my asking? - No, no, I don't mind. You're of age now, and apparently you'r·e begin ning to experience these things for yourself. When your mother and I got married we felt the same as most young people do, or we thought we did. But it turned out, well, to put it quite simply, it turned out that your mother was never able to satisfy me. She just couldn't seem to let herselfgo . I don't really know the full reason . Perhaps her mother had frightened and paralyzed her with old wives' tales, and the poor girl was too ashamed even to enjoy herself, and let me do the same. - Maybe you were too much for her. You're k ind of an overwhelming person, at times. - Maybe. A nyway, you came along, and then t he boys, and soon after that your mother just seemed to lose interest in sex. A fter a while I didn't bother myself. - But that must have been awfully gri m ! - Yes. - Perhaps this explains it, about Mother. - What? - Well, ifl can put it simply, she fell out of your arms and back into the arms of t he Churc h . Compensation. - Yes, I suppose so. - Didn't you do anything about it? - M istresses? Hole-in-the-corner stuff? I grew up in a much stricter time and a tighter society than you, Rom a, and even if I didn't accept all t he ideas and rules of that time, there was still a tremendous hangover of influence and . . . . . and emotional prohibition from them. Can you understand that ? - I think so. - So I was never a man to play around in that way. - But w hat did you do, for relief? - Oh , hard work, mostly. Building up the firm . There's a great deal of satisfaction for a man in doing a decent job in his profession and having t hat recognized . - Is that enough? - No. B ut it serves. I t serves. Well, what I've been trying to tell you is that if you do love your man, don't be afraid to show him your passion . It's a mistake and a tragedy not to. - I'm glad you told me this about you and M other. It could be t hat I've been a little too hard on her. - Possibly. You're a bit overwhelming yourself, you know. - Me ! Am I really? - Cabot hasn't noticed it? - It just never came up between us. - It will. - And I sim ply haven't thought of him in that way. He seems so sure of himself. as if he had an . . . . . an inner certainty about the th ings that matter, that it's hard to imagine anyone overw helming him. 98

- And he doesn't do i t to you ? - Only w hen I want h i m to. - I see. - I j ust feel good with him, Dad. I'll tell you someth ing e lse: you know how sometimes I get all hung up and feeling wild and generally hellish. Well, when I get back to t he apartment feeling like that and t hen he comes, after he's been here for a while I begin to feel a little calmer. And reassured, as if everything was going t o be all right . I'm not talking about going to bed now. I mean h is just being here and our talking and exchanging thoughts or l istening t o some music and so on. - Do you and Cabot m ix much with other people? I have the im pression you don't . - No t yet . We don't seem t o need i t. What kind o f people did you have in mind? - Well, other artists, for instance. - There aren't all t hat many artists with Cabot's outlook. But even if he weren't a sort of Group of One, I think he m ight still be isolated. Why did you ask me about this? - I was just thinking that if it came to a question of testimony as t o Cabot's ability as a painter, i t might be a good thing to have one or two other artists who would endorse him. - You will defend Cabot, Dad? - Slow down now. I'll . . . . . I'll look i n to i t . - Oh , thank you ! Tha n k you a million t i mes. You just d o n ' t know what i t means to me to haveyou on his side. And about testimony from other people connected with the arts, t hat part of it will be okay. Cabot himself has a bug, almost a phobia, about comme n ti ng on h is own work . . . . . - Now, Roma, he won't be able to afford any nonsense like that! This i s no t i me for him to be a shrinking violet. If I am going to help him, it will be done my way and with no coyness or shyness from anybody. Cabot will have to cooperate and he'll give evidence, if t hat's t·equired, just like anyone else in the case. - He will. I was just making a point about that one t h i ng. - That one thing could be fundamental. - I know. The reason why I said that about testimony from other people is t ha t we'll have a n even bet ter witness, from t h i s point of view, t h a n other artists o r even Cabot himself. - You? - George West. - That's a thought. Man in a key position, well qualified to j udge art. - He'd be more objective than Cabot too, you see, Dad. - That's t rue. B u t don't forget what I said , all the same. Cabot had better understand the position right from the start . I'll want full co-operation and no interference. Furthermore, you can tell him that I'll be coming down to h is place and going over it with a fine-toot h com b. I want to see every picture, every draw i ng and scrap of paper, every sketch or study t hat m ight be conceivably useful in the defence. Warn him. And that goes for t his apart ment too, by the way. I intend to grill you bot h till you're blue in the face. - We can all get togethet· later on. I t's nice that you'll get to know Cabot better too. And so good to feel you taking hold! Cabot is vet·y worried about how long all this 99

will take, and the interruption to his painting. - He'll have to accept t hat for a w h ile. - Yes. What I wanted most was to talk to you alone, first, and then go to work on him. How long do you figure the w hole thing will take? - The case will probably come on in the spring session . And t he actual trial wouldn't take long. Matter of days. - You know what, Pops? You're the n icest man in the world . - Except one? - I feel much safer now. And I'll never forget w hat you're doing for us. - Well , I don't know if I evet· mentioned i t before, Roma, but I've always rather admired your generatio n . I thi n k you're m01·e honest in your approach to life t ha n we were. More rut hless t o o , perhaps, b u t I'm not sure that's a bad t h i n g . T h e state of the world could be d riving you i n to ruthlessness. - Thanks, Dad . I hope you're going to feel the same way about Cabo t . What do you thi n k his chances are in t h is libel racket? - Oh, i t 's fat· too soon to say. I don't see any great reason for optimism, though. Darlington will have a fairly strong group l i ned up behind h i m . There'll be M rs . Bastow herself, Fred Squires, h i s wife, w h e n she's located . . . . . - She's back. Didn't you know? The cops found her a t t h is remote place, way the hell o u t in the bush , t hat's called The Retreat. - W hat's that ? - I t ' s a new idea locally. A quie t place away from it all w here us cit y folks can go to recuperate from t he Rat Race and search for our Souls. Expensive too. - B u t there's been almost daily publicity about her disappearance. Surely some­ body at this place would have known her, or about her? - She was registered under the name of M ary Smith. Mary Smit h ! God, how u nimaginative can you get ? - Pictures o n TV? - There's no TV at t his place. No newspapers or anything. Maybe t hat's why it's called The Retreat . - Then how did t he police ever fi nd her? - Massive combing of t he w hole Avalon peninsula. The inside elope i s that she's still kind ofwonky and d idn't want t o come home, bu t Freel made her. He gave the Mounties authority to bring her back if they found her. - How do I translate "wonky"? - Nerves all sho t , u ptigh t , just about over the edge . The woman is a case, really. - We'll have to watch that. - Why? - As I said, she'll almost certai nly be a wit ness agai nst us, and if she's ill s he can be called almost any time - I mean at almost any point in the t rial - to t h row a spanner into the works. She can be juggled by t he other side . B u t never mind. That's something for me to worry about . And there's one other t h ing I have to tell you, and Cabot, wh ile I t h i n k of it . You k now I'm not. exactly a pauper. I 've never had to put u p t he poor 111o ut. h in t h is t own, but I 'm not a rich man either, not a mi llionaire o t· a . . . . . a philan t h ropist . And my expenses are hea vy. The boys will be staning college next fall. That's a 1·ery big item. So what I'm t rying t o tell you is that, if I do take t he case, and if' it sho uld go against Cabot, then I won't be able to 1 00

help him with any costs or damages he may have to pay. I s that clearly understood between you and me? - Certainly, Dad . Like I said . . . . . - "As I said", Roma, please. - As I said, it's wonderful of you to help Cabot at all . - As long as my position is deaL - I f we do lose, it'll have to be The Retreat for me and Cabot too, I guess. - There's no hiding-place from t he law. Not ultimately. - I was only kidding. - How d o you come to know so m uch about that place, by the way? Have you had a session t here yourself, under stress and strai n? - No. One of t he boys on the News did a fea t u re on i t once and I helped him rewrite it. Dad , how do we actually start to build u p a defence for Cabot? - First I 'll have to have a tremendous amount of information, of all kinds and concerning anything that may turn out to be relevan t . I nformation - t hat's t he raw material of evidence, you know. Then I'll have to a n t icipate the prosecution, and start shaping my own approach. Painting is not t he only art i n the wodd, no m atter what some people may think. I'll have to line u p and prepare our own w itnesses, t ry to assess w hat the poi n t of view of a jury might be here in St. John's ·

- You ought to be okay on that. - I don't know. J u ries are fan tastically u n pl-edictable. - I'm longing for the case to start, and t hen be oveL - You said George West might act as an expert wit ness. He's keen on Cabot's work? - A cham pion. - Good. And if it came to a q uestion of character, do you think the Reilly couple would be willing to s peak for Cabo t ? They would appear as witnesses? - Oh, I ' m absolutely sure about that . How will I appear? - As aid and comfort to the accuse d . Accom plice. Accessory before and after t he fact . - Serio usly, Dad . - I'm not sure yet . B u t I ' l l fit you i n . I'll fi nd a way to use you without embarrassing yo u . - Nothing to do w i t h Cabot w i l l ever embarrass me. D o y o u t h i n k h e h a s at least a fifty-fifty chance? - That's another prematlll-e q uestion. A g1-eat deal will depend on what I can get out of him. But in stead of speculating, I want to give you one or two more warnings: from now on don't talk to anybody about t he case except myself or Cabot. Don't write abo u t it , nat urally, and don't have anything a t all to do with the o t her side. I n fact, don't do a single thing t hat may have the least bearing on t he case, without checking with me first. A re we agreed on that? - Check . - Don't neglect t hat side o f t h e matter, not for a moment. I t can cause awkwaJ-dness, and I may have enough of t hat on my hands as i t is. - What will be awkwaJ-d fOJ- you ? - For one t hing, Darlington will be calling your mother to give evidence for the IOI

prosecution, I think. - How come? - Your mother was with Mrs. Bastow the first time she went to the art gallery and saw her portrait. Very material. - How will you handle it, or her? - I t will have to be a kid-glove job. I t 's one of t he big problems - my problems. Now then , Rumbles, make some more coffee, will you , and let's get down to it. Let's start. from t he very fi rst time you heard about or saw this picture that's landed Cabot in the soup. You and I have one hell of a lot of homework to do on this case before I ' m ready to stand up in court and face a judge and j u ry.

1 02

PART TWO: The Trial

1 03

ONE

Cabot's trial came on before the Supreme Court of Newfou ndland only a couple of months after the writ against him had first been issued. The Case for the crown , or on behalf of Mrs. Bastow, was presented by K. K. Darlington, Q.C. For the Defence - John W . Hart, Barrister & Solicitor. Darl i n gton had decided to handle the prosecution himself because of the i ntrinsic i nterest this case held for h im personally, as an amateur of art, and also because i t had certain points of legal interest, as being a most unusual kind of case to be heard in the Canadian or perhaps any other courts. Nobody on either side would be relying m uch on precedent as a strengthener of his argu ment . After a formal plea of Not Guilty had been entered by John Hart, and all the other time-taking preliminaries had been completed, the whole courtroom set t led i n to the q uiet of anticipation - spectators gaping and straining, j u ry solemn and self-conscious at this stage, t he press poised - and then Darlington rose to open his case. There was all the more cu riosity about this man because he was neither a Canadian nor a Newfoundlander: his origins were in Lancashire and h is heart still in England, although he had crossed the Atlantic some yea1·s previously as one of that large, sad band of modern Britons w ho have found themse lves to be strangers and DPs in t heii· own cou n t ry . As a north-cou n t ry lad Darlington had lacked bi1·th but early on showed brains, and in the years j ust after t he First World War had won a scholarship to Cambridge and began the study of the law. After graduation and some practice in the London Law Courts, he left for Canada, where he had found refuge as Head of a proposed School of Law at M e morial U n iversity i n the city of S t . John's, province of Newfoundland. There was some delay in getting the Law School started, owning to a q uarrel between Newfoundland and Ottawa over proportionate con t ribution to the cost of the new exten sion to the U n iversity; but a sho1·t time after K. K. Darlington had arrived in the city the office of Attorney-General was sudde n ly vacated and, a general election pending, he was made a member of the cabinet and offered the post o n a temporary basis. This was done by the local administration part ly as compensation for the other post he had been i nvited to, which did not yet exist, and partly on the stre n gth of recom mendations that Darlington had been able to scrape up from h is remaining friends in England. The word of any British lawyer was still pote n t i n what had been B ritain's oldest colony. Darli n gton fou nd that he liked the people of Newfoundland, the older people especially who still looked across the Atlantic to show their loyalty and devotion to the Mot her Cou ntry. To him it made no differe nce that their sentiments were now an anachronism and their picture of England a vision of the past, a mere Kipling 1 04

drea m : he fou nd their simple affection a fine thing in itself, and warming to his own heart. Darli ngton was a spare man w ho looked taller than his five-feet-eleven, by virtue of his dignified posture, and who still had lingering about him a touch of that nonchalant assurance which i n its old-world Englishness is i mpressive to Commonwealth people all over the world. He was still English-tailored too, and this added to his air· of being both different and endowed with some e xtra prestige, in the courts of t he provincial capital. Finally, h is post-Cambridge accent, com­ bined with the touch of Old Bailey stateliness in his style, was no handicap to him in the present circumstances. His opening was delayed for just a minute by an unofficial incide n t . Of course Cabot's portrait of Olive Bastow was Exhibit One and was prominently displayed on a kind of revolving stand or easel so t hat it could be clearly seen from any angle, more especially from the j u ry box at the prese n t moment; b u t before the A ttorney-General had got started, Cabot sen t a note to John Hart from the dock, as a result of which Hart rose to request t hat t he ponrait be t urned slightly so that a bet ter light would fal l on it as t he jury saw it. A fter the j udge had assented, Darlington made a token bow to the Bench and in a mome n t had taken hold of the jury w ith his authoritative gaze. - My Lord, Ladies and Gentlemen o f the J u ry : I f i t please the Cour·t, this is a suit brought by M rs. Olive Bastow for a defamatory libel on her, perpetrated and published by the defendant Cabot Carter, in the form of a portrait - this same ponrait t hat you see here before you . I need hardly say at t he outset that in its legal context the word "published" mean s simply that the ponrait was exhibited to the public view . Now, ladies and gen tlemen, in the Criminal Code of Canada t h is charge is placed under the heading of Offences against the Person and Reputation, a category in w hich , as I am sure you will all agree, the feminine half of society is both peculiarly sensitive and tragically vulnerable. I am referring here chiefly to Reputation, of course, there being no question of any attack on the actual person of Mrs. Bastow in the prese n t indictme n t. And I should like to give you as summarily as I can the story of how this suit came to be brought by Mrs. Bastow, in order to protect her reputatio n . That is her sole reason for corn ing here. She has nothing to motivate her beyond that, nor has she any t hirst for private gain or petty personal revenge. As you may all know, she is a lady of mature years, member of a historic family i n this island - the Bartlett s of Brigus - and for many, many years a prominent figure in the life of this city. M rs. Bastow is the mot her of seven children, all of whom save one have long since gone to the mainland and ar·e making their various contributions to the national life. She herself has remained in her native province and since bei n g released from maternal care and marital r·esponsibility (Mrs. Bastow is a widow ) , has offered her time and strength unstinti ngly to various works of religion , char·ity and ot her· forms of social service. Furt hermore, she has given freely where we all know it is most difficu l t to give - from the purse; but fortunately she is a lady of some means, dependent neither· on family goodwill nor government largesse nor any other sou rce t o mai n tai n her position among us and 1 05

do the good work she has felt it her d u t y to do. May I proceed by painting for you a little picture? H e t·e, t hen, we have M rs. Bastow settled in S t . J oh n's in her own apart ment , busy as I have indicated, but also of cou t·se in constant touch with her only child remai ning in the city. That is M rs . Frederick Sq uires. A t t h e home of her daughtet· M r s . Bastow meets o n e Cabot Carter, self-styled artist, in circumst ances which are not t·elevant to my immediate purpose but will be considered and examined by the prosecut ion latet· in this t rial. Then some t h ree months later she suddenly finds herself the subject , or I should perhaps say the vict i m , of the portrait that is now placed before you i n what I hope is a satisfactory and a true light. I wish to em phasize that between their first meeting and the shock of this picture there was no further direct personal contact between M rs . Bastow and the accused man. That likeness of her was painted by him, signed with his usual double C, and exhibited for some time in t he art gallery of our local A t·ts & Culture Centre . The plai ntiff had no knowledge of this bizarre proced ure , no i n kling of what was in store fot· her, u ntil, as I may put it, the bomb exploded in her face from the walls of t he art gallery. She did not com mission the portrait, did not sit or pose for it, paid no money fot· its being done, and once it was done and placed on view , repudiated it most passionately and in every possible way. That , members of the jUJ·y, is my picture : a showing forth of the relationship between these two people, plain tiff a nd defendant , which I desire to make clear to you . On the one hand we have a most worthy private citizen going about her affairs in a q uiet way; on the other, a pai n te r u nworthily attacking her by exposing this q uestionable likeness of her to public view. Did I say "u nwort hily"? Perhaps the word should have been "wantonly", for this man Carter seems to have been qu ite careless of giving offence by his strange act. Let me also make prese n t to your minds the significance and t he real consequences of that act. But first, may I j ust mention t hat, although the offending portrait was not actually labelled as a portrait of M rs . Bastow, it was generally t·ecognized as such by independent or objective viewers - as you will hear from the evidence I shall call. Evidence on t ha t poi n t w i l l come from people who are totally disinte t·ested in t his matt er. Well, the significance of Cartet·'s brazen act is that he has placed himse lf in a position where he is charged with a serious criminal offence. It is not my function or pu rpose to instruct you in the law . H is Lordship will do that in due course; but for the sake of clarity and convenience at t his point, l should like to quote briefly from Section 248 of our Criminal Code: "A defamatory libel is mat te r published, without lawfu l j ustification or excuse, that is likely to inj u re t he reputation of any person by exposing him (or her) to hatred, contempt or ridicule, or t hat is designed to insult the person of or concerning whom it is published". Further (and t his you may find most significant): "A defamatory libel may be expressed in words or by any object signifying a defamatory libel other than by words". So you will see t ha t according to the definition of libel and its mode of expression, this portrait may con s ti tu te a bt·each of the law. Can you even glance a t i t and then doubt its power t o bring the subject o f i t i n to contempt and ridic ule? I say nothing of hatred, because I do not believe that a woman of Mrs. Bastow's high prestige and honorable repute would come to be hated, actually hated, as a result o f this work. Yet you may have noticed from my stress on words while q uoting 1 06

from the Criminal Code that our law condemns the libeler on all three counts of hatred, contempt and ridicule. A conviction on any one of these would be suffi­ cient. From the prosecution standpoint we shall be dealing, however, only with the latter two : contempt and ridicule. Allow me to ask you directly, the n : if this were a portrait of one of yourselves, particularly one of you ladies, would you or would you not fee l ridiculous and also insulted by reason of its mere existence, not to speak of its exhibition to the public? W hen all your friends and acquaintances, and your enemies as well, had had a chance to see it and tal k and laugh about it, would you not feel that your reputation had been inj ured? That is what Mrs. Olive Bastow feels. I place this question before you now simply to indicate the kind of decision you will have to make in your minds and hearts when you come to your final deliberations. So much, at this time, for the significance and consequences of this act per­ formed by the accused. Now let me say just another word or two about the offence oflibel itself. I n the Section of the Code that I read to you a moment ago, there was a phrase about certain acts being designed to insult people. Further to this, may I read you Section 249? "A person publishes a libel when he (a) exhibits it in public (b) causes it to be read or seen, or (c) shows or delivers it, or causes it to be shown or delivered, with intent that it should be read or seen by the person whom it defames or by any other person." It is now with the word "intent" that I am especially concerned. Can you doubt from w hat you already know, that Carter showed this picture with the intention that it should be seen by Mrs. Bastow herself and by any other person who cared to stroll into the art gallery? For what other purpose could he have had it hung and allowed it to remain there, until the embarrassed, suffering subject of the picture took the only proper course she could take by asking the law to protect her from what she felt to be vilification? Mrs. Bastow has brought this action in spite of the continued pain she will have to endure as a result of it, and of the extra publicity her portrait will inevitably receive while the case is going forward. I mean by further reproduction in the newspapers, showing on the television, and so on. Her coming to court may therefore give you some measure of the indignation and h urt she feels, the public or social damage she believes herself to have sustained, as a result of the portrait. She is most deeply convinced that it is a libel and that it defames her. I should like you to note the excellence of that word "defame". I t is an exact and literal description of what has happened to Olive Bastow, in a social context, ever since her portrait came on view. She has had her fame reduced o r taken away in the eyes of h e r fellow citizens; a n d she considers herself t o be less than she was, both as a woman and a member of this community. With Carter's original motive in secretly executing this work and then "spr­ inging" it on Mrs. Bastow and the public, we are not primarily concerned, since the law takes notice chiefly of accomplished acts and of their consequences rather than their motives. It is sufficient for the prosecution that Carter knew what he was doing (there will be no quarrel with that, I trust) and should have known, or feared, what might follow from his doing it. But even so, it is conceivable that the defence in this case may attempt to introduce some kind ofjustifying motive on the part of the painter. So, ladies and gentlemen - a warning! I ask you before witnesses are caUed I07

and this matter is fought out on a proper basis of fact, I ask you not to be led astray by vague and inelevant claims to the effect that t h is picture standing before you was painted u nde1· t he pressure of artistic "inspiration" and the urge to produce a w01·k of a n . I would remind you in advance that the quality or otherwise of this work is not i n question here, not the bone of contention. Let me insist on it: the position would be essentially t he same whether we were dealing with a painting of genius or t he poorest daub that ever spoiled canvas. N o plausible or specious reasons given for Carter's action can alter his responsibility for it in the eyes of the law. With that small preface, and with H is Lordship's permission, I shall now call the first of those wit nesses whose collective testimony will prove the hurtful, the malign and the ridicule-breeding effect that this picture has had on the long­ suffering plaintiff in this case. I call Mrs . I rene Shaw.

1 08

TWO

The person who stated that the evidence she would give in t he cause now pending . . . . . etc . . . . . etc. . . . . would be the t ruth . . . . . etc. . . . . and nothing but . . . . . so help her God, was a nondescript woman and a stranger to eve•·yone in the t rial, except the prosecu tion. She appeared nervous at leading off, but had some time to take hold of herself wh ile spectators and others we•·e settling back into silence afte•· the break in atten t ion that came with the end of Darlington's o pening speech. The A ttorney-General gave his wit ness all possible consideration, taking her easily, gen tly, t h rough routine mat ters of identification, status and so on, before coming to the meat of his examination-in-chief. - Mrs. Shaw, you are a long-time resident of S t . J oh n's? - Yes, sir, I am. - A housewife by occupation, I believe you said. - Yes. - Do you know the defendant Caner personally? - No, si.-. - Have you ever had any connection with him of any kind? - No. - Is he in any way acquainted with you ? - Not as far a s I know. - Very good . Now, M rs. Shaw, have you any acquaintance with the plaintiff here, M rs . Olive Bastow? - No. - Well, do you know of her? - Oh yes, si.-. - Did you know of her before there was publicity concerning this trial and before you were called here as a witness? - Yes. - How? - Why, si.-. I thought everybody knew about M rs . Bastow. - But how did you? Please tell the Court as clearly as you can, M rs. Shaw. - Oh, I saw her picture in the paper hundreds of times. Well, dozens. And I often heard her on the radio and saw her on the TV. - In what connectio n , most frequently? - I 'd say i n connection with charity. Appeals for funds and all that kind of thing. Good causes, you might say. - Name just one good cause that you personally saw and heard her speaking for, I 09

please. - There was the time just a while ago when she was on the TV for the Crippled Children's Fund. - And you saw or heard her make many appeals of that kind? - Yes. - Excellent. Now, Mrs. Shaw, to come to another matter. Are you as a citizen ofSt. John's in the habit of visiting either the Arts & Culture Centre or the art gallery in that institution? - No. - Have you ever been there? - Once. - Did you pay any admission fee ? - Why, no! 'Tis open t o the public. - Was it to the Culture Centre that you went, or to the art gallery in particular? - The art gallery. - For what purpose? - I went to see the picture of Mrs. Bastow. - How did you come to make this u nusual visit? - I heard talk about the picture. Everybody was saying . . . . . - Please, Mrs. Shaw ! Do forgive me for interrupting you, but let us pass over all rumors, and hearsay public judgments on art. You heard about a certain picture that was being shown and you went to the art gallery to see it. This portrait that I now turn towards you, is it the picture that you saw? - Yes, sir, it is. - And is it the picture that you had heard about? - Yes. - Be so good as to answer carefully now: how do you know that? - Because the people I heard about it from, they said it was a picture of Mrs. Olive Bastow. - Ah. And you yourself recognized it as such on seeing it at the gallery. - Yes, right away. - I see. I have j ust a few more questions. While you were at the art gallery and in front of this picture, did you hear any comments on it? I mean things said in your hearing though not necessarily addressed to you. - Yes. - Can you remember any of these things? - One in particular. - Tell it, please. Why do you hesitate, M rs . Shaw? - Well, sir, 'tis kind of vulgar. - Never mind. Tell us the comment as nearly as you can recall it. - Well, this man was there to one side of me. He was looking straight at the picture of Mrs. Bastow and he laughed and shook h is head and he said what . . . . . what a old bitch the woman must be, and God help the man that was married to her! - ihank you, Mrs. Shaw. That is all. In the matter of cross-examination there was not much that john Hart could do to cancel out the effect of what I rene Shaw had said, as there could be no point

1 10

in denying that Mrs. Bastow was a well-known woman and that Cabot's portrait was in fact a representation of her. The defence line was going to take a different direction , but Hart did see one way of questioning this witness that might, later on, lessen the effect of what she had said. - Mrs. Shaw, who was Toulouse-Lautrec? - Who? - Do you know the name Rembrandt? - Was he an artist, one o' them Frenchmen? - Michelangelo? - I heard the name, but I don't know who he was, no. - Cabot Carter? - Who? Oh my glory, yes! He's the one done the picture. - You mean the portrait of Olive Bastow, obviously. Had you ever heard of Mr. Carter before all this controversy? - This what? - The trouble over the portrait. - No. I never heard of him. - When you went to the gallery to see his picture, did you notice another portrait hung right beside it? - Yes. It looked like a tramp or something. - Did you even trouble to look at the signature on this second portrait? - No, I didn't. - About this man who made the rude remark containing the words "old bitch" and so on, did you know him at all? - No . - Y o u knew, a n d y o u still know, nothing about h i s standard of education or culture or anything else? - That's true. - Mrs. Shaw, did what this man said make you think any the worse of the picture of Mrs. Bastow? - I already thought it was d readful. - But did you think it was even more dreadful, after hearing those remarks? - Well, no. I guess I fel t much the same about it. - Did you think any the worse of M rs. Bastow herself on account of what the man said? Did he give you a bad opinion of her? - No . . . . no. I can't say he gave me a bad opinion of M rs. Bastow, because I kind offelt sorry for her when I saw the picture and then when I heard all the talk about it. . . - I see. I have no further questions. There was an extra stir of anticipation as the name of the next witness for the prosecution was called down the courtroom and echoed out through the main door. She took the oath with more solemnity than is usual, and with a sort o f precise nervcmsness identified herself a s Angela Mary Hart. I n approaching her, Darlington was all consideration. - Mrs. H art, you are personally well acquainted with Olive Bastow? - Yes. 111

- You have served with her on various committees and benevole n t bodies in this city? - Yes. - I n that con nection, were yo u in the company of Mrs. Bastow on t he afternoon of Febr·uary 1 9t h . last? - Yes, I was. - Would you tell the Court the circumstances, please. - Olive . . . . . I mean, M rs. Bastow and I were on a committee for orphanages t h roughout the island . This was non-denominational. I was representing the Catholic C hu rch and M r·s. Bastow t he Presbyterian. Well, the meeting ended earlier than we ex pected and a friend offered to d rive us home. M rs . Bastow accepted for t he t wo of us, but on t he way she asked t his other friend to let us off at the an gallery. - Why was that? - She had heard some rumor about a pic t u re, she told me, t hat was on show the re and was supposed to be her. - Then she had not seen t he port rait up to this time? - So I u nderstood . - And d id she invite you to go i n to the gallery with her? - Yes. - You are in terested i n painting? - No . - Then y o u are interested i n t he pai n ter Cabot Carter. - Yes. - Why is t hat? - For personal reasons. - Would you car·e to enlarge on that , M rs. H art? - Only to say that my daugh ter Roma was acquainted with this man Caner, was seeing him . . . . . - A little louder, please! - So I wanted to find out all I could about him in every way. - Of course. A mother's natural concern. So even i f you had been alone you would have gone in to see the picture i n question, knowing i t was by Cabot Carter. Well then, you and M rs. Bastow went into the art gallery and sought out this pon rait. - We didn't have to seek it out. The min ute we were i n the room, there it was staring us right in the face. - You were righ t beside Mrs. Bastow as you both walked u p to i t ? - Yes. - H ow d id she react ? - Fir·st she . . . . . she gave a gasp. - And then? - I felt M rs . Bastow kind of stagger. - What did you do? - The first t h ing I did was call out t.o a man over on t he other side of t he room . I called out for help. - Help? 1 12

- Yes. I thought Olive was going to fai nt, she turned so pale. She's a heavy woman, and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to manage. - Did she faint? - Not q uite, no. B u t she was more or less . . . . . oven;ome. The man I called out to came over, and we took her· arms and tried to steady her and comfort her. Then we helped her ove r t o a bench and I went and got her a cup of tea from the cafeteria. - You had the im pressio n , did you , that she i m mediately took the portrait to be a represen tation of her·self? - Oh yes. Certainly. - Did she say anything o n this point? - Yes. The man who helped us went away, and t he n she spoke to me. - Do you remember· her exact words? - ·No. I was too shocked myself to take anything in, exactly. - But you recall the substance of M rs . Bastow's remarks on this harrowing occasion ? - Yes. She cried out "Oh my goodness, A ngela ! Why did he do it?", or words to that effect . - How would you describe her tone? - I t was as if she had been stu nned. - Her facial expression? - She was horrified, Mr. Darl i ngton. - Direct your answers to the j ury, please. - She was absolutely horrified. - What happened after she made that (approximate) remark? - Mrs. Bastow went on trembling and she was still very pale. We j ust stayed by ourselves for a w hile, u ntil she stopped crying . . . . . - She was weeping as well? - Oh yes. - And then? - After about an hour I called a taxi and helped her i n to it, and then I took her home and stayed with her for a while longer·. This evidence, or rather the identity of the witness, put john Hart in a dilemma if only because he did not want to seem to quarrel with h is wife in public. H e could tell from the ex pectant silence behind and all around him that this was w hat most people in court were waiting for ; yet , apart from the personal angle, what could he do to refute evidence of fact to w h ich this witness had been the only complete witness? Hardly a t h ing, beyond showing prejudice against the defendant . This would mean bringing i n Roma's whole connection with the case, but since he intended to call his daughter later in the t rial a nyway, and knew that she would be literally shameless in her defence of Cabot, he decided on asking Angela three or four short, sharp questions and thus getting her off the stand in a h u rry. When he began this cross-exami nation his voice came out un natu rally loud in the sur­ rou nding silence. - Mrs. Hart, you said your daughter was acquainted with Cabot Carter and was seeing h i m . You meant dating him? - Yes. I13

