a far country-第9节

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aunts；　the　visitors　entered　stealthily；　after　the　manner　of　burglars；
some　of　these　were　heavy…jowled；　and　all　had　an　air　of　mystery　that
raised　my　curiosity　and　excitement　to　the　highest　pitch。　　I　caught　hold
of　Ella　as　she　came　up　the　stairs；　but　she　tore　herself　free；　and
announced　to　my　father　that　Mr。　Josiah　Blackwood　and　other　gentlemen　had
asked　to　see　him。　　My　father　seemed　puzzled　as　he　went　downstairs。。。。　　A
long　interval　elapsed；　during　which　I　did　not　make　even　a　pretence　of
looking　at　my　arithmetic。　　At　times　the　low　hum　of　voices　rose　to　what
was　almost　an　uproar；　and　on　occasions　I　distinguished　a　marked　Irish
brogue。

〃I　wonder　what　they　want？〃　said　my　mother；　nervously。

At　last　we　heard　the　front　door　shut　behind　them；　and　my　father　came
upstairs；　his　usually　serene　face　wearing　a　disturbed　expression。

〃Who　in　the　world　was　it；　Mr。　Paret？〃　asked　my　mother。

My　father　sat　down　in　the　arm…chair。　　He　was　clearly　making　an　effort　for
self…control。

〃Blackwood　and　Ogilvy　and　Watling　and　some　city　politicians；〃　he
exclaimed。

〃Politicians！〃　she　repeated。　　〃What　did　they　want？　　That　is；　if　it's
anything　you　can　tell　me；〃　she　added　apologetically。

〃They　wished　me　to　be　the　Republican　candidate　for　the　mayor　of　this
city。〃

This　tremendous　news　took　me　off　my　feet。　　My　father　mayor！

〃Of　course　you　didn't　consider　it；　Mr。　Paret；〃　my　mother　was　saying。

〃Consider　it！〃　he　echoed　reprovingly。　　〃I　can't　imagine　what　Ogilvy　and
Watling　and　Josiah　Blackwood　were　thinking　of！　　They　are　out　of　their
heads。　　I　as　much　as　told　them　so。〃

This　was　more　than　I　could　bear；　for　I　had　already　pictured　myself
telling　the　news　to　envious　schoolmates。

〃Oh；　father；　why　didn't　you　take　it？〃　I　cried。

By　this　time；　when　he　turned　to　me；　he　had　regained　his　usual　expression。

〃You　don't　know　what　you're　talking　about；　Hugh；〃　he　said。　　〃Accept　a
political　office！　　That　sort　of　thing　is　left　to　politicians。〃

The　tone　in　which　he　spoke　warned　me　that　a　continuation　of　the
conversation　would　be　unwise；　and　my　mother　also　understood　that　the
discussion　was　closed。　　He　went　back　to　his　desk；　and　began　writing　again
as　though　nothing　had　happened。

As　for　me；　I　was　left　in　a　palpitating　state　of　excitement　which　my
father's　self…control　or　sang…froid　only　served　to　irritate　and　enhance；
and　my　head　was　fairly　spinning　as；　covertly；　I　watched　his　pen　steadily
covering　the　paper。

How　could　hehow　could　any　man　of　flesh　and　blood　sit　down　calmly　after
having　been　offered　the　highest　honour　in　the　gift　of　his　community！　　And
he　had　spurned　it　as　if　Mr。　Blackwood　and　the　others　had　gratuitously
insulted　him！　　And　how　was　it；　if　my　father　so　revered　the　Republican
Party　that　he　would　not　suffer　it　to　be　mentioned　slightingly　in　his
presence；　that　he　had　refused　contemptuously　to　be　its　mayor？。。。

The　next　day　at　school；　however；　I　managed　to　let　it　be　known　that　the
offer　had　been　made　and　declined。　　After　all；　this　seemed　to　make　my
father　a　bigger　man　than　if　he　had　accepted　it。　　Naturally　I　was　asked
why　he　had　declined　it。

