Punch's Cousin, Chapter 57

The larger of the two men brushed past Adrienne and walked toward Fuller’s bassinette.


“Nice lookin’ baby.” He growled.

“Stay away from him.” Adrienne said firmly.

“Now, now, I ain’t gonna do nothin’.” The man laughed. “Just havin’ a look.”

“This has nothing to do with him.” Adrienne hissed.

“Do ya think this cradle is sturdy enough?” The man smiled. “Seems to me that any little movement could knock it right over. Like, say, if you was to make a loud noise.”

“Get away from my child.” Adrienne said plainly.

“Do as we say,” The man said threatingly, “and I will.”

“I will not go with you.” Adrienne responded.

“Isn’t you we want—this time.” The man laughed. “Though I must confess, I forgot what a ripe little thing you are.”

“What do you want, Professor?” Adrienne asked angrily.

“Ah, see, you remember me.” The man grinned.

“How could I forget you?” Adrienne asked. “You were the man who tortured me for that woman…that monster.”

“You say, ‘torture.’ I say, ‘influence.’” The Professor said, scratching his thick, black beard.

“I thought you were sent back to England. Your methods of ‘influence’ were even too much for Iolanthe Evangeline.”

“Sent for me, she did.” The Professor winked. “Guess she needed me after all. Needed me to bring something back with me from England. A few things, to be sure. Nice voyage, it was, too. Made a friend. His name was Arthur. He died, you know. Fell off the ship, they say. I don’t think that’s likely. No, I think it’s more likely he was pushed.” The professor flicked a finger against the bassinette so that it rocked gently.

“Leave my child alone.” Adrienne growled.

“Where’s the loony?” The professor asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Adrienne said.

“You know exactly what I mean. See, my friend here and I intend to have him. Your Lord Fallbridge.”

“What would Iolanthe want with Lord Fallbridge?” Adrienne asked.

“Not her that wants him.” The professor grinned. “Let’s say I’m here for her and for me. She wants the African. I want the loony what murdered my friend.”

“Lord Fallbridge isn’t a murderer.” Adrienne said.

“Maybe not. But, somethin’ inside him is.” The professor answered sharply. “So, just tell me where he is and where we can find the African priest and we’ll be on our way.”

“They’re not here.” Adrienne lied. “They’ve gone off somewhere. Ask my husband. He’s downstairs right now.”

“You’re lying to me.” The man balled his hand into a fist.

“I’m not.” Adrienne said defiantly. “Now, leave my house.”

“I won’t be leavin’ empty-handed.” The professor shook his head.

“Take me, then.” Adrienne said. “Iolanthe would welcome a chance to show me the cost of my insolence.”

“Temptin’.” The professor winked. “Only I think the little one will do nicer.”

“If you touch that child I will kill both of you.” Adrienne drew in a deep breath.

“I’d like to see you try.” The professor grunted.

“So would I!” Robert shouted as he and Mr. Punch entered the room.

“If it isn’t the good doctor and his loony.” The professor smiled.

The other man made a motion toward Robert and Mr. Punch.

“No!” The professor spat. “Zeke, let the men say their piece.”

“Adrienne, take Fuller and go to the cabins.” Robert said quickly.

Adrienne rushed to the bassinette and grabbed the baby. She hurried past Robert and whispered, “Thank you.”

“Remember me?” The professor asked when Adrienne had left the room.

“Yes.” Robert nodded. “You’re Arthur’s friend from the ship.”

“Oh, I’m friend to a lot of people.” The professor smiled.

Mr. Punch could keep silent no longer. “Who do you think you are threatenin’ me family? Nobody—nobody will harm me family what I love. You hear?”

“Settle yourself, loony.” The professor laughed. “It’ll all be so much easier if you do as I say.”

“I’ll stop yer laughin’!” Punch lunged Julian’s body forward. Robert grabbed Julian’s arm to stop him.

“No, Mr. Punch.” Robert yelled.

“So, he calls himself Mr. Punch?” The professor grinned. “Funny, isn’t it? Me bein’ a professor and all. Maybe I can make the puppet talk.”

“Ain’t a puppet!” Punch screamed. “Not no more. I’m a man, I am.”

“You ain’t a man.” The professor chuckled.

“And, you ain’t no professor!” Punch shouted.

“Where’s the African?” Zeke asked.

“Quiet, Zeke!” The professor said. “I’m handlin’ this.”

“Let me kill ‘em, Chum” Mr. Punch pleaded. “Please.”

“No!” Robert said firmly.

“They’re just gonna make us suffer. Ain’t no good sufferin’. Let me kill ‘em.” Punch continued.