- Did you approve? - No. - I pass o"er the reasons, and stick to facts. Did you and your daughter Roma quarrel over this dating? - That, and other things. - Cabot Carter was the central cause of your differences. I s the answer to that, yes or no? - Yes. I felt he was not suit . . . . . - Can we have facts, please, and not feelings? Did Roma leave home and take her own apartment as a result of your differences? - Yes, I suppose so. - Did you, and do you, blame Cabot Carter for this rift and separation between you and your daughter? Here came the first objection by counsel, as K. K . Darlington rose and spoke incisively : - My Lord, witness can't be expected to assign a single cause to an effect that may be rooted in many and complex reasons, going back to a time before Mrs . . H art even knew of such a person as Cabot Carter! That is u nreasonable. It is too heavily charged a question . - Can you rephrase it, Mr. H art? - I 'll pass it by, My Lord, and just ask this witness one or two simpler questions. Thank you . Now, Mrs. Hart, did you ever meet Cabot Carter i n person ? - Yes, once. - Did you like him? On your oath, now. - Well . . . . . no. - Did you try to keep Roma away from him? - Yes. For her own good. - Never mind value judgments. Did you succeed? - No . - You still consider Cabot Carter a bad influence on her? - Yes, I do! - No more questions. The next witness was youn g Kirk Squires, by w hom the mass of spectators as well as the jury were not only visibly but audibly impressed. Somebody behind the scenes had dressed him for this occasion in a handsome grey suit with white shirt and trendy but not vulgar tie that brought out his coloring. The boy was just a little sel f-conscious, yet clearly determined to stand u p for the truth as he saw it. Darlington too was obviously taken by the witness's manner. - Kirk, how old are you? - I'm fourtee n, sir - almost. - Of course you understand the meaning of the oath i n a courtroom. - Yes, sir. I t means I have to tell the truth when you ask me questions. - When anybody here asks you questions. A nd do you u nderstand the meaning of the word "plaintiff'? - Yes. My grandmother is the plaintiff in this case, and Cabot Carter is the defendant. 1 11

- Quite. Now, Kirk, how many times have you seen your grandmother's portrait at the art gallery? - Once. - Only once? - That was enough, sir. -Just answer my q uestions, whatever your private feelings may be . What did you think w hen you first saw the portrait? - I was sore. - Angry? - Yes. - Wh y ? - Because Gran, my grandmother, is n o t like that. I t wasn't fair! -· Tell u s more exactly what it was in the picture that made you angry. - It made Gran look ugly. - That was your own opinion. Do you k now personally of any other people's thoughts concerning the picture? - Yes, sir, I do. - Where did you experience this? - At school. - What happened, to give you this know ledge? - Two or three of the guys were talking about the picture. - I n substance, what were they saying? - That Gran was like a hag or an old witch. - And that angered and h urt you . - I n more ways than one. - How do you mean? - I got i n to a fight with one of those guys. - Oh, I see. But, Kirk, had these boys actually been at the gallery and seen the picture? - No . - Then how did t h e y know abo u t it or w hat it w a s like? - I asked one of them that. He said he heard his parents talking about it at home. - And the others? - Same th ing. - M m m m . Parents of three or four boys, from differen t parts of the city, no doubt, referring to the portrait as that of a hag or an old witch. - I don't say all the guys used those exact w01·ds, sir. - No matter. One of them did, and the others repeated offensive (bad) remarks too? - Yes. - I think t hat is all. By the way, did you win your fight? - No, sir, I lost. But it didn't change my mind abo u t anything. - That is u nderstandable. Now then, you must answer a few questions from my learned friend M r . Han, who is acting for the defendant in this trial. - Kirk, this same M r. Cabot Carter who has painted your grandmother, also did a sketch of you ? 1 15

- Yes, sir. - How d id you like that? - Not too m uch. - Did your mother have it fl-amed and placed i n the livingroom of your home? - Yes, that's t rue. - Did you like that idea? More precisely, did you ever ask your mother or father not to keep t he sketch there? - Well, no. - So you didn't feel t hat your own portrait was an insult. - No, not an insult, exactly . . . . . - Did you t h i n k it was really like you ? - No, sir, M r . H a n , I didn't! - Why not ? - That's hard t o explai n . I t was kind o f like me, and then i t was . . . . . i t was way off base. - Do you mean unreal? - Not exact ly. I mean more like . . . . . like puzzling. - Did any of your chums ever come i n to your house and see this sketch of you? - Yes. - What did t hey say ? - Not much. They just laughed. - And t hat didn't make you sore? - N aw ! They were j u s t horsing around. - I want now to come back to those boys whom you did fight and q uarrel with. And I want you to think and answer my next questions very carefully, Kirk. First, are these three boys in the same grade as yourself? - Yes, they are, sir. Grade 9 . - Do a l l of y o u study art ? - No. Only me. - H ow do the others escape i t ? - They take another subject instead . - Would you say they know anything about art? - No. - So their opinion on any pict ure wouldn't be worth much. A nother objection by Darli ngton : - M y Lord, t his line of q uestioning seems to be a waste of the Court's time. M y learned friend w a s here, and n o doubt attentive, w h e n I established a few mo­ ments ago that the opinions and sen timents t hese boys expressed were picked u p from t heir pare n ts. There w a s n o question o f t heir forming an independent j udgment on any painting. - M r. Hart, do you accept that? - With respect, My Lord, not entiJ-ely. I 'd like at least to ask a few more questions about t he so urce ol t hese opinions. - Very well. Go on fOJ- the present. - Kirk, you're not a snob, are you ? - No, sir! 1 16

- The three boys you mentioned, would you say they come from good homes? - That's a tough question to answer. I couldn't say. - All right. I 'll be more exact . Let's take the boy you had the fight with. Do you know what his father does for a living? - He's a sailor on the Merchant Marine boats. - H is mother? Does she work? - I 'm not sure , but I think she's a waitress in Bowring's cafeteria. - Did .this boy ever come to you r house? - No. We're not pals. - I mean before this t rouble over you r grandmother's port t·ait. - We weren't pals then, either. - Where does he live? ----. I think it's dow n behind Hotel Newfoundland somewhere. - So you were never at his place? - No . - Are t h e othet· t w o boys m uch l i k e you r . . . . . your opponent in theit· general backgro und? - Yes, I guess so. - You said that aftet· you had lost the fight, you had n't changed your mind about anything. Did you mean that no matter how many portraits of your grandmother were painted or how many fights you got into over them, your opinion of her would nevet· be changed? - Yes, sir, that's what I mean t . - I think those are all m y questions. Now came t he bulky, self-important figure of Fred Squires, whom Darlington approached as a more significan t witness than any w ho had yet appeared. - Mr. Squires, you are the son-in-law of the plaintiff? - That's correct. - Your age? - Forty-nine. - Profession? - I own and manage Squires Electrical. I think everybody knows what that is around t hese parts. - Did you go to t he art gallery, on your own initiative, shortly after you heard tal k conce rn ing t his portrait o f Mrs. Bastow? - I did. - W hat was yo ur reaction? - React ion? I was sore as hell, to see Mother held u p . . . . . - Mot her? O h , I see. You call M rs. Bastow "Mother" in the ordinary course, do you? - Yes. To see Mot her held u p to ridicule and have her shamed and made a public show of like ! hat .

Objeu ion by .John Hart: - M y Lord , I protesl t hat t hat's a prejudging of the issue here on the part of a witness. 1 17

- Please try to answer the q uestions factually, M r . Squires, if you can, withou t deciding issues for the jury. - Yes, M y Lord. I just feel so str . . . . . - Never mind. Go on, Mr. Darlington. - Mr. Squires, you say, then, that you personally were outraged o n seeing t h is portrait . - I sure was. - What was your very first impulse? - To go and give this guy Carter a punch in the nose. - B u t calmer counsel prevailed? - Yes, you could say that. - What steps did you take in lieu of violence? - I talked to Mothe r and I strongly advised her to take legal action. - Now, sir, we have had some evidence as to what Mrs. Bastow has endured here in St. John's in consequence o f he1· portrait being displayed. Can you add anything to that, from your personal knowledge? - I certainly can . One time that stands out in my min<;! is about a month ago when I attended a meeting of Rotary, of which I ' m Vice-President. Shortly after we started the meeti n g - i t was a lunch, really - somebody made a remark about the portrait, and everybody looked at me and smiled. - Smiled? - I should say, smirked . Another objection by Hart: - Counsel is seeking in terpretation from the witness, with the apparent i n tention of showing that the w hole Rotary membership had a poor opinion of t h is portrait . - No t at a l l , M y Lord! I w a s merely eliciting w hat passed at t h i s meeting or l u nch. - You did seem to be leading the witness, M r . Darlington. I n viting a certain answer. - My respectful apologies. I pass o n to fact, t hen; to evidence of a more concrete and drastic nature. M r . Squires, you travel freq uently across this province on business? - Yes. I like to keep up personal contact, at managerial level. - Did you ever hear any comments or witness any reactions to this portrait outside St. John's? - I sure did. - Can you tell the Court first how , i n that case, knowledge of the pict u re spread, since it has not yet been shown anywhere outside the city? - It was reproduced , i n color, i n The Evening Telegram and distributed province­ wide, before there was any idea of this case. - Where did you hear comment on it, across the province? - Several places. Take Corner Brook . . . . . - Just for the record: locate Corner B rook, please. - I t's a city out on the west coast, about fou r h undred miles from here. Population about twenty-five thousand. Well, I went i n to an electrical goods store there, one of my outlets, and it so happened tha t I found the manager in his office looking at the reproduction of Mother. 1 18

- What was his reaction? - He was laughing. - Was any remark passed? By him, I mean. - Yes. - Exact words? If you recall them? - I do recall them. And they were what you might call typical. He says to me: "By the Holy Moses, Mr. Squires, the old saying must be right, and the Devil is a woman after all". - In direct reference to the reproduction? - He was pointing at it all the time. - Let us be clear, now. Can you say whether he had known Mrs. Bastow by name and reputation before this event? -' Yes, he had. - How can you be sure? - He said so at the time. - Then did he know she was your mother-in-law? - Not when he passed that remark. - Did you enlighten him? - Yes. We had a few more words, at closer q uarters. Like my son, I don't go for the idea of anyone belonging to me being mocked and insulted . . . . . - I object, M y Lord ! Witness is again prejudging the issue. - But surely, Mr. Hart, witness means here that those words uttered in Corner Brook were offensive, not the portrait or the reproduction itself? - As long as that is clear, My Lord. One idea might give rise to the other, and the jury draw a damaging inference. - I doubt it. No. Let the record stand as it is. Proceed, M r. Darlington. - Was anything else said on this occasion about the reproduction, Mr. Squires? - No. My "friend" had nothing further to say, criticism-wise. - One more question: did you have similar experiences in other parts of the province? - Yes. I had similar experiences in places as far apart as Port-aux-Basques, Gander and Fogo. John H art, realizing that he had a harder task with this outwardly im posing and i mplacable witness, decided to circle around him a bit and pick at him here and there before thrusting home his attack. He was met with a formidable frown. - At the Rotary Club, you say nothing actually happened beyond a smile from your fellow members, or a smirk, as you were led to put it? - I t was the idea of the thing. - That's vague. I don't understand you. Did you assume that these reactions were derogatory? That they intended offence? - If you were there, you'd assume it too. - What my feelings would have been is irrelevant. You took it for granted that those men thought badly of your mother-in-law because they smiled when her portrait was mentioned. I sn't that so? - With things like that, it's all in the . . . . . the manner. I had no need to take 1 19

anything for granted . - No speculat ion , please. Give me a direct answer: was anything actually said or done on t hat occasion that was really derogatory to you r· mother-in-law? - Not act ually done or said. - You mean d u ring t he lunch? - Yes. - But wasn't there any discussion after that? Any kind of informal chit-chat, which you often get at the break-up of a social occasion like ·that? You know the kind of t hing I mean . - Of cou rse I do. B u t t here was none of that, not to me, or in reference to the pictu re . - How do you account for· t ha t ? - A ll hands could t e l l by my manner t hat I just d idn't w a n t a n y further conversations on t he subject . - That seems to have been another assumption on your part. So what this amounts t o is t hat you see a smile on the faces of a few local businessmen such as yourself and you im mediately think t hey a r·e reflect i n g on your mother-in-law by reason of her port rai t . - I . . . . . - By yo u r· own ad mission you never asked one of these men to explain himself, or what m ight be meant by his look or his m an ner. How can you be s u re it wasn't a reaction of sympathy? - I still say it was easy to tell i f you were there. - But it's only you r interpretation. Do you seriously think that a woman like M rs. Olive Bastow could be inj ured in any way by t he passing, am biguous smiles of a few men at a pr·ivate business lunch? --.,.- Some of those men sit on a pre t t y high stool in this town and they got a lot of in fl uence. Their react ion could inj u re a person more than you think, if it was shown in public. Then there's their families. You can figure that if t h e head of a fam ily thinks a certain way, t he other members of it will . . . . . - That's only inference you're coming into. We're here to examine truth. By K . K . Darlington: - My Lord, I submit my learned friend is overriding the witness. H e should at least wait u ntil we see whether the point Mr. Squires is tr·ying to make, being completed, is relevant. - Finish w hat you were saying, Mr. Squ i res, but tr·y not to wander off into general remarks. - Yes, My Lord. I only mea n t to say that i f the father of a family holds certain ideas or has certain reactions to a thing, then h is wife and childre n are liable to be affected by those ideas and spread them arou nd. - But can you give us any actual instance, from your own experience and i n reference t o t h e portrait, where this h a s happened? - Maybe not, M r . H art, but I still think it's true. - Spec u lation. Let's move out again to Corner Brook, w here you say you did have experience of massive damage to your mother-in-law. The manager of this store, who made the remark on the portrait, did he and you have a fight? 1 20

- No. I j ust grabbed him and shook him u p a little. - Before he knew who you were? - Well, yes. - Wasn't that bad for business? - Maybe. I n this case I d id n't cat·e. - Did you give h i m a punch in the nose? - No. - Wasn't yo ur whole action here violen t and unreasonable? - This is t rue, to a certain extent, maybe. I 'm kind of a hot-tempered guy. I ad mit it. And, like I said, I already had a lot to put u p with far's that darn picture is concerned. - I take it the manager out west was not a membe t· of Rota•·y? - No, he wasn't. - Did he, or does he, hold any public office in Corner B rook? - Not as far as I know. - I s he a family man? - Pardon? I . . . . . I couldn't say. - You were so concerned about wives and children spreading un flattering ideas about M rs. Bastow, ideas they would pick up from t he head of the family, that I thought you might be able to tell us som ething on that score with regat·d to this manager. Well, has he a wife and childt·en ? - I . . . . . I d i d n ' t bother t o find oul . - I see . Come back, then, to the remark about t he devil bei n g a woman . Were you and he alone w hen that was said? - Yes. - Did he mention any other remarks that had been made out there about the reproductio n ? - Not u nder t h e circumstances. - Before you "grabbed him and shook him u p a little", did he speak of any other reaction at all to the portrait, that he had witnessed? ·

- Objection, My L01·d ! that would be hearsay, in any case . - Yes, Mr. Darl ington. M r . Hart, you r next q uestion? Wit ness need not answer that one. - Did the manager say anything else to you that was not to your liking? - Not t hat I recall. H e may have. - Why do you say t hat? - I was pretty riled u p at the time, and when you feel like that you don't always take everything i n . - Very t m e ! B u t this experience ovet· t h e •·eprod uction w a s the only o n e of its kind that you had in Corner Brook, wasn't i t ? - The whole town was talking . . . . . - Please do not generalize. Yes, or no? - Yes. But in other places . . . . . - I may come to t hose in a moment. I want to move on now t.o another aspect of this whole sit uation with regard to the picture of M t·s. Bastow. Mr. Squires, you're a successful businessman. Can we take it that this has left you very litt le time for art 121

and things of that kind? - You can. - Could you tell me w ho Raphael was? You don't k no w ? - (and that's not half t h e story, buster) No. - Just suppose that somebody who does k now, and has studied these t hings, told you this portrait of the woman whom you call Mother is a fine picture. What would you say? - I 'd say he was nuts. - Suppose that somebody who had spent as m uc h time in art, as you have in business, told you that? - I'd still say n u ts . - A r e y o u familiar w i t h any other work b y Cabot Carter? - Not familiar. There was this other thing, this other picture alongside mother's, that Carter was responsible for. - It's a portrait of a man called Sailor B urns. H ere it is. I'll place it o n the easel, My Lord, so that it can be viewed by everybody with convenience. Mr. Squires, what was your reaction to it at the art gallery, and w hat do you think of i t now? - My opinion hasn't changed. You want my actual thoughts? - Yes, of course. - I thought, who the hell would want to paint a picture of a bum and a parasite? What kind of a screwball would bother to do it? - A good many screwballs have bothered to do it, at least to paint outcasts. B u t coming back t o t h e defendant, d o y o u know a n y more of his works? - No. - Carefu l ! I s that the truth? - Yes. - But surely you bought one of them once? - Oh, you mean the d rawing of my son . I didn't buy that. - Your wife bought it, and you now acknowledge ownership? - Well, yes. I paid for it. I didn't buy it. - Is it in your house at this very moment? - Yes. - Then how can you say you're not familiar with it? - I didn't cou n t that sketch. - Well, I do. And your attitude is dangerously like prevarication. Quibbling. Furthermore, isn't it a fact that the sketch in question was for some time not only in your house but in you r living-room and set on the top of you r TV set? And this even though you obviously didn't like the sketch. - Well, it was there for a w hile, and I put up with it. - Why? - Why? For some peace and quiet in the house, I guess. - For how long did you put u p with it? - Oh, couple of months, I imagine. - Was there an interval w hen it was not in your house ? - I don't understand the question. - I think you do. Did you or did you not break that sketch after it had been framed and glazed and placed by your wife on the TV set? I 22

- That was an accident. - Tell us how the au.: ident happened. - I was just making a . . . . . a gesture i n conversation, and I happened t o strike the dam th ing, t hat's all. - A prett y strong gest ure, to knock a framed pictll l·e t·ight off a piece of fu rn it u re and smash it up on the floor. Who was your conversation wit h ? - M y wife. - W hat caused t h i s gesture, as you call i t ? - Kind of a household argument. - Were you and M rs. Squ ires quarrelling over the sketch ? - No, that wasn't t he m a i n t h ing. Besides, s h e h a d it repaired . - We're not concerned with that. Did t h is quarrel cent re around Cabot Carter, either his work or h imself? - N o . It wasn't just abo u t one t h ing or one perso n . T h e Attorney-General h a d been getting restive for some time; he n o w rose and spoke in exasperation : - My Lord, t h is is wandering fmm the issue too m uch altoget her! I should like to ask my learned friend exactly w hat all these questions are directed to. - To prejudice, My Lord. To violent personal prejudice on the part of t h is wit ness against my client. M y inte n t ion is to show that any view he may have of Cabot Carter o r his work is clouded by prejudice. - Do you i n tend to show that t h is is directly referable to the matter in hand, to the charge of libel? - I hope to , M y Lord, both now and later i n these proceedings. - Very well . i'he court will hear you, pro t e m . - Than k you , My Lord. Mr. Squires, here's a question y o u c a n a t least answer without any personali t ies or any quibbli ng: have you ever called at the house on M ullen S t reet where t he defendant lives? - Yes. - For what pu rpose? - To find out if my wife was there t he day she disappeared. - For our information , your wife Mat·ion Sq uires d isappeared from you r home and from this cit y for a t.ime, and you went to Cabot Carter's residence to e nquire about her. I s t hat correct? - Yes. - But why did you go to }_Lis residence? - I . . . . . I thought he m ight know something about it. - Did you have any grounds at all for t h inking that ? - I had my t·easons, yes. - Your tone prompts t h is next quest ion . A re you suggesting t hat Cabot Carter had any kind of sexual relationship or an affait· w i t h you r wife? - No, not exact ly. But she saw him a few t imes, on her own, and before she went away she was always going on about "art" and all that kind of bull. I figured Carter m ight k now somet hing about w hat happened to her, at least ; and at the t ime I think I was right. -Just t o take this matter a little farthet·, what did you find out when you enq uired 1 23

at Mr. Carter's address? - Nothing. He wasn't hofi.te. - Did you e nq uire of anyone else there? - No. It was between him and me. -Did you subsequently find any reason whatever to suspect Cabot Carter of anything in relation to your wife? - Well, no. - What action did you take to have her found? - After a few days I called in the police. ·- Did they find evidence of any " hanky-panky" between her and Cabot Carter? - Not as far as I know. - You know perfectly well they fou nd nothing of the kind. If they had , w ho would know better than you? You're the person most nearly concerned. Did your wife say anythi ng to you on this subject after she was brought back from a sort of Rest Home called The Retreat? - No. -'-- I f anything had happened between her and the defendant, anything i mproper, wouldn't she have told you? - Not necessarily. - You mean on accou n t of the already strained relations between you and your wife? - Yes. - Then as far as you know, your suspicions of Cabot Carter were and are quite u nfou nded. - I 'm still not sure. - Will you admit strong personal prej udice against him? - I don't like the guy, if that's w hat you mean, and I ' m not afraid to say so. He's a phoney, cheating the public and getting money out of them for crap. Pardon the expression, My Lord ! - You mean , in your opinion, valueless works of art? - Yes, My Lord, I do. - As long as it is clear that that is only your personal opinion. Very well . Go on, please, M r . Hart. And I hope we can move away from personalities now. - I have only one or two more questions for this witness. After the testimony you have j ust given, in particular on matters of art, you still have the gall to stand u p there and describe any artist's work a s "crap"? - That's right. That's my opinion of Carter. - You don't take any account of you r sel f-confessed and blatant ignorance in this field? - I figure I'm entitled to my opinion same as anybody else. - After that, no more questions! H art turned im patiently away from the box, and Darlington got up to call h is star witness for the Crown .

I 24

THREE

It so happened that as she faced the well of the courtroom Olive Bastow's portrait was just in line with her, so that there was an irrepressible titter and one o r two involuntary exclamations as the likeness between original a n d painting be­ came startlingly apparent. These disturbances brought a wide-ranging frow n from the judge a n d calls for Silence a n d Order in the Court from t h e even sterner clerk. K. K. Darlington began to question the witness i n a kindly, deferential tone. - Mrs. Bastow, I, and I feel sure nearly every person here present, sympathize with you in this entire ordeal . . . . . - Thank you, Mr. Darlington. - We are all aware of what you have had to endure in the way of embarrassment, etc., from the first showing of this picture to the present moment. Therefore I shall be as brief as po�sible, confining m yself where possible to matters of fact and your own experience. Please bear with me if the re-living of some of that experi­ ence, in connection with the portrait, is painfu l to you. First I should like to ask you, what is your age? - I'm seventy-one years of age. - Did you order this picture of yourself to be done? - No indeed! - Will you tell the Court how and why it came about that you brought this action for libel, despite the additional shame and embarrassment that all the publicity would cause you? - Well, sir, I was very hurt in myself, in my own feelings. I won't deny that that thing is a torment to me. But I felt I should go to law not just to protect myself. I didn't want other respectable people in St. John's to have to suffer the same way I was suffering. - You felt the showing of your portrait as, mainly, suffering. May I j ust go into that for a moment? A previous witness, Mrs. Angela Hart, has told us of your reaction on first viewing this canvas; but will you tell the Court how you actuallyfelt at that moment? - I tell you the truth, sir, I felt just like somebody had stuck a k nife in me. Right to the heart, Mr. Darlington, right to the heart. - Naturally. - And then I fel t so puzzled too. - Puzzled? - Yes. I just couldn't think why anyone would do a thing like that, to me, when I never did any harm to them. I mean, why they would go and make a public show Qf me. I t just seemed so cruel. 1 25

- I ndeed. Apart from you r . . . . . your dismay as a woman over the portrait, do you fee l that it has inj u red you socially? - Why, it made me a laughing-stock in the whole tow n ! - I n addition t o you r own feelings, what reason have you for believing that? - Well, for one thing, right there in the art gallery, when I was able to bring myself to go back agai n , I heard and saw all kinds of people laughing at the picture. Standing in fron t of it, and tittering and joking and passing vulgar remarks on it. I nterjection by John H art: - My Lord , we hear a lot about this kind of reaction to the portrait and about witness's experiences in public since it appeared, but we don't see or hear any of these rude and insensitive people w ho reacted i n this way. - Mr. Darlington ? - I don't see t h e necessity, M y Lord. M r s . Bastow i s speaking of h e r own direct personal experience, and her testimony has had prior corroboration from this box, and will have more before this trial is over. Again I am anxious to avoid u n n ecessary prolongation of these proceedi ngs. - Very well, if you and Mr. Hart are content with that. - To proceed, the n . H ave you ever held any public office, Mrs. Bastow? I mean elective office? - No, not public office in that way. B u t I belong to nine different Organizations here in St. J ohn's, and some of them are affiliated all over the island. - One or two examples, please. A religiou s body ? - I ' m a member of the Cou ncil of Presbyterian Ch urches for all of Newfoundland. - Social? - I'm on the Ladies' Committee for the Regatta every year. - Charitable. - There's the Orphans' Fund, M rs . Perlin's School for H andicapped C hildren, and the Drive against Cancer. - All in all, there can be no doubt that you are a very well-known woman locally? - That's not for me to say, sir. Still, I try and do my d uty as God calls me to it. - You have literally hundreds of friends, acquaintances and associates in and around this city? - Oh yes. - Will you relate in a l i ttle more detail how this portrait has made you lose face and fame among the m ? - For days after it w a s shown I w a s almost ashamed t o poke my nose outside the door. People n udging each other in the street whenever I passed by, even pointing me out, if they had no better manners than that. - B ut more specifically, what kind of things happened to you among your friends and associates? - For o ne thing, I lost invitations to speak in public, once this trouble came over me. You see, sir, I u sed to give lectures and talks as m uch as two or three times a month, reg'lar, but then it went down to one a month or even none at all . - How was that connected with the exhibition of this picture of you ? - I know for a fac t that some of the committees wanted all the fuss over i t to die 1 26

down before they asked me to speak again. I t was partly out of thought for me, of course. I know that. They didn't want people coming to my lectures just on account of all the talk. All the same, I was wonderful hurt over it, and I missed all the company, to take m y mind off things. - You attributed your falling o ff in popularity, if I may so express it, to the public excitement and controversy in the press and elsewhere over the portrait? - What else? Nothing else happened around that time, or any other time, to make anybody change towards me. - H as the n umber of your invitations to speak been restored yet to its former level? - No . - Yo u valued these occasions highly, n o doubt. - Living all alone and with considerable time on m y hands, I treasured them. I still have my health and strength, thank God, and so I love to serve whenever I have the chance, sir. - You have given us some account of the loss or reduction in your public activity. May I return to the private life now ? H as anything comparable happened there? - Yes. Several times when I went out to tea, there were looks exchanged by the women . - Which you i n te rpreted as? - I t seemed like they wanted to talk about something, to bring u p a certain subject, but didn't like to. Because I was there . I t's j ust the kind of thing a woman can feel right off the bat, in a social gathering, even though she may not be able to put her finger on it or prove anything by law . - Very true. Can you tell us, however, of some inciden t where a thing actually was said that caused you pain and distress and reflected on you in a social situation? Of course I mean, as befor·e, something to do with the portrait. - There was one time at a prayer meeting in a private home. We always have special prayer meetings coming on towards Lent, you know. Well, I arrived at this one late because I found it hard to get a taxi in the stormy weather. After I got there I saw that the other women were all in the kitchen having a c u p of coffee, waiting for me to start the meeting. The kitchen door was half ope n , and I started walking in there. Then I heard someone mention me by name, and the picture. So I stopped and listened. I heard this same person say clear as a bel l : " It'll take the old tyrant the rest of her life to live it down . Lord, w hat a sight that Carter has made of her! " There was more of the same, and I listened to it all. What woman wouldn't? But that was the main part. - What feeling did you take this woman's wor·ds to convey? - Only one thing, sir, to my way of thinking. Contempt. - Did you go into the kitchen and challenge the remark? - Oh no . I j u st waited for a minute or two until somebody changed the subject, and when I did go in I never let on that I heard a thing. - Why, if you were so h u rt ? - A prayer meeting is hardly t h e right place t o start a row, is it? But it a l l stuck i n to me pretty deep, and I don't imagine it made the other women who were there think any more highly of me. - Since t h is whole affair of the portrait began, your life has been disrupted and 1 27

you have continued to s u ffer bot h embarrassment and scorn, not to say ridicule and conte m pt? - I ndeed I have. - H as your life yet returned to normal, after a period of mon t hs? - No . - I n w h a t way, additionally? - I don't get near as many phone calls as I used to, and I miss it, especially in the evening. And not so many people come to see me at my place, or ask me to theirs. - So you distinctly and honestly fee l t hat you have u ndergone a loss of esteem in the public mind, a lowering of your image, as t he curre n t phrase has it, since this picture of yourself was exhibited. Is that true, M 1·s . Bastow? - Yes, sir, it is. - Thank you so much. That is all for the present. Darlington stepped back towards his table, but before sitting down he unex­ pectedly addressed the Bench again : - My Lord, M rs . Bastow is not q uite the final witness for the prosecutio n . There i s one other, M rs. Frederick Squi•·es; b u t u nfortunately she i s not well this morning and her doctor has recom mended that, if it is convenient, she be called a t a later point in the trial. So with Your Lordship's assent, I should like to reserve the right to call her when it seem s mo•·e advisable. - H ave you any objection to that, M r. H art? - Not exactly an objection, M y Lord. I would just like to be assured that this other and final witness will be called before the prese n tation of my case is complete. - Oh, certainly, M y Lord. I can assure m y learned friend on that point. - Al l right, gentlemen . Now, M r. H art, are you ready to begin your crossexamination of this wit ness? A tough n u t. That was how John Hart thought of Olive Bastow, and had been thinking of her long before this critical momen t . I f not altogether a sympathetic figure in herself, she now almost certainly had the sympathy of the jury; therefore those twelve people would not be m uch impressed by any atte m pt to show her as a vindictive old shrew out to "get" an aspiring artist because she could neither take a joke nor recognize a work of art if it were handed to her on a communion plate. Equally clear was the fact ttiat Mrs. Bastow could not be discredited as a witness. H art had decided or been forced to recognize t hat h is best way of dealing with her would be to wear down the effect of her evidence, hoping also that as he got closer to her in their verbal duel, she might give him one or two openi ngs through which he could get in and stab her. One way or another, he had to show that t his woman had not suffered the mortal i nj u ry to he•· own feelings and her reputation t hat the prosecution had sought to make out. - Mrs. Bastow, you've heard it said t hat in woman vanity never dies? - Of course I have. - Do you believe it? - Eh? - Do you think that statement is true? - Yes, in most cases. I 28

I n your own? - Bit late for that. For vanity. Ha! - Do you think that when you first saw this portrait of yourself, and burst into tears, it was your vanity crying out in protest? - No, I do not! I was shocked and hurt. I was cut to the quick, that such a thing should be done at all. - But wasn't this fundamentally because you were then, and it may have been for the first time, really seeing yourself as others saw you? Admittedly, the experience is a shock, more especially if youth is gone and the . . . . . the marks of time are on us. Wasn't your first reaction wounded vanity in that sense? - 'Twas more than that. My blood boiled at the insult of it, and I mean the insult to me as a . . . . . a person . - Still, the experience did you no irreparable harm ? - No w hat? - You got over it? - And that's w here you're w rong, sir! I did not get over it. That awful picture, it made me feel like two cents. And I'm still tormented by it. - I was speaking of your reaction on first seeing the portrait, not its total effect. But with regard to actual harm done by the picture, have you lost any money over it, for instance? - Friends are worth more than money any day. - That's not the point of my question. Can we take it that you have not suffered in the money sense on account of this portrait? - In that sense, no. - I'm coming to your alleged loss of friends later. You said a few minutes ago, i n answer t o a question from the Attorney-General, that y o u brought this action partly so that other people might not have to "suffer" as you have. Was that a completely honest answer? - It was. - You are asking the Court to accept you as a philanthropist in this way as in the other and more usual ways you have already mentioned?