〃He　wouldn't　take　it；〃　I　replied　scornfully。　　〃Office…holding　should　be
left　to　politicians。〃

Ralph　Hambleton；　with　his　precocious　and　cynical　knowledge　of　the　world；
minimized　my　triumph　by　declaring　that　he　would　rather　be　his
grandfather；　Nathaniel　Durrett；　than　the　mayor　of　the　biggest　city　in　the
country。　　Politicians；　he　said；　were　bloodsuckers　and　thieves；　and　the
only　reason　for　holding　office　was　that　it　enabled　one　to　steal　the
taxpayers'　money。。。。

As　I　have　intimated；　my　vision　of　a　future　literary　career　waxed　and
waned；　but　a　belief　that　I　was　going　to　be　Somebody　rarely　deserted　me。
If　not　a　literary　lion；　what　was　that　Somebody　to　be？　　Such　an
environment　as　mine　was　woefully　lacking　in　heroic　figures　to　satisfy　the
romantic　soul。　　In　view　of　the　experience　I　have　just　related；　it　is　not
surprising　that　the　notion　of　becoming　a　statesman　did　not　appeal　to　me；
nor　is　it　to　be　wondered　at；　despite　the　somewhat　exaggerated　respect　and
awe　in　which　Ralph's　grandfather　was　held　by　my　father　and　other
influential　persons；　that　I　failed　to　be　stirred　by　the　elements　of
greatness　in　the　grim　personality　of　our　first　citizen；　the　iron…master。
For　he　possessed　such　elements。　　He　lived　alone　in　Ingrain　Street　in　an
uncompromising　mansion　I　always　associated　with　the　Sabbath；　not　only
because　I　used　to　be　taken　there　on　decorous　Sunday　visits　by　my　father；
but　because　it　was　the　very　quintessence　of　Presbyterianism。　　The　moment
I　entered　its　〃portals〃as　Mr。　Hawthorne　appropriately　would　have　called
themmy　spirit　was　overwhelmed　and　suffocated　by　its　formality　and
orderliness。　　Within　its　stern　walls　Nathaniel　Durrett　had　made　a　model
universe　of　his　own；　such　as　the　Deity　of　the　Westminster　Confession　had
no　doubt　meant　his　greater　one　to　be　if　man　had　not　rebelled　and　foiled
him。。。。　　It　was　a　world　from　which　I　was　determined　to　escape　at　any
cost。

My　father　and　I　were　always　ushered　into　the　gloomy　library；　with　its
high　ceiling；　with　its　long　windows　that　reached　almost　to　the　rococo
cornice；　with　its　cold　marble　mantelpiece　that　reminded　me　of　a
tombstone；　with　its　interminable　book　shelves　filled　with　yellow
bindings。　　On　the　centre　table；　in　addition　to　a　ponderous　Bible；　was　one
of　those　old…fashioned　carafes　of　red　glass　tipped　with　blue　surmounted
by　a　tumbler　of　blue　tipped　with　red。　　Behind　this　table　Mr。　Durrett　sat
reading　a　volume　of　sermons；　a　really　handsome　old　man　in　his　black　tie
and　pleated　shirt；　tall　and　spare；　straight　as　a　ramrod；　with　a　finely
moulded　head　and　straight　nose　and　sinewy　hands　the　colour　of　mulberry
stain。　　He　called　my　father　by　his　first　name；　an　immense　compliment；
considering　how　few　dared　to　do　so。

〃Well；　Matthew；〃　the　old　man　would　remark；　after　they　had　discussed　Dr。
Pound's　latest　flight　on　the　nature　of　the　Trinity　or　the　depravity　of
man；　or　horticulture；　or　the　Republican　Party；　〃do　you　have　any　better
news　of　Hugh　at　school？〃

