View on Biblioguides
I found one of the most beautiful stories I’ve read in a long time via rabbit trails I’ve been following for several years. Long ago, a comment in a book group discussion led me to books by Frank W. Boreham. Boreham was a Baptist minister from England who, in 1895, as a newly ordained pastor, was called to a church in New Zealand. He went on to serve churches in Tasmania and mainland Australia. He published dozens of books, most of which were compilations of more than 3,000 newspaper editorials written during a span of over fifty years.
It strikes me that Boreham must have been one of the best-read men of his time. He seems to have kept up with all of the bestsellers published in the first half of the twentieth century. In his essays he mentions authors, titles, and even prominent book characters as though his readers would surely be familiar with his references. However, I have to look them all up.
Following Boreham’s references has led me to books that were leaded-glass windows into life in their era and others that made me wonder what could possibly have made them so popular in their time or any time. In Boreham’s book Rubble and Roseleaves, and Things of that Kind (1923), he says he has been reading The Butterfly Man. He then mentions the author, Marie Oemler. From the Wikipedia article on Marie Conway Oemler, I learned that the full title of the book is Slippy McGee, Sometimes Known as the Butterfly Man.
The story of Slippy McGee is told from the point of view of Father Armand Jean De Rance. He and his mother are the last of a once-prominent and wealthy family, now of “reduced means.” Father De Rance serves the small town of Appleboro, South Carolina, home to the usual complement of colorful characters needed for a lively story.
One day, some townsmen on their way to work discover what appears to be a dead body beside the railroad tracks. The body exhibits some sign of life, so they carry the man to the Parish House, which is often also the town’s hospital. The man’s right leg has been horribly mangled, and it has to be amputated at the knee.
At times during the three weeks they work to save the injured tramp’s life, both the priest and the doctor wonder at the use of saving the life of a so apparently worthless human. The priest also has some information about the man that would cause some consternation in the mind of the doctor as well as that of the sheriff, but he takes it upon himself to keep that information quiet for the time being.
“I had yet a deeper and a better reason for waiting [to divulge the truth], which I find it rather hard to set down in cold words. It is this: that as I grow older I have grown more and more convinced that not fortuitously, not by chance, never without real and inner purposes, are we allowed to come vitally into each other’s lives. I have walked up the steep sides of Calvary to find out that when another wayfarer passes for a space beside us, it is because one has something to give, the other something to receive.”
The tramp assumes the name of John Flint, and, as he has no choice but to stay in Appleboro until his leg heals and he can learn to get around, he comes to know all the neighbors of the Parish House. Father De Rance is an amateur naturalist, and he begins to teach Flint how to help with his moth and butterfly collection.
One day, the neighbor girl, Mary Virginia, brings Father De Rance a moth that is a dull gray color until it spreads its wings. Then “one saw the beautiful pansy-like underwings, and the glorious lower pair of scarlet velvet barred and bordered with black.” Mary Virginia says to Flint:
“Don’t you reckon . . . that plenty of folks are like him? They’re the sad color of the street-dust, of course, for things do borrow from their surroundings, don’t you know that? That’s called protective mimicry, the Padre says. So you only think of the dust-colored outside–and all the while the underwings are right there, waiting for you to find them! Isn't it wonderful and beautiful? And the best of all is, it’s true!”
The theme of redemption is blatant, but Oemler doesn’t make things too easy for anyone. Flint fights his demons and is often on the brink of chucking everything and disappearing into his former way of life. Father De Rance struggles with pride in having “saved” Flint. But he knows he has only saved Flint’s life, not his soul.
Years pass, and Appleboro learns to love and respect the Butterfly Man. Characters grow and change, and romances develop. Mary Virginia is caught in a plot that could force her to give up her childhood sweetheart and marry a man she doesn’t love. He has the power to ruin her family if she refuses. Father De Rance is at his wit’s end praying and trying to think of a way out for her when it becomes clear what John Flint has to give to those from whom he has received so much. The end is beautiful and heartbreaking and right.
This book was written for adults, but the story is told with the standards of decency expected by the public in 1917. John Flint comes to Appleboro a very rough character, and there are instances of d**n and h**l, and he occasionally refers to some of the servants n*****s.