'_

By Darlington : - My Lord, I really must enter a protest! Witness should not be expected to answer questions of that suggestive or speculative kind. She is answering very well as to fact and her own experience. - Do you think your question is a proper one, Mr. Hart? - I was coming back to the matter of vanity, My Lord, from another angle. I was pointing to the possibility that witness is simply deceiving herself about her own motives, and in many ways. But I can approach this matter from still another viewpoint if the Court so wishes. - Please do. - Very well, My Lord. Mrs. Bastow, when you first saw your own portrait at the art gallery, you noticed another portrait by the same artist hanging right beside it? - Yes. - You weren't too overcome for that, then. Who was it a representation of? - I thought it was a man called Sailor Burns. 1 29

- And so it was. But w hat is Sailor B u rns? Forgive me - first, did you ever meet him in the co ut·se of your charitable work? - Once. - What is he? - Oh, he goes around the streets picking u p th ings, I believe. - He's more or less a bum. Now the n , truly, will you admit that at least part of your mortification at the gallery was the result of finding yourself hanging beside the picture of a bum? - No I will not ! - You didn't feel t his even subconsciously? - Pardon ? - Might you have had t hese feelings that I suggested b u t failed t o realize t hem a t t h e t i m e , or to recognize them later? - No. I tell you, 'twas the shame of it to me , my own pict ure. - Perhaps. B u t did you really believe that Cabot Carter had singled you out, along with the unfort u nate Sailor Burns. just in OJ·cle1· to be cruel to you ? - That's what i t seems like to me. - You had met the art ist only once, before this? - That was enough. Yes, I met him once, but I saw him at one of my lectures too . - When you met him at close quarters, did he seem to you like a cruel person? ·

- My Lord ! Wit ness cannot be expected to analyze and pronounce on character after only one meeting. The question is unfair. - Object ion sustained. Will you go on to you r next question. M r. Hart? - I beg pardon, My Lord. Certai nly. You also said you were puzzled , M rs. Bastow, by you r portrait having been clone. Do you know that i n t he past many artists have painted and exhibited pict u res of well-known people, such as you , and without their permission in some cases? I 'm refeJTing to pictu res t hat were not flatte1·ing in the superficial sense. - I don't know, I 'm sure. - W ho was Degas? - I don ' t know and I don't see what that gor to do with i t . - Have you ever tried t o consider your poru·ait a s a work o f art ? - I consicle1· it as an insult. sir, an insult! - A purely pe1·son � l i nterpt·etation . Let 's come now to all t his pretended damage that you have unde1·gone, the alleged damage to your reputat ion . We have hea1·d that that reputation is very high in this city . . . . . - Yes, it was, before all t his t rouble. - May I finish my q uestion before you answer? You have a good reputation locally. and I'm stressing t h is because it brings up another vital question : if your reputation was so high, and so solid. do you seriously t h i n k m· claim t hat it could be destroyed by some obscure artist with no standing at all in the community, and t hat community on the whole paying no more attention to art than it does to higher mat hematics? - I can only tell what's after happening to me since t hat pict ure was see n . - Can you name o n e friend, a real or t n1e friend, who could i f necessa 1·y be brought here to testify, and whom you have lost because of t he portrait? I 1 30

challenge you . - Well, not actually a true friend, perhaps. B u t a lot of people have turned against me and talked and run me down . - Yo u see, M rs. Bastow, I ' m t roubled b y a con t radiction in your position a s you state i t . You admit t hat friends have stood by you and that the torment, as you choose to call it, has come from vague, anonymous people in the stree t , from one or two gossiping acquaintances at prayer meetings, and so on. Do you mean that the opinion of these gossips and backbiters weighs more heavily with you than the estimation or esteem of genuine friends? I s that what you're asking the Court to believe? - No, 'tis not. All I ' m saying is that I am deeply h urt. by anyone having a poor opinion of me, because I truly feel that I never did anything to deser·ve it. - Did any single one of those people who are su pposed to have a poor opinion of you , eve r come up and say so to you r face? - They'd know better than that. - Please try to answer my q uestions without comment. H as that ever happened to you because your picture was show n? - No, not that actual thing. - Did you r·eceive any anonymous letters, saying, for i nstance, that such a portrait was no more than you deserved ? - No . - N ame one person, friend or otherwise, who has given y o u direct reason to believe that you have been lowered in his or her estimation . - What people think and say can still lower me, even if I ' m not acquainted with those w ho are gabbi ng and pointing me out. - But you can't give me a name? - No . - You've h a d n o loss of money, or fr·iends; n o secret abuse through t h e m a i l such as people often get in a case of this kind from enemies or cranks; no need to change you r add ress because of the fuss; and no worth y person giving you to u nclerst.and that t hey thought any the less of you for this picture. I believe you also said that you still have your· health and strength, M rs . Bastow? - Yes. - So you have not really su ffered in t hat way either. Now tell me, w here is the real inj ury you claim to have suffered ? - 'Tis in my mind, sir, and in my heart. Yes, and all over this city in the bargai n . - Let m e examine that emotional statement unemotionally. B u t first, o n you r· original viewing of the portrait, you wept. We know t hat M rs. Hart was with you at the time. Was her attit ude towar·d you unsympathetic? - Oh. not A ngela. no! - " All m e r- t his city" you said. You have sworn that people laughed at you i n the street . t urned to stare at you, and even pointed at you as you passed by . . . . . - So t hey did. - Yes; but how can you be sure t hey were t h i n king of your portrait ? - S uch th ings neYer happened to me before. N ever. - Will you admit 1 hat after the picture was show n you wer·e in a very sensitive state of mind? 131

- I was mad, if that's what you mean. And w ith good reason. - Angry. In that state of mind, or feeling, aren't we all likely to imagine slights where none were intended? - That may be. But what I 've had to put up with in the past two or three months was not only in my imagination, I can guarantee you that. - About those lost invitations to speak, you said that this too followed on the showing of your portrait. Did you ever ask anyone on a committee, for example, why they didn't invite you to speak so often ? - I had n o need to. - That's an assumption. Answer the question, please. - No, I didn't actually ask. - How do you know, how can you be sure, that their reaction, as well as Mrs. H art's, was not one of sympathy, and they only wanted to spare your feelings until this little storm had blown over? - I was left alone all the same. And, anyhow, it wasn't the way you said. I didn't take it that way. - Perhaps again because of your highly sensitive state. - I tell you I just felt h urt and ashamed that people didn't want me any more! So many long evenings all by myself! - About the "tyrant" remark made at the prayer meeting. And something to the effect that Carter had made a mess of you which would take you years to live down - Yes, if that wasn't con . . . . . - J ust a minute! H ow many women were in the kitchen where those words were used? - Six or seven. - We know you overheard them yourself. But did any of those women come to you· afterwards, as sometimes happens, and report them to you? - Ah . . . . . yes. - I n a sympathetic way, or unfriendly? - Why, sympathetic! It stands to reason that if a body was against me, she wouldn't come up to me ip a case the like o' that and tell me, unless we had a fight or something. - Nevertheless, this woman's friendship for you was not a whit reduced by her having heard those u npleasant remarks. - She had better sense. -: Perhaps a good many other people did too. As for the person who actually made the remark, did you tackle her at the time about it? - No. - Why not? - She was beneath m y notice. - Did you ever challenge her about it? - No . - I must a s k y o u again, why not? - I just told you. - Beneath your notice! When she was commenting on you and your portrait in such a . . . . . a drastic way? 132

- The truth is, that woman is all tongue and it's best to keep clear of her, no matter what. I didn't want to start another racket. - So you couldn't really have fel t she did you much harm. - M y Lord, I do feel that's not a j ustified inference! - Why _so, M r . Darlington? - Witness gives a perfectly good reason as to why she wishes to avoid quarrels and vulgar slanging matches, and m y learned friend builds o n her words quite unwar­ rantably. - What do you say, Mr. Hart? - I plead legitimate comment, i n view of the claims witness has made. - Mr. Darlington, do you request that defence counsel's remark be stricken out? - I feel he should refrain from any further remarks or inferences of this kind. - Will you go on with that i n mind, Mr. Hart? - Yes, certainly, M y Lord. Mrs. Bastow, you also spoke of people "scorning" you, though it was m y learned friend and not yourself who i ntroduced the word scorn. Names? - I may not be able to give names, but I felt it all around me, this scorn, like a . . . north-east wind. - That's very vivid but not very definite or conclusive. -I

really must object again, M y Lord. Witness is now speaking to something very real and painful, but intangible. A nd, that being so, she cannot reasonably be expected to give names, dates and places. - I think that objection is valid, Mr. Darlington. Your next question, Mr. Hart? - Mrs. Bastow, did you ever take sleeping pills? - No. I don't hold with them . - Have you taken any since this affair began? - No . - A n y visits t o a psychiatrist? - Certainly not! - And yet you say your mind has been deeply disturbed. You have obviously been able to carry the burden on your own shoulders. I want to come back now to your falling off in popularity, as you take it to be. Last week, for instance,just before this trial, how many evenings did you spend alone? Take your time and thi n k . - Two. - Two! Do you normally spend more than five evenings a week i n com pany? - Well, no, not normally. - Evidently those people who come to see you , or w hom you go to visit, are not scorning you. You haven't lost any status with them ? - In some cases the effect is kind of worn off now. - The effect of what? - That scandalous picture. I mean the effect of it first when all this trouble started. - You admit it was only a temporary inconvenience, then? - No, I do not! I t' s the worst thing ever happened to me i n m y whole life. - Five n ights out of seven is not a bad social average. You must still be pretty 1 33

popular in some circles. Is t hat a fair conclusion to draw? - The way you say it . . . . . - I s what I 'm sayin g true? I 've based i t on what you yourself are telling the Court, M rs. Bastow, even though t ha t is mostly a report of tittle-tat t le, the laughter of the ignorant, imaginary slights and so on. I t's good to come to a solid, statistical fact . - What I went through it ought t o be enough for anybody. - We'll see. I pass on to another ofthose i n tangible things in connection with what you have "gone thmugh", and I want you to try and achieve a little objectivity about yourself. - Eh? - Go back in you r mind to what I said at the beginning of m y questions, to seeing o u rselves as others see us. Now, isn't it true that long before you ever heard of Cabot Carter or his work, you had a name and reputation in this city for being a bossy woman? - I don't know about bossy. I t ry to do my d u ty to my fellow man, and some that are too lazy to lift a finger, I try to stir t hem up and get them to do likewise . There's some won't even take t he t rouble to blow t heir own nose. - Would n ' t t hat attitude of yours account, at least in part, for the word "tyrant" being applied to you? - No, 'twas that evil picture. - Now, M rs. Bastow! Your tone would suggest that nobody ever thought you wanted to run t hem or· t ried to run them, until after· your portrait appeared. Surely that's not so? - The r·est was only spite. - Was it ever said of you that if you join a club, you're the Secretary iri two months and t he President in four? Did that. eve r come back to you ? - Something of the kind . Jealousy, I su ppose . - That's not t he poin t . I'm not talking about reactions to your taste for power. I ' m referring t o t he k i n d of n a m e y o u had around here before you were painted . Take another side of t h is questio n , and I hope that you and the Court will pardon me if I bring up a pu rely per·sonal thing in regard to yourself. Remember that we are trying to achieve a bit of objectivity. Do you realize that you r· appearance is, if ! may say so, q uite forbidding? - Nobody can help t heir looks. - Of cou rse not . l only ment ion t hem to suggest, and with no inte nt ion of being offensive or irrelevant, that the term "witch", for· instance, might not have been applied to you entirely because of Mr. Carter's portrai t ? - H e had n o business to do it at all! - That may or may not be so. In any case. it's again not to the point. M y poin t is that a good deal of t he "scorn" or· bad feeling toward you originates in yo ur own appearance and character and long-standing reputa tion. I n other word s , Olive Bastow as she was previous to your experience at the hands of the defendant. I ' m saying t h at y o u have been w e l l known for· years a s a proper d ragon, a n d t h a t this remarkable portrait did not in itself bring you into any ridicule o r contempt, but only emphasized and pointed up opinions that were already firmly settled in the public mind. I have no more quest ions.

I 34

I nstead of calling out an objection to this tirade, K. K. Darlington politely detained M rs. Bastow in the box at t he end of it , taking his time because she was still fierce in her cloak of i njury, visibly trembling with indignation. -J ust a moment, Mrs. Bastow, if you will be so kind; We shall soon have done. If Your Lordship pleases, I should like to put one or two q uestions to the witness by way of re-examinat ion. - Of course, M r. Darlington. - Mrs. Bastow, yo u have answered on all points with an admirable fran kness, but there was one question which my leamecl friend put to you that you did not answer fully. And he seemed most anxious for information on the point . No doubt the facts in connection with it slipped yoUJ· mind, or perhaps you overlooked them under the pressure of cross-examination. This point concemed your giving one defi nite instance of public harm clone to you by reason of your port rait. I now ask you : are you familiar with a certain rhyme that was composed locally about this affair and somehow found its way into print? - Oh yes! I didn't mention that . - Do you know t he words? - Not right off by heart. - Forgive me if I read them out to the Court . Exhibit seven , M' Lorcl . "Battle-axe Bastow H u n g at t he art show. But Carter's libel Is true as the Bible." - Now, madam , were those disgraceful words ever addressed to you , or perhaps I should say at you? - Yes. - I n public? - Oh yes. - U nder what circumstances? - A t one of my speaking engagements. Those words were . . . . . were kind of chanted at me when I was lecturing one n ight, by a gang of young students or them h ippies, 0 1· whatever t hey're called. - What else happened ? - The same n ight? - Yes. - There was a burst of laughter from those young things, and the Chairman of the meeting had to have them put out of the H all. - Were they still chanti'ng as they were ejected? - Yes. - And was that the end of the episode? - No. Later on, w hen the janitor was sweeping up, he found several copies o f that verse scattered under the seats. - I do not wish you to repeat incidents, but is it within your knowledge that this lampoon has appeared in other parts of St. J ohn's and been read and commented on by members of the public? - Yes, that's so. - Thank you , Mrs. Bastow. I have no more questions for you . And that, M y Lord, concludes (with the reservation I made earlier on) the case for the Crown. I 35

FOUR

Promptly at 2 : 30, after the lunch break, John H art was standing be fore the jury ready to begin his opening speech for the defence. H e had not seriously thought of moving for a non-suit to stop the trial, any more than Cabot had earlier considered an apology to Mrs. Bastow and withdrawal of the portrait, in order to preven t its ever taking place. H art had some hopes of this jury, because during the selection and challenge process he had managed to get i n one or two people who showed signs of better-than-average education, hoping that these would be more sympathetic than most people m ight be to the subject matter and the accused in such a trial as this. There was also the likelihood that one of them would be elected foreman of the jury and so exercise more than the mathematical influence of one out of twelve. The defence line was not to be contradiction of the opposing evidence, but chiefly rebuttal- that, and a presentation of the case i n an entirely new light. John H art began quietly; he used a more or less colloquial style partly because it came natural to him and partly in the hope that an easy style might help to offset the difficulty� for ordinary people, of some of the material he i n tended to present. Those twelve men and women were already looking nervously at the paintings, drawings and reproductions that were now stacked against the easel, obviously there for purposes of demonstration now or later. I t was clear to H art that they would need some reassurance about all this culture. He gave them a genial, e ncouraging smile. - My Lord, Members of the J ury: M y learned friend, the distinguished Attorney-General of this province, saw fit towards the end of his opening speech to issue a warning. Well, I have no such theatrical ideas or startling thoughts to offer you, about art and the law or anything else. But all the same, I want to tell you right here and now a very strange thing, which is this: here we have a serious offence being tried, and so far the main fact i n this total situation has hardly been mentioned! Certainly the Crown has given it no proper place in the evidence and other material that was heard this morning. And what is this main fact? Why, that the defendant Cabot Carter, being an artist, painted this portrait of Mrs. B astow purely as an exercise of his art, without any intention of libelling her or even offending her i n any way. So I'm naturally anxious to bring this point to your attention right away. Yes. Painted it, you may be thinking; but what about his exhibiting it? I 'll be coming to that too, presently, when I have said a little more about the e ntire situation that has given rise to this trial. ·

1 36

Let me stress for the moment the fact that a man's intention in doing a picture like this is all-important. It lies at the very heart of the matter. And I will show you this afternoon that in his heart Cabot Carter was and is in nocent of all intention to offend Mrs. Olive Bastow. You will hear him on this key point yourselves, j ust as you will hear him say how and why he came to paint this fine picture. Other people who are highly qualified to j udge art and who have no axe to grind in coming here to give their testimony - they will also speak on this q uestion of an artist's basic reasons for producing a certain piece of work. This is vital to the case. I magine, say, a fisherman brought u p before this Court for being found on some other man's grounds. Wouldn't it be reasonable to ask, before you judged him, w hat kind of fisherman he was and had been in the past? And above all w hat was his reason or intention in coming onto the grounds of other fishermen? Then your view of h im would not be the same as if he were just a poacher or a man w ho paid no heed to the rights of others, would it? Or imagine one of your children doing something that seemed to you wrong (and I assure you the comparison is not out of place here), something for w hich you thought he should be punished. Surely it would be natural and right for you to ask how and why he got into the mischief, before you applied the punishment? I ask you to apply a similar kind of reasoning here. I want to pass on now to a wider and more general view of this whole matter. Even if the portrait were a defamatory libel, done with that intent or otherwise, there are several ways in which it can be viewed so that the charge here will not stand u p, or at least no punishment is called for. Let me take one such way. I'm not offering you any theories or thin excuses. No, no, ladies and gentlemen! Section 2 6 1 of the Criminal Code says (to reduce the legal language) that if a libel is true, it's not really a libel at all. I n other words, truth is a defence and a perfectly good defence against a charge of this kind. N ow, I intend to show you that this portrait of Olive Bastow is true, not only in the obvious sense of being a good likeness but i n a much deeper a n d wider sense which I believe y o u w i l l all come t o appreciate. You may then see the picture as truly representing a whole class of people, a way o f life - and therefore not having only a personal or particular reference. But of course, w hatever the picture may be, if the artist had not exhibited it, then no q uestion of libel could arise. Yet even here the law has something to say i n the matter of defence against such indictments. I t says that i f the defamatory matter and the manner of "publication", at the time of publication, was for the general or public benefit, again no defamatory libel exists. And I'm out to prove to you that this applies to the charge against my client. It's true I'm going to ask you to stretch your minds a little - your minds, not the truth. I feel sure you will all keep sternly to the truth as you see it, but perhaps you will also allow your minds to escape from t he groove of ordinary, everyday considerations and view this matter on a higher, more liberal plane than that of commonplace considerations. Please don't be alarmed. In spite of the nature of this case, you won't be expected to pass judgment on high art or assess the value (I don't mean the commercial value) of great pictures. Few of us are experts in that line, and of course you are not expected to be. I only ask you , when you look at this portrait by Cabot Carter, to try and see it on that higher plane : as a work of art; and in that light it may gradually come to teach you, teach all of us, that its very existence, let alone its exhibition, was 1 37

for t he public benefit - a genuine cont ribution to our cultUJ·e and o u r com m un ity life. Coming to another poin t , I'm sure you will all agree that the q uestion of "fair comment" is also relevant t o this c harge. You see, t he law takes account of fair commen t as well, in cases of this kin d . 1 think it's correct to call this picture of M rs. Bastow a comment on her and in the t rue, objective sense, a criticism. However, I do not agree that it is entirely u n flattering. Not at all. A nd we all realize by now that it has become a matter of great public inte t·est. Well, t he law states that if a comment, in the sense I have indicated, can be show n to befair com ment, this too is not publication of a libel. The witnesses I intend to call for the defence will so present this portrait to you . The over-all t h ing 1 am talking about now is J ustification. The very simple question : was Cabot Carterjustified in doing and in showing his pict u re? I 've tried to point out one or two of the ways in which the law would regard him as being j ustified in both parts of his actio n . That is clearly the most important thing. I t's w hat this t rial is all about . But I want to warn you ! . . . . . oh , I beg your pardo n . I am reminded by t he smile on some of your faces that 1 promised not to issue any warnings in this speech, from my side of the fence. Let me call your attention , t hen, to t h e fact that t h i s whole issue can be regarded ( I insist on it) in other than a partial and legalistic ligh t . What light am I act ually talking about? This will become q uite plain as I present my case, through various witnesses, from that box. Our painte r's attitude and the real meaning of h is actions will then be pmperly and completely u nderstoo d . I will only suggest to you at this moment that there is such a thing as the spirit no less than the letter of the law; that is, a number of social and h uman o r h umane considerations, as well as legal edicts, that should be taken i n to account when certain issues are being tried . H e re we have one such issue. I n this connection, there is also a claim for Mr. Carter's action to be seen and j udged in the context of one of the basic freedoms owing to h u manity in our time. I mean the freedom of expressio n . I t's a terrible mistake, a n d it could t u rn o u t to be a t ragedy, for you t o see t h i s piece of pai n ting as if it were n o more t h a n a tasteless, cruel joke or a gross caricature intended only to embarrass and ridicule i ts subject. That would be a complete misread ing of it. This man Carter is not one w ho sits up overnight dashing off that kind of thing just so that he can scOt"e off some politician or well-known local character in t he next day's newspaper, in a vulgar satirical way. Oh no. As you will hear, that is neit het· h is natu re nor h is way of going about the profession he has chosen. He works hard at his job, as you and I do; but his job is not qu ite like ours. There is this diffet·ence : an element of the mysterious comes into his work - the mystery whereby an artist takes a certain person as his subject and then recreates t hat person in a portrait so that he or she takes on a new life, so to speak, or a new identity, and appears in the portrait as mot·e real and more true to life than in her actual physical being. I n other words, she has taken on a new dimension, w hich is truth in t he deepest sense. There you have the essence of it. A deeper and wider t ruth t han any we perceive in t he ordinary cou rse of our lives . And it is a thing t hat goes down to the very roots of out· societ y. This too I will show in evidence, and I ask you to keep that word Truth in the forefron t of you r minds, as I ask you to hold also to t he t hough t of ) ustification. These are the twin pillars 1 38

on which Cabot Carter will stand to proclaim h is in nocence. I know you are all anxious to hear wit nesses for t he defem:e speak fo r !hem­ selves, and so I will call r·ight away t he man whose act was not one of pet t y malice or mean revenge, but an act performed in good fait h and intended to bear wit ness to the kind o f tru th I have spoken of, but u nexpected in its consequences. I call Cabot Carter.

1 39

FIVE

Cabot stood impatiently but not arrogantly in the witness box, not especially a queer fish to look at and not a slouching nonconformist; yet still with something different, unordinary about him, and conscious of the difference. He was decently dressed in clothes chosen by Roma H art, and visibly anxious to state his case so that this trial could end one way or the other. John Hart stood close to the box w hile examining Cabot, his manner com­ radely, respectful, not buttery. - Mr. Carter, first and foremost, I want you to tell the Court this : why did you paint the portrait of Mrs. Bastow? - I painted her because I found her an interesting subject. - Why didn't you ask her to sit for you? - I fel t sure she wouldn't do it, or wouldn't go on with it when she saw how I was interpreting her. - But you were determined to portray her? - Yes. - H ad you had any previous acquaintance with her, apart from what was mentioned in earlier evidence? - No. I only met her that one time at the Squires home. - Did you q uarrel with her on that occasion? - Quarrel? N o ! - Did y o u a n d she have a n y kind of set-to o r disagreement? - Not at all. - Let me go into this point a little. She knew you were an artist? - Yes, she knew that before we met, I think. - You and she discussed art? � Briefly. - Did you have the feeling that she approved of artists, or otherwise? - Otherwise. - And did that offend you? - No. - Wh y not? - Most people don't approve. I'm used to it. - At this meeting did you form an opinion - no, an i mpression - did you form an impression_ of_ Mrs. Bastow as a person who might be paintable? Did you want then to do her? - Yes. A s I said, I thought she had an interesting face. Fascinating, in fact. And I found her personality salty and full of sap. Also, I fel t that she was typical of older Newfoundlanders in many ways and for that reason all the better as a subject. 1 40

- That sounds almost as if you admired her. - I do, in some ways. - So you personally don't think your portrait of her is u n flattering? - I don't regard it as either flattering or unflattering. To me it's realistic. - Were you, then, trying to paint a typical Newfoundlander of the older generation? - Oh no! I was trying to paint an individual person, Olive Bastow. But sometimes when you do one person a . . . . . a wider meaning comes into it. - You had on the whole a favorable i mpression of Mrs. Bastow when you met her? - As a painter, quite favorable. - How long after the meeting did you decide to paint her? - I had the idea as soon as I met her. - When did you start? - Two or three weeks after the meeting. - In that interval, was there any contact between you and her? - Not direct contact. I did some studies of her in pencil while she was lecturing. Nothing else. - Did M rs. Bastow injure you in any way during that time? - Not in any way. - Did anything happen to cause you to have unpleasant feelings toward her? - No . - You h a d n o feeling against h e r for a n y reason. - None at all. - I see. Now, before I come to your actual painting of the portrait, I want to ask you a few questions about your career as an artist, Mr. Carter. N o doubt H is Lordship and the jury would like to hear something on that. So would you just give us the main stages in that career so far? - When I was eighteen I won a Newfoundland Government scholarship to study at the Ontario College of Art. I spent two years there, painted in Toronto for a while; put in a few years in Europe painting on m y own ; a bit of time in New York; eventually I�came back home, and in the past year or so I 've exhibited several times at the Arts & Culture Centre here. Mostly graphics and oils. - Did you o nce have an exhibition of your work in London, England? - Yes. - Have you sold work there? - Yes. - And here in St. John's. - Yes_. - Which of your works is the most important? - Most important? Well, none of them. The most important thing in that sense is regular work, continual practice with a pencil or a brush or what have you. Slow learning. - I take it your work is not just dashed off, in that case? - Is anybody's? - One hears of instant art. However, it's a fact that you consider your works

141

carefully and in general execute them slowly before exhibiting the m ? - Yes, I do. - Has anyone eve1· before (before this case) complained about one of them? - I'd say criticized, not complained . - Did any o f your subjects ever come to you personally and say that you had done t hem wrong? - No. - No woman ever protested that she d idn't really look like that? - No. - Did any of your subjects take you to law before? - Never. - The criticism of your work that you spoke of, all that has been favorable? - No, it hasn' t . - B u t was it generally criticism o n the tech nical side o f art rather than the way you interpreted and presented you r subjects? - Yes, t hat's t rue. - Well, Mr. Caner, now we have some background for looking at you r relationship, your professional relationship, with M rs. Bastow. We know she didn't sit for the port rai t . How did you do it? - From observation , memory, and some on-the-spot studies whic h I already mentioned. Oh yes, and a couple of photographs. - Where did you get t he photographs? - From Mat·ion Squires. M rs. Frederick Squires. - Is it usual for pai n ters to do a port rait i n t he way you just mentioned ? - Not usual, no. - Can you name one famous painter who worked in that way? - There've been many w ho worked like t hat, or partly in that way. - But tell us one. - Degas, for instance. - What's t he diffe rence between pai n ters who work directly from the model and t hose who don't? - Difference? The difference is having a good visual memory, or rather a trained visual memory. - Have you d rawn or painted wit h a sit ter? - Yes. I painted Sail01· Bums like t hat . - But you decided in t he case of M rs. Bastow that you'd have to do without her presence. - Yes. - Will you think back now to the act ual process of pain ting her. What was passing in your mind from day to day as you worked on that canvas? - I don't understand t he question. M r. H a n . - Really? You can't t e l l us sim ply and plai n l y what you we t·e t h inking a s y o u d i d t h i s work? - No. Except to say t hat I was t rying to paint a good pict u re. - A good piece of work, in terms of a n ? - Natlll·a lly. - And t hat was your one preoccupation until t he portrait was finished ? 1 42

- Yes. - Th a t answer is sufficient, for t he actual painting of the work. Let's move along to its exhibition. W hile you were worki ng on the picture, did you have exhibition in mind? - Certainly. - You were plan ning, or at least hoping, t hat it would be shown in the usual way, sold perhaps, and earn you some money so that you could go on painting? - That's righ t . - Yo u never expected M rs. Bastow to b u y i t ? - No . - Who d id y o u think might b u y it? - Somebody who knew something about painting. - Has i t been sold yet? - No . - By t h e way, Mr. Carter, have y o u any other income beyond w h a t you get fm your artistic work? - No . - Was the portrait of Mrs. Bastow specifically intended for exhibition at the Art s & Culture Centre? - Yes. I worked very hard to finish it for the Winter Show . - I want you to conside1·· t his next question very carefully: when you got to the stage of sending in you r picture for exhibition, was there any thought in your mind that i t might bring trouble on you from M rs. Bastow ? - No, t here wasn't. . - B u t w hy, consider ing its nature, and its realism? - I . . . . . I j ust wasn't looking at my picture in that light. - When you took it to be hung for t he Show , did you and Mr. George West , t he Director of t he art gallei·y, examine it together? - Yes. - Did Mr. West give you any intimation that your portrait m ight cause t rouble? - No. He didn't say anvthing along those lines. - Did anybody ever suggest to you t hat thne might be an outcry over t he picture? I mean before it was hung and t he exhibition opened. - No. There was noth ing of t hat kind u n til a rumor started going around that I was going to be sued or something. - Was t he rumor when you fi1·st heard it a surprise to you ? - Very much so . - A shoc k ? - Yes. - Did you believe the ru mor? - No . - When were you convinced? - When a police constable came to t he door and served a writ on me. - Now another question or two about your approach to your work as a painter of portraits. Do you ever flalte1· you1· subjects? - No. - Do you search for their bad points? 1 43

- No. - Do you ever get personally involved with the m ? That is, w hile you're painting the m . - I wouldn't say so, no. - Can you say, in a few non-tech nical words, and in addition to w h at you have already said, what is your central aim and purpose in painting a portrait such as this? - I try to get down the person as I see the m . - You do n o t take a personal or hostile attitude toward them, as i mplied i n this charge that is laid against you? - Definitely not. - Coming back to complaints about your work as a whole, not just portraits. Was there ever anything like what I might call social criticism, as opposed to art criticism, over one of your pictures? - O h yes. You mean some comments of that kind about a canvas of mine called

Mullen Street.

