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diff --git a/5964.txt b/5964.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..515dc98 --- /dev/null +++ b/5964.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19929 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Love's Pilgrimage, by Upton Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Love's Pilgrimage + +Author: Upton Sinclair + + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5964] +This file was first posted on October 1, 2002 +Last updated: May 3, 2013 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + + + +LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE + +A NOVEL + +By Upton Sinclair + +New York And London + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + + + + PART I + + Love's Entaglement + + BOOK I THE VICTIM + BOOK II THE SNARE + BOOK III THE VICTIM HESITATES + BOOK IV THE VICTIM APPROACHES + BOOK V THE BAIT IS SEIZED + BOOK VI THE CORDS ARE TIGHTENED + BOOK VII THE CAPTURE IS COMPLETED + + PART II + + Love's Captivity + + BOOK VIII THE CAPTIVE BOUND + BOOK IX THE CAPTIVE IN LEASH + BOOK X THE END OF THE TETHER + BOOK XI THE TORTURE-HOUSE + BOOK XII THE TREADMILL + BOOK XIII THE MASTERS OF THE SNARE + BOOK XIV THE PRICE OF RANSOM + BOOK XV THE CAPTIVE FAINTS + BOOK XVI THE BREAK FOR FREEDOM + + + + + + +LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE + +PART I + +Loves Entanglement + +BOOK I + +THE VICTIM + + + + + +It was in a little woodland glen, with a streamlet tumbling through it. +She sat with her back to a snowy birch-tree, gazing into the eddies of a +pool below; and he lay beside her, upon the soft, mossy ground, reading +out of a book of poems. Images of joy were passing before them; and +there came four lines with a picture-- + + "Hard by, a cottage-chimney smokes, + From betwixt two aged oaks, + Where Corydon and Thyrsis, met, + Are at their savory dinner set." + +"Ah!" said she. "I always loved that. Let us be Corydon and Thyrsis!" + +He smiled. "They were both of them men," he said. + +"Let us change it," she responded--"just between ourselves!" + +"Very well--Corydon!" said he. + +Then, after a moment's thought, she added, "But we didn't have the +cottage." + +"No," said he--"nor even the dinner!" + +Section 1. It was the Highway of Lost Men. They shivered, and drew their +shoulders together as they walked, for it was night, and a cold, sleety +rain was falling. The lights from saloons and pawn-shops fell upon their +faces--faces haggard and gaunt with misery, or bloated with disease and +sin. Some stared before them fixedly; some gazed about with furtive and +hungry eyes as they shuffled on. Here and there a policeman stood in +the shelter, swinging his club and watching them as they passed. +Music called to them from dives and dance-halls, and lighted signs and +flaring-colored pictures tempted them in the entrances of cheap museums +and theatres; they lingered before these, glad of even a moment's +shelter. Overhead the elevated trains pounded by; and from the +windows one could see men crowded about the stoves in the rooms of +lodging-houses, where the steam from their garments made a blur in the +air. + +Down this highway walked a lad, about fifteen years of age, pale +of face, and with delicate and sensitive features. His overcoat was +buttoned tightly about his neck, and his hands thrust into his pockets; +he gazed around him swiftly as he walked. He came to this place every +now and then, but he never grew used to what he saw. + +He eyed the men who passed him; and when he came to a saloon he would +push open the door and gaze about. Sometimes he would enter, and hurry +through, to peer into the compartments in the back; and then go out +again, giving a wide berth to the drinkers, and shrinking from their +glances. Once a girl appeared in a doorway, and smiled and nodded to +him; he started and hurried out, shuddering. Her wanton black eyes +haunted him, hinting unimaginable things. + +Then, on a corner, he stopped and spoke to a policeman. "Hello!" said +the man, and shook his head--"No, not this time." So the boy went on; +there were several miles of this Highway, and each block of it the same. + +At last, in a dingy bar-room, with saw-dust strewn upon the floor, and +the odor of stale beer and tobacco-smoke in the air--here suddenly the +boy sprang forward, with a cry: "Father!" And a man who sat with bowed +head in a corner gave a start, and lifted a white face and stared at +him. He rose unsteadily to his feet, and staggered to the other, and +fell upon his shoulder, sobbing, "My son! My son!" + +How many times had Thyrsis heard those words--in how many hours of +anguish! They sank into the deeps of him, waking echoes like the clang +of a bell: they voiced all the terror and grief of defeated life--"My +son! My son!" + +The man clung to him, weeping, and pouring out the flood of his shame. +"I have fallen again--I am lost--I am lost!" + +The occupants of the place were watching the scene with dull curiosity; +and the boy was trembling like a wild deer trapped. + +"Yes, father, yes! Let us go home." + +"Home--home, my son? Will you take me home? Oh, I couldn't bear to go!" + +"But you must come home." + +"Do you mean that you still love me, son?" + +"Yes, father, I still love you. I want to try to help you. Come with +me." + +Then the boy would gaze about and ask, "Where is your hat?" + +"Hat, my son? I don't know. I have lost it." The boy would see his torn +and mud-stained clothing, and the poor old pitiful face, with the eyes +blood-shot and swollen, and the skin, that had been rosy, and was now +a ghastly, ashen gray. He would choke back his feelings, and grip his +hands to keep himself together. + +"Come, father, take my hat, and let us go." + +"No, my son. I don't need any hat. Nothing can hurt me--I am lost! +Lost!" + +So they would go out, arm in arm; and while they made their progress up +the Highway, the man would pour out his remorse, and tell the story of +his weeks of horror. + +Then, after a mile or so, he would halt. + +"My son!" + +"What is it, father?" + +"I must stop here, son." + +"Why, father?" + +"I must have something to drink." + +"_No_, father!" + +"But, my boy, I can't go on! I can't walk! You don't know what I'm +suffering!" + +"No, father!" + +"I've got the money left--I'm not asking you. I'll come right with +you--on my word of honor I will!" + +And so they would fight it out--all the way back to the lodging-house +where they lived, and where the mother sat and wept. And here they would +put him to bed, and lock up his clothing to keep him in; and here, +with drugs and mineral-waters, and perhaps a doctor to help, they would +struggle with him, and tend him until he was on his feet again. Then, +with clothing newly-brushed and face newly-shaven he would go back to +the world of men; and the boy would go back to his dreams. + +Section 2. Such was the life of Thyrsis, from earliest childhood to +maturity. His father's was a heritage of gentle breeding and high +traditions--his forefathers were cavaliers, and had served the State. +And now it had come to this--to hall bedrooms in lodging-houses, and a +life-and-death grapple with destruction! And when Thyrsis came to study +the problem, he found that it was a struggle without hope; his father +was a man in a trap. + +He was what people called a "drummer". He was dependent for his living +upon the favor of certain merchants--men for the most part of low +ideals, who came to the city in search of their low pleasures. One met +them by waiting about in the lobbies of hotels, and in the bar-rooms +which they frequented; and always the first sign of fellowship with them +was to have a drink. And this was the field on which the battle had to +be fought! + +He would hold out for months--half a year, perhaps--drinking lemonade +and putting up with their raillery. And then he would begin with +ginger-ale; and then it would come to beer; and then to whiskey. He was +always devising new plans to control himself; always persuading himself +that he had solved the problem. He would not drink in the morning; he +would not drink until after dinner; he would not drink alone--and so +on without end. His whole life was drink, and all his thoughts were of +drink--the odor of it always in his nostrils, the image of it always +before his eyes. + +And the grimness of his fate lay here--that it was by his best qualities +that he was betrayed. If he