The Glass Ocean(62)

            In short, no matter what Thomas Argument does, she will not interfere on my father’s behalf.

            • • •

            Of course it is possible that Argument, in addition to whatever designs or desires he may harbor in regard to Clotilde, is, above all, angry, just as my father is angry, jealous, just as my father is jealous, and equally unwilling to admit any of it. He cannot be angry openly, jealous openly—not yet. So he resorts to demonstrating his feelings in the angle of his chin.

            Naturally he has noticed the increase in foot traffic at Cloverdale’s shop, not to mention the large, galling new sign, CLOVERDALE & DELL’ORO, MASTER GLASSMAKERS, that has lately replaced the small tarnished plaque above the doorbell that for many years read, in the cheapest available lettering, just, WM. CLOVERDALE, GLASS.

            Not so long ago, my father was a footmaker, unqualified to work independently with glass. He could press the foot of a wine glass with the forming tool, bend forward the lip of a decanter with a pliers, use a wooden paddle to smooth the rim of a jar, stretch a blob of molten glass to make a handle attach to the side of a pitcher. Now, suddenly, he is a master glassmaker? Thomas Argument need not waste his time harboring deep suspicions—he knows, as well as my father does, that it is all lies: the new sign, the newspaper advertisements, Master Glassmaker, Direct from the Continent!, all of it. All gibes, all taunts, from William Cloverdale. As a master glassmaker himself, Argument is angry about this. He feels his profession reduced by the inclusion, even the sham inclusion, of my father within its ranks.

            • • •

            Perhaps also, though, Thomas Argument is afraid. Perhaps he senses a truth that he seeks to avoid:

            William Cloverdale is teaching my father.

            My father is learning.

            • • •

            This possibility makes Thomas Argument angrier. In the place inside him where my mother resides—where he fears my father will overtake, will surpass, him—he is angry.

            • • •

            Thomas Argument is a man who does not like to be bested. It is only a matter of time, therefore, before he must respond to the provocation across Church Street.

            • • •

            It comes quickly. One morning my father, approaching Cloverdale’s shop, with, as usual, his mind elsewhere (he has had another letter from Harry Owen, containing a request for further drawings), finds himself entangled on the sidewalk in front of Argument’s window with a crowd of admirers who have gathered to read a poster plastered up on the glass:

                             View of Naples

                Eruption of Vesuvius!

                and Destruction of Herculaneum and Pompeii!


In the year 79 (by Argument)

                THE ERUPTION OF VESUVIUS!

                THIS PICTURE

                Represents as accurately as can be done, the

                GREAT ERUPTION IN THE YEAR 79,

                WHEN THE DESTRUCTION OF

                HERCULANEUM AND POMPEII

                TOOK PLACE

                The practical observation and experience

of Mr. Argument

                Has enabled him to produce effects never before attempted.



            Argument has obtained the new double magic lantern of Negretti and Zambra, and will use it, on alternate Wednesdays, to show, in dissolving view, glass slides he has created himself, using a new and secretive process of etching and enameling: Vesuvius erupting by moonlight, image dissolving into a lurid, rubble-strewn Pompeian dawn; the Great Fire of London gradually reducing St. Paul’s Cathedral to ashes; the flood of the Huskar Pit overwhelming the child laborers of Silkstone . . . fade to a particularly affecting view of the seven mass graves in bright July sunlight . . .