There is often to a mind from the outside world an almost repulsive
narrowness and a pitiful sordidness which amounts to tragedy in the
lives of such people as those portrayed in _Pembroke_, but quite
generally the tragedy exists only in the comprehension of the
observer and not at all in that of the observed. The pitied would
meet pity with resentment; they would be full of wonder and wrath if
told that their lives were narrow, since they have never seen the
limit of the breadth of their current of daily life. A singing-school
is as much to them as a symphony concert and grand opera to their
city brethren, and a sewing church sociable as an afternoon tea.
Though the standard of taste of the simple villagers, and their
complete satisfaction therewith, may reasonably be lamented, as also
their restricted view of life, they are not to be pitied, generally
speaking, for their unhappiness in consequence. It may be that the
lack of unhappiness constitutes the real tragedy.
Chapter I
At half-past six o'clock on Sunday night Barnabas came out of his
bedroom. The Thayer house was only one story high, and there were no
chambers. A number of little bedrooms were clustered around the three
square rooms--the north and south parlors, and the great kitchen.
Barnabas walked out of his bedroom straight into the kitchen where
the other members of the family were.
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