had been hard and mercenary, like some +of those who preyed upon him, there might have been hope. But he was +generous and free-hearted, a slave to his impulses of friendship. And +this was what made the struggle such a cruel one to Thyrsis; it was like +the sight of some noble animal basely snared. + +From his earliest days the boy had watched these forces working +themselves out. The gentleman and the "drummer" fought for supremacy, +and step by step the soul of the man was fashioned to the work he +did. To succeed with his customers he must share their ideas and their +tastes; and so he was bitter against reformers, who interfered with the +gaieties of the city, with no consideration for the tastes of "buyers." +But then, on the other hand, would come a time of renunciation, when he +would be all enthusiasm for temperance. + +He was full of old-fashioned ideas, which would take the quaintest turns +of reactionism; his politics were summed up in the phrase that he "would +rather vote for a nigger than a Republican"; but then, in the same +breath, he would announce some fine and noble sentiment, out of the +traditions of a forgotten past. He was the soul of courtesy to women, +and of loyalty to friends. He worshipped General Lee and the old time +"Virginia gentleman"; and those with whom he lived, and for whose +unclean profits he sold himself, never guessed the depths of his +contempt for all they stood for. They had the dollars, they were on top; +but some day the nemesis of Good-breeding would smite them--the army of +the ghosts of Gentility would rise, and with "Marse Robert" and "Jeb" +Stuart at their head, would sweep away the hordes of commercialdom. + +Thyrsis saw a great deal of this forgotten chivalry. His nursery had +been haunted by such musty phantoms; and when he first came to the +Northern city, he stayed at a hotel which was frequented by people +who lived in this past--old ladies who were proud and prim, and +old gentlemen who were quixotic and humorous, young ladies who were +"belles," and young gentlemen who aspired to be "blades". It was a world +that would have made happy the soul of any writer of romances; but to +Thyrsis in earliest childhood the fates had given the gift of seeing +beneath the shams of things, and to him this dead Aristocracy cried out +loudly for burial. There was an incredible amount of drunkenness, and of +debauchery scarcely hidden; there was pretense strutting like a peacock, +and avarice skulking like a hound; there were jealousy, and base +snobbery, and raging spite, and a breath of suspicion and scandal +hanging like a poisonous cloud over everything. These people came +and went, an endless procession of them; they laughed and danced and +gossiped and drank their way through the boy's life, and unconsciously +he judged them, and hated them and feared them. It was not by such that +his destiny was to be shaped. + +Most of them were poor; not an honest poverty, but a sham and artificial +poverty--the inability to dress as others did, and to lose money at +"bridge" and "poker", and to pay the costs of their self-indulgences. As +for Thyrsis and his parents, they always paid what they owed; but they +were not always able to pay it when they owed it, and they suffered all +the agonies and humiliations of those who did not pay at all. There +was scarcely ever a week when this canker of want did not gnaw at them; +their life was one endless and sordid struggle to make last year's +clothing look like new, and to find some boarding-house that was cheaper +and yet respectable. There was endless wrangling and strife and worry +over money; and every year the task was harder, the standards lower, the +case more hopeless. + +There were rich relatives, a world of real luxury up above--the thing +that called itself "Society". And Thyrsis was a student and a bright +lad, and he was welcome there; he might have spread his wings and flown +away from this sordidness. But duty held him, and love and memory held +him still tighter. For his father worshipped him, and craved his help; +to the last hour of his dreadful battle, he fought to keep his son's +regard--he prayed for it, with tears in his eyes and anguish in his +voice. And so the boy had to stand by. And that meant that he grew up in +a torture-house, he drank a cup of poison to its bitter dregs. To others +his father was merely a gross little man, with sordid ideas and low +tastes; but to Thyrsis he was a man with the terror of the hunted +creatures in his soul, and the furies of madness cracking their whips +about his ears. + +There was only one ending possible--it worked itself out with the +remorseless precision of a machine. The soul that fought was smothered +and stifled, its voice grew fainter and feebler; the agony and the shame +grew hotter, the suffering more cruel, the despair more black. Until at +last they found him in a delirium, and took him to a private hospital; +and thither went Thyrsis, now grown to be a man, and sat in a dingy +reception-room, and a dingy doctor came to him and said, "Do you wish to +see the body?" And Thyrsis answered, in a low voice, "No." + +Section 3. So it was that the soul of this lad had grown sombre, and +taken to brooding upon the mysteries of fate. Life was no jest and no +holiday, it was no place for shams and self-deceptions. It was a place +where cruel enemies set traps for the unwary; a field where blind and +merciless forces ranged, unhindered by man or God. + +Thyrsis could not have told how soon in life this sense had come to him. +In his earliest childhood he had known that his father was preyed upon, +just as certainly as any wild thing in the forest. At first the enemies +had been saloon-keepers, and wicked men who tempted him to drink with +them. The names of these men were household words to him, portents of +terror; they peopled his imagination as epic figures, such as Black +Douglas must have been to the children of the Northern Border. + +But then, with widening intelligence, it became certain social forces, +at first dimly apprehended. It was the god of "business"--before which +all things fair and noble went down. It was "business" that kept vice +triumphant in the city; it was because of "business" that the saloons +could not be closed even on Sunday, so that the father might be at home +one day in seven. And was it not in search of "business" that he was +driven forth to loaf in hotel-lobbies and bar-rooms? + +Who was to blame for this, Thyrsis did not know; but certain men made +profit of it--and these, too, were ignoble men. He knew this; for now +and then his father's employers would honor the little family with some +kind of an invitation, and they would have to swallow their pride and +go. So Thyrsis grew up, with the sense of a great evil loose in the +world; a wrong, of which the world did not know. And within him grew a +passionate longing to cry aloud to others, to open their eyes to this +truth! + +Outwardly he was like other boys, eager and cheerful, even boisterous; +but within was this hidden thing, which brooded and questioned. Life +had made him into an ascetic. He must be stern, even merciless, with +himself--because of the fear that was in him, and in his mother as well. +The fear that self-indulgence might lay its grisly paws upon him! The +fear that he, too, might fall into the trap! + +It was not merely that he never touched stimulants; he had an instinct +against all things that were softening and enervating, all things that +tempted and enslaved. For him was the morning-air, and the shock of cold +water, and the hardness of the wild things of the open. Other people +did not feel this way; other people pampered themselves and defiled +themselves--and so Thyrsis went apart. He lived quite alone with his +thoughts, he had never a chum, scarcely even any friends. Where in the +long procession of lodging and boarding-houses and summer-resorts should +he meet people who knew what he knew about life? Where in all the world +should he meet them, save in the books of great men in times past? + +There was not much of what is called "culture" in his family; no music +at all, and no poetry. But there were novels, and there were libraries +where one could get more of these, so Thyrsis became a devourer of +stories; he would disappear, and they would find him at meal-times, +hidden in a clump of bushes, or in a corner behind a sofa--anywhere +out of the world. He read whole libraries