The Holy Cross and Other Tales

In Short

This volume gathers a diverse array of short stories and sketches by a writer celebrated in his time as a master of both satirical wit and sentimental pathos. Ranging from reimagined folklore and supernatural encounters to domestic observations, the pieces explore themes of greed, loss, and the redemptive power of simple affections. By mixing the legendary with the everyday, the collection creates a bridge between the mythic past and the rapidly changing American life of the late nineteenth century, remaining a testament to the author’s enduring fascination with the human heart.

The Story

The narrative landscape of this book is vast and varied, beginning with the legend of the Wandering Jew. A weary, ancient traveler seeks refuge with a kind priest, Father Miguel. After revealing his identity and his centuries-long penance, the man eventually finds peace in death. His burial site is marked by a miraculous cross of eternal snow on a mountainside, serving as a testament to divine mercy rather than judgment.

From these grand, mythic heights, the book shifts to the intimate and the tragic. In "The Pagan Seal-Wife," the reader follows Harold, a man whose life is transformed by the discovery of a fairy bride. While they enjoy years of prosperity and happiness, the secret of her origin—her discarded seal-skin—remains a silent, looming presence. The story highlights the tension between domestic bliss and the untamable nature of the world outside human control.

Other tales capture the stark reality of loss. We see the desolation of war through the eyes of Félice, a mother horse who returns to a ruined farm-house in search of her foal, only to find her sanctuary destroyed. This echoes the book’s broader interest in the "little folk"—the children and the vulnerable—whose lives are often caught in the machinery of adult concerns. In the story of "Master Sweetheart," a young, ailing boy speaks of an afterlife in the "land of Ever-Plaisance," bringing comfort to those around him before he inevitably fades away.

The collection also turns its gaze to the absurdities of adult life. One piece details the comical obsession of a book collector whose marriage suffers under the weight of his expensive, dusty acquisitions. Another explores the bizarre, ill-fated passion of a woman for a bassoon—a metaphor for the hollow, unresponsive nature of misplaced devotion. In "Old Growly," a miserly father attempts to teach his young, frail son the virtues of finance, oblivious to the fact that his cold lessons are entirely ill-suited to the boy’s gentle, suffering spirit.

Ultimately, the book returns to the domestic and the small. A discarded baby shoe, resting on a mantelpiece, recounts its life under a nursery crib, witnessing the secret nightly dances of fairies and the eventual, devastating silence that follows a child’s death. Through these shifting lenses, the work concludes that while sorrow is an inevitable companion to human experience, there is a quiet, persistent beauty in the way memory and love linger long after the laughter or the song has ceased.

How It Unfolds

The ancient burden An immortal wanderer, weary of his eternal life, finds shelter with a compassionate priest. He recounts his centuries of suffering, eventually finding rest in a grave marked by a permanent, miraculous sign of grace.

The fairy's gift A grieving man encounters a supernatural being who becomes his wife and brings him immense prosperity. Despite their happiness, the hidden token of her past keeps a shadow of uncertainty over their domestic life.

The innocence of childhood Through the eyes of a sickly boy and the perspective of a discarded toy, the narrative explores the threshold between this world and the next. These stories emphasize the wisdom found in the very young and the tragedy of their departure.

The folly of the adult world Satirical sketches highlight the misplaced priorities of men, from the collector who loves books more than his family to the miser who attempts to mold his son into a financial machine. These accounts often end in disappointment or revelation, exposing the hollowness of material pursuits.

The echoes of home The collection closes by anchoring itself in the small, tactile objects of life. Whether it is a child’s shoe or the memory of a holiday sled, the focus remains on the artifacts of affection that endure.

The People

The characters in these tales are often defined by the specific desires that drive them. Father Miguel is the archetype of the compassionate observer; he wants to offer comfort to the broken, and through his interaction with the Wandering Jew, he transitions from a man of simple faith to a witness of divine mystery. Harold represents the seeker of beauty and domestic stability; he wants to build a perfect life with his fairy wife, Persis, but he stands in the way of his own full happiness by keeping a secret that denies his wife her true nature.

Old Growly is perhaps the most rigid figure; he desires to secure his son’s future through the accumulation of wealth, yet his inability to recognize the boy’s physical and emotional fragility renders his efforts both futile and cruel. Conversely, the little master in the shoe’s story represents the fleeting, fragile nature of life; his desire is merely to play and be loved, and his death leaves behind only the grieving "sweet lady" and the mute, longing objects of his short life. Finally, the bibliomaniac father is a man torn between his love for his "little 16mo" children and his devotion to his library; he begins as a selfish collector but is eventually humbled by the destructive—and vital—presence of his own sons.

In Its Own Voice

The author’s prose frequently shifts from the archaic to the deeply tender, grounding his supernatural tales in a specific, lyrical atmosphere.

"There is no balm can avail me. I prithee let me go hence, ere, knowing what manner of man I am, thou hatest me and doest evil unto me." The Wandering Jew speaks these words of warning to the priest, revealing the weight of his immortal sorrow.

"Hush, little folk," cried the rose-tree. "Do not dance to-night,--the rose is dying." This brief command highlights the underlying melancholy that touches even the most joyful parts of the natural world.

"I speak now of a holy thing, therefore I speak truth when I say that while little children lie sleeping in their beds at night it pleaseth God to send His exceeding fair angels with singing and caresses to bear messages of His love unto those little sleeping children." The narrator asserts his belief in the spiritual protection of the young, bridging the gap between the earthly and the divine.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book investigates the tension between the transient nature of human life and the permanence of spiritual or emotional legacies. It asks whether material success—represented by the collector’s books or the miser’s wealth—can ever fill the void left by personal loss. The stories suggest that the true value of life lies not in the accumulation of things, but in the capacity for compassion, the preservation of innocence, and the quiet acceptance of mystery. By juxtaposing the harsh, cold realities of the world with the warmth of fairy-tale logic, the author argues that faith and imagination are the only tools capable of reconciling the suffering of the present with the hope for peace.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the nineteenth-century tradition of the "literary fairy tale"—think Hans Christian Andersen or Oscar Wilde—will find much to admire here. The book is not a fast-paced novel, but rather a collection of moods and atmospheres. It is best enjoyed in small doses, as the prose is ornate and intentionally archaic, reflecting the author’s scholarly love for older English styles.

Those interested in the history of sentimentality will find the book deeply rewarding; it does not shy away from the Victorian obsession with the "dying child" trope or the moralizing tone common to the era. However, modern readers should be prepared for these period attitudes. The author’s view of "heathen" cultures or his insistence on traditional gender roles can feel jarring to a contemporary sensibility.

Ultimately, the book lingers because it touches on the universal experience of longing—for home, for the past, and for a world where miracles are still possible. It is a work for the quiet hours, written by a man who clearly understood the profound weight of a small, forgotten thing. If you are willing to look past the occasional period affectation, you will find a voice that is both remarkably playful and genuinely, achingly sad.