a far country-第8节

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grandly。　　〃I　could　tell　you　much　worse　things　than　that。〃

This　he　proceeded　to　do。　　Fascinated；　I　listened　with　a　sickening
sensation。　　It　was　a　mild　afternoon　in　spring；　and　we　stood　in　the　deep
limestone　gutter　in　front　of　the　parsonage；　a　little　Gothic　wooden　house
set　in　a　gloomy　yard。

〃I　thought；〃　said　I；　〃that　people　couldn't　love　any　more　after　they　were
married；　except　each　other。〃

Alec　looked　at　me　pityingly。

〃You'll　get　over　that　notion；〃　he　assured　me。

Thus　another　ingredient　entered　my　character。　　Denied　its　food　at　home；
good　food；　my　soul　eagerly　consumed　and　made　part　of　itself　the
fermenting　stuff　that　Alec　Pound　so　willing　distributed。　　And　it　was
fermenting　stuff。　　Let　us　see　what　it　did　to　me。　　Working　slowly　but
surely；　it　changed　for　me　the　dawning　mystery　of　sex　into　an　evil　instead
of　a　holy　one。　　The　knowledge　of　the　tragedy　of　Grace　Hollister　started
me　to　seeking　restlessly；　on　bookshelves　and　elsewhere；　for　a　secret　that
forever　eluded　me；　and　forever　led　me　on。　　The　word　fermenting　aptly
describes　the　process　begun；　suggesting　as　it　does　something　closed　up；
away　from　air　and　sunlight；　continually　working　in　secret；　engendering
forces　that　fascinated；　yet　inspired　me　with　fear。　　Undoubtedly　this
secretiveness　of　our　elders　was　due　to　the　pernicious　dualism　of　their
orthodox　Christianity；　in　which　love　was　carnal　and　therefore　evil；　and
the　flesh　not　the　gracious　soil　of　the　spirit；　but　something　to　be
deplored　and　condemned；　exorcised　and　transformed　by　the　miracle　of
grace。　　Now　love　had　become　a　terrible　power　（gripping　me）　whose
enchantment　drove　men　and　women　from　home　and　friends　and　kindred　to　the
uttermost　parts　of　the　earth。。。。

It　was　long　before　I　got　to　sleep　that　night　after　my　talk　with　Alec
Pound。　　I　alternated　between　the　horror　and　the　romance　of　the　story　I
had　heard；　supplying　for　myself　the　details　he　had　omitted：　I　beheld　the
signals　from　the　windows；　the　clandestine　meetings；　the　sudden　and
desperate　flight。　　And　to　think　that　all　this　could　have　happened　in　our
city　not　five　blocks　from　where　I　lay！

My　consternation　and　horror　were　concentrated　on　the　man；and　yet　I
recall　a　curious　bifurcation。　　Instead　of　experiencing　that　automatic
righteous　indignation　which　my　father　and　mother　had　felt；　which　had
animated　old　Mr。　Jules　Hollister　when　he　had　sternly　forbidden　his
daughter's　name　to　be　mentioned　in　his　presence；　which　had　made　these
people　outcasts；　there　welled　up　within　me　an　intense　sympathy　and　pity。
By　an　instinctive　process　somehow　linked　with　other　experiences；　I　seemed
to　be　able　to　enter　into　the　feelings　of　these　two　outcasts；　to
understand　the　fearful　yet　fascinating　nature　of　the　impulse　that　had　led
them　to　elude　the　vigilance　and　probity　of　a　world　with　which　I　myself
was　at　odds。　　I　pictured　them　in　a　remote　land；　shunned　by　mankind。　　Was
there　something　within　me　that　might　eventually　draw　me　to　do　likewise？
The　desire　in　me　to　which　my　father　had　referred；　which　would　brook　no
opposition；　which　twisted　and　squirmed　until　it　found　its　way　to　its
object？　　I　recalled　the　words　of　Jarvis；　the　carpenter；　that　if　I　ever
set　my　heart　on　another　man's　wife；　God　help　him。　　God　help　me！

A　wicked　man！　　I　had　never　beheld　the　handsome　and　fascinating　Mr。
Jennings；　but　I　visualised　him　now；　dark；　like　all　villains；　with　a　black
moustache　and　snapping　black　eyes。　　He　carried　a　cane。　　I　always
associated　canes　with　villains。　　Whereupon　I　arose；　groped　for　the
matches；　lighted　the　gas；　and　gazing　at　myself　in　the　mirror　was　a　little
reassured　to　find　nothing　sinister　in　my　countenance。。。。

Next　to　my　father's　faith　in　a　Moral　Governor　of　the　Universe　was　his
belief　in　the　Tariff　and　the　Republican　Party。　　And　this　belief；　among
others；　he　handed　on　to　me。　　On　the　cinder　playground　of　the　Academy　we
Republicans　used　to　wage；　during　campaigns；　pitched　battles　for　the
Tariff。　　It　did　not　take　a　great　deal　of　courage　to　be　a　Republican　in
our　city；　and　I　was　brought　up　to　believe　that　Democrats　were　irrational；
inferior；　andwith　certain　exceptions　like　the　Hollistersdirty　beings。
There　was　only　one　degree　lower；　and　that　was　to　be　a　mugwump。　　It　was　no
wonder　that　the　Hollisters　were　Democrats；　for　they　had　a　queer　streak　in
them；　owing；　no　doubt；　to　the　fact　that　old　Mr。　Jules　Hollister's　mother
had　been　a　Frenchwoman。　　He　looked　like　a　Frenchman；　by　the　way；　and
always　wore　a　skullcap。

I　remember　one　autumn　afternoon　having　a　violent　quarrel　with　Gene
Hollister　that　bade　fair　to　end　in　blows；　when　he　suddenly　demanded：