of adventure: Mayne-Reid +and Henty, and then Cooper and Stevenson and Scott. And then came more +serious novels--"Don Quixote" and "Les Miserables," George Eliot, whom +he loved, and Dickens, whose social protest thrilled him; and chiefest +of all Thackeray, who moulded his thought. Thackeray knew the world that +he knew, Thackeray saw to the heart of it; and no high-souled lad who +had read him and worshipped him was ever after to be lured by the glamor +of the "great" world--a world whose greatness was based upon selfishness +and greed. + +Thyrsis knew no foreign language, and fate or instinct kept him from +those writers who jested with uncleanness; so he was virginal, and pure +in all his imaginings. Other lads exchanged confidences in forbidden +things, they broke down the barriers and tore away the veils; but +Thyrsis had never breathed a word about matters of sex to any living +creature. He pondered and guessed, but no one knew his thoughts; and +this was a crucial thing, the secret of much of his aloofness. + +Section 4. In one of the early boarding-houses there had been a little +girl, and the families had become intimate. But the two children +disliked each other, and kept apart all they could. Thyrsis was +domineering and imperious, and things must always be his way. He was +given to rebellion, whereas Corydon was gentle and meek, and submitted +to confinements and prohibitions in a quite disgraceful manner. She was +a pretty little girl, with great black eyes; and because she was silent +and shy, he set her down as "stupid", and went his way. + +They spent a summer in the country together, where Thyrsis possessed +himself of a sling-shot, and took to collecting the skins of squirrels +and chipmunks. Corydon was horrified at this; and by way of helping her +to overcome her squeamishness he would make her carry home the bleeding +corpses. He took to raising, young birds, also, and soon had quite +an aviary--two robins, and a crow, and a survivor from a brood of +"cherry-birds." The feeding of these nestlings was no small task, but +Thyrsis went fishing when the spirit moved him, secure in the certainty +that the calls of the hungry creatures would keep Corydon at home. + +This was the way of it, until Corydon began to blossom into a young +lady, beautiful and tenderly-fashioned. Thyrsis still saw her now and +then, and he made attempts to share his higher joys with her. He had +become a lover of poetry; once they walked by the seashore, and he +read her "Alexander's Feast", thrilling with delight in its resounding +phrases: + + "Break his bands of sleep asunder, + And rouse him like a rattling peal of thunder!" + +But Corydon had never heard of Timotheus, and she had not been taught to +exploit her emotions. She could only say that she did not understand it +very well. + +And then, on another occasion, Thyrsis endeavored to tell her about +Berkeley, whom he had been reading. But Corydon did not take to the +sensational philosophy either; she would come back again and again to +the evasion of old Dr. Johnson--"When I kick a stone, I know the stone +is there!" + +This girl was like a beautiful flower, Thyrsis told himself--like all +the flowers that had gone before her, and all those that would come +after, from generation to generation. She fitted so perfectly into her +environment, she grew so calmly and serenely; she wore pretty dresses, +and helped to serve tea, and was graceful and sweet--and with never an +idea that there was anything in life beyond these things. So Thyrsis +pondered as he went his way, complacent over his own perspicacity; and +got not even a whiff of smoke from the volcano of rebellion and misery +that was seething deep down in her soul! + +The choosers of the unborn souls had played a strange fantasy here; they +had stolen one of the daughters of ancient Greece, and set her down in +this metropolis of commercialdom. For Corydon might have been Nausikaa +herself; she might have marched in the Panathenaic procession, with +one of the sacred vessels in her hands; she might have run in the Attic +games, bare-limbed and fearless. Hers was a soul that leaped to the call +of joy, that thrilled at the faintest touch of beauty. Above all else, +she was born for music--she could have sung so that the world would have +remembered it. And she was pent in a dingy boarding-house, with no point +of contact with anything about her--with no human soul to whom she could +whisper her despair! + +They sent her to a public-school, where the sad-eyed drudges of the +traders came to be drilled for their tasks. They harrowed her with +arithmetic and grammar, which she abhorred; they taught her patriotic +songs, about a country to which she did not belong. And also, they +sent her to Sunday-school, which was worse yet. She had the strangest, +instinctive hatred of their religion, with all that it stood for. The +sight of a clergyman with his vestments and his benedictions would make +her fairly bristle with hostility. They talked to her about her sins, +and she did not know what they meant; they pried into the state of her +soul, and she shrunk from them as if they had been hairy spiders. Here, +too, they taught her to sing--droning hymns that were a mockery of all +the joys of life. + +So Corydon devoured her own heart in secret; and in time a dreadful +thing came to happen--the stagnant soul beginning to fester. One day the +girl, whose heart was the quintessence of all innocence, happened to +see a low word scribbled upon a fence. And now--they had urged her to +discover sins, and she discovered them. Suppose that word were to stay +in her mind and haunt her--suppose that she were not able to forget it, +try as she would! And of course she tried; and the more she tried, the +less she succeeded; and so came the discovery that she was a lost soul +and a creature of depravity! The thought occurred to her, that she might +go on to think of other words, and to think of images and actions as +well; she might be unable to forget any of them--her mind might become +a storehouse of such horrors! And so the maiden out of ancient Greece +would lie awake all night and wrestle with fiends, until she was bathed +in a perspiration. + +Section 5. About this time Thyrsis was making his _debut_ as an author. +He had discovered a curious knack in himself, a turn for making verses +of a sort which were pleasing to children. They came from some little +corner of his consciousness, he scarcely knew how; but there was a paper +that was willing to buy them, and to pay him the princely sum of five +dollars a week! This would pay for his food and his hall bedroom, or for +board at some farm in the summer; and so for several years Thyrsis was +free. + +He told a falsehood about his age, and entered college, and buried +himself up to the eyes in work. This was a college in a city, and a poor +college, where the students all lived at home, and had nothing to do but +study; and so Thyrsis missed all that beneficent illumination known +as "student-life." He never hurrahed at foot-ball contests, nor did he +dress himself in honorific garments, nor stupify himself at "smokers." +Being democratic, and without thought of setting himself up over others, +he was unaware of his greatest opportunities, and when they invited him +into a fraternity, he declined. Once or twice he found himself roaming +the streets at night with a crowd of students, emitting barbaric +screechings; but this made him feel silly, and so he lagged behind and +went home. + +The college served its purpose, in introducing him to the world of +knowledge; but that did not take long, and afterwards it was all in his +way. The mathematics were a discipline, and in them he rejoiced as a +strong man to run a race; and this was true also of the sciences, and of +history--the only trouble was that he would finish the text-books in the +first few weeks, and after that there was nothing to do save to compose +verses in class, and to make sketches of the professors. But as for the +"languages" and the "literatures" they taught him--in the end Thyrsis +came to forgive them, because he saw that they did not know what +languages and literatures were. On this account he took to begging leave +of absence on grounds of his poverty; and then he would go home and +spend his days and nights in learning. + +One could get so much for so little, in this wonderful world of mind! +For eight cents he picked up a paper