Heshowednoresentmentatmypatronage,butaself-sufficiencythatmademysympathyseemsuperfluous,givingtheimpressionofaninnerharmonyandcontentthatsurprisedme.
\"Ineedn\'taskhowyou\'regettingalong,\"hesaid
AttheendofthefreshmanyearweabandonedMrs.Bolton\'sformoredesirablequarters.
Ishallnotgodeeplyintomycollegecareer,recallingonlysuchincidentsas,seenintheretrospect,appeartohavehadsignificance.I
havementionedmyknackforsong-writing;butitwasnot,Ithink,untilmyjunioryeartherewasstartlinglyrenewedinmemyyouthfuldesiretowrite,tocreatesomethingworthwhile,thathadsolongbeendormant.
TheinspirationcamefromAlonzoCheyne,instructorinEnglish;aremarkableteacher,inspiteofthefinickymannerismswhichTomimitated.Andwhen,inreadingaloudcertainmagnificentpassages,heforgothisaffectations,hemanagedtoarousecravingsIthoughttohavedesertedmeforever.Wasitpossible,afterall,thatIhadbeenrightandmyfatherwrong?thatImightyetbegreatinliterature?
AmerehintfromAlonzoCheynewasmorehighlyprizedbythegrindsthanfulsomepraisefromanotherteacher.Andtohiscredititshouldberecordedthatthegrindsweretheonlyoneshetreatedwithanyseriousness;hetookpainstoanswertheirquestions;buttowardstherestofus,theChosen,heshowedathinlyveiledcontempt.Nonesoquickashetodetectasimulatedinterest,orawilyefforttomakehimridiculous;andfewtriedthisasecondtime,forhehadarapier-likegiftofreparteethattransfixedtheoffenderlikeamothonapin.Hehadawayofeyeingmeattimes,hisglassesinhishand,aqueersmileonhislips,asmuchastoimplythattherewasoneatleastamongthelostwhowasmadeforbetterthings.Notthatmyworkwaspoor,butI
knewthatitmighthavebeenbetter.Outofhisclasses,however,beyondtheimmediate,disturbinginfluenceofhispersonalityIwouldrelapseintoindifference
Returningoneeveningtoourquarters,whichwerenowinthe\"Yard,\"
IfoundTomseatedwithablanksheetbeforehim,thrustinghishandthroughhishairandbitingtheendofhispenholdertoapulp.Inhismuttering,whichwasmixedwiththecurious,stinglessprofanityofwhichhewasmaster,IcaughtthenameofCheyne,andIknewthathewasfacingthecrisisofafortnightlytheme.Thesubjectassignedwasanarrativeofsomepersonalexperience,anditwastobehandedinonthemorrow.
Myownthemewasalready,written.
\"I\'vebeenholdingdownthischairforanhour,andIcan\'tseemtothinkofathing.\"Herosetoflinghimselfdownonthelounge.\"IwishIwasinCanada.\"
\"WhyCanada?\"
\"TroutfishingwithUncleJakeatthatclubofhiswherehetookmelastsummer.\"Tomgazeddreamilyattheceiling.\"WheneverIhavesomedarnedfoolishthemelikethistowriteIwanttogofishing,andIwanttogolikethedevil.I\'llgetUncleJaketotakeyou,too,nextsummer.\"
\"Iwishyouwould.\"
\"Say,that\'slivingallright,Hughie,upthereamongthetamaracksandbalsams!\"Andhebegan,forsomethinglikethethirtiethtime,torelatetheadventuresofthetrip.
Ashetalked,theideapresenteditselftomewithsuddenfascinationtousethisincidentasthesubjectofTom\'stheme;towriteitforhim,fromhispointofview,imitatingthedrollstylehewouldhavehadifhehadbeenabletowrite;for,whenhewasinterestedinanymatter,hisoralnarrativedidnotlackvividness.Ibegantoaskhimquestions:
whatwerethetreeslike,forinstance?HowdidtheFrench-Canadianguidestalk?Hehadthegiftofmimicry:aidedbyapartialknowledgeofFrenchIwrotedownafewsentencesastheysounded.Thecanoehadupsetandhehadcomeneardrowning.Imadehimdescribehissensations.
\"I\'llwriteyourthemeforyou,\"Iexclaimed,whenhehadfinished.
\"Gee,notaboutthat!\"
\"Whynot?It\'sapersonalexperience.\"
HisgratitudewaspatheticBythistimeIwassofullofthesubjectthatitfairlyclamouredforexpression,andasIwrotethehoursflew.
