One Day's Courtship and The Heralds of Fame
Robert Barr
New York: Stokes, 1896
219 pages
Novellas both, "One Day's Courtship" and "The Herald's of Fame" were first gathered for book publication with a third tale, "From Whose Bourne." That the resulting volume was titled From Whose Bourne, etc. says much, I think.
"From Whose Bourne" is one of the earliest attempts at marrying the supernatural with what was then the emerging mystery genre. In the story, the spirit of a murdered man, William Brenton, follows the investigation of his widow, Alice, who is accused of having committed the crime.
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From Whose Bourne, etc.
Robert Barr
London: Chatto & Windus, 1893 |
"One Day's Courtship" and "The Heralds of Fame" are lighter fare and aren't nearly so groundbreaking. Both are woven from tired worn threads we continue to today in today's romantic comedies. Each relies heavily on coincidence and unfortunate misunderstandings. Neither is recommended, though both may appeal to those interested in nineteenth-century depictions of artistic and literary life. Lovers of rom coms will find more satisfaction with Netflix.
"One Day's Courtship" concerns landscape painter John Trenton, who returns to Shawinigan Falls – "Shawenegan Falls" in all editions – with the intent of capturing its beauty on canvas. He was first made aware of the natural wonder through a letter sent by an admirer and lesser talent.
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| Shawinigan Falls, 1904 |
As it will turn out – I spoil things a bit here – that letter came from a young woman named Eva Sommerton. A very pretty, very wealthy American, Miss Sommerton has hired a canoe and crew to take her to the falls. Owing to a comical mix-up, John Trenton has hired that very same canoe and crew. Each thinks the other the interloper! What's more, neither knows the identity of the other!
You can imagine to possibilities.
"The Herald's of Fame" is lighter still, though I enjoyed it more. It's hero, Kenan Buel, is a young Englishman with two published novels under his belt. Neither did all that well, so it comes as some surprise when American publisher L.F. Brant expresses interest in his third. Brant reads the proofs when visiting Buel's London publisher and pays £20 for the American rights. Because he'd entered negotiations with the expectation of paying £100, Brant gives the author the difference.
It's all too wonderful. Buel now has more money than he's ever had, and so accepts his American publisher's invitation to visit New York. At the dock, the novelist enters W.H. Smith and Sons, where he spies a young woman looking over the "New Books" shelf. She hesitates over Buel's latest before settling on a title written by our hero's idol, the great novelist J Lawless Hodden. Owing to a comical mix-up, that young woman – a very pretty, very wealthy American named Caroline Jessop – finds herself with a copy of Buel's new novel.
Buel himself ends up sharing his ship's cabin with none other than J Lawless Hodden. The latter proves a mean, cheap, and deceitful bastard, and pretends that he paid for a private cabin. Miss Jessop, who just happens to be in the neighbouring suite, overhears the conflict and clasps her hands together in glee at the drama of it all. Of a sudden, Hodden, whose work she'd admired, is out; Buel is her new favourite. And so begins the flirtation.
I found this exchange between Miss Jessop and Mr Buel clever:
“I only wish I could write. Then I
would let you know what I think of you.” “Oh, don’t publish a book about us.
I wouldn’t like to see war between the
two countries.”
Miss Jessop laughed merrily for so
belligerent a person.
“War?” she cried. “I hope yet to
see an American army camped in London.”
“If that is your desire, you can see it
any day in summer. You will find them
tenting out at the Metropole and all the
expensive hotels. I bivouacked with an
invader there some weeks ago, and he was enduring the rigours of camp life
with great fortitude, mitigating his trials
with unlimited champagne.’’
“Why, Mr. Buel,” cried the girl admiringly, “you’re beginning to talk just
like an American yourself.”
“Oh, now, you are trying to make me
conceited.”
Miss Jessop sighed, and shook her
head.
“I had nearly forgotten,” she said,
“that I despised you. I remember now
why I began to walk with you. It was
not to talk frivolously, but to show you
the depth of my contempt! Since yesterday you have gone down in my estimation from 190 to 56.”
“Fahrenheit?”
“No, that was a Wall Street quotation.
Your stock has ‘slumped,’ as we say on
the Street.”
“Now you are talking Latin, or worse,
for I can understand a little Latin.”
I was never nearly so good at flirting, but imagine my readers are.
For that reason, I cannot recommend.
You heartbreakers have nothing to learn.
Object: A very attractive book with frontispiece by Edmund Frederick (above). Following the two novellas, the publisher tacks on five pages of adverts. The earliest are the most interesting, but only because of the series title:
The twentieth century, then several years in the future, didn't treat any of the titles well. Robert Barr's In the Midst of Alarms, a semi-comic novel of the Fenian Raids, saw no editions in the twentieth century. The same is true for his short story collection The Face and the Mask, despite high praise from Arthur Conan Doyle. The other books are unfamiliar – even the Ouida – but I'd buy I Married a Wife for the title alone. The author's name is a bonus.
My copy was purchased earlier this year from a bookseller in Florida. Price: US$9.95.
Access: Copies of One Day's Courtship and The Heralds of Fame can be found at Library and Archives Canada, the Canadian Museum of History, Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec, and thirty-three of our academic libraries.
No copies are listed for sale online.
My edition can be read through this link thanks to the good folks at the Thomas Fisher Library and the Internet Archive.
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