volume of Emerson's "Essays"; and +in this shrewd and practical nobility was so much that he was seeking +in life! And then he stumbled upon a fifteen-cent edition of "Sartor +Resartus", and took that home and read it. It was like the clash of +trumpets and cymbals to him; it made his whole being leap. Hour after +hour he read, breathless, like a man bewitched, the whole night through. +He would cry aloud with delight, or drop the book and pound his knee and +laugh over the demoniac power of it. The next day he began the "French +Revolution"; and after that, alas, he found there was no more--for +Carlyle had turned his back upon democracy, and so Thyrsis turned his +back upon Carlyle. + +For this was one of the forces which had had to do with the shaping of +his thought. Beginning in the public-schools he had learned about his +country--the country which was his, if not Corydon's. He had read in +its history--Irving's "Life of Washington," and ten great volumes about +Lincoln; so he had come to understand that salvation is of the people, +and that those things which the people do not do--those things have not +yet been done. So no one could deceive him, or lead him astray; he might +laugh with the Tories, and even love them for their foibles--quaint old +Samuel Johnson, for instance, because he was poor and sturdy, and had +stood by his trade of bookman; but at bottom Thyrsis knew that all +these men were gilding a corpse. Wordsworth and Tennyson, Browning and +Swinburne--he followed each one as far as their revolutionary impulse +lasted; and after that there was no more in them for him. Even Ruskin, +who taught him the possibilities of English prose, and opened his eyes +to the form and color of the world of nature--even Ruskin he gave up, +because he was a philanthropist and not a democrat. + +Thyrsis had been brought up as a devout Episcopalian. They had +dressed him in scarlet and white to carry the train of the bishop +at confirmation, and had sent him to an afternoon service every day +throughout Lent. Early in life he had stumbled on a paper copy of +Paine's "Age of Reason," and he read it with horror, and then conducted +a private _auto da fe_. But the questions of the book stayed with him, +and as years passed they clamored more loudly. What would have happened, +astronomically, if the sun had stood still? And how many different +species would have had to go into the ark? And what was the size of a +whale's gullet, and the probable digestive powers of a whale's stomach? + +And then came more fundamental difficulties. Could there, after all, +be such a duty as faith in any intellectual matter? Could there be any +revelation superior to reason--must not reason have once decided that it +was a revelation, or was not? And what of all the other "revelations", +which all the other peoples of the world accepted? And then again, if +Jesus had been God, could he really have been tempted? To be God and man +at the same time--did that not mean both to know and not to know? +And was there any way conceivable for anything to be God, in which +everything else was not God? + +These perplexities and many others the boy took to his clerical adviser, +a man who loved him dearly, and who gave him some volumes of the +"Bampton lectures" to read. Here was the defense of Christianity, +conducted by authorities, and with scholarship and dignity; and Thyrsis +found to his dismay that the only convincing parts of their books were +where they gave a _resume_ of the arguments of their opponents. He +learned in this way many difficulties that had not yet occurred to him; +and when he had got through with the reading his mind was made up. If +any man were to be damned for not believing such things, then it was +his duty as a thinker to be damned; and so he bade farewell to the +Church--something which was sad, in a way, for his mother had been +planning him for a bishop! + +Section 6. But Thyrsis was throwing away many chances these days. +He went into the higher regions to spend his Christmas holidays; and +instead of being tactful and agreeable, he buried himself in a corner +of the library all day long. For Thyrsis had made the greatest discovery +yet--he had found out Shakespeare! At school they had taught him +"English" by means of "to be or not to be", and they had sought to +trap him at examinations by means of "man's first disobedience and +the fruit"; and so for years they had held him back from the two great +glories of our literature. But now, by accident, he stumbled into "The +Tempest"; and after that he read every line of the plays in two weeks. + +He lost his soul in that wonderland; he walked and thought no more like +the men of earth--he dwelt with those lords and princes of the soul, +and learned to speak their language. He would dodge among cable-cars and +trucks with their heavenly melodies in his ears; and while he sung them +his eyes flashed and his heart beat fast: + + "Good night, sweet prince, + And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!" + +There were a few days left in those wondrous holidays; and these went +to Milton. There was a set of his works, enormously expensive, which +had been made and purchased with no idea that any human being would ever +read them. But Thyrsis read them, and so all the beauty of the binding +was justified. For hours, and hours upon hours, he drank in that +thunderous music, crying it aloud with his hands clenched tightly, and +stopping to laugh like a child with excitement: + + "Th'imperial ensign, which full high advanced, + Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind, + With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed, + Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while + Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds!" + +And afterwards, when he came to the palace that "rose like an +exhalation", all of Thyrsis' soul rose with it. One summer's day he +stood on a high mountain with a railroad in the valley, and saw a great +freight-engine stop still and pour out its masses of dense black smoke. +It rose in the breathless air, straight as a column, high and majestic; +and Thyrsis thought of that line. It carried him out into the heavens, +and he knew that a flash of poetry such as that is the meeting of man's +groping hand with God's. + +It was about here that a strange adventure came to him. It was +midwinter, and he went out, long after midnight, to walk in a beautiful +garden. A dry powdery snow crunched beneath his feet, and overhead the +stars gleamed and quivered, so bright that he felt like stretching out +his hands to them. The world lay still, and awful in its beauty; and +here suddenly, unsuspected--unheralded, and quite unsought--there +came to Thyrsis a strange and portentous experience, the first of his +ecstasies. + +He could not have told whether he walked or sat down, whether he spoke +or was silent; he lost all sense of his own existence--his consciousness +was given up to the people of his dreams, the companions and lovers of +his fancy. The cold and snow were gone, and there was a moonlit glade in +a forest; and thither they came, one by one, friendly and human, yet +in the full panoply of their splendor and grace. There were Shelley and +Milton, and the gentle and troubled Hamlet, and the sorrowful knight +of la Mancha, with the irrepressible Falstaff to hearten them all; +a strangely-assorted company, yet royal spirits all of them, and no +strangers to each other in their own world. And here they gathered and +conversed, each in his own vein and from his own impulse, with gracious +fancy and lofty vision and heart-easing mirth. And ah, how many miles +would one have travelled to be with them! + +That was the burden which this gift laid upon Thyrsis. He soon +discovered that these visions of wonder came but once, and that when +they were gone, they were gone forever. And he must learn to grapple +with them as they fled, to labor with them and to hold them fast, at the +cost of whatever heartbreaking strain. Thus alone could men have even +the feeblest reflexion of their beauty--upon which to feed their souls +forever after. + +Section 7. These things came at the same time as another development in +Thyrsis' life, likewise portentous and unexpected. Boyhood was gone, +and manhood had come. There was a bodily change taking place in him--he +became aware of it with a start, and with the strangest and most +uncomfortable thrills. He did