:- W hat was said? Even though it's u n favorable to you, tell the Court the gist of it. - I 'd say the main complaint or criticism was that the picture ran down St. John's and Newfoundland. - Did you accept that? - I did not. - Was your purpose in painting that picture to present the scene i n a true light, as you saw it? - Yes. - Did any legal trouble arise from the picture? - No. - Mr. Carter, there's one more point that I particularly want to stress. A point you have already made very briefly. I t's in connection with a n artist's total concentra­ tion on producing a good picture, w hile he is engaged on a work. Would you say that that state of mind is general among artists? - If they're not prostitutes. - You mean , working only for money? - Yes. - Artistic prostitutes. I see. Once again I'd like you to give me an example of w hat you have in m ind: an instance, apart from your own experience, of this total concentration or single-minded purpose in an artist. - H istory is ful l of the m . You could take the case of the Scottish painter Allan Ramsay, for instance. He had a son w ho died w hen he was only fourteen months old, and Ramsay was very grief-stricken. He . . . . . he was in despair. W hile the child was lying dead in the room and the father was watching over him, Ramsay felt a sudden desire to paint him. He got his materials, and while he was doing the portrait he forgot all about h is grief and even that it was his own son he was painting. And he produced a very good sketch, in oil. Then after he had finished, all his grief came back over him again and he felt just as bad as ever. - You don't regard that as heartless, Mr. Carter? - No, not heartless. Compulsive. - From the historical record, what kind of man was Allan Ramsay? Was he an 1 44

unfeeling man? - Rather the opposite. His portraits of his wife, for instance, are extremely sensitive. - And the point of your story is that a true artist can become so absorbed in his work w hile in the midst of it, that he is completely oblivious of all other considera­ tions, no matter what. - Yes, that's the general point. - Thank you, Mr. Carter. I think that's all for the present. Your witness, Mr. Darlington. Darlington's cross-examination: - I want first of all to take you u p on the element in this portrait of Mrs. Bastow which you claim is representative of Newfoundland in certain aspects. You did say such an element was in it? - Perhaps. - You didn't intend it? - No. - Real ly ! ? You admit there may be a certain thing in a picture conceived in your mind and painted by your hand, and yet you did not intend it, you say. You can't tell the Court how it came there? - No. - Did you not see it or were you not aware of it when you were in the act of painting the picture? - No . - How d o y o u explain t h e discrepancy between your vision a n d that of other people? - Everyone sees a picture in his own way and according to his own preoccupa­ tions. Or prejudices, maybe. - I can't help but feel that you are being evasive right at the outset. Can you truly not tell what thoughts and ideas went into your own picture? - Not entirely. I will ask you again, why not? - Because some of the mental work any painter does on a piece of work is bound to be subconscious. - Well , taking this a step farther, you could not predict what the effect of a certain picture would be, what reaction it might bring from the public? - Certainly not! It would be absurd to try, or to worry about that kind of thing. - Never mind how absurd it might be. Remember that we do not all have the good fortune to be artists; so what may seem obvious to you is not so obvious to the ordinary man or to the jury. - But anyone can see . . . . . - We are here concerned with you. And I should like you to answer the question I · asked you a moment ago more fully. - All I can say is that when I paint m y pictures, I don't . . . . . I don't draw mental blueprints for them and I don't want to expound them. Above all, I take no responsibility for people's reaction to them. - That is a statement but not an adequate answer. Let us delve into this problem a little deeper . . . . �

1 45

B u t John H art sprang u p and broke in veheme ntly : - My Lord, I have to protest ! Witness has given the best answer he can, I fee l sure, and I feel too that he should not be expected to explain his works like problems i n mathematics, or· anticipate w ha t people will think o f them . S uppose a m a n writes and publishes a book. Is he expected to do that - to go around beforehand taking soundings and precautions with r·egard to public opinion about it? - I agree, M r. Hart, that that may be expecting too much of an artist i n any mediu m , if he is to work effectually. So I will recognize your protest. Mr. Dar­ lington, do you think you could alter the emphasis in your line of questioning? - Very well, M y Lord ; though, in my submission, if this imaginar-y writer that m y learned friend speaks o f were brought t o trial for one o f h i s books, h e might be required to answer q uestions more closely than if he were just going about among the public "sounding" their reactions and opinions. Howeve r . . . . . Now, M r . Carter, I shall g o back to t h e root o f this whole matteL You swore that y o u painted the plaintiff solely because you found her a n interesting subject. Do you still hold to that? - O f course I do. - You didn't paint her for any money you though t you m ight get, from such a sensational picture? - Not primar·ily. When I began to pain t her there was no promise and very little chance of getting any money from the work. - Tell me, did you ever have the chance of pai n ting somebody for money but you refused because you found that person uninteresting as a subject? - Yes, many times. - N ame one such person. - Mrs. A ngela Hart. M rs. Fred Squires. - H m m m . Did you have, from M r·s. Bastow or her represen tatives, any authorization to pai nt her portrait? I hope that question is not too difficult or· ambiguous? - I had no aut horization i n t he way you mea n . - Did y o u ever take a n y legal advice while you wer·e painting her? - Legal advice? No. - After t he pict u re was ex hibited but befor·e you were sued for defamatory libel, did you take any such advice? - No . - Rema rkable, t ruly remarkable. Again by John H a rt : - My Lord, I don't t h in k my learned friend should comment on the wit ness's answers in that tone. - H ow do you interpret t hat tone, M r. Hart ? - I t seems, M y Lord, t o r·eflcct learned cou nsel's opinion t hat Mr. Carter should have been able to answer· otherwise t han he did. whereas co mmon expe rience tells us that very few artists would take pr·ior legal advice about their wor·k. For one t hi ng, t hey can't a l ford it . - ML Dar·lington. can you go on wit hout seeming to suggest you r· personal opinion of what t he wit ness did or did not do' - Yes. My Lord . I shall do my very bes t , t ho ugh it i� difficult at ti mes to hide one's 1 46

astonishment. Mr. Carter, at the time you arbitrarily chose M rs. Bastow as a subject, did you know any other interesting people in St. John's? - Yes. - People j ust as inte restin g in bot h countenance and pe•·sonality as she was? ' - I'd say so, yes. - Then why d id you pick on her? . . . . . . . . . . . . Come now, why do you hesitate? The q uestion is plain enough. Why don't you answer it? Why do you look at the ceiling and not at me o r the j u ry? - I'm thinking. - I hope the process will be brief, and the result worth waiting for. - The only real answer I can give is that at the time I began to paint her, I found M rs. Bastow the most interesting, and . . . . . and felt the strongest u rge to do her. But I 've also done o t her d rawings and oils . . . . . - A t the moment we are not concerned with other work. - That were j ust as interesting to me w hile I was working on t he m . - Let u s confine ourselves t o M rs. Bastow ! Did you say that you felt n o animosity towards her? - I d id say that. - You don't wish to reconsider you r feelings, and your words? - No. I 've never felt any animosity towards Mrs. Bastow. - At your o ne personal meeting with her, what did you and she talk about, most ly? - Art, and M .-s. Bastow. - Do you recollect if it was a long conversation? - Not the first pan . - O h ? Why not ? - She t hought Picasso was a Frenchman. - Your opinion o f her was less favorable on accou nt of that? - No , no. - How was that , in view of your own preoccupations? - I did n't think less of her, but I didn't see m uch point in talking art with her. Let me put i t like t h is: I hope nobody would think less of me because I was ignorant, say, on a point of business. - You did not feel any sort of prejudice against M rs . Bastow? - No . - When o n e looks at h e r port rait, it m a y b e difficu l t t o believe t h a t y o u were so . . . . . so indiffe rent or objective. Tell me, did you, at that first meeting, actually plan to paint her? - Not act ually plan . I had t he idea then. - Did you at any l i me have t he idea o f asking her permission? - No. - W hy? - I 've already answe •·ed that question . I felt that M rs . Bastow would never agree. - With good •·easo n . Let me ask you plainly, and I t rust you will oblige t h e Cou rt. with an honest answe•·: do you fee l at liberty to pitch on any person, no matte•· who m , pai nt t hei1· po r t ra i t in your own . . . ah, inimit able st yle. and t he n show it in public - all without their pe nnissiun? .

.

1 47

· Here John H art protested vigorously against the Attorney-General's i mplication that some of Cabot's answers were not altogether honest; and after this little hassle was over (Cabot having answered "yes" to the q uestion) the j udge was seen to fix his eye on the witness for a momen t and then to make his note more e mphatically than he usually did. Darlington continued blandly: - That is most interesting. You put no check whatever on yourself, Mr. Carter? - No check, of the kind you mean, on myself as a painter. - And you take no thought for consequences? - I wouldn't say that, no. But the thought of consequences wouldn't stop me from doing a piece of work that I really wanted to do. - A subtle difference. Too subtle, perhaps, in terms of social and legal responsi­ bility, to have much bearing on the ordinary person's view of this matter. What it comes down to is that even i f you had known that this portrait would cause trouble of one kind or another, you would still have painted it and exhibited it. True? - M y Lord, witness has already a nswered that question too. - How, Mr. H art? - By saying that he simply never considered this picture from that point of view, from the point of view of its causing trouble. - You regard that as an adequate answer? - As coming from the defendant, and taken with the other things he has said o n this point, yes, M y Lord. - Mr. Darlingto n ? - I am willing t o accept my learned friend's con tention, M y Lord, and leave this witness's acts to speak for themselves, however they may clash with his words. I pass on. Mr. Carter, were you aware, after the portrait was on exhibition , that things were being said and done as a result of it? I mean things derogatory to Mrs. Bastow. - Well , I heard some talk and foolish criticism. - No, that won't do. To be more particular: did you , for example, see or hear that deplorable piece of doggerel which I partly read out to the Court? - Yes, I saw a copy recently. - And don't you think its tone i s derogatory to Mrs. Bastow? - Yes, I suppose it is. Still, I don't think too m uch should be made of a silly rhyme. - It has had a wide circulation i n this city. I ask you further, do you fee l any regret or remorse for being the cause of that, or for all the things that have happened to Mrs. Bastow and offended her, since yo u put her portrait on view ? - Not regret or remorse. But in a way I do feel sorry if she has suffered through me. At this point the judge not only glanced sharply at the witness again but also leaned forward with a puzzled expression and intervened in the questioning: - Mr. Carter, are you now saying, or do you mean , that you are sorry for w hat has happened because you pai n ted and exhibited this picture? - I . . . . . I'm sorry to cause M rs. Bastow inconvenience, M y Lord, but I can't say I regret painting the picture or showing it. - I nconvenience! 1 48

- My Lord, I feel that it is a frivolous distinction.. - Quite so, M r. Darlington. - After all, the things that Mrs. Bastow has had to e ndure have no cause but the public showing of the portrait. - M r . Hart, have you anything to say o n this? - I hold, My Lord, that witness has answered the question as clearly and honestly as he can. H e was trying to distinguish, not in a frivolous but a conscientious way, between his private feelings as a man and artist, and h is public or social feelings, so to speak, as a member of this com m u nity and a person with ordinary human feelings. It's a difficult d istinction for a witness to make in a few words and u nder the pressure of cross-examination . May I j ust add one further comment? S u rely it is true that no artist can regret doing a good piece of work, o n his own terms, and hoping to have it appreciated as such. - Does that represent your view , Mr. Carter? - Yes, M y Lord. - M m m m . H ave you any more questions, M r . Darlington? - Just one or two more and I shall have done, My Lord. Mr. Carter, do you or do you not believe that because you style yourself an artisL, you are exempt from the law? - No . No, I don't believe that. - Yet you coldly and deliberately paint portraits w hich run the risk of bringing you i n to conflict with the law when they are exhibited . - I didn't know the picture would cause legal trouble, and I've said already that such a thing was never i n my m ind at any time i n connection with the picture. - Your present situation would suggest that it should have bee n . No more q uestions. Almost before the spectators had time to d raw breath and murmur their doubt of this odd fellow's sincerity or perhaps their appreciation of his e ffort to be both clear and honest w hile on the spot, another witness for the defence had appeared in the box . Sailor B urns. Sailor, having escaped from the Reillys' basement as soon as there was even a hint of warm breezes coming in through the Narrows, had had to be rounded u p again and told in the most basic terms about witnesses' fee s before h e would even t h i n k of going near t h e court-house. T h e principle o f subpoena h a d no hold over his mind. Before putting him in the box, John H art had placed his portrait by Cabot o n the easel and turned it to face the jury, then toward the witness. - Mr. Burns, do you recognize this picture as a portrait of yourself? - Hey? - I s this a picture of you ? - Oh, yes, yes. Dass me pitcher. Yah . - Was it painted by Cabot Carter? - Dass right. Dat Carter fella. He done me down i n de basement, see? - And did you know that your picture was shown at the Arts & C ulture Centre here in St. John's? - Yah. I saw dat i n d'paper. - Yo u didn't go to see it at the Centre? 1 49

- Naw! Dey wunt let me in dem kind o' places. - Well, do you t h i n k it's a good picture of you? - No, I don't. No siree! - You don't like i t ? - Christ! - oh, pardon m e , Yer On ner! - I mean t o say, w ho would? Makes me look like the Divil on a starmy day. H aw ! - After this portrait was o n show, did anything happen t o you o n account o f it? - A w ? Oh yes, I see wat you mean, sorr. Well, no, I can't claim anyting out o' de way happened . N u t t ing worse dan usual. - Nobody laughed at you over it? - No more dan dey always do. - Did anybody insult you ? - I nsult m e ? No, I woulden say dat. - As far as you can tell, did anyone ever make fun of you i n public on account of ,it? ....,.... N o t on account o' de pitcher, far's I know. -· H as anything happened on accou n t of it, to make you feel bad? - N aw. - Your life is j ust the same as before you were put on show a t the Cenu ·e? - Yah. Same ole go, Sunday and Monday. - Then that 's all I have to ask you . Thank you, M r. Burns. - Wat! Dass all dere is to it? - N o t qu ite. There may be a few more q uestions for you to answer. As K . K. Darlington rose to his conspicuous height, Sailor's eyes shifted to him i n suspicion and alarm, and then rested on h im with a rat-like malevolence. Sailor at once recognized the embodiment of h is arch-enemy: authority and power. And w he n Darlington began to move toward the box and speak, h is assured tones echoing through the amused, expect ant co urtroom, this reluctant wit ness dogged h im with t he hostile look he had for all w hom he sensed to be foreigne1·s. Even when Sailor did u nderstand t he questions put to him, he t ried to fox his enemy. - Mr. Burns, I too have only some half-dozen q uestions for you. What is your occupation? - Wat? - Have you got a job? - (shag you, mister) Naw, I got no job! All hands knows clat . I'm clundant, see? Dass wat dey tole me, anyhow. - Do you own any pmpert y? - I got me shack. - But do you own that? - (you arsehole) No. A squattn, class wat I am. - Do you belong to any gro u p or society? - Wat s'ciety? - A ny churc h , cl ub or union. - (bast a1·d) Naw. - No propert y, no affiliations. Who i s your best friend? - ( prick) Aw, well, in my racket, see, dere's no friends. It's every man fer hisself 1 50

and God fer nobody. Dass it. - No friends. What is your racket? - I looks after meself de bess way I kin. Wat man could do more? I finds money too. - Do you go about by yourself all the time? - Lone wolf, dass me. - Did Carter ask you to have you r portrait done? - Yah. - Did he pay you for letting him do it? - Few d rinks. He never gimme no money. - An d whatever this picture may be like, are you in a position, are you likely, to suffer any ridicule o r contempt by reason of it? H as the pictu re even been spoken of by anyone, to you ? - Hey? I . . . . I . . . . . naw, I don't tink so. - No further questions. You may step down. - (goddam Canadian). .

Sailor left the box, and ambled sideways and sheepishly out of the courtroom into his solitude, leaving only his likeness on a piece of canvas and some sheets of friable paper to play their part in this drama and perhaps save him from total oblivion. John H art had been well aware of how Darlington would handle, or manhan­ dle, Sailor B urns, and was q uite ready to cou nter this effect. He called Eu phemia Reilly. - M rs. Reilly, this portrait or sketch that I have now placed on the easel, is it a representation of you and was it done by Cabot Carter? - Yes. - To both q uest ions? - Yes, sir. - Did you pose fo•· it? - No . - Did y o u know i t w a s being done, at t h e time? - No. - Do you consider it a flattering likeness? - Oh my goodness, no! - Did your h usband think so? - Not in the way you mean. But he thought it was like me. - That's frank. I ' m aware that these may be rather painful questions for a lady, but perhaps we ag•·ee, Mrs. Reilly, t ha t plain speaking i s best. When you first saw t h is work, what was your reaction? - Well, sir, it was a shock. I have to admit that. - Did you feel it as an insult.? - Oh no! Not an insult. - W hy not? I t's . . . . . it's a bit gri m . - Why not ? W h y wasn't I insulted ? All I can say is t h a t I never t hought Cabot . . . . . I mean ML Carte•· I never thought. he would t ry to insult me. That never came i nto my head . .

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.

.

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151

- And do you still feel that way? - Yes. - Has this been your feeling from the time you first saw this portrait of yourself up to the present moment? - Yes. - What did your friends say about it? J ust give the Court a sample of their remarks, if you can. - One of them said, I remember, that it was enough to frighten a saint. - Was that a man or a woman. - A woman. - Did she offend you by that remark? - No, not really. - Why not? - I was used to the portrait by that time, and besides, I didn't think my friend meant to be nasty . - Is she still a friend? - Yes. - Mrs. Reilly, surely like all women, you have some vanity or at least sensitivity about your looks. H ow is it that this picture of you and the remarks made about it did not offend you? - The truth is, sir, I went through a lot over my looks years ago, but I got tired of suffering and so I just gave it up, in that regard. I made up my mind that people ­ women or men - would have to take me the way I am, as God made me, or else they could just leave me alone. - A straight answer. May I ask your age? I 'm fifty-five. - When this sketch of you was done, was Cabot Carter your lodger? - He was our boarder too. - The sketch was done several months ago? Is that so? - Yes. - And does Cabot Carter still board with you and your husband? - Yes. - You had no thought of turning him out over the sketch? - Oh no. - A s you say, you soon got over the . . . . . the shock of it. - Yes. And by and by ·we all had a good laugh over it. - That's interesting. You were able to see the humor in it, as well as the grimness? - Yes. - Your husband too? - Yes. - A fter it was done and you had seen the finished work, did Cabot Carter say anything that made you feel better about the w hole thing? I don't mean exact words of his, unless you can recall any, but the substance of anything he may have said. - It wasn't altogether anything he said that made me feel the sketch was really all right. It was his manner and . . . . . and his . . . . . - Attitude? �

152

- Yes. His attitude made me feel that he didn't mean any harm to me . - Can we take it that you know very little about the sui;>j ect of art? - 'Tis all Greek to me, sir. - So what this amounts to is that you took your portrait on trust and you felt it was never meant to ridicule or shame you, even though it looked like the portrait of a "hard case" and also despite the fact that you couldn't begin to judge it as art? - Like I said, I knew Cabot. And now I come to think of it, I do remember one thing he said that struck me, after I saw my portrait. Will I tell it now? - By all means. - What Cabot said, it was that if he had made me all sweet and pretty, w hen I'm not, he'd be twice a liar. He'd be a liar to me and a liar in himself. - You u nderstood and accepted that? - I don't claim to understand it altogether, mind you, but at least I didn't want to . . . . . to hinder Cabot in his work. - Another important point: was this portrait of you ever exhibited? - Yes. - Where? - At the gallery in the Arts & Culture Centre. - Was this some time prior to the Winter Show which included the picture of M rs . Bastow? - Prior to that, yes. - Did you know, beforehand, that the sketch of you was going to be exhibited? - Yes. - You didn't protest to Mr. Carter? - No. - Did you ever think of suing him? - No ! - You didn't make any protest t o your husband, privately? - No. - Did people who saw your picture at the art gallery recognize you in it? Do you know of any people, apart from your family and those immediately concerned with the sketch, who did? - Yes, several . - How did they recognize you? - How could they help it, with a face like mine? There couldn't be another one i n Sin•John's. - I see. A nd you didn't, you say, hear any objection to the showing of the sketch, on the part of your husband? - No . - Please consider this next question carefully: d i d y o u or d i d y o u n o t feel that the exhibition of your portrait lowered you in public esteem? - No, sir, I can't say I did. - How long have you lived in St. John's? - All m y life . - I n your present neighborhood of Mullen Street? - About twenty years. :- So you must have a good many friends and acquaintances scattered around the 1 53

city. - A fai r n umber. - And do you t ruly say that these people didn't talk w he n you r picture was displayed? - Oh yes, there was a certain amount o f tal k and gossip, but I didn't pay too much heed to that. - I don't u nderstand you , M rs . Rei lly. This picture of you caused a certain amount of no doubt u n friendly gossip and perhaps even back-biting comment, and yet you were not much disturbed . Why? - Why? - Yes. One woman's portrait is shown and there is a violen t reaction from her, leading to this law suit. Another woman's (yours) is shown; it's i n o ne way very similar to the first - I mean i n having a certain grotesque q uality - but you show no great resentment and take no action over it. Apart from Mr. Carter bei n g a friend, what is the reaso n ? - I c a n only say, sir, that t h e kind of people w ho go in for a l l that l o w gossip and back-biting, they're not the kind that I care very much about, one way or another. - Did your h usband ever come to you and tell you about any awkward incide n ts or q uarrels that he got into because of your picture being shown ? - No. - H e m ust have heard some of that u npleasant tal k you mentioned? - Oh yes. - What was his reaction? - He said he just told them to shut up and m ind their own business. - So your joint attitude was to ignore the fuss and talk, and let the whole thing blow over. - Yes, sir, that's about the size of it. - Did such talk and gossip harm you i n any way? - Not that I know of. - B u t didn't anyone whose opinion you care about also indulge in u npleasant talk? Your friends? - Not so's I noticed very much. - Well, did you lose any friends over the exhibition of the picture? - No . - And y o u say that y o u a n d y o u r h usband nevet· had any words over t h e whole affair? You never had to get out yout· mlling pin, eh? - No. Not that time. - Would you say that you and Mr. Reilly have lost any c ustom at your boarding house on account of the picture? - No. We're always full up, and people waiting. - Did anybody write you any unpleasant lettet·s about it? - No, noth ing like that . - People still come and visit you, and ask you out, as m uch as they did, say, two yeat·s ago? - Yes. - Finally, is it a fact that aftet· all thai has happened you regard Cabot Carter as a friend, in addition to his living under your roof and sharing you r t able? 1 54

- Yes, sir, that's true. - Have you and your husband sometimes helped him in a financial way, when he was going through hard times as an artist? - Yes. - Thank you, M rs . Reilly. You've been a very good witness. By Darlington in cross-examinatio n : - Mullen Street. C hurchill Square. You live in one, a n d Mrs. Bastow in the other. Would you say they are about equal in status or in the social sense, Mrs. Reilly? - Well, no, I guess I wouldn't. - Where does the difference lie, then; or what exactly does it consist of, in your opinion? - Mullen Street is not so . . . . . so fancy a neighborhood, or so dear. - You mean expensive, I take it. - Yes. - Candidly, now : where would you prefer to live? - On Mullen Street. - Reall y ! ? Even though you think Churchill Square the better district? - Yes. - But why? - Because I'm used to it, sir. - Yet you will perhaps admit that, generally speaking, the residents of the Square are of a slightly h igher class than those of M ullen Street. - I e xpect they have more money. - I cast no reflections here and I am making no invidious distinctions. I am trying to get at facts, facts well known in this city; yet you evade m y question by reference to money. I shall be more direct. Do you, having regard to reputation and public esteem , consider yourself the equal of Mrs. Olive Bastow? - Objection! - On what grounds, Mr. Hart? - My learned friend's question would seem to suggest that libel turns on social status and . . . . . - Not at all, My Lord! M y question is perfectly straightforward and unloaded, intending to show that as Mrs. Reilly possessed no particular fame in St. John's, she could hardly be defamed by the showing of her portrait; whereas with Mrs. Bastow it was quite otherwise. The point is simple, fundamental, and crucial. - That seems valid, Mr. Darlington. - I am most grateful, M ' Lord. - Do you maintain your objection, M r . Hart? - I still feel that my learned friend's question was badly phrased, if not offensively so. :.._ Are you inten9ing to pursue this line, Mr. Darlington? - My Lord, I shall parcel out m y questions so that even learned counsel for the defence will, I hope, be unable to find them objectionable. Mrs. Reilly, how often during the week do you go out socially? - Once, or maybe twice. 1 55

- So seldom ! Why is that? - I'm too busy with my work. - Household work? - Yes. - How many positions do you hold on social or c haritable bodies here in St. Joh n's? - No actual posit ions. I . . . . . - None. How many committees are you on t hat have province-wide affiliations? - None. - Would you say that your family is well know n , or yom husband's people? - How do you mea n , sit·? - I mean, for i nstance, have you any relatives famous in local h istory? To take a particular case, was any member of your original family mentioned in the celeb­ rated Book of Newfo u ndland? - Not that I know of. - It would seem that the c i t·cumstances of your life are not calculated to bring you into public notice. Did you ever have your picture in the paper? - No. Oh yes, I did! Once. - On what occasion ? - When I got engaged. - And were you married as q uite a young woman ? - Yes. - H ave you ever spoken on the radio or appeared on TV? - No. - Have you travelled much in the province? - Mostly aro u nd the bay. - B u t not m uc h outside the Avalon peninsula? - No . - Before this trial began, were y o u q uite familiar with M rs . Bastow b y sight, by name, and by reputation? - Well, yes. - Now then, would you say that you were equally and in the same way known to her? - Pardon? - Do you believe that Mrs. Olive Bastow knew you in much the same way that you knew her? - Objectio n ! that's asking witness to speculate. - My Lord, these trivial interruptions are becoming almost intolerable! I was merely asking the witness a question to which the answer is all but given in her replies to previous questions. I was moving toward confirmation and a kind of summatio n , not asking the witness to speculate. - Go on, Mr. Darlington. - Yes, My Lord. Well, Mrs. Reilly, kindly answer my questio n , if you please. - The answer is no. - Thank you. A nd will you tell us this: have you any reason to think that you r name and yonr person are a s well known t o t h e general public as that of Olive 1 56

Bastow? - No, I suppose not. - Did anybody ever suggest to you, afte r your portrait was on display, that you might sue the painter for libel? - No. - Did you ever think of that yourself? - No indeed. - I believe that is all. Except perhaps for one small matter. Why do you suppose , or rather, do you know, why your portrait was identified by name at the art gallery and Mrs. Bastow's wasn't? - I'm sure I don't know. That's Mr. Carter's business, not mine. - Indeed it is; Mrs. Reilly. No further questions. As she stood in the box, her body held quite erect but without stiffness or self-consciousness, Roma Hart waited for her father's questions with an air of assurance. Before he started John Hart placed one of Cabot's drawings on the easel. - Miss Hart, is this a drawing of yourself done by Cabot Carter? - Yes, it is. - Do you consider it a good drawing?

- Very

good.

- Would you say you are recognizable in it? - Yes. - H
best

of all.

- Now let's turn from art to social position, and being in the public eye, about which the prosecution is so very concerned. What is your occupation? - I'm on the staff of the Daily

News

here in St. John's.

- I'll omit reference to your birth and family, and treat you purely as an

1 57

individual. Do you ever get your picture in the paper?

- Every day, six days a week. - How is that?

- I t appears at the top of my column in the paper. - How long has it been appearing there? - Oh, for several months. - So it would be true to say that you are a well-known person in this city and no doubt in the province too, through your work. Do you also have a wide personal acquaintance in St. John's, having lived here all your life? - Yes. - You are financially independent? - Yes. - You maintain your own apartment? - Yes. - Coming back to this drawing, can you tell us a little more about the reaction of your friends to it? - One of them turned out to

be a puritanical gook and started gabbing about

morals. Those who knew anything about art were impressed. - Are you fam iliar with other work done by Cabot Carter beside this drawing of yourself? - I know all the work he's done in the past few months. I know it quite well. - What do you think of the portrait of Mrs. Bastow? - I think it's absolutely splendid! - Do you write art criticism for your paper? - Yes. - Is your opinion of all his work quite high? - Not necessarily. It varies, just as the quality of his work varies; and of course I may

be prejudiced in favor of his work on me. But on the whole I'd say his drawing

and painting are both on a high level of professional achievement. - J ust one more question, a return to fact. And this is a matter which will show some relevance at a later point in the trial. Did you spend the whole afternoon of Sunday, J anuary 23rd. of this year, in the company of Cabot Carter at the Reillys' Mullen Street home? - Yes, I did. - Thank you. Mr. Darlington? - Miss Hart, you spoke of prejudice a moment ago and admitted that you are prej udiced in favor of the accused . - I said I was prejudiced in favor of his work on me.

- But you feel very much on the artist's side personally as well, do you not? - Yes, I do. But I could still give my own opinion of his work, a critical opinion. I f h e did a bad drawing o r a sloppy oil, I think I could spot it, and I wouldn't be afraid to say so to him or anyone else. - You and Carter are friends, of course? - Mr. Carter and I are friends, yes. - Close friends? - Yes.

1 58

- Very close? - Oh , close enough for comfort! - I see. Miss Hart, this drawing of you which is now on the easel, it was done at the artist's studio or room, I suppose? - No. - Where, then? - At my apartment. - Is that usual in the world of artists and their . . . . . their models? - Not usual, I imagine. Not unheard of, either. - Have you ever posed for any other artist in your flat? - No. - I n their studios? - No . - I n the nude, anywhere? - No. - You reserve your favors, in that line, for C abot Carter? I'm speaking of art, you understand. - My "favors" are my own business, in any line. Roma got that in sharp as a needle, before her father could utter his objection to Darlington's question, and his tone; but in any case John Hart was now forestalled by a half-reproving remark on the part of the judge: - Witness will just answer the questions, and not make personal pronouncements of that kind. - I . . . . . I was provoked, My Lord. It was the only answer to the question, or rather the insinuation, that I

could

give.

- Nevertheless . . . . . Now please continue, Mr. Darlington. - I have almost done, My Lord. Miss Hart, if it is not too suggestive, may I ask what you were doing all afternoon on that Sunday you spent at Cabot Carter's place? - I was watching him do studies of Sailor Burns for a while. Then we had coffee and some food, and after that we just passed the time looking at his pictures, and sort of discussing them. - Were any of his works, by chance, etchings? - I beg . . . . . ? No! Roma flared up again, even though Darlington had said it with a smile, and the Attorney-General readily withdrew his remark on protest from John Hart; it had been, after all, a mere footnote to the main body of his cross-examination. The trial continued with Hart calling James Reilly as next witness for the defence . - M r. Reilly, how long have you known the defendant? - About twelve year or more. - All told, he has lived with you and Mrs. Reilly, almost as a member of the family, for about four years? - Around there. - Has he alw <�:_y s worked as an artist since you've known him?

1 59

- Well, first when he came to St. John's he had one or two other jobs to keep him going, till he got on his feet. - But mainly he has been a painter. - Yes. - Has he been regular and steady at it, according to your experience of him? - Oh yes, sir, very reg'lar and hard-workin'. - Have you had any kind of trouble with him as lodger and boarder? - What kind o' trouble, sir? - Noisy parties and raising hell, and that kind of thing, that artists and such people are said to go in for. - No, nothing out o' the way. - Booze? - No. Cabot, he only takes a drink now and then, to pass the compliment. Same as any man would. - Drugs?

·

- No, no. I wouldn't allow that! - What about women? - Well, he had some comp'ny lately, but he kept to the rules o' the house. - Have you (ound Mr. Carter honest and truthful in his dealings with you and your wife? - Yes. - Has he always paid his rent and board regularly? - No . No, I couldn't say that, on me oath . He wasn't always right on the dot with his board, and there've-a been times when he couldn't pay me a-tall. - But you have kept him on? - Yes. - Surely you're not running a charitable institution down there on Mullen Street, M r . Reilly? Why would you keep on a defaulter? - To give you a true answer, sir, 'twas because the wife and me, we kind of liked the young fella, and we never had the heart to heave him out on the street. - Did he pay you as much as he could, when he could? - Yes. - You trusted him for that, even though everybody knows how hard it is for an artist to make any real money?

•

- Yes. - Has he ever let you down, according to your knowledge of his income? - No. - Would you go o n giving him credit now, if necessary? - Certainly I would. Yes.

- Can you add anything to your reasons, Mr. Reilly? - There's one thing I didn't mention, yes. Cabot, he seemed so anxious to make a

go of his

painting, he was so desp'rate keen on it, that we just felt like helping him

out all we could. That's a fact, sir. - One or two more q uestions, on another matter. Did you feel any resentment over the way Mr. Carter portrayed your wife? - Excuse me, sir - any what? - Were you angry about it?