〃I'll　bet　you　anything　you　don't　know　why　you're　a　Republican。〃

〃It's　because　I'm　for　the　Tariff；〃　I　replied　triumphantly。

But　his　next　question　floored　me。　　What；　for　example；　was　the　Tariff？　　I
tried　to　bluster　it　out；　but　with　no　success。

〃Do　you　know？〃　I　cried　finally；　with　sudden　inspiration。

It　turned　out　that　he　did　not。

〃Aren't　we　darned　idiots；〃　he　asked；　〃to　get　fighting　over　something　we
don't　know　anything　about？〃

That　was　Gene's　French　blood；　of　course。　　But　his　question　rankled。　　And
how　was　I　to　know　that　he　would　have　got　as　little　satisfaction　if　he　had
hurled　it　into　the　marching　ranks　of　those　imposing　torch…light
processions　which　sometimes　passed　our　house　at　night；　with　drums　beating
and　fifes　screaming　and　torches　waving；thousands　of　citizens　who　were
for　the　Tariff　for　the　same　reason　as　I：　to　wit；　because　they　were
Republicans。

Yet　my　father　lived　and　died　in　the　firm　belief　that　the　United　States　of
America　was　a　democracy！

Resolved　not　to　be　caught　a　second　time　in　such　a　humiliating　position　by
a　Democrat；　I　asked　my　father　that　night　what　the　Tariff　was。　　But　I　was
too　young　to　understand　it；　he　said。　　I　was　to　take　his　word　for　it　that
the　country　would　go　to　the　dogs　if　the　Democrats　got　in　and　the　Tariff
were　taken　away。　　Here；　in　a　nutshell；　though　neither　he　nor　I　realized
it；　was　the　political　instruction　of　the　marching　hordes。　　Theirs　not　to
reason　why。　　I　was　too　young；　they　too　ignorant。　　Such　is　the　method　of
Authority！

The　steel…mills　of　Mr。　Durrett　and　Mr。　Hambleton；　he　continued；　would　be
forced　to　shut　down；　and　thousands　of　workmen　would　starve。　　This　was
just　a　sample　of　what　would　happen。　　Prosperity　would　cease；　he　declared。
That　word；　Prosperity；　made　a　deep　impression　on　me；　and　I　recall　the
certain　reverential　emphasis　he　laid　on　it。　　And　while　my　solicitude　for
the　workmen　was　not　so　great　as　his　and　Mr。　Durrett's；　I　was　concerned　as
to　what　would　happen　to　us　if　those　twin　gods；　the　Tariff　and　Prosperity；
should　take　their　departure　from　the　land。　　Knowing　my　love　for　the　good
things　of　the　table；　my　father　intimated；　with　a　rare　humour　I　failed　to
appreciate；　that　we　should　have　to　live　henceforth　in　spartan　simplicity。
After　that；　like　the　intelligent　workman；　I　was　firmer　than　ever　for　the
Tariff。

Such　was　the　idealistic　plane　on　whichand　from　a　good　manI　received
my　first　political　instruction！　　And　for　a　long　time　I　connected　the
dominance　of　the　Republican　Party　with　the　continuation　of　manna　and
quails；　in　other　words；　with　nothing　that　had　to　do　with　the　spiritual
welfare　of　any　citizen；　but　with　clothing　and　food　and　material　comforts。
My　education　was　progressing。。。。

Though　my　father　revered　Plato　and　Aristotle；　he　did　not；　apparently；
take　very　seriously　the　contention　that　that　government　alone　is　good
〃which　seeks　to　attain　the　permanent　interests　of　the　governed　by
evolving　the　character　of　its　citizens。〃　　To　put　the　matter　brutally；
politics；　despite　the　lofty　sentiments　on　the　transparencies　in
torchlight　processions；　had　only　to　do　with　the　belly；　not　the　soul。

Politics　and　government；　one　perceives；　had　nothing　to　do　with　religion；
nor　education　with　any　of　these。　　A　secularized　and　disjointed　world！
Our　leading　citizens；　learned　in　the　classics　though　some　of　them　might
be；　paid　no　heed　to　the　dictum　of　the　Greek　idealist；　who　was　more
practical　than　they　would　have　supposed。　　〃The　man　who　does　not　carry　his
city　within　his　heart　is　a　spiritual　starveling。〃

One　evening；　a　year　or　two　after　that　tariff　campaign；　I　was　pretending
to　study　my　lessons　under　the　student　lamp　in　the　sitting…room　while　my
mother　sewed　and　my　father　wrote　at　his　desk；　when　there　was　a　ring　at
the　door…bell。　　I　welcomed　any　interruption；　even　though　the　visitor
proved　to　be　only　the　druggist's　boy；　and　there　was　always　the
possibility　of　a　telegram　announcing；　for　instance；　the　death　of　a
relative。　　Such　had　once　been　the　case　when　my　Uncle　Avery　Paret　had　died
in　New　York；　and　I　was　taken　out　of　school　for　a　blissful　four　days　for
the　funeral。

I　went　tiptoeing　into　the　hall　and　peeped　over　the　banisters　while　Ella
opened　the　door。　　I　heard　a　voice　which　I　recognized　as　that　of　Perry
Blackwood's　father　asking　for　Mr。　Paret；　and　then　to　my　astonishment；　I
saw　filing　after　him　into　the　parlour　some　ten　or　twelve　persons。　　With
the　exception　of　Mr。　Ogilvy；　who　belonged　to　one　of　our　old　families；　and
Mr。　Watling；　a　lawyer　who　had　married　the　youngest　of　Gene　Hollister's
aunts；　the　visitors　entered　stealthily；　after　the　manner　of　burglars；
some　of