not know what to make of it, or what to do +about it; nor did he know where to turn for advice. + +He tried to put it aside, as a thing of no importance. But it would not +be put aside--it was of vast importance. He discovered new desires in +himself, impulses that dominated him in a most disturbing way. He found +that he took a new interest in women and young girls; he wanted to +linger near them, and their glances caused him strange emotions. He +resented this, as an invasion of his privacy; it was inconsistent with +his hermit-instinct. Thyrsis wished no women in his life save the muses +with their star-sewn garments. He had been fond of a line from a sonnet +to Milton: + + "Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart." + +But instead of this, what awful humiliations! In a summer-resort where +he found himself, there was a girl of not very gentle breeding, somewhat +pudgy and with a languishing air. She liked to have boys snuggle down +by her; and so Thyrsis spent the whole of one evening, sitting in +a summer-house with an arm about her waist, dissolved in a sort of +moon-calf sentimentalism. And then he passed the rest of the night +wandering about in the forest cursing himself, with tears of shame and +vexation in his eyes. + +He was so ignorant about these matters that he did not even know if the +changes that had taken place in him were normal, or whether they were +doing him harm. He made up his mind that he must have advice; as it was +unthinkable that he should speak about such shameful things with any +grown person, he bethought himself of a classmate in college who was an +earnest and sober man. This friend, much older than Thyrsis, was the son +of an evangelical clergyman, and was headed for the ministry himself. +His name was Warner, and Thyrsis had helped him in arranging for some +religious meetings at the college. Warner had been shocked by his +theological irregularities; but they were still friends, and now Thyrsis +sought a chance to exchange confidences with him. + +The opportunity came while they were strolling down an avenue near the +college, and a woman passed them, a woman with bold and hard features, +and obviously-painted cheeks. She smiled at a group of students just +ahead, and one of them turned and walked off arm in arm with her. + +"Good heavens!" exclaimed Warner. "Did you see that?" + +"Yes," said Thyrsis. "Who is she?" + +"She comes from a house just around the corner." + +"But who is she?" + +"Why--she's a street-walker." + +"A street-walker!" + +This brought to Thyrsis' mind a problem that had been haunting him for a +year or two. Always when he walked about the streets at night there were +women who smiled at him and whispered. And he knew that these were bad +women, and shrunk from them. But just what did they mean? + +"What does she do?" he asked again. + +"Why, don't you know what a street-walker is?" + +"Not very well," said Thyrsis. + +It took some time for him to get the desired information, because +the other could not realize the depths of his ignorance. "They sell +themselves to men," he said. + +"But what for?" asked Thyrsis. "You don't mean that they--they let +them---" + +"They have intercourse together. Of course." + +Thyrsis was almost dumb with dismay. "But I should think they would have +children!" he exclaimed. + +"Good Lord, man!" laughed the other. "Where do you keep yourself, +anyway?" + +But Thyrsis was too much shaken to think of being ashamed. This was a +most appalling revelation to him--it opened quite a new vista of life's +possibilities. + +"But why should they do such things?" he cried. + +"They earn their living that way," said the other. + +"But why _that_ way?" + +"I don't know. They are that kind of women, I suppose." + +And so Warner went on to expound to him the facts of prostitution, +and all the abysses of human depravity that lie thereabouts. And +incidentally the boy got a chance to ask his questions, and to get a +common-sense view of his perplexities. Also he got some understanding of +human nature, and of the world in which he lived. + +Here was Warner, a man of twenty-four, and of a devout, if somewhat dull +and plodding conscientiousness; and the last eight or nine years of his' +life had been one torment because of the cravings of lust. He had never +committed an act of unchastity--or at least he told Thyrsis that he had +not. But he was never free from the impulse, and he had no conception +of the possibility of being free. His desire was a purely brute +one--untouched by any intellectual or spiritual, or even any sentimental +color. He desired woman, as woman--it mattered not what woman. How low +his impulses took him Thyrsis realized with a shudder from one remark +that he made--that his poverty did not help him to live virtuously, for +about the docks and in the workingmen's quarters there were women who +would sell themselves for fifty cents a night. + +This man's whole life was determined by that craving; in fact it seemed +to Thyrsis that his God had made the universe with relation to it--a +heaven to reward him if he abstained, and a hell to punish him if he +yielded. It was because of this that he clung to the church, and shrunk +from any dallying with "rationalism". He disapproved of the theatre, +because it appealed to these cravings; he disapproved of all pictures +and statues of the nude human form, because the sight of them +overmastered him. For the same reason he shrunk from all impassioned +poetry, and from dancing, and even from non-religious music. He was +rigid in his conformance to all the social conventions, because they +served the purpose of saving him and his young women-friends from +temptation; and he looked forward to the completion of a divinity-course +as his goal, because then he would be able to settle down and marry, and +so at last to gratify his desires. He stated this quite baldly, quoting +the authority of St. Paul, that it was "better to marry than to burn." + +This conversation brought Thyrsis to a realization that there was a +great deal in the world that was not found in the poetry of Tennyson +and Longfellow; and so he began to pry into the souls of others of his +fellow-students. + +Section 8. Warner had given him the religious attitude; and now he +went after the scientific. There was a tall, eager-faced young man, who +proclaimed himself a disciple of Haeckel and Herbert Spencer, and even +went so far as to quote Schopenhauer in class. Walking home together one +day, these two fell to arguing the freedom of the will, and the nature +of motives and desires, and what power one has over them; and so Thyrsis +made the startling discovery that this young man, having accepted the +doctrine of "determinism," had drawn therefrom the corollary that he +had to do what he wanted to do, and so was powerless to resist his +sex-impulses. For the past year this youth, a fine, intellectual and +honest student, had gone at regular intervals to visit a prostitute; +and with entirely scientific and cold-blooded precision he outlined +to Thyrsis the means he took to avoid contracting disease. Thyrsis +listened, feeling as he might have felt in a slaughter-house; and when, +returning to the deterministic hypothesis, he asked how it was that +he had managed to escape this "necessity", he was told that it must be +because he was of a weaker and less manly constitution. + +And there was yet another type: a man with whom there was no difficulty +in bringing up the subject, for the reason that he was always bringing +it up himself. Thyrsis sat next to him in a class in Latin, and noticed +that whenever the text contained any hint at matters of sex--which was +not infrequent in Juvenal and Horace--this man would look at him with a +grin and a sly wink. And sometimes Thyrsis would make a casual remark in +conversation, and the man would twist it out of its meaning, or make +a pun out of it--to find some excuse for his satyr's leer. So at last +Thyrsis was moved to say to him--"Don't you ever realize what a state +you've got your mind into?" + +"How do you mean?" asked the man. + +"Why, everything in the world seems to suggest obscenity to you. You're +always looking for it and always finding it--you don't seem to care +about anything else." + +The other was interested in that view of it, and he acknowledged with +mild amusement that it was true; apparently it was a novelty to him +to discuss such matters seriously. He told Thyrsis