1 60

- No. - Did you ever ask him not to show the portrait i n public? - No . - Did y o u have any painful experiences, either on your o w n or o n behalf of your wife, after it was shown? - No, I didn't. K . K. Darlington indicated h is view of the non-importance of this evidence by nodding to hisjunior and allowing that nervous young man to put a few questions to James Reilly. Even then these questions neither brought any new matter into the trial nor shed any fresh light on what was already there; they seemed to have one main purpose, and that was to make it quite clear that it was the defence which had now introduced the issue of character into these proceedings. But when J ames Reilly had left the witness stand and the w hole court was waiting and gaping to see what John Hart would do next, it was Darlington w ho once more took everyone by surprise by announcing that he would like at this point to call his final witness for the prosec ution. This of course was Marion Squires. The Attorney-General went o n to say that this afternoon she felt well enough to take the stand, at least for a brief time, and therefore with H is Lordship's indulgence, etc., and as his learned friend had wanted Mrs. Squires to be called before the completion of the defence case, he would call her now. - Knowing your aversion to postponements, M y Lord, I delayed calling this witness instead of asking for an adjournment o f the trial. - Very well, Mr. Darlington. Marion walked up through the aisle o f eyes looking pale and subdued, almost demure. She was modishly dressed in a black costume with skirt not vulgarly high above the knees, a lilac blouse and a striking brooch o f gleaming ebony at her throat. A happy compromise between current fashion and the dignity befitting her recent breakdown and near-tragedy. Darlington began softly and reassur­ ingly after Marion had breathlessly repeated the oath and had been politely asked by the judge to speak a little louder. - Mrs. Squires, may I take you rapidly through your brief acquaintance with Cabot Carter? I think a series of short questions as to fact will best serve our purpose. You first met him at the Arts & Culture Centre about six months ago. I s that correct? - Yes. - On that occasion he did a sketch of your son Kirk and you purchased it for a hundred dollars. - Yes. - And I believe you suggested t hat he might like to visit your home and meet the family. Why? - I was interested in h is work and I . . . . . I felt an artistic interest in our fam il} would be . . . . . well, I thought it would be a good thing. A good influence, because it was something new to us. Also, I wanted to pay Mr. Carter for the sketch. - You liked it? - Yes. I61

- Did anybody else in your family like it? - No, not really. - Did you yourself feel well disposed toward Cabot Carter? - Yes. He seemed to be . . . . . well, not well-off, and I was in better circumstances, so I thought perhaps I could help him out a little. And I was interested in art myself. - He came to your home and spent an evening. We have already heard from other witnesses what passed on that occasion. That is, from their point of view. From your point of view, Mrs. Squires, what was your i mpression of him? - Pleasant, at first. - How did he behave toward you personally? - He . . . . . he seemed to be interested in me and . . . . . and . . . . . - There is no need for u ndue modesty. - And I felt that he perhaps adm ired me, a little. - Did he say anything along these lines early in your acquaintance? - Not exactly. - How did you deduce his feelings? - From his eyes. And later on from his actions. - What did he do? - The first time, he only sat close to me on the chesterfield and leaned toward me when we were alone in the living-room, after my husband went out to drive Mother home. - Nothing further happened? - No, not that time. - What did his attitude toward M rs. Bastow seem to be? - Toward Mother? Oh, he said she was a real character, or something like that. - The next time you saw him, did he say anything else about her or give you any hint that he might paint her? - No. H e was more interested in me. The next time I saw him was when I went to his house to find out about having the sketch of Kirk repaired. It got damaged by - Yes, we know about that. - Well, I went to Mullen Street and Mrs. Reilly showed me u p to Cabot's room. - Did you then see any sign of work being done on the picture of Mrs. Bastow? - Pardon? No. This was night-time that I went there, and after we arranged about the sketch we started to tal k . He bent over me close, showing me some things . . . . . - Yes, yes . But was there any reference to Mrs. Bastow, or did he express any further opinion about her? - . . . . . and then he put his arm around my neck and he stood me u p and started to rub the back of h is hand up and down over my breasts. Before I could even think of resisting. I hardly had time to realize what was happening . . . . . - Mrs. Squires! - . . . . . and the next thing he did, he . . . . . he pushed me over to his bed and threw me down on it and tried to rape me.

1 62

SIX

The sudden buzz-and-hum throughout the courtroom took a few minutes for the judge and his servants to quell. Darlington hardly noticed the commotion himself, being caught up in the advocate's nightmare - a key witness going off on her own right in the box, not only not keeping to w hat had been rehearsed but introducing material of a sensational and dubious nature. The angry lawyer decided to get Marion off the stand as soon as he decently could. The trouble was that Darlington had serious doubts about this tale of rape but Marion was rabid to talk of it in public, and so was now of little use to h i m in strengthening h is case. Standing up to cross-examine, John H art too felt that this woman was lying, even though he could not be absolutely sure . But what to do? Merely to put Cabot back on the stand and have him deny the charge of rape - that would just make it his word against Marion's; and the jury had no background on this witness against which to measure her words. It would be a long job for Hart, and it would bring in a lot of psycho-sexual concepts w h ich again the jury might not appreciate, to show that Marion Squires was a hysterical, middle-aged, disappointed beauty who was now telling a pack of vindictive, pathological lies. She might even have come to believe them herself, and so might be all the more convincing in telling them, or elaborating on them. Something hard and clinching was needed to discredit her. John Hart was thinking frantically how best to do this w hile he asked Marion his first probing questions. - If Cabot Carter showed signs of . . . . . of approaching you in your own living-room, M rs. Squires, why i n the world did you visit him, at night, i n his room ? - I never dreamed! I had n o suspicions. - Did you mention this intended visit to your husband? - What? Oh, I . . . . . I hardly remember. I don't think I did. - Why not? - Well, he didn't care for. art. - Keep to the point, please. You made this visit secretly and alone. Was it also quite on your own initiative? I n other words, had M r . Carter invited you to come and see him? - I was anxious to get the sketch repaired . . . . . - Did he invite you? - No . - You said your husband didn't care for art, a n d that seems t o b e an understatement. Did he care for Cabot Carter? - They weren't very sympathetic. - Did you and your h usband quarrel over this man who is in the dock? 1 63

- A few words, mainly over the sketch. - Did you mention your visit to M ullen Street to any of your friends? - Oh no. - Again, w hy not? Why so hush-hush? - They wouldn't have understood. - Be more specific. - They . . . . . they m ight have thought I was having an affair, and I wasn't. - How old are you, exactly, Mrs. Squires? After a lengthy silence, the judge spoke firmly: - Witness will answer the question. - I . . . . . I'm forty-six. - I suggest that the incident you have related, the rape was wishful thinking? - No ! - Did M r . Carter e n ti rely succeed in raping you? You said h e tried. - Well . . . . . yes. - Had you ever gone to M u llen Street and the Reilly house before this occasion we are speaking about? - Yes, once. - For what purpose? - To get some advice about my son's art classes at school. - To see Cabot Carter. Did you see h im at that time? - No, he was out. - By the way, was there a single occasion o n w h ich M r . Carter got i n touch w i th you, except by your invitation? - He was working aw fully hard and he was rather . . . . . funny about social life, i n any case. - Is the answer to my q uestion yes or no? - No, not that I can remember. - Had you , previous to your first call a t the Reilly house, given him your address and phone number? - Just to save time and trouble. - You took the initiative. ·

By Darlington: - My Lord, I do feel that my learned friend is harping on this trivial point, as to w ho got i n touch first with w hom and all that sort of thing, to the verge of monotony. - What is your ultimate purpose in taking this line, Mr. Hart? - My Lord, I want to show that it was the witness who chased the defendant t h roughout their relationship, and not the other way around. In view of the gross charge she has made, I feel that this is extremely important . - H ave you got many other q uestions about it, of a factual kind? - How many will depend on the witness's answers, My Lord. - Well, go on for the present. - M rs. Squires, did you pay yet another visit to the Reilly home on the afternoon of J anuary 23rd. (a Sunday) o f this year? 1 64

- Yes. - Alone? - Yes. - And was the purpose of this visit an artistic one? - In a way. - I n what way? � I . . . . . I thought Cabot might be feeling lonely and maybe discouraged in his work. Artists are awfully isolated, aren't they? - Sometimes. Now let's go back to your very first visit to the Reillys. Did you then meet Roma H art at their house? - Yes. - Was there some tension between you? - Tension? - A kind of u nfriendly disposition toward each other, or perhaps a foretaste of rivalry that two women may have w hen they're interested i n the same man. - Not that I noticed. - Did you like Miss Hart w hen you met her? - I didn't actually dislike her. - Why the reservation? - Well, I thought she was just a wee bit stuck up, perhaps. - In what way? Can you give an example? - She seemed to show off her knowledge of art and not think much of anybody else's opinion. - Did you know, at this time, that Miss H art was already acquainted with Cabot Carter, had done an interview with him and published that interview? - Yes. - Is it true that on your first meeting her, you were both calling at the Reillys to see Cabot Carter? - I can't speak for M iss Hart. - Think back. Didn't your conversation make this clear? I mean your conversation directly with her? - I really don't remember. - Very well. Did your mother, Mrs. Bastow, ever tell you she had seen Roma H art in Mr. Carter's company at one of her lectures? - I believe she mentioned it. - And did you yourself see these two young people together at the Arts & Crafts exhibition that was held last fall? - Yes. - Did you speak to Cabot Carter 9n that occasion? - No. - Why not, if you were so anxious to be friendly with him and help him? - I didn't really have an opportun ity. - I suggest it was because he already had company. Was he with Roma Hart all the time you had them under observation at the art gallery? - I think so. - Did you have the impression she was his girlfriend now? - Not especially. 1 65

- Did you notice them holding hands as they went around the gallery? - No . - Some time after t h e Arts & Crafts show, d i d you invite Cabot Carter t o come and see you at your home, in the afternoon? - I may have given him a friendly invitation. - Did you ask him to come alone, or when you would be alone? - I don't recall saying "alone". - Your husband is never at home on weekday afternoons, and your son is always at school? - Yes. - Is there anybody else i n your household? - No . But . . . . . - Come back to that january 23rd that I spoke of. O n that Sunday afternoon you went again, and once more alone, to the Reilly place, admittedly to see Cabot Carter. Beyond that, what was your reason? - J ust . . . . . just to find some company. It so happened I was all by myself that afternoon and in need of company. - Couldn't you visit one of your friends and talk to her? - I thought of Cabot as a friend too. - What ! ! After he had raped you? - I . . . . . I should say I still wanted to be his friend. I was willing to forgive him and try to bring h im to a more normal way of seeing things, sexual things. - On that day you drove down to the house and you were let i n by one of the boarders. I s that so? - Yes. - Did you go u pstairs to Cabot Carter's room, unaccompanied, and were you about to knock on the door, w hen something held you back? Am I still correct? - I . . . . . I just can't remember. - These lapses of memory are convenient. Why does your recollection fail at this point? - I wasn't feeling well when I went to the house. - Then w hy did you go there at all? - I told you, I needed company. - Did you actually knock on Mr. Carter's door? - Oh, I don't recall that either. - The persons w ho were inside that room at the time do recall. They heard no knock all afternoon. Did you hear their voices? - No, I don't think so. - You didn't hear Cabot Carter speaking to Roma Hart, perhaps i n terms of intimacy, and Miss H art responding in the same way? - How can I answer when I ' m not sure! - I think you are sure, but reluctant. You are deliberately blinding yourself to the truth. - No. I was sick and it's all a blur . . . . - My Lord, if witness says she cannot remember or cannot be sure, I think that should suffice, in the circumstances. 1 66

think so too, Mr. Darlington . Mr. Hart, will you soon have done along these lines? - Very soon, I hope, M y Lord. Perhaps the witness can tell the Court this: why didn't you knock o n the door, if you heard no voices i n the room? - I . . . . . I must have suddenly realized my danger again. - I see. The danger of rape. But you had all day to realize it, plus the time you spent driving down to Mullen Street. Mrs. Squires, did you truly not recognize Roma Hart's voice coming from that room ? - No, I tell you - no! - Are you sure, since you didn't try to enter the room, of w hen and how you left the house? - No. I began to feel worse, but I m ust have got out and d riven around for a short time because my car was found later in another place. And I must have known or remembered there was a bus out to the Retreat that day and I took it, because that's where I ended up. - You say that everything that happened after you left Mullen Street is more or less a blank? - I don't even remember buyi� g my bus ticket. - Why didn t you drive out to the Retreat? - I couldn't trust myself to drive any more. - You didn't comm unicate with anyone after you arrived at the Retreat? - N o . I just wanted to be by myself and get away from it all. - You don't think i t was a fit of h ysterical jealousy rather than some vague illness that caused this panic flight? - No i t wasn't! - You say you had no communication with the outside world once you had left St. John's. Didn't you even worry about your son Kirk? - I remember thinking of him when I was leaving the city, but I wasn't really worried. I knew what he and my husband would do, how they'd manage. - How? - They'd call m y mother and she'd come and take over. - But didn't you think of all the trouble and worry your disappearance would cause? - Not at first. I didn't care. I just felt so miserable! - Now, about your bus trip to the Retreat. Is there a stop at Topsail? - Pardon me? - On the bus route from St. J ohn's to the Retreat, is there a stop at Topsail? Surely that's a clear question. - I . . . . . I can't remember. -I

John H art paused and walked back to the defence table, where he stood for a moment turning over his brief in a preoccupied manner. From the courtroom there came a low murmur of disappointmen t : was that all from this juicy witness? Marion herself seemed to think so, as she turned in the box, glanced at the judge , a n d made a motion to leave. H a r t stopped h e r dead without looking up. - One momen t !

1 67

He was digging for some evidence or information in his own possession which he vaguely felt to be decisive in relation to Marion Squires but could not at once lay his mind or his hand on. Something - yes, there was some link in the chain of events connecting Marion and Cabot that would discredit this criminally fantasiz­ ing woman. But the Court was waiting. John Hart could feel the interrogative tension mounting on all sides and flowing toward him like a challenging wave, almost an accusation. W hile he was still turning over his numerous, splayed-out papers, a note from Cabot suddenly set him free to make his kil l . He riffled through a small folder and quickly found something significant to add to the piece of paper and envelope that he was already gripping in one hand . I t was a snapshot. Holding out all three items in a serious but not yet menacing way, he went close up to the witness box again, after having entered the material as evidence. - Mrs. Squires, look at this photo, please. Is it a picture of Olive Bastow ? - Yes. - Turn it over. I s the word MOT H E R printed on the back, with the date 1 983 beside it? - Yes. - I s that printing in your hand? - Yes, it is. - Cabot Carter got this photo from you? - Yes. He . . . . . - I t doesn't matter about details. I now show you a letter, an anonymous letter addressed to Mrs. John Hart and concerning another member of my own family - my only daughter. There's no date o n the letter and no signature, of course, but the envelope is postmarked January 24th. of this year and the place of franking is Topsail. And, as we might expect in a letter of this kind, it's not written, but printed. Mrs. Squires, will you read out the contents of this letter to the Court. Marion had already turned a ghastly grey. All at once her colors did not seem to suit her any more. She was trembling, close to tears; and the small sheet of paper and the envelope rustled in her hand as she took them, at the same time that her rather prominent, glistening eyes sought out K. K. Darlington for help. Hart cut across that glance as sharp as a military commander. - Read it! - I . . . . . I can't. My Lord, I don't feel well . . . . . - J ust read it out, Mrs. Squires. I think your examination will soon be over. - Yes, My Lord. "YOU ARE A BAD MOT H E R , YOUR DAUGHTER I S A . . . . . A WH . . . . . Marion trailed off in a sob, tears coming almost at once, and silently at first. She was now holding the letter away from her body as if it were something soiled. Hart seized the papers and read out the words of the letter distinctly : - "YOU ARE A BAD MOTH ER. YOUR DAUGHTER IS A WHORE ." Did you write and send this letter? - I don't re . . . . . - Well, we can do without your personal confirmation. After handing up photo, letter and envelope to the judge for further inspec1 68

tion, Hart got them back and at once had them passed among the jury. - You see, ladies and gentlemen, that the word MOT H E R printed on the back of that snap also occurs i n the letter. The printing is quite distinctive. I don't think we'll need to trouble any handwriting experts in this case. Notice how the bar of the T is raised above the stem and the arms of the E similarly separated from the vertical part. I will not have to argue the point that the word on the photo and those words in the anonymous letter were done by the same person . The witness Marion Squires has admitted that she printed the word on the back of that photo. Mrs . Squires! Did you, when you had failed to establish any personal relationship with Cabot Carter, become so preoccupied with sexual thoughts of this youn g man that you first imagined he had raped you, then later went to his room where you found that the very same you ng woman who had captured Mr. Carter's interest and affection was there with him, alone and on terms of intimacy? Is that true? - No . . . . . no, it wasn't really like that. - Did you become hysterical on that occasion , from jealousy or rage? But not so h ysterical that you couldn't get some paper and envelope, when the bus stopped at Topsail , and write this foul letter to my wife about m y daughter? - I feel so confused . . . . . I can't answer. - Perhaps no more answers are needed from you, Mrs. Squires. My Lord, with your permission I will now recall the accused, to hear his side of this bizarre story. Marion left the box in a state of near-collapse, escorted to the door by a police constable but ignored by the Attorney-General, w ho looked disgusted and even a little dismayed. At the door of the courtroom Fred Squires met his wife, took hold of her arm none too gently, and hustled her offto another inquisition as to why she had ever done this crazy thing, and also into more fret and worry about a possible charge of perjury, or perhaps one of libel on Roma H art. As for Cabot, the defence plan had been to recall him after J ames Reilly had given his evidence, at w hich time the artist would stand before j udge and j ury, i n t h e light of Jamie's character reference, a s a hard-working, honest m a n who was doing h is best to survive i n a profession as hard as the work of Sisyphus. Dar­ lington's calling of Marion had forestalled that; but now Cabot would appear i n t h e even better light of a m a n w h o had been partially vindicated by those w ho seemed to condemn him. He went into the witness box calmly and confidently. - Mr . Carter, did you ever rape Marion Squires? - No. - Or try to rape her? - No . - Did y o u ever kiss her? - No . - Did you ever s o m u c h as lay a hand on h e r in a n intimate way? - No. - And have you ever stood in a relationship to Roma H art that would or could justify her being called a whore? - No. - H ave you ever given Miss Hart so much as a dollar for any kind of service w hatsoever? 1 69

- No . Here J o h n H art made a long pause, a n d then left h i s witness t o Darlington, knowing that there was little more the prosecution could do in this situation. The best thing from their side would be to get Cabot offthe stand right away and let the trial pass on to the stage of closing speeches to the jury, where Darlington could hope not only to recover ground lost in the Marion fiasco but also to make a strongly positive effect by restoring the proper issues here to their proper legal basis. The Attorney-General asked Cabot no questions at all in this situation. It seemed that the crowd i n court also thought an end-stage had come, because they broke out again in that strange, subterranean and speculative murmur, at the same time causing a stir by shifting their asses to let blood flow into paralyzed parts, and gazing from one chief figure in the drama to another to see what was coming next. When John Hart remained standing conspicuously in the well of the courtroom and in a very purposeful manner, the judge, having once more si­ lenced the Court, gave him an enquiring look. - Yes, Mr. Hart? - My Lord, I have one more witness for the defence, whom I would like to call right now.

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SEVEN

George West came into the box and gave all h is attention to the defence lawyer with an air of serious-minded amiability. - Mr. West, you are the Director of the art gallery at the local Arts & Culture Centre? - Yes. - Give the Court a brief outline, please, of your academic and other q ualifications for this post. - I spent two years as an Arts student at Memorial University - Memorial College it was then. Got my B.A. at Dalhousie. Degree in Fine Arts at U . B.C . . . . . . - U . B .C . ? - U niversity of British Columbia. I w a s Assistant Curator a t several small museums and galleries across Canada. Two years at the Beaverbrook Gallery in Fredericton. Oh yes! And I spent one year in England studying art administration. For the past five years I've been in m y present position at the Centre. - Are you responsible for all the pictures that are hung in the gallery there? - Yes. I make the final decisions. - You are a Newfoundlander by birth, Mr. West? - Yes. Born in Tic.k le Cove. - Your age? - Fifty-one. - Are you a married man with a family? - I have four children, yes. - So that job security is of great i mportance to you . - I t is indeed. - Fine. That gives the Court some idea of your background and responsibilities. To come now to these present events, how long have you known Cabot Carter? - About ten years, off and on. - What was your very first contact with him? - I first met him at an evening class i n Drawing at Memorial U niversity. I forgot to mention, by the way, that I taught drawing for a w hile too. - You a re an artist yourself? - No. I started out to be, but realized in time that my real interest and whatever ' ability I have were on the administrative side of art, not the creative. - What did you think of Mr. Carter's work when he was your pupil? - I thought he showed penetrating vision, for so young a man, and also a sharp sense of color. - Faults? - Yes, he had those too. He had a technical facili�y that might have become 171

dangerous to him and made him a slick performer i nstead of a . . . . . a groping artist. Furthermore, Cabot had a rebellious spirit, I would say. Too stubborn . But that's not exactly uncommon among the better art students. - Did Cabot Carter refuse to be taught how to draw and paint? - Well, nobody can be taught how to paint, i n my opinion, Mr. Hart, but a teacher can help his pupil to learn by directing him along certain roads or giving him a strong hint now and then. - You had a good opinion of this man's abilities, then, and you felt that he was worth encouraging. - Yes. Definitely. - Did you ever make any formal or official expression of your confidence i n him? - Once I was on an Arts and Letters Competition jury that awarded him a prize for Drawing, and later I recommended him for a grant to study at the Ontario College of Ar�. - You followed his later career, no doubt. What did you think of it? - I was a little disappointed for a while. Cabot seemed to lose himself for some years, not to have a grip on what he really wanted to do with his talent. But since he came back to Newfoundland his work has shown a . . . . . a startling advance. - In what way? - In sincerity, I think, and truth to his own vision of the world, of things and people. Of course I mean imaginative and not literal truth . - I want to come back later to "imaginative truth". For the present, do you feel that the two portraits sent in by Cabot Carter to your Winter Exhibition, and shown there, have the good qualities that you mentioned - sincerity and so on? - I do feel that, yes. - Both the portrait of Sailor Burns and M rs. Bastow? - Yes. - Do you also feel that they were worthy to be shown just for their artistic qualities? - I do. - We've heard in previous evidence how Mr. Carter took his two pictures to the gallery, before the exhibition, and you and he examined them. What was your very first thought or impression on that occasion? - That this was work that must be in the show . I thought they were excellent portraits. - Now, did you have any feeling, at the time, that there might be serious trouble over the picture of Mrs . Bastow? - No. Not serious trouble or legal trouble. - What kind, then? - Oh, perhaps a few complaints from her and her family, letters in the papers, people saying how "shocking" it was, and all that sort of thing. - With all your experience in the field of art, didn't you even hesitate before hanging the portrait that is now complained of? - No. I thought it was pretty strong meat, but I never for a moment doubted that it should be h ung. - Were you acquainted with Mrs . Bastow at the time you accepted the picture,

1 72

and did you recognize it as a portrait of her? - I knew her by sight, and I did recognize her at once i n the portrait. - Were you also aware that an art gallery, or its Director, may bear equal responsibility in law, equal with that of the painter, i n a matter of this kind? - Oh yes, I was well aware of that. - And stil l you didn't hesitate to show the portrait? - No. - For the same reason that you already gave - the q uality of the work? - Yes. - Mr. West, have you ever been involved in a case like this before? That is, in your capacity as an art administrator. - Not w here a trial was held. I 've been in a situation w here a picture that I'd h u ng was complained of, w here what you might call unofftcial charges were laid, and people asked for the picture to be removed. - On th reat of a suit for libel? - No. O n grounds of obscenity once, and another time, blasphemy. - Without going into details, did you bow to the complainers and remove your pictures? - No, sir, I did not. I fought it all the way, and I upheld the artist i n each case. - Why? - I thought they had painted good pictures and I was convinced that they should not suffer for . . . . . for extraneous reasons. - What was the upshot of these obscenity and blasphemy complaints? - I won on the first, but the Board overruled me on the second. - Did you accept that? - No . - D i d y o u keep y o u r job? - No. It was suggested to me that I m ight be happier elsewhere. - And? - I quit and found another post. This was before I was married. - Would you say that your reasons and your reasoning in those two cases apply to the present one, in a general way? - Yes. - You gave Mr. Carter no caution, although you are an older man and more experienced in dealing with people; and you did not feel any qualms yourself about showing this pot·trait of Olive Bastow. Can you e nlarge on your motives? - The only thing I can add to them is that I look at a picture, any picture, first and foremost as a work of art. Or an attempt at a work of art. And I was so taken with this portrait by Cabot that I could never t·egat·d it as a . . . . . a social object, so to speak, or something that might become a bone of contention. - Later on, after your first enthusiasm for the portrait had cooled . . . . . - Pardon me, Mr. H art, m y enthusiasm didn't cool and it still hasn't. - A bad phrase on m y part, Mr. West. After you had considered the picture for some time with a connoisseur's pleasure, didn't it occur to you then that the subject of the picture might be offended? - Yes, it did. And, as I said, I thought there might be some fuss and flutter because Mrs. Bastow is so well known locally. But I never thought there would be. a I 73

Jaw case over it. - I must ask you again, why not? - I just didn't regard it as a matter of law at all. And I believe that this whole case is based on a misunderstanding which . . . . . Darlington could not stomach this. - My Lord, legal opinions from a witness! That is really too much. - It is, Mr. Darlington. Mr. Hart, can you alter the direction or the emphasis of your examination on these points? - Yes, My Lord. I feel sure the witness was merely showing enthusiasm in his own field, not intending to instruct the Court. I'll ask him to stick to that field. Mr. West, from the point of view of art, then, can you tell the Court what you thought Mrs. Bastow's reaction to her picture was likely to be? Can you be more specific?

- I thought she would be disturbed about it, naturally, when it first went on view; but, apart from that, I thought she would eventually come to feel proud of it.

- Proud! Can you explain a little? This puts a new light on the matter. - I felt and I feel that Mrs. Bastow, or

any

Newfoundland woman, should be

proud to be the subject of this painting, which may very well enter into the history of art in this province and perhaps this country. - I think you can do us all a favor, Mr. West. There has been so much talk about this picture being an offensive and a dreadful thing, an insult to its subject and

so

on . And yet you take quite a different view of it. Can you tell us, in non-technical language if possible, what you see in it that prompts this view?

- You want me to avoid art jargon? Gobble-de-gook? - If you can spare us. - I'll do my best. Well, first of all, this portrait is very well painted. I mean as a matter of applying paint to canvas

so

as to bring out the artist's intention of

showing his subject's character and . . . . . and spirit. That's the most important thing. But it's very important for us to realize too that this picture is not

only

a

representation of one particular woman. I believe that Mr. Carter went deeper, and painted a portrait of one whole side of Newfoundland life. - Was that his main intention, do you think? - No, no! An artist always moves from the particular to the general, from the thing to its meaning, and no� vice versa - But what is this deeper side you're talking about? - Offhand, the best answer I can give is that the portrait seems to sum up our life here in Newfoundland on its . . . . . its austerely protestant, self-righteous and its heavy materialistic side as well. Notice what an impression of grasping it gives, for instance. - Is that the imaginative truth of this picture? - Partly. - And why did Mr. Carter choose Mrs. Bastow to represent all this? - I think because, first of all, her face and person captured his imagination and started the creative process in his mind. And he may have thou�t of her, subconsciously, as representing all those things I mentioned. Mrs. Bastow was his starting point.

- So that, in your opinion, it's quite wrong to say that the artist here seized on this 1 74

lady and painted a crude picture of her just to mock at and ridicule her?

- Absolutely wrong.

- You think Mrs. Bastow shouldn't have been offended at all? - I think she should try to see her portrait in other than a personal light. - Mr. West, do you believe that Cabot Carter is a great painter? - Oh, it's too soon to say! And critics and art men like myself are very shy about using the word "great", especially when the painter is still alive. But I believe that his two portraits shown here, that of Sailor Burns as well as Olive Bastow, are good enough to be judged in the category of art alone and not by any other standard. - My Lord, I must protest again. My learned friend persists in trying to shift the ground of this trial from law to art. I protest on the score of irrelevancy. - I don't know, Mr. Darlington. It see ms to me that when we have an artist on trial, a witness like Mr. West should be fully heard. He speaks to the general tendency of Mr. Carter's work, and that may very well have a bearing on the issue here. That is how it appears to me. And there will be ample opportunity for you to cross-examine. Have yo.u any more questions for this witness, Mr. Hart?

- J �st two or three, My Lord, thank _you. Mr. West, you said t�at. _you once recommended this man who is on trial, for a drawing prize and a grant. Do. you feel that at the present time his work is of a quality to deserve some kind of public recognition and support? - Definitely. - And do you think that proceedings such as are going on here are likely to hamper a sensitive artist in his work? In a psychological as well as an actual or physical sense? - Yes. - What

might

be the effect on him of a conviction for libel?

- I t might paralyze him completely, both on the creative side and with regard to exhibition of his work. - Is it your opinion that he and all other genuine a rtists should be left free to choose their own subjects and interpret them or present them according to their own idea or vision? - Yes, it is. I believe that profoundly. - M y Lord, that ends my examination of this witness, and the case for the defence. I t was clear from

K. K. Darlington's manner as he rose and fixed an ironic eye

on George West that he would never think of trusting this witness to any junior or assistant. His tone too suggested a critical stage in the trial. - You have given us the benefit of your opinion on the law of this issue, but you say that your true province is art, and so I shall confine myself to that in my questions. First and foremost, will you acknowledge that all you have said about this man Carter and his work is only the opinion of one man - yourself? - I realize that, yes. - You are not so anogant or deluded as to think that all Cu rators and Directors would agree with you, then. - It's not a question of arrogance, but honest opinion. 1 75

- Please not to editorialize on my questions. Answer them. - But when you say I 'm being an . . . . . - Is it or is it not true that the Director of an art gallery in, say, Montreal or Vancouver, might have an entirely diffe1·ent opinion of Carter's work? - Of course that's true. - I should like, nevertheless, to go into your opinion a little more fully, even though you are by your own admission a failed artist. You said that as an art student Carter had a . . . . . a rebellious spirit. I think that was the phrase you used. And that he was stubborn. Is he still like that? - I'm afraid so. But I don't necessarily think it's a bad thing, no matter what age or stage an artist may be at. - You persist i n being your own commentator. I remind you that that box is not a platform . . . . . - My Lord, I don't think my learned friend should keep on lecturing the witness, w ho is doing h is best to be clear and at the same time give an honest answer. - Very well, M r. H art. M r . Darlington, please be as brief and perti nen t as you can. - Of course, My Lord. I beg pardon . Mr. West, why is it a good thing for an artist to have a rebellious spirit? - For one thing, it helps him to avoid humbug. - A great asset, no doubt. - And he's more likely to produce work that is really original or individual if he sticks stubbornly to his own vision of things and people. - U rn . You also said that Carter's work showed a marked advance on his coming back to Newfoundland. Is inspiration i n art a matter of geography, do you think? - In the first place, art is not a matter of i nspiration. - What, then? - Patience and hard work, mostly - assuming the talent is there to start with . And in the second place, I think that when he came back home Cabot Carter found his true subject as a painter. New foundland life. So walls i n his mind were broken dow n and he began t� tun� out so_me really good painting. - Containing a good deal of imaginary truth? - I said imaginative, not imaginary. - Forgive me if I seem to d ull the edge of your vocabu lary. You felt, I believe, that the portrait of M rs . Bastow was worthy to be shown for its artistic qualities alone - I still feel that. - Mr. West, kindly do not interrupt me u ntil I have at least finished my sentence. You placed all e mphasis on art; but is it conceivable that a man of yo ur experience would not see the possible legal danger of exhibiting such a portrait as this? - Conceivable or not, it's true. - B u t legal trouble has come. How do you acco u n t for your lapse ofj udgment, or should I say your negligence? - Perhaps I underestimated the narrow-mindedness and the provincialism of this city. - Perhaps you just took a wrong-headed view of the whole matter. Tell me, w hen you upheld previously those artists who pain ted the pictures i n which obscenity 1 76

and blasphemy were complained of, did you really do so only because you thought t he pictures in q uestion were good art? - No. - What other reason did you have? - I thought the complainers were a lot of darn fools. - Do you really believe that art is autonomous or self-sufficient i n the sense that you have been talking about? - The answer to that would involve a full-scale debate. I n one sentence, and trying to avoid jargo n , the best I can do is to say that an artist should be interfered with to the very least degree possible. - Possible for what? - Order in society and the artist's un hindered expression. - Well then, can you give one instance, a hypothetical case, where you think the artist should be in terfered with? - Let me see . . . . well, I'd say that if he were actually committing a crime, or breaking the law knowingly in the course of his work, then perhaps he should be restrained. I n any case, i f artists went on acting like that and creating anarchy, they would be acting against their own best interests, by destroying the conditions under w hich they can do their best work. - Thank you for that concession. Now I wish to probe for a moment into your remark about M rs . Bastow's portrait being, in effect, a summing up of one whole side of New foundland life. How do you make that out, from the picture itself? - Oh, I could mention many things. Look at the mouth, and the set of it. You could read in that alone the hard and bitter struggle this woman has waged to gain whatever . . . . . whatever mastery she has over life. And that's very typical of our entire history, isn't it? I think the artist has rendered this sympathetically. Yes, sympathetically. This fact hasn't been brought out here i n court - the fact that the portrait is not really a hostile portrait at all . You might take as another exam ple of the artist's care his treatment of the hands. I mean care i n the sense of sympathy for h is subject, though their drawing and their place i n the composition show great skill as well. Look at the pale patches of skin and those modulated brownish tones. Very charilcteristic of old age, and . . . . . - Yes, yes. There is no need to go on . The Court does not want a lecture from you. John Hart was just rising to protect his witness from being cut off like this, w hen George West anticipated him by appealing directly and angrily to thejudge : - My Lord, this gentleman, M r . Darlington, has asked m e a question, and a s I understand it, my purpose in being here is to answer him. I'd like to be allowed to do so. - But please try not to expatiate, Mr. West. Be as concise as you can. - Yes, M y Lord. Thank you. - Mr. Darlington? - Mr. West, can you not choose as to w hether the portrait is a summation of local history or a stark portrait of old age? - I was going to suggest, in my last answer, that it is a picture of the tragedy of old age. But no, sir, I can't choose, because like all good portraits this one has many values and can be read i n many ways. 1 77