OnceinawhileIpausedtoaskhimaquestionashesatwithhischairtiltedbackandhisfeetonthetable,readingadetectivestory.I
sketchedinthescenewithboldstrokes;thedesolateboisbruleonthemountainside,thepolishedcrystalsurfaceofthepoolbrokenhereandtherewiththecirclesleftbyrisingfish;IpicturedArmand,theguide,hispipebetweenhisteeth,holdingthecanoeagainstthecurrent;andI
seemedtosmellthesharptangofthebalsams,toheartheroaroftherapidsbelow.Thencamethesuddenhookingofthebigtrout,habitantoathsfromArmand,bouleversement,wetness,darkness,confusion;ahalf-
strangledfeeling,abriefglimpseofgreenthingsandsunlight,andthenstrangulation,orwhatseemedlikeit;strangulation,thesenseofbeingpickedupandhurledbyaterrificforcewhither?ablindingwhiteness,inwhichitwasimpossibletobreathe,onesharp,almostunbearablepain,thenanother,thenoblivionFinally,awakening,tobeconfrontedbyamuchworriedUncleJake.
Bythistimethedetectivestoryhadfallentothefloor,andTomwashuddledupinhischair,asleep.Hearoseobedientlyandwrappedawettowelaroundhishead,andbegantowrite.Oncehepausedlongenoughtomutter:——
\"Yes,that\'saboutit,——that\'sthewayIfelt!\"andsettoworkagain,mechanically,——allthepraiseIgotforwhatIdeemedaliteraryachievementofthehighestorder!Atthreeo\'clock,a.m.,hefinished,pulledoffhisclothesautomaticallyandtumbledintobed.Ihadnodesireforsleep.Mybrainwasracingmadly,likeanenginewithoutagovernor.Icouldwrite!Icouldwrite!Irepeatedthewordsoverandovertomyself.Allthecomplexitiesofmypresentlifewereblottedout,andIbeheldonlythelong,sweetvistaofthecareerforwhichI
wasnowconvincedthatnaturehadintendedme.Myimmediatefortunesbecameunimportant,immaterial.NojuiceofthegrapeIhadevertastedmademehalfsodrunkWiththemorning,ofcourse,camethereaction,andIsufferedtheaftersensationsofanorgie,awakingtoaworldofnecessity,coldandgreyandslushy,andnecessityalonemademerisefrommybed.Myexperienceofthenightbeforemighthavetaughtmethathappinessliesinthetrickoftransformingnecessity,butitdidnot.Thevisionhadfaded,——temporarily,atleast;andsuchwasthedistractionofthesucceedingdaysthatthesubjectofthethemepassedfrommymind
OnemorningTomwaslaterthanusualingettinghome.Iwaswritingaletterwhenhecamein,anddidnotnoticehim,yetIwasvaguelyawareofhisstandingoverme.WhenatlastIlookedupIgatheredfromhisexpressionthatsomethingserioushadhappened,somournfulwashisface,andyetsoutterlyludicrous.
\"Say,Hugh,I\'minthedeuceofamess,\"heannounced.
\"What\'sthematter?\"Iinquired.
Hesankdownonthetablewithagroan.
\"It\'sAlonzo,\"hesaid.
ThenIrememberedthetheme.
\"What——what\'shedone?\"Idemanded.
\"HesaysImustbecomeawriter.Thinkofit,meawriter!HesaysI\'mayoungShakespeare,thatI\'vebeenlazyandhidmylightunderabushel!
HesaysheknowsnowwhatIcando,andifIdon\'tkeepupthequality,he\'llknowthereasonwhy,andwriteapersonallettertomyfather.Oh,hell!\"
Inspiteofhisevidentanguish,Iwasseizedwithaconvulsivelaughter.
Tomstoodstaringatmemoodily.
\"Youthinkit\'sfunny,——don\'tyou?Iguessitis,butwhat\'sgoingtobecomeofme?That\'swhatIwanttoknow.I\'vebeenintroublebefore,butneverinanylikethis.Andwhogotmeintoit?You!\"
Herewasgratitude!
\"You\'vegottogoonwriting\'em,now.\"Hisvoicebecamedesperatelypleading.\"Say,Hugh,oldman,youcantemper\'emdown——temper\'emdowngradually.Andbytheendoftheyear,let\'ssay,they\'llbeaboutnormalagain.\"
Heseemedactuallyshivering.
\"Theendoftheyear!\"Icried,thepredicamentstrikingmeforthefirsttimeinitsfulness.\"Say,you\'vegotacrust!\"
\"You\'lldoit,ifIhavetoholdagunoveryou,\"heannouncedgrimly.
Mingledwithmyanxiety,whichwasreal,wasanexultationthatwouldnotdown.Nevertheless,theideaofdevelopingTomintoaShakespeare,——Tom,whohadnottheslightestdesiretobeoneIwasappalling,besideshavinginitanelementofuselessself-sacrificefromwhichIrecoiled.