that he could not +remember having ever restrained a sexual impulse in his life. He thought +of lust in connection with every woman he met, and his mind was a +storehouse of smut. And yet he was not a bad fellow, in other ways; +he handsome, and a good deal of an athlete, and was planning to be a +physician. "You'll find most all the fellows are the same," he said. + +Not long after this, Thyrsis was selected to represent his college on +a debating-team, and he went away to another city and was invited to +a fraternity-house; and here, suddenly, he discovered how much of +"college-life" he had been missing. This was a fashionable university, +and he met the sons of wealthy parents. About a score of them lived in +this fraternity-house, without any sort of supervision or restraint. +They ate in a beautiful oak-panelled dining-room adorned with +drinking-steins; and throughout the meal they treated their visitor to +such an orgy of obscenity as he had never dreamed of in his life before. +Thyrsis was trapped and could not get away; and it seemed to him when +he rose from the table that there was nothing left clean in all God's +universe. These boys appeared to vie with each other in blasphemous +abandonment; and it was not simply wantonness--it was sprawling and +disgusting filthiness. + +One of this group took Thyrsis driving, and was led to talk. +Here was a youth whose father was the president of a great +manufacturing-enterprise, and supplied him with unlimited funds; which +money the boy used to divert himself in the pursuit of young women. +Sometimes he had stooped so low as manicure-girls and shop-clerks +and stenographers; but for the most part he sought actresses and +chorus-girls--they had more intelligence and spirit, he explained, they +were harder to win. He had his way with them, partly because he was +handsome and clever, but mainly because he was the keeper of the keys +of opportunity. It was his to dispense auto-rides and champagne-suppers, +and flowers and jewels, and all things else that were desirable in life. + +Thyrsis was appalled at the hardness and the utter ruthlessness of this +man--he saw him as a young savage turned loose to prey in a civilized +community. He had the most supreme contempt for his victims--that was +what they were made for, and he paid them their price. Nor was this just +because they were women, it was a matter of class; the young man had +a mother and sisters, to whom he applied quite other standards. But +Thyrsis found himself wondering how long, with this contagion raging +among the fathers and the sons, it would be possible to keep the mothers +and the daughters sterilized. + +Section 9. These discoveries came one by one; but Thyrsis saw enough at +the outset to make it clear that the time had come for him to gird up +his loins. The choice of Hercules was before him; and he did not intend +that the course of his life was to be decided by these cravings of the +animal within him. + +From the grosser sorts of temptation he was always saved by the +fastidiousness of his temperament; the thought of a woman who sold +herself for money could never bring him anything but shuddering. But all +about his lodging-house lived the daughters of the poor, and these were +a snare for his feet. It seemed to him as if this craving came to a +man in regular pulses; he could go for weeks, serene and happy in his +work--and then suddenly would come the restlessness, and he would go +out into the night and wander about the streets for hours, impelled by a +futile yearning for he knew not what--the hope of something clean in +the midst of uncleanliness, of some adventure that would be not quite +shameful to a poet's fancy. And then, after midnight, he would steal +home, baffled and sick at heart, and wet his pillow with hot and bitter +tears! + +So unbearable to him was the thought of such perils that he was impelled +to seek his old friend the clergyman, who had lost him over the ancient +Hebrew mythologies, and now won him back by his living moral force. With +much embarrassment and stammering Thyrsis managed to give a hint of +what troubled him; and the man, whose life was made wholly of love for +others, opened his great heart and took Thyrsis in. + +He told him of his own youthful struggle--a struggle which had resulted +in victory, for he had never known a woman. And he put all the facts +before the boy, made clear to him the all-determining importance of the +issue: + + "Choose well, your choice is + Brief and yet endless!" + +On the one hand was slavery and degradation and disease; and on the +other were all the heights of the human spirit. For if one saved and +stored this mighty sex-energy, it became transmuted to the gold of +intellectual and emotional power. Such was the universal testimony of +the masters of the higher life-- + + "My strength is as the strength of ten + Because my heart is pure." + +And this was no blind asceticism; it was simply a choosing of the best. +It was not a denial of love, but on the contrary a consecration of love. +Some day Thyrsis would meet the woman he was to cleave to, and he would +expect her to come to him a virgin; and he must honor her as much--he +must save the fire and fervor of his young desire for his life's great +consummation. + +Such was the ideal; and these two men made a compact between them, that +once every month Thyrsis would write and tell of his success or failure. +And this amateur confessional was a mighty motive to the lad--he knew +that he could never tell a lie, and the thought of telling the truth was +like a sword hanging over him. There were hours of trial, when he stood +so close to the edge of the precipice that this alone was what kept him +clear. + +Section 10. The summer had come, and Thyrsis had gone away to live in +a country village, and was reading Keats and Shelley, and the narrative +poems of Scott. There came a soft warm evening, when all the world +seemed a-dream; and he had been working hard, and there came to him +a yearning for the stars. He went out, and was strolling through the +streets of the village, when he saw a girl come out of one of the +houses. She was younger than he, graceful of form, and pretty. The +lamp-light flashed on her bright cheeks, and she smiled at him as she +passed. And Thyrsis' heart gave a great leap, and the blood surged to +his face; he turned and looked, and saw that she was gazing over her +shoulder at him. + +He stopped, and turned to follow, his meditations all gone, and gone his +resolutions. A trembling seized him, and every nerve of him tingled. He +could feel his heart as if it were underneath his throat. + +In a moment more he was beside the girl. "May I join you?" he asked, and +she replied with a nod. + +Thyrsis moved beside her and took her arm in his. A moment later they +came to a place where the road was dark, and he put his arm about her +waist; she made no resistance. + +"I--I've seen you often before," she said. + +"Yes," he replied, "I have seen you." And he suddenly remembered a +remark that he had heard about her. There was a large summer-hotel in +this neighborhood, which as usual had brought all the corruptions of the +city in its train; and a youth whom Thyrsis had met there had pointed +out the girl with the remark, "She's a little beast." + +And this idea, as it came to him, swept him away in a fierce tide of +madness; he bent suddenly down and whispered into her ear. They were +words that never in Thyrsis' life had passed his lips before. + +The girl pushed him away; but she laughed. + +"You don't mind, do you?" exclaimed Thyrsis, his heart thumping like a +hammer. + +"Listen," he whispered, bending towards her. "Let us go and take a walk. +Let us go where no one will see us." + +"Where?" she asked. + +"Out into the country," he said. + +"Not now," she replied. "Some other time." + +"No, now!" exclaimed Thyrsis, desperately. "Now!" + +They had been moving slowly; they came to a place where a great tree +hung over the road, shadowing it; and there they stopped, as by one +impulse. + +"Listen to me," he whispered, swiftly. "Listen. You don't know how +anxious I have been to meet you. It's true--indeed it's true!" + +He paused. "Yes," said the girl, "and I have been wanting to meet you. +Didn't you ever see me nod to you?" + +And suddenly Thyrsis put his arms about her, and pressed her to him. The +touch of her bosom sent the blood driving through his veins in torrents +of