〃I　regret　to　say；　Mr。　Durrett；〃　my　father　would　reply；　〃that　he　does　not
yet　seem　to　be　aroused　to　a　sense　of　his　opportunities。〃

Whereupon　Mr。　Durrett　would　gimble　me　with　a　blue　eye　that　lurked　beneath
grizzled　brows；　quite　as　painful　a　proceeding　as　if　he　used　an　iron　tool。
I　almost　pity　myself　when　I　think　of　what　a　forlorn　stranger　I　was　in
their　company。　　They　two；　indeed；　were　of　one　kind；　and　I　of　another　sort
who　could　never　understand　them；nor　they　me。　　To　what　depths　of　despair
they　reduced　me　they　never　knew；　and　yet　they　were　doing　it　all　for　my
good！　　They　only　managed　to　convince　me　that　my　love　of　folly　was
ineradicable；　and　that　I　was　on　my　way　head　first　for　perdition。　　I
always　looked；　during　these　excruciating　and　personal　moments；　at　the
coloured　glass　bottle。

〃It　grieves　me　to　hear　it；　Hugh；〃　Mr。　Durrett　invariably　declared。
〃You'll　never　come　to　any　good　without　study。　　Now　when　I　was　your
age。。。〃

I　knew　his　history　by　heart；　a　common　one　in　this　country；　although　he
made　an　honourable　name　instead　of　a　dishonourable　one。　　And　when　I
contrast　him　with　those　of　his　successors　whom　I　was　to　know　later。。。！
But　I　shall　not　anticipate。　　American　genius　had　not　then　evolved　the
false　entry　method　of　overcapitalization。　　A　thrilling　history；　Mr。
Durrett's；　could　I　but　have　entered　into　it。　　I　did　not　reflect　then　that
this　stern　old　man　must　have　throbbed　once；　nay；　fire　and　energy　still
remained　in　his　bowels；　else　he　could　not　have　continued　to　dominate　a
city。　　Nor　did　it　occur　to　me　that　the　great　steel…works　that　lighted　the
southern　sky　were　the　result　of　a　passion；　of　dreams　similar　to　those
possessing　me；　but　which　I　could　not　express。　　He　had　founded　a　family
whose　position　was　virtually　hereditary；　gained　riches　which　for　those
days　were　great；　compelled　men　to　speak　his　name　with　a　certain　awe。　　But
of　what　use　were　such　riches　as　his　when　his　religion　and　morality
compelled　him　to　banish　from　him　all　the　joys　in　the　power　of　riches　to
bring？

No；　I　didn't　want　to　be　an　iron…master。　　But　it　may　have　been　about　this
time　that　I　began　to　be　impressed　with　the　power　of　wealth；　the　adulation
and　reverence　it　commanded；　the　importance　in　which　it　clothed　all　who
shared　in　it。。。。

The　private　school　I　attended　in　the　company　of　other　boys　with　whom　I
was　brought　up　was　called　Densmore　Academy；　a　large；　square　building　of　a
then　hideous　modernity；　built　of　smooth；　orange…red　bricks　with　threads
of　black　mortar　between　them。　　One　reads　of　happy　school　days；　yet　I　fail
to　recall　any　really　happy　hours　spent　there；　even　in　the　yard；　which　was
covered　with　black　cinders　that　cut　you　when　you　fell。　　I　think　of　it　as
a　penitentiary；　and　the　memory　of　the　barred　lower　windows　gives
substance　to　this　impression。

I　suppose　I　learned　something　during　the　seven　years　of　my　incarceration。
All　of　value；　had　its　teachers　known　anything　of　youthful　psychology；　of
natural　bent；　could　have　been　put　into　me　in　three。　　At　least　four
criminally　wasted　years；　to　say　nothing　of　the　benumbing　and　desiccating
effect　of　that　old　system　of　education！　　Chalk　and　chalk…dust！　　The
Mediterran