Ontheotherhand,ifAlonzoshoulddiscoverthatIhadwrittenhistheme,therewerepenaltiesIdidnotcaretodwelluponWithsuchacloudhangingovermeIpassedarestlessnight.
AsluckwouldhaveittheverynexteveninginthelevellightundertheelmsoftheSquareIbeheldsaunteringtowardsmeadapperfigurewhichI
recognizedasthatofMr.Cheynehimself.AsIsalutedhimhegavemeanamusedandmostdisconcertingglance;andwhenIwascongratulatingmyselfthathehadpassedmehestopped.
\"FineweatherforMarch,Paret,\"heobserved.
\"Yes,sir,\"Iagreedinastrangevoice.
\"Bytheway,\"heremarked,contemplatingthebarebranchesaboveourheads,\"thatwasanexcellentthemeyourroommatehandedin.Ihadnoideathathepossessedsuch——suchgenius.Didyou,byanychance,happentoreadit?\"
\"Yes,sir,——Ireadit.\"
\"Weren\'tyousurprised?\"inquiredMr.Cheyne.
\"Well,yes,sir——thatis——Imeantosayhetalksjustlikethat,sometimes——thatis,whenit\'sanythinghecaresabout.\"
\"Indeed!\"saidMr.Cheyne.\"That\'sinteresting,mostinteresting.Inallmyexperience,Idonotrememberacaseinwhichagifthasbeendevelopedsorapidly.Idon\'twanttogivetheimpression——ahthatthereisnoroomforimprovement,butthethingwasverywelldone,foranundergraduate.ImustconfessInevershouldhavesuspecteditinPeters,andit\'smostinterestingwhatyousayabouthisclevernessinconversation.\"Hetwirledtheheadofhisstick,apparentlylostinreflection.\"Imaybewrong,\"hewentonpresently,\"Ihaveanideaitisyou——\"Imustliterallyhavejumpedawayfromhim.Hepausedamoment,withoutapparentlynoticingmypanic,\"thatitisyouwhohaveinfluencedPeters.\"
\"Sir?\"
\"Iamwrong,then.Oristhismerelycommendablemodestyonyourpart?\"
\"Oh,no,sir.\"
\"Thenmyhypothesisfallstotheground.Ihadgreatlyhoped,\"headdedmeaningly,\"thatyoumightbeabletothrowsomelightonthismystery.
Iwasdumb.
\"Paret,\"heasked,\"haveyoutimetocomeovertomyroomsforafewminutesthisevening?\"
\"Certainly,sir.\"
HegavemehisnumberinBrattleStreet
LikeonerunninginanightmareandmakingnoprogressImademywayhome,onlytolearnfromHallam,——wholivedonthesamefloor,——thatTomhadinconsideratelygonetoBostonfortheevening,withfourotherwearyspiritsinsearchofrelaxation!Avoidingourclubtable,ItookwhatlittlenourishmentIcouldatamodestrestaurant,andrestlesslypacedthemoonlitstreetsuntileighto\'clock,whenIfoundmyselfinfrontofoneofthoselow-gabledcolonialhouseswhich,onlesssoul-shakingoccasions,hadexercisedagreatcharmonmyimagination.MyhandhungforaninstantoverthebellImusthaverungitviolently,forthereappearedalmostimmediatelyanoldladyinalacecap,whogreetedmewithgentlecourtesy,andknockedatalittledoorwithglisteningpanels.ThelatchwasliftedbyMr.Cheynehimself.
\"Comein,Paret,\"hesaid,inatonethatwasunexpectedlyhospitable.
Ihaverarelyseenamoreinvitingroom.Awoodfireburnedbrightlyonthebrassandirons,flingingitsglareonthebig,whitebeamthatcrossedtheceiling,andreddeningthesquarepanesofthewindowsintheirpanelledrecesses.Betweenthesewererowsofbooks,——attractivebooksinchasedbindings,redandblue;booksthatappealedtobetakendownandread.Therewasatablecoveredwithreviewsandmagazinesinneatpiles,andalampsoshadedastothrowitslightonlyonthewhiteblotterofthepad.Twoeasychairs,coveredwithfloweredchintz,wererangedbeforethefire,inoneofwhichIsank,muchbewildered,uponbeingurgedtodoso.
Iutterlyfailedtorecognize\"Alonzo\"inthisnewatmosphere.Andhehad,moreover,droppedthesubtlysarcasticmannerIwaswonttoassociatewithhim.
