Gulmore, The Boss | Page 4

most
powerful men in the State, she came into a circle that cared as little
about Christian dogmas as she did, she attributed the comparative
coolness with which her companions treated her, to her father's want of
education, rather than to the true cause, her own domineering temper.
As she had hated her childish playmates, who, instructed by their
mothers, held aloof from the infidel, so she had grown to detest the
associates of her girlhood, whose parents seemed, by virtue of manners
and education, superior to hers. The aversion was acrid with envy, and
had fastened from the beginning on her competitor as a student and her

rival in beauty, Miss May Hutchings. Her animosity was intensified by
the fact that, when they entered the Sophomore class together, Miss
May had made her acquaintance, had tried to become friends with her,
and then, for some inscrutable reason, had drawn coldly away. By dint
of working twice as hard as May, Ida had managed to outstrip her, and
to begin the Junior year as the first of the class; but all the while she
was conscious that her success was due to labour, and not to a larger
intelligence. And with the coming of the new professor of Greek, this
superiority, her one consolation, was called in question.
Professor Roberts had brought about a revolution in the University. He
was young and passionately devoted to his work; had won his Doctor's
degree at Berlin summa cum laude, and his pupils soon felt that he
represented a standard of knowledge higher than they had hitherto
imagined as attainable, and yet one which, he insisted, was common in
the older civilization of Europe. It was this nettling comparison,
enforced by his mastery of difficulties, which first aroused the ardour
of his scholars. In less than a year they passed from the level of youths
in a high school to that of University students. On the best heads his
influence was magical. His learning and enthusiasm quickened their
reverence for scholarship, but it was his critical faculty which opened
to them the world of art, and nerved them to emulation.
"Until one realizes the shortcomings of a master," he said in a lecture,
"it is impossible to understand him or to take the beauty of his works to
heart When Sophocles repeats himself--the Electra is but a feeble study
for the Antigone, or possibly a feeble copy of it--we get near the man;
the limitations of his outlook are characteristic: when he deforms his
Ajax with a tag of political partisanship, his servitude to surroundings
defines his conscience as an artist; and when painting by contrasts he
poses the weak Ismene and Chrysothemis as foils to their heroic sisters,
we see that his dramatic power in the essential was rudimentary. Yet
Mr. Matthew Arnold, a living English poet, writes that Sophocles 'saw
life steadily and saw it whole.' This is true of no man, not of
Shakespeare nor of Goethe, much less of Sophocles or Racine. The
phrase itself is as offensively out of date as the First Commandment."
The bold, incisive criticism had a singular fascination for his hearers,

who were too young to remark in it the crudeness that usually attaches
to originality.
Miss Hutchings was the first of the senior students to yield herself to
the new influence. In the beginning Miss Gulmore was not attracted by
Professor Roberts; she thought him insignificant physically; he was
neat of dress too, and ingenuously eager in manner--all of which
conflicted with her ideal of manhood. It was but slowly that she awoke
to a consciousness of his merits, and her awakening was due perhaps as
much to jealousy of May Hutchings as to the conviction that with
Professor Roberts for a husband she would realize her social ambitions.
Suddenly she became aware that May was passing her in knowledge of
Greek, and was thus winning the notice of the man she had begun to
look upon as worthy of her own choice. Ida at once addressed herself to
the struggle with all the energy of her nature, but at first without
success. It was evident that May was working as she had never worked
before, for as the weeks flew by she seemed to increase her advantage.
During this period Ida Gulmore's pride suffered tortures; day by day
she understood more clearly that the prize of her life was slipping out
of reach. In mind and soul now she realized Roberts' daring and charm.
With the intensified perceptions of a jealous woman, she sometimes
feared that he sympathized with her rival.
But he had not spoken yet; of that she was sure, and her conceit enabled
her to hope desperately. A moment arrived when her hatred of May was
sweetened by contempt. For some