- There's more to it yet! - I ndeed there is. The eyes are remarkably well done. I don't mean just technically. I'm speaking about w hat they convey. To me they convey the idea of a person whose whole life has been founded on a faith but who has come, ve•·y late in life, to have some secret doubts about her faith. That's genuinely tragic. The effect is very subtle, and how the artist gets those intangible e ffects is one of the mysteries of painting. But it's there, as sure as there's paint on that canvas; and it accounts, I think, for the expression of terror that the whole face projects. - A denial of the subject's faith? - No, not a denial. A recognition, or perhaps only an intimation, that the wall of her faith has inwardly cracked, and that as she moves quickly on towards death, the pressure on her mind and spirit shows more and more on her face. - Do you mean this is w hat M rs. Bastow felt, or j ust what Carter saw in her face? - Both. - Rather fanciful, I should think. Did you get any of these notions from Carter himself? - Certainly not! It would be . . . . . I was going to say it would be almost immoral for any artist to comment on his own picture in such a way. Let me say it would be inappropriate, at the very least. - Would you say that other viewers see all that you can see in the portrait? - They might see that, or something equivalent, if they looked at it long enough and with open m inds. Or they might arrive at an entirely diffe•·ent idea of it. Art is vanous. - Let us return to firmer ground, art being not only various but . . . . . ah, dodgy. Do you believe that a man's having perhaps some talent as an artist should give him permission to ignore the law of his country? - I 've already indicated that I don't believe any such thing. - At last, a brief and categorical answer. - But . . . . . - I had hoped you were not going to spoil it! - My Lord, I can't answer the question honestly without making a qualification: - Make it, Mr. West. - Where a man or woman shows distinctive talent in one of the arts, they should be left entirely alone unless their activities directly threaten the existing social order, by violence. At that point the law would have to step in. But this is not the case at all where Cabot Carter is concerned. - Ah, but who is to decide which are the talented artists and which are the layabouts? - I think that's the job of serious art critics and people like myself. - Very convenient. You would appear to live in a self-sustaining world, Mr. West. Will you admit that this portrait could be seen as merely a gross, deeply offensive caricature? - Yes, it could be, I suppose. The Mona Lisa could be seen as a silly simpering woman, or Picasso's portrait of Gertrude Stein as a sloppy old grease ball. By the ignorant. - If a picture does social or personal harm to its subject, does it matter whether the picture is a masterpiece or a mere crude rendering of her worst features? 1 78

- No . I suppose it doesn't from that narrow point of view. - Are you , or were you before this trial began, familiar with the rhyme about Battleaxe Bastow being h u ng at the art show and Carter's libel true as the bible? - Yes. - Do you regard that as being flattering to the plaintiff? - No, but it's not all flattering to the defendant either, is it ? - Do n o t bandy q uestions with m e . Do y o u think the gross rhyme is j ustified by what you call the excellence of M rs. Bastow's portrait? - No . - I remind you t h a t Carter is n o t the person w ho h a s suffered b y exposure to t he public in this portrait affair. N ow then, at the art gallery where you spend your days and a good many evenings, did you ever hear or overhear any remarks about the picture that were unflattering to M rs . Bastow? - Yes. - On your oath, would you consider any of those remarks insulting? - I can't feel sure about that. - Suppose they had been made about your wife, would you consider them insulting? - Well . . . . . yes. - And have you heard such remarks in your social life around St. John's? - Yes. - I sn't i t true that a large majority of the people around this city and its environs would not, perhaps could not, see this portrait as you, the Director of an art gallery, profess to see it? - Yes. - Don't you think your good opinion of it is i n fluenced by your being a friend of the painter? - No! I reject that. I t has nothing to do with the matter. If Cabot painted a bad picture I would tell him so, and if he sent in shoddy or superficial work to one of my exhibitions, I 'd refuse it. I'd refuse a bad picture from my dying mother. - Yo u never take in bad art? - I try not to. - Really. And 'what, Mr. West, do you keep in a room at the Arts & Culture cen tre called the Chamber of Horrors? - That's quite a different thing. A different thing altogether. In there I put all the stuff that has no pretensions to being art. It's harmless wall covering. - I imagine the painters of this wall covering might have some pretensions to their work being a rt . - I 'm not responsible for their delusions. And I keep a l l theirj u n k together i n one room j u st for the purpose of making a distinction between it and real art. - Who decides w hether a wor-k is one thing or the other? - I do. - I t all sounds rather arbitrary. - Somebody has to take the responsibility of deciding. - And how, in essence, do you decide? - By the conception and execution of the work itself. - I see. To come back now to fact, i n your knowledge of Olive Bastow, is she a

1 79

highly respected and a prominent figure in this community? - Yes. - And have you ever heard her laughed at (I mean outside the art gallery) and ridiculed on account o f Cartet·'s picture? - Yes, I have. - H eld in contempt? - No, I wouldn't go as far as that. I t was more l i ke the ribald laughter that you always hear among St. John's .men w hen there's anything unusual or amusing on the go. - That was not precisely my question. You have only told the Court how you feel about this ridicule of M rs. Bastow. I did not ask your opinion . Do you consider that such react ions as you observed would tend to make her be held i n con tempt in the eyes of the public? - I . . . . . feel that contempt is too strong a word, even as you put the question. - Contempt is a very strong word, and a nasty thing. Can you forget for a moment that you are a man of art and t ry to take t he view of an ordinary citizen or man of the worl d ? Make the imaginat ive effort to place yourself i n that class. Would you then say t hat, knowing M rs. Bastow personally or by repute, you might have felt contempt for her when her portrait was exhibited? - That's very hard t o answer, but I might , I suppose, if I were a person who had no idea what the port rait was all about. - And in t hat situation would you not feel , as a logical consequence, that the man who had brought th is innocen t lady into such contempt had done a most rep­ rehensible th ing? - That's true on a hypothetical basis, but . . . . . - I really do think we have had enough of "but" from you , Mr. West. M y Lord, I have no furt her questions. In spite of Darlington's curt dismissal, George West did not argue any more, as he had already got across most of the points he had dete rmined to make; and likewise John Hart felt that his expert witness had more than held his own against the Attorney-General, leaving no need for any re-examination. The j udge noted that it was almost five o'clock and decided that the trial would go o n to its next stage in the morning.

1 80

EIGHT

I n his closing speech to the j ury John H art kept to his casual style, except for a touch of eloquence towards the end, but there was all through it an u ndertone of passionate conviction that told sensitive listeners how deeply he fel t what he was saying, quite apart from the personalities involved and his desire to win a case against the Attorney-General. - Ladies and Gentlemen : I n speaking to you for the last time I'm not going to try for any of the high flights of irony that my learned friend and distinguished opponent, M r . Darlington, has seen fit to indulge in when cross­ examining witnesses for the defence. I just want to stand here and say whatever I can say on behalf of this u nusual, talented young man who sits there in the dock and will very soon be at the mercy of your decision i n this case. I make no bones about the charge against him being a serious one, and I feel sure that all of you will consider m y words to you now with the greatest of care. At least we're not here, you and I and this whole Court, to dispute over facts; or not mainly over that, because in a factual sense the main issue that you have to deal with here is u ndisputed. Cabot Carter did pain t this portrait of Mrs. Bastow and exhibit it to public view. Now, a great deal has been made during this trial of the respectability and high social position of Olive Bastow, which makes her very sensitive to publicity and to anything that might be regarded as a libel on her. That too is u n disputed. I do not doubt her virtues in the social sen se ; in fact , I share in the generally high opinion of her character and could easily sympathize with her if, as i t has been claimed, she were socially offended and brough t down by this picture of Mr. Carter's. But, you see, there's another and a very big side to this whole q uestion. Let's try to look at it from the artist's poi n t of view. You might have thought from the attitude of the prosecu tion that the portrait was done by some ill-natured, irresponsible and evil man who only had i t in mind to insult M rs. Bastow and make her a crude laughing-stock in our comm u n ity. Yet that was not at all what the evidence showed ! I 'm referring here to the testimony given by J ames and E uphemia Reilly, Cabot Carter's land lord and landlady, who certainly know the defendant better than anyone else i n St. John's because he has lived with them for years on terms of personal friendship and domestic in timacy. They described him as a steady, serious man, hard-working and devoted, even fanatically devoted, to his painting. Put that with the evidence of M r. George West, who told us that Cabot Carter has good reason to consider his work important as art, and you have the profile of a man w ho has spent years developing his tale nt as a painter, u ntil finally he begins to have some success in every way and to have h is work r·ecognized by the people 181

who know about these things. I s that your idea of a nasty and ill-natured man? And is it likely, do you think, that a man in the process of establishing himself in his profession, after a desperate struggle, would risk his whole career and even his liberty just to paint an unpleasant picture of a woman whom he hardly knows? It wouldn't make sense ! I 'm going to have more to say on this side of the matter, and on the evidence of the Reillys, before I finish; but I j u st wanted to mention these things at this point so as to remind you of the type of man Cabot Carter is, also how unlikely it is that he would act in the way and for the reasons that the prosecution has suggested. I want to go back now and briefly review for you what Mr. Carter himself had to say in his own defence, and I stress this because so much has been made of the artist's intention in doing this portrait of the plaintiff. Cabot Carter said he had no thought whatever of attacking M rs. Bastow, in any way. Quite the contrary: his reason for doing her was mainly a flattering one, since he found her not only interesting but fascinating as a subject. Those were his own words. H e recognized the significance of the marks that time had made on this woman's face, and he wanted to make a record of these in the form of a work of art. Where is the malice or the insult in that? It was a compliment, ladies and gentlemen. Rightly under­ stood, it was a compliment to an honorable woman scarred by life as we all are to some extent, and it was moreover a credit to the artist who had the insight and the strength and skill to put these qualities of his subject permanently on canvas. Then why was Mrs. Bastow so shocked w hen she first saw her portrait? For the most human of reasons. All at once she saw herself as she really was, or perhaps I should say as others might see her; and that experience is always a shock to those of u s in particular w ho have lost the bright gleam of youth and in addition have during our lives struck against the granite edges of reality, with scars to show for it. The further question then comes up as to why other people than Mrs. Bastow found the portrait so grim and even horrible. The answer here involves a misun­ derstanding, for many of those people went to the art gallery expecting no doubt a horror (due to advance rumor and grapevine publicity) and of course they found just about what they expected. They simply misunderstood this work, making no attempt at all to take a true critical attitude toward it. The evidence given for the prosecution by M rs. I rene Shaw, the very first witness in this trial, shows as much. In general, this may be the major reason for the dismay and outrage that such people showed in seeing the picture. Or perhaps many of them werej ust confused by it. And isn't it also true that we often take refuge in nervous, defensive laughter when we come up against something that we just do not understand? All the more true, I 'd say, when that something lies in the u nfamiliar, mysterious field of art. What else did Cabot Carter have to say for himself? Well, there's the very i m portant fact that he never before had any trouble of a legal kind over any of his works, and that he never dreamed of any such trouble arising from this one. H e told you that he painted and exhibited t h e portrait in all innocence, a thing you may find hard to believe until you remind yourselves that this man is first and foremost a painter. He lives mainly through his eyes, and the whole aim and desire of his life (as he is not an abstract artist) is to paint what·he sees, in terms of color and form and according to his own vision of the world. It's hard for non-artists like you and me to grasp this fact, or to realize w hat an intensely private and withdrawn I 82

life such a man may lead. I n other words, how preoccupied he may be with his one object of reproducing this world or anything that he may see in it, in terms of art. Perhaps that vivid little story which Cabot Carter told of the painter Allan Ramsay, who actually forgot that his beloved baby son was dead, while he was painting him, gave you some idea of the real state of mind an artist may be in while he is actually engaged on a picture. It sounds inhuman but is not really so. It is part of the strange and tragic

double

vision that any artist has to live with; and I say that

account must be taken of this when you are judging a man like Cabot Carter. He sees the world and people as a man and a human being like any other: he also sees them as an artist, and sometimes there is a complete divorce between the two lines of vision. The same man can be both tender lover and ruthless portrayer of the loved one. So you will see, I believe, that something like this was the situation Cabot Carter found himself in while he was painting Mrs. Bastow, and it seems hard that he should have to suffer and run the risk of being condemned by his fellow citizens on account of it. I'm simply saying that as a sincere, conscientious artist he should be granted the understanding and consideration his difficult profession deserves. The nature of that profession is not irrelevant to the issue here. Let me explain that I do not believe, and the defence has never claimed, that an artist should be exempt from the law; but I do believe that, as I said, the special conditions and the requirements of his work should be given some weight here, and all the more so because art is an intangible thing which can't be treated in the matter-of-fact, account book way that you would apply to a business dispute which came up for trial. This is a very important difference between my view and that of the prosecu­ tion, so that I ask you to keep it continually in mind. Apart from Mr. Carter himself, what did other witnesses have to say about him and his work? There was the testimony of those who had their portraits done, and some of them exhibited, by this same artist without their suffering any terrible embarrassme nt. The witness josiah Burns, called Sailor, was not brought here by me just to amuse the Court, and his portrait was not shown here only to contrast in its social significance, or lack of that, with Mrs. Bastow's. Let me place it on the easel again for a moment. Observe that although it's a grim picture in some ways, great sympathy is shown for the outcast-subject too. See what pity there is in the man's helplessness, in the way the artist has shown how Sailor has quite given up trying to cope with a world in which he has no place, and can therefore take only a sardonic or savage attitude t�ward that world. I am featuring this portrait here

too, beside the other, to show that Cabot Carter is able to paint a sympathetic and

human portrait of local character and conditions. If it is objected that Sailor Burns

is not at all comparable to Olive Bastow in social status, and so there's no point. in comparing the effects of his picture with the furor aroused by hers, I will not deny that. I will instead mention other cases where that objection will not apply. A gain I can cite Euphemia Reilly. She is of a higher or at least more well-to-do class than Sailor, and she also had a superficially unflatterihg portrait of herself done by Mr. Carter, then shown and commented on in public. Yet Mrs. Reilly has survived the ordeal , as she told you herself, without having to hide her face in shame. She never thought of her picture as a libel, neither has she lost a particle of goodwill among her true friends, and above all, she has kept all her respect and friendship for the

1 83

artist who so realistically portrayed her. With the robust humor common among people like her, the ordinary people of Newfoundland, E uphemia Reilly accepted that part of her ponrait which is more realistic than pretty, more true to life than tO Hollywood-style glamor, and she saw with the eye of good sense that in her case as in others the artist was more concerned with basic character than with a cheap, obvious flattery. If we continued to view this question from the standpoint of social values, I could also bring in the sketches done by Cabot Carter of Roma H art, a young woman w ho does not exactly stand on the lowest rung of the ladder i n this city - if you will forgive me for saying this rather personal thing. The circumstances of the case make it just about impossible to avoid. I take just one of these sketches as an example. Look at this, members of the jury. A truly beautiful thing, isn't it? And every line of it trembling with life. The grace and vigor of this young body are marvellously conveyed by a few simple strokes of the pencil. Are you surprised that M iss H art told you she would be not only willing but proud to have her likeness shown in public or under any other conditions? You must excuse my emotion too, but when I look at this d rawing I myself feel proud - of being the subject's father. So, however we look at this question or w hatever examples we use, it becomes clear that Cabot Caner is able to show both sympathy and insight in his portraits, and especially h is portraits of women. Young people or old, high and low, rich and poor, beautiful or not so beautiful - he can paint or draw them all and bear his own witness to the truth as he sees it. How does it happen, then, that i n the one and only case of Olive Bastow he fell down on the job and turned out a horror? This is the very point I am making! He did not fall dow n on the job, and he did no such absurd thing as to single out this e lderly lady, who had done him no harm, for a victim and a w hipping woman. I repeat that it's an utterly outrageous misun­ derstanding of the whole anistic process for anyone to take the portrait of M rs . Bastow i n that way. H e r picture h a s in i t as m u c h skill a n d care a n d fundamental sympathy as anything else by this artist; and, as Mr. George West said in the box, she too should be proud to have sat, although unwittingly, to a man like Cabot Carter. Even so, it was persistently claimed by the Crown that she has undergone a loss of prestige just because her portrait was exposed to the public gaze. Undoubtedly she did have a shock, and I dare say had to put up with a certain amount of chaffing and w hat not after the picture first came on view, but was this really anything more than a few smiles and silly titterings, a schoolboy fight, one or two stupid remarks made out in Corner Brook, and so forth ? A few idle-minded people chattering about the portrait for a while, unti l they found something else to chatter about. The evidence of M rs. Bastow's sufferings (as they have been called) in this regard was given by people almost entirely ignorant of art, as you heard w hen I ques­ tioned one or two of them briefly on that topic, and I do not thi n k that those questions were beside the point, since the witnesses I am speaking of seemed to take a personal rather than an artistic view of Cabot Carter and his work. I 'm sure we all agree that the most important things brought out by the prosecution were those said by M rs. Bastow herself, her own account of w hat happened to her personally once the portrait was on exhibition. Therefore I want 1 84

to take j ust one of those things, as being typical, and examine it in the light of all the social damage those events that she related are supposed to have done her. You remember she told us that one evening she went to a prayer meeting at a friend's house, where she overheard a woman referring to her as an old tyrant and declaring that it would take M rs. Bastow the rest of her life to live her portrait down. That was the substance of the remark. I'd like you to notice that phrase "old tyrant". Doesn't it suggest that the woman who used it knew M rs . Bastow from way back and had built up an opinion of her over the years? From the context, I don't think it was a reference to M rs. Bastow's actual age. I n that case the opinion, being a prior one, could hardly be the result of her portrait having appeared at the art gallery, could it? That wouldn't make sense. And as for M rs. Bastow taking the rest of her life to live down the portrait, surely that can be taken as one of those exaggerated remarks made by a woman in the heat of gossip, never intended to be taken literally. M rs. Bastow herself told us that the woman in question was all tongue. No doubt this whole episode caused the plaintiff some passing pain, though I really can't see that it would do much to bring her into ridicule or contempt among the general public. The reasoning I have j ust outlined for you can be applied to other parts of the C rown case. M ay I j ust single out one more example from the evidence of Mrs. Bastow to make m y point absolutely clear? Take her claim that her life was disrupted by the fuss over the portrait and has not yet got back to normal. I t's hard to see w hat she was talking about, what changed her life or how this process came about. U nder my cross-examination she admitted that she was as well off as ever; she did not have to change her address; has not suffered in health or real friendship or the esteem of anybody whom she cares about, and stood before you with surprising confidence and strength for a woman of her age. If there was o n occasion some ridicule, w hat actual harm h a s i t done t o h e r ? I can't see it. W h ile dealing with the scraps of evidence that were brought against m y client I must say a word about the performance of Mrs. Frederick Squires in the box. I t's not my place to enquire, from the strictly legal point of view, why she was ever put there at all. You heard her fantastic tale of attempted rape by Mr. Carter and you saw how that tale, like the witness herself, collapsed w hen I was able to prove that she was motivated by jealousy of Roma Hart, even going to the length of writin g a disgusting anonymous letter to M iss H art's mother. I won't go into these painful details any further, as I have no wish to attack or condemn Marion Squires except on the evidence she gave under oath against Cabot Carter. I s there one person among you w ho could give any credit to that evidence after Mrs. Squires had been compelled to admit writing that horribly false letter? I will just leave the question with you and ask what else you can believe, how much faith you can put i n other things this woman said, when her imagination is so wild and her actions so irresponsible. I'll say little about the evidence of Kirk Squires, because I really do feel that this was a trivial matter brought in to bolster u p a shaky case on the other side. Again I will just leave the matter with you to make w hat you can of it, if there is anything to be made. As for the boy's father, Frederick Squires, it soon became clear when he went into the box that he was influenced by extreme prej udice against the defen­ dant, and not by any desire to contribute what he could to the whole story of this 1 85

case. I have very seldom seen such hostility, such deep and bullish hostility, shown against an accused man from the box, and furthermore, I do not believe that Mr. Squires was motivated i n this only by the trouble he had with his �ife over her brief association with Cabot Carter. No; I fel t as I listened to him giving evidence that there was a profound and, so to speak, natural enmity between Squires and Carter: they are dog and cat, if I can express it that way. And so I asked myself as I listened what was the reason for this hostility - the real reason . I believe it lies in the radical difference in their approach to life : Squires is a man dedicated to profiting from life, Carter to interpreting it; and from this simple but drastic difference springs their . . . . . their aversion to each other. That's how I see it, basically. I may be wrong. But right or wrong in this particular, I protested against Frederick Squires' hostile attitude in the box, and I still protest against it. How could a man with such an attitude give a clear or unbiased accou n t of anything to do with this portrait of his mother-in-law by a man like Cabot Carter? I ask you to keep this i n mind when you are considering what weight to give to anything said here by Frederick Squires. Then there was the mystery witness for the prosecution, Mrs. I rene Shaw. I imagine she was brought in as a sort ofjane Doe or Mrs. John Q. Public, to indicate what the reaction of the woman in the street ( I mean no insinuation there) perhaps I should say the average wo.man - w hat the reaction of such a person was to the portrait of Olive Bastow. Well, I re ne Shaw told us. She said, i n effect, that she followed rumor to the art gallery, was rather startled by this picture, and overheard one or two crude comments o n it. All fair and square! I'm not going to question Mrs. Shaw's credibility. She was one witness for the Crown who made a good impression on the stand and, I am sure, played her part here with honesty as well as conscientiousness. What I a m going to question is the point or significance of w hat she said. She obviously was not capable of taking a proper view of the portrait herself. I mean a proper artistic view; and neither was her report of the "old bitch" incident or remark very much to the point. I t is\all on a personal basis again. U npleasant, certainly. But I can't quite see where my learned friend connects these words and admittedly derogatory attitudes with direct harm to M rs. Bastow. H ad this l ad y been with Mrs. Shaw at the time and been told to her face "God help the man that's married to you !", then I would have said she had <;rying cause for complaint. But how do we know that these rough words overheard in the gallery did any actual or social harm to Mrs. Bastow? We learned from her own evidence that she never came near this shadowy critical figure who made the uncomplimentary remarks, nor was there, as far as we know, any follow-up to the incident. I have felt all through this trial that w hat the Court needed was more ample and more direct proof of harm done to the plaintiff for the cause that has been stated; that is, by reason of her portrait being shown to the public. Here then we have the two major questions or issues raised here: first, has the prosecution proved its case, as His Lordship will tell you they are bound to do by law? And second, has the defe ndant given a satisfactory answer to the charge brought against him? It's this latter question that I want to deal with now. I say right off and with total conviction that his w hole life as we have heard of it provides such an answer. Ladies and gentlemen, in my opening speech to you I asked you to keep in 1 86

mind that there are two aspects or interpretations of the law - the letter and the spirit. I said that I would ask you to consider the whole problem of this case on a wider ground then the strictly legalistic one. Now the time has come for you to make that mental effort. The nature of the case demands it if only because Cabot Carter, although he is a man and therefore subject to the law like all of us, is not what you would call an ordinary man. I'm simply asking that you give some thought and consideration to the fact of his being an artist, a man who works under very special conditions and moreover, deals ultimately with the things of the spirit. I ' m not talking about religion when I say a thing like that. I t's a human request I am making of you, but still, as I promised, not a request for you to judge matters of high art. Doubtless you and I and the whole Court have noticed all along how I have avoided what is called aesthetics; or i n other words, such questions as what is art, what makes a picture beautiful or otherwise, and so on. If I stepped into that bog we'd be here till Christmas. No. I t's rather with the social as well as the legal side of art that we have to deal, isn't it? A s I have already indicated, I am not going to argue that the defendant, being a special case in society, is utterly free to do just as he likes. We can all i magine w hat would happen if any and every so-called artist could pounce on any well-known personality and do a "portrait" of him or her, no matter how ugly or grotesque or scandalous it might be, and then put it o n exhibition. Chaos would happen, that's what. Insults would be coming down on us like hailstones, and libel actions would be as thick as mosquitoes on a damp summer day i n the woods. Nevertheless, there is a little more to be said. Suppose that one of the people who do those portraits is a genuine artist and a young man of serious purpose w ho really does have something to say about the people and the life of his time. Shouldn't he be given at least the chance to exercise his art freely and carry out his purpose? I'm sure you will all i n your minds and hearts answer yes. J u stice inside or outside a law court could hardly make any other answer. But the question is, how is this young man to be distinguished from the horde of phonies, drug­ trippers, self-kidding louts and swindlers of the Canada Council who clutter and stain the field of art l i ke an overflowing cesspool? Here we reach the very core of our problem. He can't be so distinguished, not with absolute certainty and not i n the early stages o f h i s career. There i s n o general o r blanket answer to this tough question, a question that becomes more and more urgent as the artist is threatened with being frozen right out of our society by many pressures, especially that of economics, and driven to extinction. The only answer is that each case must be taken on its merits, once some real work has been produced, and help and encouragement given where true talent is show n . The sooner it is spotted, the better, which is another reason why I brought Mr. George West here to tell you how he gave material help to this man in the dock when he was very young, hardly more than a boy, and sent him up to Ontario for further training. B ut even so, the help given was an act of faith, since there can be no guarantee that early talent will flower into anything more. Not every New­ fou ndland boy or girl who goes away to the Mainland with high hopes and equally h igh recommendations from his teacher, comes back a professional success. But at least the talented one has had his chance: his freedom to grow and develop has not been denied because other young people might abuse their privileges. 1 87

And that's w hat I ' m asking you to perform now for Cabot Carter - an act of faith . I t will be, to reverse the old religious tag, faith by justification. By reason too. In the widest sense the1·e is good reason for believing that M r. Carter was j ustified in painting this portrait of M rs. Bastow and, as I reminded you earlier, if an alleged libel can be shown to bej ustified, it is no libel. Well, whatjustifies it? What is the best answer to such a charge, the strongest defence against it? Truth . So I want to put before you, I want to illustrate, the way in which this apparently offending portrait can be seen as deeply and vitally true. I'm not talking about the length of a nose, you understand , or the thrust of a jaw. That literal approach to this work of art is all wrong. I'm talking about a more fundamental and farther-reaching t ruth than that. Let me try to make my mean­ ing clear by showing you another pict ure and making one or two comments on it. Look at this, ladies and gentlemen. I t's a reproduction of a work by Rembrandt and it shows an old Jew who lived in A msterdam in the seventeenth centu ry. Nobody knows his name, there is no known record of his life - except this picture. One moment. I 'll d raw it closer so that you can all see it in some detail. What do you read there? J ust the story of a miserable old ghetto Jew w ho neve1· found his home in this wodd ? Ah, but there's m uch more than that ! Somehow the artist managed to put into his ponrait of this individual man a suggestion, even perhaps a summation, of a whole people and their t ragic history down through the cen­ turies. I n other wo1·ds, this poor man is also a symbol, and in getting that extra meaning or dimen sion i nto his likeness, Rembrandt performed the m iracle of ill ustrating a t m th about a whole people and about human life that might not have been representable in any other way. All right, you may say; but Carter is no Rembrandt. Perhaps. Although we should, I think, bewa1·e of our national com plex which still assumes that because talent is local it can never rise to genius or achieve a touch of t he un iversal. What I'm really d riving at is that in his picture of Olive Bastow this remarkable young painter has caught something of that strange symbolic quality which is the hallmark of fine painting of this particular kind. M rs. Bastow remains herself in her portrait, for good and ill, but she stands also for many qualities that are deeply ingrained in all our lives past and present. A real Newfoundlander she is, sum­ ming up in her face and person and spirit t he historic hardship of our island life ; for instance, ou1· humor i n the face o f that hard ship; also - let's face i t - our narrow-mindedness; the fierce prejudices that we cling to in many fields, espe­ cially that of religion ; and our almost total concent ration on the material side of life. Getting and spending. All these qualities and criticisms are in the portrait of M rs . Bastow. They are all true. It is a rich work on which I could speak fo1· hours without exhausting its significance, but just let me add, or remind you , that this opinion is shared by that man w ho above all men in St. J ohn's is best qualified to speak on art. Again I am referring to M r. George West . I f you accept this wider interpretation of t he portrait, and if you place any value at all on art , then you will hardly be able to deny that it was painted in the general interest and for the public good. O r at least tha t is the effect of it. And this too is in part a defence against charges of libel. I n a similar way it will now become clear that the picture can be rega rded as fair comment on a matter of public 1 88

interest, as it is also a legitimate and proper exercise of the painter's skill. Don't we furthermore accept the idea that, since an artist's best subjects are to be found i n the life around him, h e should b e free t o choose from those scenes a n d people that are immediately to his hand? It will be natural for you to ask why, if w ha t I've been saying is valid, this portrait should have made an unpleasant impression on many people. I can only answer that as Olive Bastow appears in the picture, in that way the painter saw her; but I want to stress again the danger of putting too narrow an i n terpretation or too great an emphasis on the physical likeness as it comes out in the portrait. During this trial it has also been suggested, for example in reference to a canvas called Mullen Street, t hat Cabot Cartet· is only able to take a negative and unfavorable view of local life. Not true! You are already acquainted with the fine, forceful sketch that he did of Rom a Hart, a profoundly h uman and in no way a down-beat piece of work. As for the natural scene, look at t h is water color of the strange little houses perched above Fort Amherst right here in the city. Do you find it u npleasant and unflattering of the local atmosphere, or do you find it charming? There's more i n it than charm, m i n d y o u ; yet no fair critic would, I believe, d e n y that it shows great sympathy with the scene or milieu - a sharp u nderstanding of the conditions which have created i t and the people w ho inhabit it. I realize, however, that some question like t he following will probably rise in your minds: what is the purpose or value of all this extra truth in a work of art that I have been talking about? I t's the value that attaches to our having a perceptive and honest record of our lives, both historical and contemporary, made by a sensitive interpreter. The artist is in part a recorder, you see, and the nature of his work is such that any restriction placed on his choice of subject or his way of treating i t is fatal to his purpose and function. History may give us facts, but art gives us the deeper meaning of those facts. Which is the more important? I can assure you t hat so far as Cabot Carter is concerned, there is no doubt about the answer. In every way that it approaches t he status of art his work cannot be regarded as too im portant. I mean that there is no assessing its full value. I t is the artists, using that term for a moment in its general sense, w ho preserve i n their words or music or paintings the very essence of a culture, a civilization. All men and all t h ings pass away. Or nearly all . Even from the ancient cultures of Egypt and Crete, however, there remain to us a few supreme specimens of their art; and I don't think I am being too fanciful in seeing some comparison and connection between those and the picture which was the originating cause of this trial. Perhaps your real responsibility is to recognize that connection in your verdict. Whatever that verdict is going to be, we in this courtroom could never overesti­ mate i t s importance. The importance of precedent - that's what I want to speak about for a moment. There is of course precedent in the legal sense of a case tried and the result noted down for future reference. But in this case a more generous idea of precedent mus t be striven for, by you. I am thinking of the significance your verdict will have in the social and cultural history of our province. After cent uries of isolation and stagnation this historic t riangle of rock and water is now being penetrated by the light of new ideas, moved by the stirring of self­ awareness. Newfoundland must come to the realization that we too may have something to contribute to that great and lasting record which art essentially is. I 89

Our grandchildren m ay perhaps take it for granted that Cabot Carter's d rawings and paintings form a part of that record. And there you have another strong reason w h y you should most carefully weigh your verdict bef01·e giving it. Extend my thought a little. Try to realize also that Newfoundland has by now become an integral part of the Dominion of Canada, and Canada is at long last beginning to take a place or form a chapter in the story of mankind and his culture, is already a tributary to the mighty stream that comes down to us, and will flow beyond us, as human h istory. To put my point plainly, are you going to follow the stream, or are you going to try and block it? I tell you, ladies and gentlemen, this case may come to stand as a test case, not just a precedent. Then how will Canada look in the court of the world, this world w here nowadays some countries value the creative spirit no more than they would a plugged nickel - how will we look if we become known as a people who repress their true interpreters, condemn their best achievements, i mprison their bodies and stultify their souls? I repeat, yours is a responsibility that will grow with time, i n its i m port. If you take t his present quarrel or difference between Cabot Carter and Olive Bastow in the light of its proper meaning, you will see that a verdict of N ot Guilty is almost inevitable. A verdict in the other sense might come to be called a national disgrace. The creative spirit. I want in closing to link that noble phrase once more with the idea of freedom . There you have the key word in all that I have been trying to convey to you . A man like Cabot Carter must above all things remain free to exercise his gift, to let his eye and mind roam fruitfully over the spectacle of human life and the panorama of nature that he sees all around him. And then to commu nicate h is vision. Put him in prison and you stifle him, you kill him. A painter lives with or by the magic of color, as well as the mystery of form. These are his element as air is the element of a bird or sound the real world to a musician. The last time I visited H . M . Penitentiary, the colors I saw there were not really a delight to the eye, and some of the shapes I met would not be likely to give an artist much inspiration. Cabot Carter is a decent-living, hard-working young man striving to paint the life of his own time and place. Leave him at liberty to do that! If you believe to the slightest degree in the need for and the i mportance of art, do not, I i mplore you, put bars around this artist. I said a moment ago that even after thousands and thousands of years something of the first remote and legendary civilizations yet remains to us, in the form of a few works of art. These clearly are lasting things w hich we can treasure and perhaps also use as a guide in the formation of our own culture and the fashioning of our daily lives. From that point of view it is certain that the artists of any nation are the only true conquerors of time and death ; and I say to each one of you, on behalf of a Canadian artist who is right now in our midst and at the very turning point of his career - I say that there should be, there can be, No Cage for Conquerors!