\"Jollyoldhouse,isn\'tit?\"heobserved,asthoughIhadcasuallydroppedinonhimforachat;andhestood,withhishandsbehindhimstretchedtotheblaze,lookingdownatme.\"ItwasbuiltbyacertainColonelDraper,whofoughtatLouisburg,andafterwardsfledtoEnglandatthetimeoftheRevolution.Hecouldn\'tstandthepatriots,I\'mnotsosurethatIblamehim,either.Areyouinterestedincolonialthings,Mr.Paret?\"
IsaidIwas.IfthequestionhadconcernedAztecrelicsmyanswerwouldundoubtedlyhavebeenthesame.AndIwatchedhim,dazedly,whilehetookdownasilverporringerfromtheshallowmantelshelf.
\"It\'snotaRevere,\"hesaid,inaslightlyapologetictoneasthoughtoforestallacomment,\"butit\'srathergood,Ithink.IpickeditupatasaleinDorchester.ButIhaveneverbeenabletoidentifythecoatofarms.\"
Heshowedmealadle,withthenamesof\"PatienceandWilliamSimpson\"
engravedquaintlythereon,andtookdownotherarticlesinwhichI
managedtofeignaninterest.Finallyheseatedhimselfinthechairopposite,crossedhisfeet,puttingthetipsofhisfingerstogetherandgazingintothefire.
\"Soyouthoughtyoucouldfoolme,\"hesaid,atlength.
Ibecameawareofthetickingofagreatclockinthecorner.Mymouthwasdry.
\"Iamgoingtoforgiveyou,\"hewenton,moregravely,\"forseveralreasons.Idon\'tflatter,asyouknow.It\'sbecauseyoucarriedoutthethingsoperfectlythatIamledtothinkyouhaveagiftthatmaybecultivated,Paret.YouwrotethatthemeinthewayPeterswouldhavewrittenitifhehadnotbeen——whatshallIsay?——scripturallyinarticulate.AndItrustitmaydoyousomegoodifIsayitwassomethingofaliteraryachievement,ifnotamoralone.\"
\"Thankyou,sir,\"Ifaltered.
\"Haveyouever,\"heinquired,lapsingalittleintohislecture-roommanner,\"seriouslythoughtofliteratureasacareer?Haveyoueverthoughtofanycareerseriously?\"
\"Ioncewishedtobeawriter,sir,\"Irepliedtremulously,butrefrainedfromtellinghimofmyfather\'sopinionoftheprofession.Ambition——apurerambitionthanIhadknownforyears——leapedwithinmeathiswords.
He,AlonzoCheyne,haddetectedinmethePrometheanfire!
Isatthereuntilteno\'clocktalkingtotherealMr.Cheyne,ahumanMr.
Cheyneunknowninthelecture-room.NorhadIsuspectedoneinwhomcynicismanddistrustofundergraduates(ofmysort)seemedsoingrained,ofsuchidealism.Hedidnotpouritoutinpreaching;delicately,unobtrusivelyandonthewholeratherhumorouslyhemanagedtopresenttomeinamostdisillusionizinglightthatconceptionoftheuniversityheldbymeandmyintimateassociates.AfterIhadlefthimIwalkedthequietstreetstobeholdasthroughdissolvingmistsanotherHarvard,andtheretrembledinmysoullikethebirth-struggleofaflamesomethingofthevisionlatertobeimmortalizedbySt.Gaudens,thespiritofHarvardrespondingtothespiritoftheRepublic——tothecallofLincoln,whovoicedit.TheplaceofthatbronzeatthecornerofBostonCommonwasasyetempty,butIhavesincestoodbeforeittogazeinwonderatthelightshiningindarknessonmute,upliftedfaces,blackfaces!atHarvard\'ssonleadingthemonthatthelightmightliveandprevail.
I,too,longedforaCauseintowhichImightflingmyself,inwhichI
mightlosemyselfIhaltedonthesidewalktofindmyselfstaringfromtheoppositesideofthestreetatafamiliarhouse,myoldlandlady\'s,Mrs.Bolton\'s,andsummonedupbeforemewasthetired,smilingfaceofHermannKrebs.WasitbecausewhenhehadoncespokensocrudelyoftheUniversityIhadseenthereflectionofherspiritinhiseyes?Alightstillburnedintheextensionroof——Krebs\'slight;anothershonedimlythroughthegroundglassofthefrontdoor.Obeyingasuddenimpulse,Icrossedthestreet.
Mrs.Bolton,inthesky-bluewrapper,andlookingmoreforbiddingthanever,answeredthebell.Lifehadtaughthertobeindifferenttosurprises,anditwasIwhobecameabruptlyembarrassed.
\"Oh,it\'syou,Mr.Paret,\"shesaid,asthoughIhadbeenafrequentcaller.IhadneveroncedarkenedherthresholdsinceIhadleftherhouse.
\"Yes,\"Ianswered,andhesitated\"IsMr.Krebsin?\"