“No,” Robert repeated. “I’d rather do it myself.”



Did you miss Chapters 1-56? If so, you can read them here.

Goal for the Day: Make Your Home Your Castle

Our homes should be a retreat from the craziness of the world. We take great care in making them comfortable and attractive. Filling our homes with things that please us is a natural part of life. We want to be at ease in our homes. That’s all the more reason to make sure our homes are safe.


Today, take a few moments to make sure that your home is as safe as it can be. Have you recently changed the batteries in your smoke detectors? Is everything in working order? Have you taken steps to ensure that your home is protected against intruders? Every few weeks, do a brief check of your home’s systems to make sure that your home is, truly, your castle—a haven to protect you and keep you comfortable.

Object of the Day: An Antique French Mantle Clock

Gleaming black slate comprises the case of this unusually large mantle clock. Constructed in a “temple form,” the clock features three domes topped by bronze finials. The two side domes are supported by metal columns which have been painted a dark green—their capitals and bases, ormolu. An ornate ormolu mount adorns the central portion of the case—flanked by two bronze pilasters. Beneath the rows of columns, an ormolu frieze depicting birds is set into the slate.

This clock weighs more than I do. Getting it on the mantle was a two person job, but it was worth it. The movement and the style of the clock clearly speak of French handiwork, most likely of the mid-Nineteenth Century.

I’m fortunate that my father has a way with antique clocks and can resurrect even the most lost causes from the dead. Consequently, this clock is in perfect running order—happily chiming on the hour and half hour. At just over two feet wide and twenty inches in height, this clock is monumental, to say the least. I’m just glad the mantle in my dining room is sturdy.

Film of the Week: Portrait of Jennie, 1948

Since time began man has looked into the awesome reaches of infinity and asked the eternal question: What is time? What is life? What is space? What is death? Through a hundred civilizations, philosophers and scientists have come together with answers, but the bewilderment remains... Science tells us that nothing ever dies but only changes, that time itself does not pass but curves around us, and that the past and the future are together at our side for ever. Out of the shadows of knowledge, and out of a painting that hung on a museum wall, comes our story, the truth of which lies not on our screen but in your hearts.

--Introduction to Portrait of Jennie

Eben Adams is down on his luck. Though a talented painter, he can’t seem to sell anything. Perhaps it’s because everything he paints—while technically superior—is lacking passion, devoid of spirit and inspiration. At least that’s what Miss Spinney at the art gallery thinks. For some reason, she’s taken a liking to Eben. Perhaps it’s because he was the first person to compliment her in many years. Or, perhaps it was simply because she knew he was different.

One cold day, Eben wandered Central Park—frigid lawns laid out before him as if painted on a canvas. Over the horizon comes a girl—a strange little girl, different, enchanting. She introduced herself as Jennie Appleton. She’s gone as quickly as she came. The memory of the girl clings to Eben, and, so, he draws her. Eben always keeps an eye open for Jennie. When he does see her, she always seems to have changed, to have grown—as if overnight. She tells Eben that her parents were killed during their high wire act. But, when Eben researches this fact, he finds that the accident happened decades earlier—not just that day as Jennie had described.

Who or what was Jennie? Eben became consumed by her. He decided to paint her portrait. Again, she seemed to have grown-up in just a few days. She was a woman. Eben knew he had fallen in love with her. Yet, could they be together? And, why was Jennie so upset by his paintings of Land’s End Lighthouse?

This is the premise of the 1948 David O. Selznick picture, Portrait of Jennie. When this film--based on the novella by Robert Nathan--was initially purchased, there was talk of shooting it over a period of years with Shirley Temple as Jennie. Shooting in this manner would allow “Jennie” to age naturally. Selznick wasn’t wild about the idea. He was, however, wild about his wife, Jennifer Jones, and quite eager to further her career. Jones was cast as Jennie and a variety of theater tricks and camera angles were employed to create the illusion of Jennie’s aging. For Eben, Selznick cast the brilliant Joseph Cotton. An equally inspired bit of casting was Ethel Barrymore as Miss Spinney—Eben’s friend and supporter.

Production was overripe with problems, and, typical of his nature Selznick had his hand in all of them. He was not pleased with the film—finding it slow and vague. Fantasy is a difficult genre, Selznick found. And, so, he rewrote the script. In fact, the script was rewritten five times.

Director William Dieterle gives us some truly stunning visuals—arranging compositions as if they were paintings straight from Eben’s studio. A filter was used to give introductory shots the look of canvas, and Dieterle used mists and fogs to great advantage. While the film was predominately shot in black and white, the final shots are in full color and the scenes leading up to the dramatic ending were filmed on a special film stock which colors everything an ominous sea-green.