I 90

NINE K. K. Darlington stood at some distance from the jury box, as though to suggest that he had no need to urge his case, and addressed those painfully attentive men and women in suave, reasonable tones. All during this closing speech he kept smoothing down his lapels with a gentle milking motion, and an almost sly smile tugged at the right corner of h is mouth w henever he made one of his most telling points.

- Ladies and Gentlemen: There are many reasons why the accused man should be deemed guilty of the charge laid against him, and I think a review of the ground of the case from the prosecution standpoint will soon make these reasons abundantly clear. I shall try to do this i n the most concise way I can, trusting that any reasonable mind will come to a just conclusion i n the matter. The form which Carter's assault o n Mrs. Bastow took, in addition to its mode of publication, would speak for themselves even if I were not here to state the case against this man, and no matter w hat evidence or arguments may have been brought in seeming extenuation of his actions. In m y brief address to you w hich opened this trial I maintained that the issue here must be examined in terms of the law alone, for the act with which Carter stands charged is a breach of the Criminal Code of this country - a serious breach carrying a severe though just penalty. Your duty is to decide w hether he is indeed guilty of this crime which the law calls Defamatory Libel. May I at this point and in parenthesis remind you that the plain ti ff brought this suit not only to protect a blackened name but also to safeguard any other i n nocen t citizens who might find themselves the victims o r the i n tended victims o f art­ exhibitionism. That is a most important aspect of this matter too, adding to the weight of responsibility which lies on your decision. What, in essence, has happened to make this elderly, quiet-living lady face the glare and publicity of such an experience as this trial, with all its preliminaries too, and the l ingering aftermath? Well, one day during the winter just past she was suddenly and quite unforeseeably held up to public notice, to mockery and satire, by the exhibition of a portrait of herself that she considers to be most unflattering in every possible way. After having seen and studied this picture here in court, you may not have much difficulty i n concluding that her feelings were justified. M rs. Bastow felt and feels most deeply h urt and indignant; but being a respecter of the law as well as a prominent citizen w ho might be looked to for an example in conduct, she does not retaliate in kind or (as she might well have done) urge any male relative to seek a rougher justice o n Carter's person as an act of revenge. 191

Quite properly she appeals to the law of the land to right her wrongs and to put some restraint o n the person who is responsible for them . A n d that i s w h y I am standing before y o u now. You will observe that I confine myself to facts and offer you no opinions or elaborate theories on art such as were so plentifully brought in by the defence . Neither shall I make any comment on the artistic value, or otherwise, of the portrait in question. I am concerned rather with the act and the fact of its public display, as also with the consequences of such recklessness. Therefore, I wish now to make a very brief review of the evidence that has been brought to show incontrovertibly that Mrs. Olive Bastow has en­ dured pain and h umiliation, ridicule and contempt, by the showing of her picture. First there was M rs. I rene Shaw, an ordinary resident of St. J ohn's and a person w ho, like most people perhaps, takes no particular interest in questions of art. She was formally presented at the outset of this trial to show that the portrait had been seen by somebody other than the plaintiff, as the law requ ires; but on her own initiative she had gone to the art gallery earlier on, to view this portrait for herself. Why? M rs. Shaw told you u nder oath how she had heard people "talking about" the picture, which of course suggests right away that it was already notori­ ous, shortly after it appeared, within the city. She also swore that she knew of Olive Bastow from photographs in the newspapers, on the television, etc., as a highly respected woman, though there was no personal acquaintance between the m . Moreover, this witness recognized h e r i n t h e picture straight off. Could any evidence show more clearly how Mrs. Bastow was becoming unfavorably as­ sociated with her portrait in the public mind? Then there was the stark testimony w h ich I rene Shaw gave as to remarks she heard passed on the picture while at the gallery. She heard the subject called an old bitch on account of it. But that was not the last or the most wounding and insulting name applied to M rs. Bastow in these or similar circumstances. I shall be coming to other such 1·emarks, and I shall leave it to your fair-minded consideration to say whether there was not gross contempt i n them and behind the m . After M rs. Shaw y o u hea !Ji M r s . Angela Hart give evidence on the effect, the impact, which the portrait had on M rs. Bastow w hen she first saw it. To quote M rs. H art, the plaintiff "gave a gasp", she "staggered" and spoke or muttered as if she had been "stunned". A fter that she began to tremble and feel weak. Eventually she all but collapsed, bursting into tears and having to be assisted home from the art gallery. You all remember this vivid account and the painful effect it produced here as M rs. H art gave it. From a representative of the general public and from the word of a personal friend and eye witness, I now turn to the evidence of those who know M rs . Bastow best because they are closest to her in blood and in daily life. They are obviously in the best position �o tell how this misfortune and arbitrary abuse has really struck home to her. Her grandson Kirk Squires, aged fourteen or almost, related how he got into a fight with another boy at school because this fellow said M rs. Bastow was (in her picture) like an old hag. This eloquent expression had been gleaned from parents - a fact that is most suggestive, in my view. I t shows how the portrait must have been widely regarded as a horror and that M rs. Bastow herself was being ridiculed and verbally abused not long after it was shown. You will recall that apart from h is actual fight, Kirk was involved i n disputes with other boys and for the 192

same reason. Please do not t h i n k I make too much of mere children's quarrels. I wish to point out with all the emphasis at my command that these episodes can be seen as representative and typical. If two or t h ree boys' parents are slanging the portrait and its subject, should we assume that no other parents are doing so? Not at all . Rat he r it would be fair and in accordance with all experience to think that tongues were wagging all over the place and the city h umming with malicious talk. Allow me to clarify my point by giving you an analogy: let us suppose that you took the unexpected trouble to sow a quantity of weeds in fruitful soil, and presently you saw one o f them coming up and flourishing. Would it not then be a fair guess that soon a host of weeds would spring up, spreading themselves over every inch of the soil? But t he deplorable effects of Carter's work were by no means confined to schoolyards or gossiping parents' homes or even to the hundred thousand or so people living in metropolitan St. John's. They spread over the w hole province, as the evidence of M r·s. Bastow's son-in-law, M r·. Frederick Squires, amply showed. He told us with a son's rather than a son-in-law's passionate resentme n t how , out in Corner Brook, she was actually compared with t he devil - another of those charming epithets the plaintiff has had to put up with - and how he too nearly got into a fight with the crude fellow who used t hat word in reference to the repro­ duction of the portrait. I t shows again with what violence the public reacted to this work of art. You will be persuaded by now , no doubt, that these feelings were not aroused only in the hearts of those people who ar·e M rs . Bastow's natural defen­ ders. M r. Squires heard, and had to repel, comments of a like natur·e in areas of this province as remote as Fogo I sland. Furthermore, he no less than his son Kirk experienced annoying reactions to the portrait r·ight here in the city. Think of his account of der·isive laughter, smiles and smirks which he met with at the Rotary Club and was obliged again to quell by the moral force of his disapproval. Now, ladies and gentlemen, if all t ha t were not enough to show that ridicule and bad feeling towards Mrs. Bastow have been clanging all over the place as insistently as t he words of a popular song, we have the evidence of the plaintiff herself to set t l e the matter for us. Who is to know her private anguish and public shame better than the woman who has been abused and made the butt of t he most vulgar jokes? She bravely stood t here in that box, in a most unenviable plight, to tell you of all the discomfort and shame she has felt ever since t his storm broke over her head . As to pr·ivate pai n - "like a knife stuck into her . . . . . right to t he heart" - t hat was how the portrait affected her. I fee l sure that I need not go into every detail of what she said on oath , but just let me re-emphasize one or· two of the graphic things which have happened to this poor lady i n a purely social con text . Of course I shall refer to nothing that has not been put on recor·d as evidence. At the an galler·y itself M rs. Bastow was subjected to laughter and t i t tering and violently uncomplimentary remarks; she was for a time literally ashamed or afraid to show her face outside her own door; she lost invitations to speak at various meetings; at a gathering in another woman's home she was called a tyrant, in reference again to t he portrait , and it was spontaneously said that she would need the rest of her days to live it down. Thus the ugly snowball increased in size and momentum. There were hints, people nudging one another w hen she appeared in the street ; there was innuendo, back-biting, and finally a scurrilous lampoon 1 93

put about by some of the more turbulent spirits among the students at Memorial. I should imagine that the one stanza I read out to the Court was enough to give you the tone and import of the e ntire thing. I put it to you, the n : w hat is needed to constitute a libel? What will go to make up a dam nable and defamatory libel? Do we require a modern Joshua trumpeting Mrs. Bastow's disgrace all through the streets of the town ? Does this injured woman's reputation have to be set up as a column or target, so that people like Cabot Carter may destroy it as though with a sledgehammer or a blast of dynamite? I think not. I believe that the positive evidence of defamation that you have heard in this courtroom will be sufficient to expose and condemn Carter; and I suggest to you additionally that because of her former high standing and prestige in the eyes of her fellow citizens, Olive Bastow was all the more sensitive and susceptible privately, as she was vulnerable publicly, when this atrocious blow fel l o n her. I am confident that you w i l l keep this most important point in mind. Yet, in fairness to the accused, I wish also to consider what the defence had to say by way of answering the charge. What counterpoise did m y learned friend Mr. Hart offer to this devastating array of facts w h ich I have outlined for you? I will tell you, members of the j u ry . It was no more than (to use an American term) - it was no more than a "snow job". That is an excellent phrase. It means, I believe, a shower of irrelevant matter poured down upon an opponent in order to distract him from his objective and obscure the truth and j ustice of his cause. This is w hat has happened here, and the chief element in my learned friend's snow job was a lot of high-flown, or perhaps I should say high-falutin', talk about Art. With the capital A, no doubt. I ask you at once and with some indignatio n : where is the relevance of all that? What is the point? Mr. Hart repeatedly questioned witnesses on their knowledge of art. You observed h is pseudo-surprise w hen Mrs. I rene Shaw said that she was unfamiliar with the name of Degas. What of it? I should think there are any number of people capable of givi n g truthfu l testimony, and even of deciding such an issue as this presen t one, without any k nowledge of French painting in the late-nineteenth century. Even so, trivial points like this were harped on by the defence as if they were not only relevant but important. Who was Toulouse­ Lautrec? W hat of Picasso? How does Rembrandt ran k now as a painter? I n bringing his witnesses, Mr. Hart apparently sought to show that Cabot Carter i s a good painter and quite highly thought of by people qualified in that branch of the arts. Again I say, what of it? The man's ability is not the issue here. It will be more to the point if I examine w hat witnesses other than Mr. George West had to say in favor of Cabot Carter. But first may I say just a word or two o n t h e subject of prejudice for or against t h e accused? While he w a s cross-examining Crown witnesses my learned friend insisted on bringing out that people like young Kirk Squires, for example, were biased in favor of the plaintiff. Of course they are! Mrs. Bastow is close to them and dear to t he m ; and if somebody insults a member of your family, don't you tend to feel a slight prejudice against the offender? That, however, is not the important thing in the present circumstances. The important question i s whether Kirk and his father and the others told the truth o n matters that were put to them in the witness box. Similarly, defence witnesses may be expected to have shown some bias in favor of Carter. To take but one instance, 194

Miss Roma H art's feelings in this regard were clear and emphatic almost to the point of being palpable. I accept that, and am concerned only with her sworn statements, along with those of her fellow witnesses, on matters of fact. Coming to examine the defence arguments as a wh,ole, I find myself faced with a certain bewilderment. What was my learned friend talking about? What; to be specific, was the purpose in bringing a person like Sailor Burns here to give evidence? M r . Hart said to you a while ago that B u rns was brought in order to show that Cabot Carter was able to paint people of all sorts and conditions. Very well. He can do that. And? Well, I j ust cannot take a step beyond that poin t in this context. Carter is indicted for reasons having nothing at all to do with that. Burns said not a word to rebut any evidence given on the prosecution side, nor did he contribute anything that tended to exonerate Carter. There w as a suggestion that, because he suffered no social damage from the exhibition of his terrible portrait, Mrs. Bastow likewise should not feel that she had suffered so much. I must come out with my view of that in Jack Blunt fashion : what nonsense! One moment's thought, like one view of the man, was enough to show us that Sailor Burns was hardly in a condition of life to be socially h u rt by anything. I t is nearly the same with E u phemia Reilly, though not quite. I wish to cast no sort of reflection on that lady's respectability or her good standing in her own small section of the commu nity. I intend to say simply that her case was the same as Sailor's i n so far as she had a . . . . . a dramatic likeness of herself done by Carter and shown at the art gallery. There the resemblance to Burns, and to Olive Bastow, ends; for if Mrs. Reilly is not a homeless nonentity, neither is she (by her own admission when I cross-examined her) o f anything like the stature, the personal and social stature, of Mrs. Bastow. Euphemia Reilly is a good but obscure woman, and therefore she cannot properly be compared with the other lady as to the effect of her picture being show n ; and the reaction she had in her own mind or from the public does not apply. Her evidence gave us no reason to think or to infer that Mrs. Bastow should not have felt herself to be libelled w he n her portrait was put on exhibition. It will be convenient to look at the evidence ofJames Reilly here too, although I am once more at a loss to say w hy he was ever brought forward as a witness. He did inform us that, as far as he knew, Carter was a serious, conscientious painter and o n the w hole a decent-living young man. Excellent! I t is reassuring in this permis­ sive and revolutionary age to hear that not all artists are hippies, junkies or l unatics. M r. Reilly also informed us that he felt no hurt or resentment on behalf of his w ife w hen her picture came on view. A h , but that deals only with personal and domestic feeling! It is a purely private matter. How would James Reilly have felt had he been James Bastow, and been obliged to suffer his wife's name being bandied around in public like a low piece of gossip, her picture mocked at, her person derided and even insulted by all classes of the population, because she seemed to have been brought down from her h igh estate? How would any of you gentlemen feel in such circumstances? As for the evidence of Rom a Hart, it came to little more than that she would not object to the sketch of herself,done by Carte•·. being exhibited. Presumably the eliciting of this piece of information by my leamed friend was designed to show that, again likewise, M rs . Bastow should not have felt s uch violent objections to the 195

exh ibition of her portrait. A re you once more u nable to see the connection? I most certainly am. Although I agree with Mr. H art t hat the sketch of his daughter is a most beautiful, an exqu isite th ing, I still fail to see that this in any way reduces the culpability of the artist for his treatmen t of M rs. Bastow. To speak of social standing again rathet· than art: i t was further suggested, d uring M iss Hart's examination-in-chief, that as she perhaps stood higher in the social scale than either Sailor Burns o r Euphemia Reilly, her willingness to have her sketch shown in public brought her case (in t he legal sense) more in line for com parison with Mrs. Bastow's. That is a very strange comparison for the defence to make, since on bot h sides of this Court we are agreed that Roma H art was beautifully port rayed by Carter, w hereas t h e very ground and substance of M rs. Bastow's complaint is that she was horribly ill-se rved in this way by the same artist. There was yet a further claim or vaguely expressed hope that, because t hose people who did see M iss Hart's picture, in private, found it unobjectionable, by im plication we should feel t ha t M rs. Bastow has made too much fuss over this whole thing. M y com ment on such an argu m e n t is once more that it is simply irreleva n t . Before going on t o look at t h e evidence of Carter himself I should like t o say another word or two about M r. George West and the bizarre attitu de he took u p w h i l e in t h e wit ness box. W h a t I wish t o glance at is t h e notion that Carter's being an artist gives him some kind of special place or privilege in the community. Doubtless you fi nd t his an arrogant claim, which may cause you some surprise when I tell you that I agree with i t . Yes, I do indeed believe t hat at least some special consideration should be given to the artist in t he contemporat·y world. I n many ways this world i s l i ke a s team-roller for peo ple who are creative, independent-minded, without private means and withal honest. M r. Hart men­ tioned to you the pressure of economic factors on the kind of people I am talking abo u t , in our western socie t y : he did not mention the danger and t he terror w hich dog t he artist and persecute him on the other side of the world and in the holy name of ideology or political expediency. So our art ists are perhaps entitled to some privileges in order to carry out their w01·k. B u t not before t he law ! It is monstrous and beyond all wise practice to claim that some special sensit ivity or marked ability in a man should allow him t o evade t he law, if he infringes it, or if he puts forward t his ability as co ndoning a crime he may have comm itted. Whatevet· special consideration is granted to him must be in some other direction. That to me is self-evident and of t he very highest im por­ tance. It was also asserted that M r. George West fel t no qualms over hanging the pic t u re of M rs. Bastow in t he local art gallery, which is government-subsidized, nor did he amici pate any legal t rouble from i t . My comment on t hat must be sharp, t hough again it is not meant to be offensive : he should have had bet ter sense. With regat·d to Mr. West's int imation t hat Cabot Carter's work may one day e n ter into our provincial t reasure of art and even our national heritage, I feel that t he thought is premat u re, having, moreover, nothing to do with t he prese n t case. As I a t te m pted to show in my cross-examination of t his witness, it is merely one more aspect of t he defence effort to sh ift t he ground of t his case from law to art. George West al o spem some of the Court's time in dwelling on the finer poin ts of M rs. 1 96

Bastow's portrait, to show that it has some wider and deeper meaning than the portrait of one i ndividual ordinarily carries. I will admit that parts of his evidence on this poi n t had some force and made me see the picture in a new light. I recognize too, of course, the vast i m portance of leaving our artists free to choose their subjects and treat them in their own way. Without respecting that freedom we should get little in our art but triviality, sentime n tal pap, vulgar advertising or brutish pr·opaganda. However, Mr. West did go on to say that if an artist i n treating a certain subject or person were comm itting a crime, h e should either be restrained or suffer the conseq uences. I am very glad to have had this concession made by the witness, for it states once again , does it not, the very cause and reason why we are all assembled here today? And I feel Mr. West should have added t hat if there is even a potential crime i n a work of art, the artist should at the very least be wary of exhibiting it. So much for art and the law . I come now to the evidence given on h is own behalf by the accused, which I desire to probe with some special care. Perhaps you were startled, as I myself was, by some of the points he t ried to establish under the promptings of my learned friend . To take the most glaring instance, this man Cabot Carter maintained that while doing the portrait of Mrs. Bastow he felt nothing, nothing at all, except interest in his subject and the u rge to produce a good work of art. Even allowing for an artist's concentration and dedication, is that credible? S u rely he m u st have had some though t of the social and perhaps even the legal i m port of what he was doing? And w hat he intended to do (in exhibiting it) once the picture was finished? In short , Carter m ust have had some idea of the consequences. He is a man, not a child; and however differen t from the rest of us i n some ways, not a fool . I f, t hen, he had some idea that this port rait might be offensive not only to its subject but to t he law, should he not have ei t her altered its character or refrained fmm showing it to the public? His failure to do one or the other looks like recklessness, perhaps even a deliberate intention to st rike at Olive Bastow, no matte r how firm his denial of such a design. We on the out side of his m ind can only go by what was done and published under his signatu re as an artist. The fact that none of Carter's models or subjects ever complained that h is represen tations of them were offensive and never caused a libel sui t , until the present charge was made, seems to me an irrevelant issue. Now a suit has been brought, and the charge m ust be answered . That is all we are here concerned wit h . I t is the same with reference t o this artist's financial condition: h e could not and cannot expect t o improve that or d raw o u t our sympathy for it by doing hair­ raising portraits of h ighly-placed citizens. We may regret his povert y but again i t is not germane to the issue we are trying. O n the q uestion of criticism of the artist's work, he told us that an early picture of h is called Mullen Street , a somewhat drab scene of low life, had had a hostile reception from the local public and rr i ost of t he press. Perhaps that experience should have served as a warning to him before he placed on view his more explosive and personally-dir·ected pictures. As I sat and listened to the accused give evidence I had the im pr·ession that he, or h is counsel, was really saying that Carter becomes so absor·bed in doing a canvas, he finds h imself quite u nconscious of all o t her considerations and has no regard for anything else in the world, if it lies outside his immediate and urgent purpose. 1 97

That I take to be the meaning of his anecdote or parable concerning the painter A llan Ramsay and the picture he painted of his dead child; and I should presume we were intended to infer that like Ramsay, Carter is quite oblivious of any personal considerations while in the throes of creative painting. This may be so. It is also and obviously true that if we push the comparison a degree further we see at once that, unlike Ramsay, Carter was not portraying a relative, dead or alive, and he was portraying somebody who could hit back if such action were felt to be necessary. You may think that he should have taken account of these differences. At least he might have hesitated before putting M rs. Bastow in a public show. The defence arguments up to, and beyond, that final act of Carter's hardly touch the legal issue here at all. In brief, it gradually appeared as my learned friend u n folded his strange case that he was trying to excuse w hat his client had done by an appeal to abstractions such as art values and the importance of all artists to a civilized comm unity. This was most evident i n h is closing speech to you. There it was implied if not actually stated that, Carter's portrait of M rs . Bastow being a good portrait, it and he should be let off any charge such as he now faces and has had to answer. I hope I have said enough to show you I am not hostile to art; but the defence line of argument here is insidious as well as illogical, for it carries the further implication that art may give licence to malice, and from there we are h urried along to the proposition that a person such as Carter may seize on any person, paint a scabrous portrait of him or her and exhibit it for anyone to jeer at - all in the holy name of art and for the sublime purpose of aiding Carter in his 5elf-expression ! No, ladies and gentlemen. I t will not do. I t will never do. Fortunately we have the means of preventing such practices from becoming common 01· excusable. We have the law, which puts a check o n even an artist's behaviour and protects the public both individually and collectively from u nprovoked attacks on the person and reputation. No man or woman in this cou ntry can indulge in insolence or indeed malevolence, as Carter has done, without being brought to book for it. Truly it is a hideous thing to bring a woman into contempt and ridicule, and M rs. Bastow has come here to ask you for protection because she feels, quite apart from her personal chagrin, that there was no excuse or adequate reason for the wrong she feels she has suffered. Through me she appeals to you for redress and she can, I firmly believe, be confident that as there is law in the land a nd as we desire and strive for justice to all, this accused man Cabot Carter shall suffer for what he has done. His acts as revealed here do constitute a Defamatory Libel, and I submit, they have caused Mrs. Olive Bastow to suffer ridicule and contempt among her fellows. Therefore the only verdict that you can conscientiously and legally return is, it seems to me, a verdict of Guilty.

1 98

TEN

The j udge then began his Summing Up to the j ury. After h is opening remarks he gave them a very thorough and fair review of all the evidence that had been brought for either side, following this with h is commentary on the most important points and then those concluding remarks which are apt to have major weight with a j ury. Before actually beginning he swept the courtroom with his commanding eye, the eye of a schoolmaster from whom one warning abo ut disturbance will be more than enough. This was occasioned by the entrance of some strangers, and by word passing along the silent or sibilant grapevine that these new men, who roughly made room for themselves at the Press table, were from papers up o n the Mainland - one man from the Halifax Chronicle , another from a big paper in Ottawa, and even one from as far west as Winnipeg. - Members of the J u ry : At t h i s point it is my duty to sum u p this case for y o u and give y o u what guidance I can before you u ndertake your final duty i n arriving at a verdict. Learned counsel for both sides have pointed out that there i s no dispute on the central facts of the case - that Cabot Carte1· did in truth paint and exhibit this portrait of Olive Bastow - and of course I myself see no reason to question that. First and foremost in i m portance for you i s this: you must all clearly u nder­ stand what it is that you have to decide. ls the accused, Cabot Carter, guilty of publishing a Defamatory Libel on Mrs. Bastow by the said exhibition of her portrait? I t has already been indicated to you , but w ill bear repetition , that such a libel can be expressed by any object signifying libel other than by wOJ"ds; and the Criminal Code defines it as matter published without lawful j ustification or excuse that is likely to injure the reputation of any person by exposing him or her to hatred, contempt or ridicule; or that is designed to i nsult the person of or concerning whom it is published . There you have the nub of the matter in the clear language of the law . I n prosecuting this trial the Attorney-General chose to waive the question of M rs. Bastow being brought into hatred by the showing of her picture, but at the same time he rightly reminded you that if the plaintiff suffered either ridicule or contempt as a result of it, then the defendant is guilty of libel. Before going any farther I want to say a few words on "lawful justification", as I feel that this point is most important and was not perhaps sufficiently stressed by eminent Counsel for the Crown. During h is evidence-in-chief the defendant admitted having no a uthorization of any kind from M rs . Bastow to paint her portrait and equally none to show it i n publ ic. The picture itself, as distinguished 1 99

from one or two preliminary studies for it, was in plain fact done entirely without the s ubject's knowledge, and she first heard of its exhibition through the reports of friend s. Her first view of it, at the art gallery, came down on her like the proverbial bolt fmm the blue. I f you keep in mind the portion of the law of libel that I have j ust brough t to your attention, you will see the bearing of this and it may help you in deciding how much responsibility, in the legal sense, Cabot Carter bears in this whole matter. I wish to make it clear to you also that you ar·e the solej udges of fact i n t his trial, m y chief function bein g to assist you in the law that applies to it. I should mention here too a matter wh ich is perhaps hal flaw and haifa question o f common sense or ordinary h uman j udgment. I t is that in considering your verdict you should clear your minds of all prejudices, of any pr·evious ideas or opinions you had about this case and its two leading personalities (especially the defendant) before you were selected for ju ry service. No doubt you had all heard something of this portrait and the w hole affair surrou nding it, long before there arose a libel suit concerning it. From the evidence of M r. Frederick Squires, to take one instance, we heard how q uickly rumor and ill report of the picture had spread eve n as far as Cornei· Brook. Now, in theory t he law would like you, requires you , to dism iss all precon­ ceptions from your minds and approach your task in all innocence and (in this regard) all ignorance; but common sense tells us that, short of brainwashing, t his is i m possible. How can any of us wipe out an impression from t he mind once it has been made there? So per·haps the best you can do is to be aware that you may have had some such preconceptions and t ry to make allowance for them. You m ust try your u tmost to determine the t ru t h and j ustice of this cause presented here, on t he basis of t he evidence alone. I n addition to as fair a ver·dict as you can render·, the defendant is entit led to t h at consideration from you . There is yet one more legal point t o be made, which I will mention only briefly because it is already, I think, a principle familiar to t he public mind. I t is t ha t in every criminal t rial of this kind the bur·den of proving its case lies on the prosecu­ tion. They are the ones who took up the initial complaint in t his inst ance and they have brought it to court see kingjust ice and the penalty of the law ; hence it is up to them to prove that Cabot Carter has libelled M rs. Bastow in a defamatory way. He or h is counsel are not at all obliged to prove him innocent . With regard to proof positive from t he Crown, it would not be enough - for a conviction, t hat is - if they only convinced you that t he artist had caused t his lady some temporar-y m ild embarrassme n t , perhaps raised a few laughs at her· expense (and through public misreading of the portrait ) ; or if, as defence counse l put it , nothing more had happe ned to her t han a few idle-minded people chattering about t he pict u re j ust until they found somet hing else to c ha t ter about. Please keep this responsibility of the Crown clearly in your m inds. I t is also my duty, following on one or two unexpected developments in this trial, to speak to you about t he credi t and credibility of the various wit nesses, to help you judge how m uch weight you should give to their testimony. I t seemed to me that nearly all of them gave evidence in a car·eful and honest manner·. I f one or two on the prosecut ion side showed a start ling ignorance of art, that is no gr·eat matter. They were put in the box to tell what t hey knew of Mrs . Bastow, her picture, and its effect on her and the public ; t hey were not brought here to inform 2 00

us, for exam ple, that Picasso was born in S pain. But there was one witness whose evidence was so d ramatic - perhaps I should say melodramatic - and its truth so doubtful, that I am s ure you were all more astonished than convinced by it. I mean M rs . Frederick Squires. For w hatever reason she may have originally been called by the Crow n , her evidence on all points t hat were put to her appears so u m ·eliable t hat I now formally d irect you t o ignore it . Do not let anything she said i n fluence your opinion of Mr. Carter or h is works or his relationship in and t h rough t hese works w i t h Mrs . Bastow. This is a good and a direct instance where you must try to make allowance for an imp1·ession, unfavorable to t he accused , t h a t may have formed in your minds d u ring the early part of M rs. Squires' evidence. I t is a prior i mpression not borne out. by all the evidence. Pe1·haps if you consider that Ma1·ion Squires' strange behaviour could have been caused as much by medical or psychological factors as by malice, you will not find the adj ustment so d ifficu l t . I will g o on now to my com me n tary on the evidence that w a s presented throughout the trial. Early on there developed a major split or difference between opposing counsel. M r . Darlington for t he Crown quite nat urally st ressed t he purely legal aspect of the case, since t h is is a t rial at law; w hereas M r. Hart for t h e defence, also w i t h some justification perhaps, tended to bring forward t h e artistic aspect, holding t hat such considerations cannot, and should not, be put aside w hen it is an artist w ho is on u-ial. This is a deep and difficult subject: it involves t he question w he t her the law is to make any d isti nction between accused persons on the score of t heir quality, status or professio n . I t brings in also the old distinction, mentioned by M r . H art, between the letter and the spirit of the law ; and my feeling, after some reflection, is that you will best play your part in t his trial by holding t o the letter, because taking the o t her view, with all its int angible and imponderable associations, might put you out to sea, on a wide uncharted ocean w here, so to speak, you are not really expected or requ i red to sail. Another extremely i m portant point t hat rose u p again and again from t he evidence given was M rs. Bastow's particular susceptibility to social inj u ry and libel on accou n t of her prominent position in t h is cit y , which of cou rse makes her very well known. Unquestionably such a person is more easy to libel than some poor and obscure woman w ho lives an entirely private life. M rs . Bastow was going about all her activit ies in t h e usual way at the t i me her portrait appeared in t he art gallery, and the heart of the Crown case is t hat as a result of this sudden, qu ite u n foreseen exh ibition of her likeness, she was subjected to a n umber of experi­ ences and OJ-deals which she felt insulted he1-, defamed her, and dist inct ly lowered her reputat ion i n S t . John's, if not all over Newfoundland. The prosecution further claimed t hat all this had been clone i nt e ntionally by t h e defendant . When I come to com ment on the defence that was put fonvarcl I will suggest to you t hat t h i s claim is not fully or fairly substantiate d . But still a good deal of evidence was brought to show how the portrait could be regarded as having caused Mrs. Bastow i n tense embarrassmen t in public and brought about a reduction in her status , or image as it is currently termed . And here I must bring to your at ten t ion the , important point t hat many of the incidents related in t hat regard were t y pical or representative, indicating much more than did the bare facts a t tached to them. To illustrate : you heard Kirk Sq uires, t h e plain tiffs gi-andson, te ll how the fight t hat he got into over the portrait was started by rude remarks coming from one or two 20 I

of h is schoolmates, w ho were echoing their parents. The prosecution reasonably and rightly inferred, in my opinion, that a good many other parents and people in general must also be talking about the picture in a sarcastic or satirical way. Such things very rarely exist in isolation. Taken with a t hing like the rhyme about Battleaxe Bastow being hung at the art show, the boy's evidence shows how vulgar, derogatory comment in a case such as this will grow like a weed and spread like a forest fire. Concerning t he introduction of M rs. I rene Shaw as a witness for the prosecu­ tion, I think t hat what she said was of value in giving us an impartial woman's view of this picture and its effect on the general public. U nrelated to Olive Bastow and having no kind of personal connection with her at all, I rene Shaw's evidence i m plied t hat the portrait was already notorious when she went to see it a short time after it was h u ng, and in the circumstances you are entitled to accept that i m plica­ tion. U nder cross-examination Mrs. Shaw revealed that she had never been back to the art gallery after this one visit to see the portrait, a fact which you could take as additional proof that she only went there because of the picture's notoriety. I t all contributes to t he impression of adverse publicity for M rs. Bastow origi nating i n het· picture. I will not say m uch about what M rs. Angela H art told the Court, since her evidence dealt for the most part with Olive Bastow's feelings and reactions o n first seeing the portrait . As the A t torney-General said in his closing speech to you , M rs . Bastow w a s deeply wounded b y it a n d shocked almost t o t h e point of collapse. A n d o f course M rs. H art's evidence is additionally important i n t h a t i t makes o n e more voice, one more responsible voice, saying or suggesting that this portrait is a disgrace. M rs. Hart. described it spontaneously as "that terrible picture". I would like you to notice also the defence cou nsel's attempt to show prej udice on the part of this witness against Cabot Carter as a man or a private person. U nder the cir­ cumstances that were brought out, M rs. Hart would no doubt feel some prej udice of this kind, on behalf of her daughter Roma; but I do not believe it essentially affected her testimony, and consequently it has little to do with these proceedings. We are not concerned here with private morals or fam ily differences. On the subject of prej udice (as shown from the w itness box) I must say a few words about the evidence of M r. Frederick Squires. Certainly he was prej udiced against the defendant in a personal way, and perhaps with reason, but again I rem ind you that he spoke under oath as to facts, there being no ground that I can see for thinking that he either spoke u ntruly or distorted the truth to suit h is private feelings. The testimony given by M rs. Olive Bastow herself you should weigh with care and consider w ith full respect . There is no reason w hatever to doubt her c redibil­ ity, and you may well believe t hat there was no exaggeration in the account she gave of what she had to put up with after the exhibition of her portrait. Some of the things that happened to her might well harm her " image" and cause people to have quite a different and a worse opinion of her than they had before. To take just one or two instances by way of rem inder, she was left on her own a great deal after the pictUJ·e came on view , and that isolation is a very serious thing for elderly people, as any of us who are getting on or w ho have some i magination can testify. Then there was t hat piece of impertinent doggerel abo u t libel and the Bible w h ic h 202

Mrs. Bastow had inflicted on her in public and in circumstances where she must have felt it as a particularly keen insult, a display of contempt. Even that was not the end of this disgraceful incident. You heard how copies of the lampoon were disseminated in St. John's and doubtless read by the public, and you will have to ask yourselves, on this item as on all the others, whether it is in truth defamatory to the plaintiff. And did it arise directly in consequence of the portrait being exhi­ bited? Turning now to the case for the defence, I m ust at once call your attention to a point that was made by the prosecution and in the form of a protest, w hile certain defence witnesses· were being examined. This was to the effect that M r. Hart was trying to shift the ground ofthis u·ial from law to art. No such thing is acceptable or possible here or in any other Coun that I know of in this country. In fact, the main reason for the existence of our cou rts is to administer the law, and the primary function of law is to protect the individual, as well as to keep order in society. A person performs an act, usually a public act; some other person or persons deem that act to be an offence against them (as in the present case) and they call the offender to court to answer their charge according to the law . I h ave dwelt on this for a moment so that it will be clear in your minds before you begin to seek your verdict. There is of course such a thing as a plea in mitigation of an offence; that is, something may often be said on behalf of an accused person as to w hy he perpetrated a certain act and whether he should, in a given set of circumstances, suffer the full penalty of the law . This m ay have been the drift or purpose of that remarkable part of Mr. Hart's closing speech dealing with the vital importance of art to a nation and with the possible bearing of this trial, in its outcome, on the future of our province and our country. He was perhaps more eloquent than specific, but I feel that in this light such a plea might be properly entertained by you. A nother extremely relevant thing for you to ponder is the question of inten­ tion or motive on the part of the artist. Mr. Carter paints this portrait and shows it to one and all ; therefore it is reasonable to say that he intended the subject and anybody else to see it. That is the whole point of an art exhibition. Also , he knew that it was a recognizable likeness of M rs . Bastow and surely he must have known from its character and quality that it might, at the very least, give offence and bring trouble down on him. I t is visibly one of those controversial works which even a cloudy-minded artist and passionate idealist might hesitate to exhibit, or think he could exhibit with im punity. You could take a parallel case, suggested in passing by the prosecutio n : suppose a write1· published a novel, or even just a character sketch, demonstrably about one of yourselves, one w ho held a position in this city comparable to Mrs. Bastow's. Is it not a safe bet that you would come to read the book or sketch, and would you not feel, if the work were satirical or drastically realistic, that the author had intended to have a shot at you? As for Mr. Hart's criticisms of the evidence brought by the Crow n , he was concerned mainly with minimizing that evidence. I am going to say very little about this, as it is your job to weigh and evaluate all that was said from the witness box in favor of either side. I will only remark that the over-all tendency of defence counsel's criticism was to try and show how all the agitation and trouble over this portrait was little more than a storm in a teacup, was only an old woman who has 203

more prestige than humor imagining that her reputation was damaged or de­ stroyed and that she had suffered terribly in the process of destruction. You must pronounce on the rights or wrongs of that. While referring to the evidence called for the prosecution I said you should give greatest weight to what was sworn to by the plaintiff. Now, from the other side, you should similarly consider all that Cabot Carter had to say for himself and his picture with full sympathy. As an artist Mr. Carter said, for instance, that his overriding motive, perhaps his irresistible motive, for painting Mrs. Bastow was that she made a good subject, by which he meant an interesting subject and one who challenged his ability as a painter, presumably. You no doubt appreciated his sincerity, but again you may feel that he should have paid no less attention to the possible consequences of his act than to its motives. It is credible but not strictly relevant that he may have felt no malice toward Mrs. Bastow. And here I must put in some reference to a gratuitous comment made by another defence witness in favor of Mr. Carter. George West said while giving evidence that this whole case was based on a misunderstanding, h is point seeming to be that whereas the Court was taking the portrait as an affront to Olive Bastow, it was really an impersonal achievement on the part of the artist and a thing that she should be proud of because it is a good work of art. A s I indicated earlier in this charge to you, there is no misunderstanding, ladies and gentlemen. Art like all other things does not exist in a vacuum. There is the social context, once art is no longer confined to the studio, and no citizen who thus brings it out before the public can afford to ignore that context, however well he may paint or do anything else. Let that be clear. An even more surprising claim made by Mr. Carter is that on taking his portrait to the Arts & Culture Centre for exhibition he never dreamed that he might be about to violate the law or heading for any kind of trouble; nor did the Director of the art gallery, Mr. West, give him any hint or warning of a possible prosecution. You must ask yourselves whether the painter could possibly have been so naive or unrealistic. The further point was made that Cabot Carter never had any legal trouble over other portraits that he had done. This Court can accept evidence of his ability as a painter and the over-all significance of his work where that might bear on the present issue, but the mere fact that he has so far avoided prosecution for his work is neither here nor there. You have only to say if he has libelled M rs. Bastow in the portrait that stands before you. One o r two other unexpected points were made by the defe nce. In connection with the portraits of Euphemia Reilly and josiah Burns, which were also done and shown by Cabot Carter, it was held that they suffered no real hurt or damage through his actions; and the opposing contention was that neither Mrs. Reilly nor Mr. Burn s is socially prominent like Mrs. Bastow and so could not be exposed to ridicule or contempt in the same way or to the same degree. H ere I am faced with an unclear situation. I walk on border land . Strictly speaking, the law makes no distinction of a social (or should I say social status?) kind between persons who can or cannot be libelled. Anybody can be libelled, except the dead. Still, it is true that a person in Mrs. Bastow's position can be more readily and drastically libelled than an ordinary housewife or a man who has no recognized place in the community at all. She can suffer more just because she is well known . I f I may give you another illustration- though I will add at once that I am not trying to introduce politics 204

into the case! Suppose that somebody painted a . . . . . a questionable portrait of the Premier of Newfoundland and a similar one of, say, the Liberal member of Parliament for Labrador North, and both were exhibited. Surely it is true that the Premier might suffer more from the unfavorable corri ment and publicity that would arise, by reason of his special prominence in our eyes. H is picture would certainly be talked about more eagerly and make a deeper impression on the public mind . I am aware that M rs. Bastow holds no elective office, but the comparison still holds, as you may agree after having listened to all the evidence of her many activities in t his cit y. What we heard from Mr. James Reilly bore chiefly on the character and working habits of the defendant . It gave him a good character, and that has its importance as tending to show that M r. Carter t he artist is a sober, steady and industrious worker, not an insolent fellow who goes around abusing people who are in authority; he does not spend his time merely hunting for some person in the public eye whom he can take off with pencil or brush and thereby hold up to ridicule. Taken with the other pictures (non-portraits) by Cabot Carter that we have seen , all apparently done in recent months, Mr. Reilly's evidence does reflect a genuine quality in this artist as to both talent and application. There is not m uch to be said about the evidence of M iss Roma Hart, who would have been proud to see the sketch of herself by M r . Carter exhibited in public; and, like both eminent counsel, I see no reason to question the honesty of that. After viewing the sketch I would think she isjustified of her feelings in every way. The only comment I have to make is that these feelings have little or nothing to do with the issue we are frying here. It is equally true, I want nevertheless to remind you, that M iss Hart's clear prejudice in Cabot Carter's favor should not take away from any value her evidence may have had in your estimation, since there is no reason to think that her emotions caused her to speak untruly. When it comes to the views and arguments put forth by Mr. Darlington and Mr. Hart in their closing speeches, I want to examine them closely and try to assess them for you as fairly as I can. These speeches seemed to me the most significant parts of both prosecution and defence, especially t he latter, because not only facts and basic principles oflaw were involved but also much wider issues. I will take M r . H art's speech first, in order t o round off what is to b e said in favor of his client. The gist and the main tenor of his words to you was that you should take care how you tu rn this trial, because w hat you decide here may in its ultimate effect reach far beyond the bounds of this Court's jurisdiction, and transcend entirely the i m portance of one man's prosecution for libel. M r. H art even went so far as to place the mattet· in the context of Newfoundland history, at the end of his speech projecting it yet farther into a national perspective. This point bears repetition if only because of t he weight Mr. Hart seemed to give it. He solemnly warned you of your grave responsibility in setting a precedent for both law and art . The word that ran through his final remarks like a powerful, insistent theme was the word freedom, and he declared with some impressiveness that if you say Cabot Carter is guilty you will, first, be finding that an artist has no adequate freedom in this province, this country; and second, you will be condemning M r. Carter to an existence whet·ein, for some time, he has no personal liberty at all and little opportunity to do his proper work. 205

It may have already occurred to you that this argument relies on the twin assumptions that Cabot C;uter is a worth-while artist and that he must be left free i n h i s person and h i s work, i f that work i s t o be fully accomplished. Without being experts on the subject of ?ainting or giving undue importance to learned counsel's classical references, you can perhaps accept the first assumption. As for the second, I do not wish to rule it out for the sole reason that we are dealing with this matter of an artist's guilt or i nnocence in a court of law. I hope none of us would deny the value of pai n ti n g and the other arts to our culture as a whole or to any society whatsoever ; and neither will I h ide my view that, although the law does seek to be precise and definitive, it too exists in the wider context of our national life. Therefore it should try to include or make some allowance for cases where an individual's wishes and even his acts may run counter to what appears to be the good of the community or to another individual's valid, recognized rights. But the basic question is: how far can such allowance go without threatening disruption to that comm u. n ity? M ust every maverick be driven back into the herd, in the name of public safety ? The problem is a ferociously difficul t one, as old as mankind's first dim attempts to form an organized society. Mr. Hart's solution to it, for our present purposes, would seem to be that on the basis of Cabot Carter's artistic record so far and the high critical esteem in which he is held, you should accept his plea that he never designed to libel Mrs. Bastow and further that the portrait is not an offence but really a compliment to her. As Mr. Hart put it, you are asked to perform an ac:t offaith or to make a special case of this talented young man by exonerating him of any crime and letting him go entirely free. I t is still to be added that the defence claimed absolute freedom for M r . Carter as an artist choosing and "treating his subjects, not as a citizen of this country or a resident of St. John's. C a n we divide a man into two parts like that, making him responsible to his fellow -citizens o n the one side but not on the other? Well, what did the learned Attorney-General have to say on this point? With regard to Cabot Carter's design or intention i n doing this portrait of M rs. Bastow, he quite properly reminded you that, without exception, it is every person's duty and legal obligation to av�id offending another if the law is thereby being broken. That is established. A s te» the thorny problem of individual freedom versus the general good, Mr. Darlington held that if people like Cabot Carter were given total freedom, even only as artists, there would indeed be disruption i n society, and you and I might be sitting here to deal with a charge of this kind almost every day of the week. The Attorney-General further maintained that Mr. Carter, feeling the merest twinge or particle of doubt over what has been called the personal and social effect of his portrait, should have taken legal advice before showing it. There you have it, members of the jury ; on the one hand an argument which presents Cabot Carter as an in nocen t man and a good painter who should on no account be interfered wi1:h in his work or the liberty to exhibit i t ; on the other hand, a demand forjustic-e to Olive Bastow because she is said to have been cruelly represented, or perhaps 1:he wo ;d should be misrepresented, by this artist in the exercise of that very freedom which is claimed for him. Suppose for a mome ... t that special cases like Cabot Carter's were to be allowed for. I t could only be done by legislation on behalf of artists, but the laws would be very hard to frame, and st .ill harder to implement, because of the great difficulty in 206

the first place of defining art and the artist; still more, one shudders to think of the long parade of expert witnesses, one contradicting another, who would be trailing th rough our courts swearing that so-and-so, in any given case, was the direct heir of Rembrandt, a reincarnation of Cezanne or a genius even greater than these ­ one whose name would go reverberating down the ages. Every ragged, self­ deluding yippie would have his champion, and it is easy to see that the trial of a case such as this would soon become a howling farce. N o . I for one fee l that the law in such matters is best left as it stands, to apply to all persons all down the line. I am not at all intending to make light of M r . John Hart's appeal on behalf of the accused man. He may well be right in saying that to our grandchildren the name of Cabot Carter will be a household word, a milestone in the story of this province's cultural development; but I must prosaically remind you that you have to reach your verdict in this Court and in this year of A .D. 1 984. If you all do that to the best of your ability, you need have no fear of how posterity will regard either you or Cabot Carter. I know too that in reaching your decision you will keep vividly in mind the heavy punishment of two years' imprisonment that attaches to a conviction for defamatory libel. Please bear in mind as well that the verdict must be u nanimous, and you should come down on one side or the other without any reasonable doubt in your minds. I magine , just as a guide to the meaning of this latter phrase, that on your decision rested the fate of someone dear to you, or the gain or loss of a large sum of money by you personally. Give to this matter the serious thought which you would devote to a situation of that kind, where I am sure you would not finally act if any reasonable doubt remained i n your mind. Your close attention to all that has been said in the course of this trial is greatly appreciated. I ask you now to retire and consider the best decision that you can come to among yourselves. The Clerk of the Court will be at hand to bring you the portrait of M rs . Bastow, if you should wish to examine it at closer quarters or greater length. You may see likewise any other works that have been used here as evidence or for purposes of demonstration. Finally, I will be available at any time during your deliberations, in case you should need any further interpretation of the law relating to this whole matter. That is all . Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

207

ELEVEN

Guilty. It did not take the j u ry very long to bring in this verdict, and certainly after the summing up there was no lawyer i n court who expected anything else. One person w ho did fee l surprise was the defendant h imself; he was genuinely taken aback, and t he realization of this fact by Roma H art made another small stage in her disconcerting journey toward a k nowledge of his character and outlook on life. She now began to u nderstand that he really was a naive, unworldly person in many ways, however much the artist in him m ight show perception of people and t hings outside h imself, and however ruthless that perception might be. Even a rider from the jury that he be spared im prisonment and put on a suspended sentence (in view of the possible im portance of his work) made little difference to Cabot's astonishment and dismay - nor to his inner misery, because he was still saddled with a money problem of the most worrying kind. I mmediately after the judge had given the sentence, Darlington had got up to ask for h is costs to be taxed; and later on i n converstion with Cabot and Roma, John H art had estimated these at two or three thousand dollat·s. For a person like Cabot Carter this would be a maddening burden for years to come, an incubus that would cramp his style in work and o-ipple his whole life. Poor as he lived, he could not stand debt and he hated recei ving letters from anybody reminding him that he owed them money. S mall sums owed to the Reillys were an entirely different thing; these were friendly arrange ments to be made and settled w henever he could manage it. No threat lay behind them, and no situation was likely to arise w here an amount of money would be demanded of him within a certain time. Slowly it was beginning to dawn on Cabot that, whatever his private motives or i nward ecstasy in doing it, h is work did im pinge on the life around him, and in ways other than artistic, once it got out of his own hands. I t really did matter in a social way what h is portraits were like, and his haughty isolation could not be maintained unless his painting remained isolated and u n known as well. In the meantime his misery was paralyzing. Roma wished he would or could start painting again, but one look at h is face when she urged t his was enough to make her drop the subject indefinitely. She stayed close to him as much as she could, giving w h at comfort anyone might be able to give to a man w ho had dropped t h rough t he bottom of the world and then found himself in c hains. One day not long after the t rial they were again together at the Reilly house1 Roma once more stealing time from an assignment , when the phone rang insis­ te ntly, as it did a bout twenty times a day; but this time it was not somebody answering t he Rei lly ad offering room and board. It was George West calling from the art gallery, and he had electrifying news. 208

Roma was first to the phone, alongside Feem , when the real meaning of the call began to come through from Feem's exclamations out in the hall, and she rushed back to the kitchen and hauled Cabot out to the phone so that he could speak to George h imself. A few words, a stammer of thanks, and he turned back to Roma and Feem like a man who has been transformed. Both his portraits had been sold - that of Olive Bastow and Sailor B u rns - at a total price of five thousand dollars ! Cabot was a free man again. His joy was not j ust touch ing, it was comic too: he broke into sudden laughter like a strong man rejoicing or a child who has escaped punishment and been given candy instead. Roma clung to him and danced him around , delighted to see his face coming back to that of the man she knew and loved. Jamie Reilly's first reaction was to fetch out h is bottle and begin to recognize the occasion properly. The identity of the buyer of Cabot's pict u res was as m uch of a triumph for the artist as the sale itself. K. K . Darlington had bought them. On first hearing this Cabot had been alarmed, as he feared that Darlington might be acting privately for the Bastow-Squires crowd and that once they got their hands on his work it would be destroyed. But no - George West had been quite clear that the Attorney-General was acting on h is ow n behalf as an individual person and a collector. Besides, if Olive Bastow and/or Fred Squires were the real buyers, why should they pay out over two thousand dollars for a portrait of Sailor B urns? The fou r friends had hardly settled to a drink before Roma burst out in renewed excitement,jumping u p from the table with fresh possibilities glowing in her eyes. Now that Cabot was safe, she had thoughts to spare for her own concerns. - Jamie, d rive me u p to the Confederation B uilding! - What? Certainly, my dear, certainly. But finish you r drink and tell us w hat you have in your m ind. - Later. You don't realize! This is a scoop. The prosecu ting lawyer buys the very pictUJ·e his case was built on. A nd don't forget, I ' m still a newspaperwoman. I won't be long, Cabot. - Okay. -Jamie, will you get out the car w hile I phone George back and ask him to sit on this story for a while? - All right. B y gar, things are startin' in to hum again ! - I . . . . . I don't mean to be demanding, J amie, b u t this i s aw fully i m portant to me now . If I can get a story from good old K . K., there ought to be a hefty bon u s in it for me. I 'l l take us all out to dinner. Right now , could you take me to the office first and I'll grab my gear? Thanks. Oh, thanks a m illion, Jamie ! I'll call Darlington's office too (God bless the old smoothie) and make sure I can get in to see him. By God, I ' m going to hit that front page yet! So long, Feem . Bye, lover. Keep smiling. I 'll be back as soon as I 've made you a little more famous. No extra charge for that. All I'm asking for now is exclusive rights to your story.

209

TWELVE

Darlington rose to greet her as politely as if she had been the wife of the Lieute nant-Governor or even a representative from the Queen. He sat her in a woman-pleasing light and first of all apologized for any little contretemps that might have arisen between them during the trial. Tactics, the heat of battle . . . . . etc . . . . . nothing personal or invidious, naturally . . . . . beg pardon even so . . . . . Roma accepted the fluent guff with a convincing smile; she wanted to skip all that and get to the real point of her visit. - Thank you, Mr. Darlington, but it's q uite all right. And thank you for seeing me at such short notice. - A pleasure, M iss H art. - Do you mind if I tape our tal k ? - Not a t all. - Then may I ask you first j ust why you bought Cabot Carter's two pictures? - Because I like them . I think they're good paintings. - I agree. But w hat I mean is, don't you think your action will be misunderstood, seeing that you prosecu ted him? - Oh dear, I hope not! In the first place, it was the Crown that prosecuted him, not I . A nd at this present moment I see no reason why I shouldn't make any art purchases I please, from whom I please. - Will the public understand that? I hope I'm not being too pe rsonal, Mr. Darlington, but mightn't people think you are being insincere, or even cynical? - That would be a gross misunderstanding. A nd perhaps this interview will make it clear that there is no . . . . . ah . . . . . no tergiversation in my attitude to Cabot Carter and h is work. A nd there is no inconsistency in my buying the two pictures. The fact that / put the case for the Crown has no bearing on the art issue, i f I may call it that, because there's no relation - I mean no necessary relationship between what a legal officer does in the performance of his duty, and what he chooses to do as a private party. N one whatever. - I sn't that the argument you used, in the opposite sense, against Cabot Carter? - Ah, but you see my present action has nothing to do with the public. I t's a purely private act. Mr. Carter's exhibition of his portraits was j ust the opposite. - Won't it be thought that there was no personal conviction in the case you built against Cabot? - There wasn't. I assure you , personal convictions had nothing to do with it. - But you called his portrait scabrous! The one of M rs . Bastow, I mean. - That was from the legal point o f view. - You sure sounded convinced, and convincing. - Did I? Thank you . Nevertheless, I mean all I am saying here too. You know, I 2IO

sometimes think the term "prosecutor" ought to be abolished. I t seems to suggest, to the vulgar mind at any rate, that a lawyer such as myself, in my capacity, is out to "get" an accused man. B u t my job was simply to say w hat there was to be said for Mrs. Bastow, and of course I never had a ny vindictive feeling toward your friend . - Can I ask you straight out, t he n : d o you think the verdict against Cabot was unjust? - No. I think he was q uite properly convicted, on the evidence; though I was very glad to see h im escape prison. - Yet you buy his pai ntings. You . . . . . you u phold him in that way, that very i m portant way. - Again I was speaking fr-om t he legal point of view. As our law now stands, the verdict could hardly have been otherwise. - Well, do you t h ink the law should be changed? - I ' m not altogether sure on that poin t . As your fat her so ably said, it's a complex proble m . The judge went into this too, you remember. Tinker with the law to accom modate any special group, and you're asking for trouble. You're inviting chaos. - What's the answer, in that case? - I don't think there is any blanket answer. The artist m ust remain free, and he m ust watch his step. - Wouldn't he always lose in the crunch, the way Cabot did? - Perhaps. But the artist doesn't always lose, does he? After all, Whistler won against Ruskin. - The circumstances were entirely different there. And Whistler got (what was it?) - a farthing damages. - True, true. I only mentioned it to show that t he artist doesn't have to lose. - I t seems l i ke he almost has to. What a lot of people don't realize is how sensitive a person like Cabot is! If he'd really had to go to jail for two years, he might never have painted again. It might even have killed h i m . As I see it now, what the verdict means is that an artist here has to do his best work but hide it, or risk pr-osecutions all over the place. - Come now, it's not q uite so drastic as t hat. Prosecutions of this kind are rare, and I should imagine that almost any Canadian painter, fr-om here to Victoria, could show h is work, portraits and all, for years and years without coming up against the law or falling fou l of a woman like M rs. Bastow. - Still, the risk of libel is there . - Yes. - Would you remove it if you could, Mr. Darlington? - I'm not sure. Perhaps it's not an entirely bad t hing for artists to run some risks and be a little insecure. They may need the stimulus. - Does a painter without any money need the stim u lus of being h u ng up o n a claim for costs for a couple of t housand dollars? - Not specifically. I only meant to suggest that a good many fine artists have produced good work under the spur of need. - It still seems u n fair to the artist. B u t you've practically saved Cabot's life this time, and he does appreciate your . . . . your gesture. Oh, that reminds me. Can I go back some time and ask you a related q uestion? Three or four months ago a 2l i

picture of Cabot's, a Still Life called Cod Tongues, was bought anonymously . May I atsk if you were the buyer? - I was. - Why anonymous then, and not now? - I feel that in the present circumstances, what you have called my gesture will be am indication of my su pport o f Cabot Carter the artist. B u t ordinarily I prefer to b,uy w i t hout any publicity. - Are you expecting any protest , any kind of a storm, w hen this story breaks? - Some agitation , perhaps. I shall be able t o deal with i t . - Th is money means an awful lot t o Cabo t ! H e hates working a t anything b u t his O•wn job now . - Qu ite right too. The man's a painter, and he should function as such, on all c :ylinders. -·- I have a feeling that you're really on our side but you won't, or can't, come right o ut and say so. - I'm certainly on the side of good painting. Equally, I'm on the side of t he law. - So we're back to t h e old contradict ion. A nd I ' m still not happy about it. I t j ust seeems to leave a person like Cabot at t he mercy of chance or . . . . . or somebody's p -rivate whim. j us t suppose t hat you had no interest in art, M r . Darlington. H ow W>ould Cabot ever have paid t hose costs? - I really don't know. But will you permit me one generalization? I believe that e"'Very good artist even t ually wins t h rough . - Modigliani didn't. - Possibly. I t could be argued, t hough, t h a t he had finished his work, essentially, �fore he died. Modigliani was one of the slow suicides, wasn't he? - I still have that vision of Cabot cracking u p behind bars! - I doubt if t hat would happen, w hen he has such champions. - Well, I happen to think he's okay too. - Help him all you can, my dear! H e's worth it. A nd I u nderstand he's still u nder t l-.irty. - Yes. - Splendid . - He still has some pictures not sold. Did you ever see t he one called Mullen Street? - Yes. Very dark pale t te , I seem to remember. Carter tends t h a t way. I t will be i n · teresting to see what he does when he ligh tens it. Well, I may have another gloance at Mullen Street one day. - I think that's about ali i wanted to ask you , M r. Darlington. All the main points. -- And I'm very pleased to have been of help to you, and Mr. Carter. I don ' t really feoa r for his fut u r·e, with people like you on his side. - . Thank you, sir. - . Will you keep in touch? I 'm most curious abo u t Carter's next work, about where he : will go from here. - . Yes. And give my r·egards to your fat her. - ! will. - By t he way, Miss Han, I'd also be curious to know what Carter i n tends to do w i tth this five thousand dollars I'm paying him, after· he clears away the legal costs. 212

- Me too. - Though il's none of my business, of course. - I don't imagine he'll waste it. Now, about this tape, I may offer it to t he CBC for Weekend Arts as well as use it for my column. Would there be any objection to that? Edited, of course, and subject to you r blue pencil. - No, no. Certainly not . - Than k you again, M r. Darl ingto n . Goodbye for now. - Good morning, M iss H art . I do hope we shall meet again.

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213

THIRTEEN

Roma took a taxi back to the office, to put in her material, and then back to Cabot (all on her swindle sheet) because she was much more curious than Dar­ lington to find out what he was going to do with the extra money. Still nervous about h is unpr·edictability, she had a vague dread that in some kind of reaction from his escape, or perhaps in plain disgust at what had happened to him, he m ight just pack up and leave Canada altogether. Leave her. She need not have worried. Cabot was certainly not a man to take his recent crisis lightly, but for the present he showed no signs of furthe r rebellion against h is native environment. Roma managed to get h im alone for a few minute s o f talk and sex-play before they joined t he Reillys again. - CC, what are you going to do with the left-over loot? - Pay Feem and Jamie what I owe them, first . - And? - There's your fat her. I ought to do something to . . . . . to kind of show my appreciation. - Dad doesn't want any money from you! Don't be weird. H e wouldn't take it. - I guess not. Well, some little gesture, maybe. - I know just the thing. The sketch of me that he used i n court. He really goes for that. - Right. I'll get it framed. - What about you ? - Thought I might take a litt le trip. - Away? - No. Newfie will still have the benefit of my operations, but maybe I need a change of motif. I think I'll take a trip all around the island. The coastal boats are starting soon. - I remember the very first time we met, that was what you said: that you wanted to paint New fou ndland. - Out around t he bay is still almost virgin territory. - I know. How long will you be gone? - Oh, the sum mer, I guess. - Will you go under your ow n name, after all t he publicity? - Maybe I should go as John Jones. I t's a thought . - Are y o u going t o m i s s me? - No. - !! - I want you to come with me. - Do you mean it? 214

- Of course I do. - ( I 'm still not absolu tely sure of you) I would n't bug you ? I mean about the painting? - No. I t's okay with us now. - I think I could swing it with the paper! I t's a deal, CC. But for God's sake, when we get going, don't do any portraits of scraggy old women ! - I 'll take what comes. -- Pighead . You're j ust about st ubborn enough to st
215

combo. - Hear, hear! I 'll drink to art, Roma. - Correction, J amie. Let's drink to art and literature, going hand in hand right u p there t o the top !

216

No Cage for Conqu erors In t he city o f S t . J o h n ' s there is u ually t he mild sting of a salty breeze from t h e Atlantic to e n h a nce t h is feeling of September l u x u ry . I t flutters i n t h rough t he N arrows cool and capricious, w i t h no roaring ir1 i t , tickling t h e nose like an astringent perfume b u t making a person inhale a n d long for more instead of drawing back as he often will when a sharp

cent c u t s across his senses. ***

. . . I f only he didn't make t h e other boys or young men she knew seem so .d u l l !

l o matter which of her male ac­

quaint ances she went o u t w i t h , she nearly always had t h e feeling o f being able t o see n o t o n l y t h rough t h e m b u t a l l around t h e m ; and i t w a s t he reserve in Cabot' characte r, t h e en e of po sibilities and dimensions quite une xplored , which decided Roma in t h e present case .

'

***

. . . this i

a suit brought by Mrs. Olive Bastow for a · .•

defamatory libel on her, perpetrated and published by t he defendant Cabot Carter, in t h e form"of a portrait - t his "'same portrait t hat you see here before you. I need hardly

say at t he out se t t hat in its legal context t he word "pub­ lished" means simply t ha t the portrait was exh ibited to t he public view.

p

***

. . . t he artists of any nation are the only true conquerors of time and d e a t h ; and I say to each one of you, on behalf of a Canadian artist who is right now)n our midst and at t h e ,·c ry t u rn i n g point of his career - ! say t ha t there should be, t here can be, No Cage for Conqueror !

A novel by PERCY JANES author of "House of Hate" Cover Illustration by SYLVIA QUINTON FICKEN