Set against Dimitri Tiomkin’s appropriately haunting score, Portrait of Jennie is a stirringly beautiful and fascinating film. It is doubtlessly Jennifer Jones’ finest performance, and Joseph Cotton is at his best. While Selznick didn’t enjoy making this film, the result was one of his top three masterpieces.

Humanitarian of the Week: J.R. Martinez

J.R. Martinez
ABC Daytime

In 2008, a young actor came to national attention for his role as U.S. Army veteran, Brot Monroe, on the ABC Daytime Drama All My Children. What, you may ask, is so special about that? Actors often get their start on popular daytime shows. J.R. Martinez is different.

Born in Shreveport, Louisiana in 1983, Martinez was a bright athletic boy who dreamed of a career as a professional football player. An injury in his senior year put that dream to rest. However, Martinez didn’t give up. In 2002, he enlisted in the U.S. Army—eager to serve his country. In 2003, Martinez was deployed to Iraq. There, the Humvee that he was driving struck a landmine—engulfing the vehicle in flames. J.R. Martinez suffered burns to over forty percent of his body. The next thirty-four months were spent in recovery in San Antonio where he received thirty-two surgeries to repair the damage caused by the fire. Even today, Martinez undergoes occasional surgical procedures to restore not only his appearance, but his quality of life.

In 2004, J.R. Martinez was named National Spokesperson for the Coalition to Salute America’s Heroes. Martinez works with the coalition to raise awareness for fundraising efforts that will help support and rehabilitate soldiers whose lives have been disrupted and altered by injury.

Through his work with the CSAH, Martinez came to the attention of casting directors at ABC who were looking for an actor to play a wounded Iraq veteran. While he had no acting experience, Martinez’s upbeat attitude and obvious determination landed him the part. The character he plays, Brot, is a positive representation of a veteran of combat, showing that life can continue no matter what the odds.

Though no one would want to endure what J.R. Martinez has experienced, he doesn’t regret what happened. In fact, he sees it as a blessing, realizing that our humanity is defined by more than our appearance. His outlook, his good works, his courage and his gentle soul make J.R. Martinez this week’s “Humanitarian of the Week.”

Reminder: The "STBE" Challenge

Many thanks to those of you who have already sent me photos of the lovely things you’ve found in your own hometown.  Whether you’re in Sedalia or Sienna, Pittsburg or Paris, there’s something to be found that would interest all of us here at “Stalking the Belle Époque.”  I look forward to seeing your pictures.  Starting next week, I'll be sharing these great pictures with everyone here at "Stalking The Belle Époque."  It's not too late to email your images!  We're one step closer to creating our own "beautiful era."

The Belle Époque Today: The Art of John Wonnacott, RP

The Royal Family: A Centernary Portrait
John Wonnacott
The British National Portrait Gallery

“Formalist,” “expressive,” and “dramatic” are just three of the words used to describe the monumental works of John Wonnacott. While his first great love is landscape painting—particularly the mudflats of the Thames estuary—the artist said, quite plainly and without arrogance, in 2005, “I had to think of something I could do that was different, which was the grand portrait commissions. I'm the only one who can do those really." Wonnacott’s portrait of The Royal Family (painted in 2000) placed him in the world spotlight. Employing the same principals he would use in rendering a landscape, Wonnacott depicts four generations of Royals in Buckingham Palace’s White Drawing Room. The painting dances with light—just the way Wonnacott likes it.


His studio overlooking the Thames is walled with mirrors which create a constant light show in the space. Wonnacott admits that while most painters like a steady light, he much prefers the drama of shifting light sources. His love for that drama is evident in his works. His portraits make no attempt to find the soul of the sitter, but rather rely on the motion and color of nature to portray their personality. He says, "I paint appearances. I don't understand insight into people. I don't know what that means. My colleagues in portrait painting say that they can see beneath the skin. Well, I think they're jolly clever. I find it hard enough to see the skin." Clearly, seeing the skin is enough for Wonnacott. His works appear to wriggle with their own life.

Norwich Cathedral
John Wonnacott

Capable of a wide range of styles, his landscapes are sometimes as crisp as a photograph, and other times, shimmering with watery lines. The decision seems to be based on the location and time of day. Wonnacott is imbued with his own brand of cleverness, a vision and creativity that would be ponderous in the hands of other artists. In his hands, however, it is pure light.

For more information about John Wonnacott, visit his Web site.