fire; he no longer knew or cared what he said, or what he did. + +"Listen to me," he raced on. "Listen to me! Nobody will know! And you +are so beautiful, so beautiful! I love you!" The words burned his lips, +but he forced himself to say them, again and again--"I love you!" + +The girl was gazing around her nervously. "Not now," she exclaimed. "Not +to-night. To-morrow I will meet you, to-morrow night, and go with you." + +"No," cried Thyrsis, "not to-morrow night, but now!" And he clasped her +yet more tightly, with all his strength. "Listen," he panted, his breath +on her cheek. "I love you! I cannot wait till to-morrow--I could not +bear it. I am all on fire! I should not know what to do!" + +The girl gazed about her again in uncertainty, and Thyrsis swept on in +his swift, half-incoherent exclamations. He would take no refusal; +for half his madness was terror of himself, and he knew it. And then +suddenly, as he cried out to her, the girl whispered, faintly, "All +right!" And his heart gave a throb that hurt him. + +"I'll tell you," she went on, hastily, "I was going to the store for +something, and they expect me home. But wait here till I get back, and +then I'll go with you." + +"You mean it?" whispered Thyrsis. "You mean it?" + +"Yes, yes," she answered. + +"And it will be soon?" + +"Yes, soon." + +"All right," said he. "But first give me a kiss." As she held up her +face, Thyrsis pressed her to him, and kissed her again and again, until +her cheeks were aflame. At last he released her, and she turned swiftly +and darted up the street. + +Section 11. And after she was gone the boy stood there motionless, not +stirring even a hand. A full minute passed, and the color went out of +his cheeks, and the fire out of his veins, and he could hardly stand +erect. His head sunk lower and lower, until suddenly he whispered +hoarsely, under his breath, "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!" + +He looked up at the sky, his face ghastly white; and there came from his +throat a low moan, like that of a wounded animal. Suddenly he turned, +and fled away down the street. + +He went on and on, block after block; but then, all at once, he stopped +again and faced about. He gripped his hands until the nails cut him, +and shut his teeth together like a steel-trap. "No, no!" he muttered. +"No--you coward!" + +He turned and began to march, grimly, as a soldier might; he went back, +and stopped on the spot from which he had come; and there he stood, like +a statue. So one minute passed, then another; and at last a shadow moved +in the distance, and a step came near. It was the girl. + +"Here I am," she whispered, laughing. + +"Yes," said Thyrsis. "I have something I must say to you, please." + +She noticed the change in a flash, and she stopped. "What's the matter?" + +"I don't know just how to tell you," said Thyrsis, in a low, quivering +voice. "I've been a hound, and now I don't want to be a cad. But I'm +sorry for what we were talking about." + +"You mean what _you_ were talking about, don't you?" demanded the girl, +her eyes flashing. + +Thyrsis dropped his glance. "Yes," he said. "I am a cur. I beg your +pardon. I am so ashamed of myself that I don't know what to do. But, oh, +I was crazy. I couldn't help it! and I--I'm so sorry!" There were tears +in his voice. + +"Humph," said the girl, "it's all right." + +"No," said Thyrsis, "it's all wrong. It's dreadful--it's horrible. I +don't know what I should have done---" + +"Well, you better not do it any more, that's all," said she. "I'm sure +you needn't worry about me--I'll take care of myself." + +Thyrsis looked at her again; she was no longer beautiful. Her face was +coarse, and her anger did not make it any better. His humility made no +impression. + +"It is so wrong---" he began; but she interrupted him. + +"Preaching won't help it any," she said. "I don't want to hear it. +Good-bye." + +So she turned and walked away; and Thyrsis stood there, white, and +shuddering, until at last he started and strode off. Clear through the +town he went, and out into the black country beyond, seeing nothing, +caring about nothing. He flung himself down by the roadside, and lay +there moaning for hours: "My God, my God, what shall I do?" + +Section 12. It was nearly morning when he came back and crept upstairs +to his room; and here he sat by the bedside, gazing at the haggard face +in the glass. At such times as this he discovered a something in his +features that filled him with shuddering; he discovered it in his words, +and in the very tone of his voice--the sins of the fathers were being +visited upon the children! What an old, old story it was to him--this +anguish and remorse! These ecstasies of resolution that vanished like a +cloud-wrack--these protestations and noble sentiments that counted for +naught in conduct! And his was to be the whole heritage of impotence and +futility; he, too, was to struggle and agonize--and to finish with his +foot in the trap! + +This idea was like a white-hot goad to him. After such an experience +there would be several months of toil and penance, and of savage +self-immolation. It was hard to punish a man who had so little; but +Thyrsis managed to find ways. For several months at a time he would go +without those kinds of food that he liked; and instead of going to bed +at one o'clock he would read the New Testament in Greek for an hour. He +would leap out of bed in the morning and plunge into cold water; and +at night, when he felt a longing upon him, he would go out and run for +hours. + +He took to keeping diaries and writing exhortations to himself. Because +he could no longer use the theological prayers he had been taught, he +fashioned new invocations for himself: prayers to the unknown sources of +his vision, to the new powers of his own soul--"the undiscovered gods," +as he called them. Above all he prayed to his vision of the maiden who +waited the issue of this battle, and held the crown of victory in her +keeping-- + + "Somewhere beneath the sun, + Those quivering heart-strings prove it, + Somewhere there must be one + Made for this soul to love it-- + + Some one whom I could court + With no great change of manner, + Still holding reason's fort, + While waving fancy's banner!" + +All of which things made a subtle change in his attitude to Corydon, +whom he still met occasionally. Corydon was now a young lady, beautiful, +even stately, with an indescribable atmosphere of gentleness and purity +about her. All things unclean shrunk from her presence; and so in times +of distress he liked to be with her. He would drop vague hints as +to sufferings and temptations, and told her that she seemed like a +"goddess" to him. + +Corydon received this with some awe, but with more perplexity. She could +not understand why anyone should struggle so much, or why a youth should +take such a sombre view of things. But she was perfectly willing to seem +like a "goddess" to anyone, and she was glad if that helped him. She was +touched when he read her a poem of his own, a poem which he held very +precious. He called it + + "A song of the young-eyed Cherubim + In the days of the making of man." + +And in it he had set forth the view of life that had come to him-- + + "The quest of the spirit's gain-- + Lured by the graces of pleasure, + And lashed by the furies of pain. + Thy weakness shall sigh for an Eden, + But the sword shall flame at the gate; + For far is the home of thy vision + And strong is the hand of thy fate!" + +Section 13. Though Thyrsis had no time to realize it, it was in this +long and bitter struggle that he won whatever power he had in his future +life. It was here that he learned "to hold his will above him as his +law", and to defy the world for the sake of his ideal. And then, too, +this toil was the key that opened to him the treasure-house of a new +art--which was music. + +Until he was nearly out of college Thyrsis had scarcely heard any music +at all. Church-hymns he had learned, and a few songs in school. But now +in poetry and other books he met with references to composers, and to +the meaning of great music; and the things that were described there +were the things he loved, and he began to feel a great eagerness to get +at them. As a first step he bought a mandolin, and set to work to teach +himself to play, a task at which he wrought with great diligence. At the +same time a friend had bought a guitar, and the two set to work to play +duets. The first preliminary was the getting of the instruments in tune; +and not knowing that the mandolin is an octave higher than the guitar, +they spent a great deal of time and broke a great many guitar-strings. + +As the next step, Thyrsis went to hear a great pianist, and sat +perplexed and wondering. There was a girl next to him who sobbed, and +Thyrsis watched her as he might have watched a house on fire. Only once +the pianist pleased _him_--when he played a pretty little piece called +somebody's "impromptu", in which he got a gleam of a "tune." Poor +Thyrsis went and got that piece, and took it home to study it, with the +help of the mandolin; but, alas, in the maze of notes he could not even +find the "tune." + +But if he could not understand the music, he could read books about +it; he read a whole library--criticism of music, analysis of music, +histories of music, composers of music; and so gradually he learned the +difference between a sarabande and a symphony, and began to get some +idea of what he went out for to hear. At first, at the concerts, all +he could think of was to crane his neck and recognize the different +instruments; he heard whole symphonies, while doing nothing but +watching for the "movements," and making sure he hadn't skipped any. One +heartless composer ran two movements into one, and so Thyrsis' concert +came out one piece short at the end, and he sat gazing about him in +consternation when the audience rose to go. Afterwards he read long +dissertations about each symphony before he went, and he would note down +the important points and watch for them. The critic would expatiate +upon "the long-drawn dissonance _forte_, that marks the close of the +working-out portion"; and Thyrsis would watch for that long-drawn +dissonance, and be wondering if it was never coming--when suddenly the +whole symphony would come to an end! Or he would read about a "quaint +capering measure led off by the bassoons," or a "frantic sweep of the +violins over a trombone melody," and he would watch for these events +with eyes and ears alert, and if he found them--_eureka_! + +But such things could not last forever; for Thyrsis had a heart full of +eagerness and love, and of such is the soul of music. And just then was +a time when he was sick and worn--when it seemed to him that the burden +of his life was more than he could bear. He was haunted by the thought +that he would lose his long battle, that he would go under and go down; +and then it was that chance took him to a concert which closed with the +great "C-Minor Symphony." + +Thyrsis had read a life of Beethoven, and he knew that here was one +of the hero-souls--a man who had grappled with the fiends, and passed +through the valley of death. And now he read accounts of this titan +symphony, and learned that it was a battle of the human spirit with +despair. He read Beethoven's words about the opening theme--"So knocks +fate upon the door!" And a fierce and overwhelming longing possessed him +to get at the soul of that symphony. + +He went to the concert, and heard nothing of the rest of the music, but +sat like a man in a dream; and when the time came for the symphony, +he was trembling with excitement. There was a long silence; and then +suddenly came the first theme--those fearful hammer-strokes that +cannot be thought without a shudder. They beat upon Thyrsis' very +heart-strings, and he sat appalled; and straight out he went upon the +tide of that mighty music-passion--without knowing it, without knowing +how. He forgot that he was trying to understand a symphony; he forgot +where he was, and what he was; he only knew that gigantic phantoms +surged within him, that his soul was a hundred times itself. He never +guessed that an orchestra was playing a second theme; he only knew that +he saw a light gleam out of the storm, that he heard a voice, pitiful, +fearful, beautiful beyond utterance, crying out to the furies for mercy; +and that then the storm closed over it with a roar. Again and again it +rose; Thyrsis did not know that this was the "working-out portion" that +had forever been his bane. He only knew that it struggled and fought his +fight, that it pleaded and sobbed, and rose higher and higher, and began +to rejoice--and that then came the great black phantom-shape sweeping +over it; and the iron hammer-strokes of Fate beat down upon it, crushed +it and trampled it into annihilation. Again and again this happened, +while Thyrsis sat clutching the seat, and shaking with wonder and +excitement. Never in his experience had there been anything so vast, so +awful; it was more than he could bear, and when the first movement came +to an end--when the soul's last hope was dead--he got up and rushed +out. People who passed him on the streets must have thought that he was +crazy; and afterwards, that day and forever, he lived all his soul's +life in music. + +As a result of this Thyrsis paid all his bank-account for a violin, and +went to see a teacher. + +"You are too old," the teacher said. + +But Thyrsis answered, "I will work as no one ever worked before." + +"We all do that," replied the other, with a smile. And so they began. + +And so all day long, with fingers raw, and arms and back shuddering with +exhaustion, Thyrsis sat and practiced, the spirit of Music beckoning him +on. It was in a boarding-house, and there was a nervous old man in the +next room, and in the end Thyrsis had to move. By the time he went away +to the country, he was able to play a melody in tune; and then he would +take some one that had fascinated him, and practice it and practice +it night and day. He would take his fiddle every morning at eight and +stride out into the forest, and there he would stay all day with the +squirrels. They told him once how a new arrival, driving over in the +hotel 'bus at early dawn, had passed an old Italian woman toiling up a +hill and singing for dear life the "Tannhauser March." It chanced that +the new arrival was a musician, and he leaned out and asked the old +woman where she had learned it. And this was her explanation; + +"Dey ees a crazy feller in de woods--he play it all day for tree weeks!" + +Section 14. By this time Thyrsis had finished at college, passing +comfortably near the bottom of his class, and had betaken himself to a +university as a graduate student. He was duly registered for a lot of +courses, and spent his time when he should have been at the lectures, +sitting in a vacant class-room reading the book that had fascinated him +last. His note-book began at that time to show two volumes a day on +an average, and once or twice he stopped at night to wonder how it had +actually been possible for him to read poetry fourteen hours a day for a +whole week and not be tired. + +He taught himself German, and that led to another great discovery--he +made the acquaintance of Goethe. The power of that mighty spirit took +hold of him, so that he prayed to him when he was lonely, and kept the +photograph of the young poet in his pocket, to gaze at it as at a lover. +The great eyes came to haunt him so that one night he awoke crying out, +because he had dreamed he was going to meet Goethe. + +In the catalog of the university there were listed a number of courses +in "rhetoric and English composition". They were for the purpose of +teaching one how to write, and the catalog set forth convincingly the +methods whereby this was done. Thyrsis wished to know all there was to +know about writing, and so ne enrolled himself for an advanced course, +and went for an hour every day and listened to expositions of the +elements of sentence-structure by Prof. Osborne, author of "American +Prose Writers" and "The Science of Rhetoric". The professor would give +him a theme, and bid him bring in a five-hundred word composition. +Perhaps it was that Thyrsis was lacking in the play-spirit; at any +rate he could not write convincingly on the subject of "The Duty of the +College Man to Support Athletics." He struggled for a month against his +own impotence, and then went to see his instructor. + +"I think," he said, "I shall have to drop Course A." + +The professor gazed over his spectacles at him. + +"Why?" + +"I don't think I am getting any good out of it." + +"But how can you tell what good you are getting?" + +"I don't seem to feel that I am," said Thyrsis, deprecatingly. + +"It is not to be supposed that you would feel it," said the other--"not +at this early stage. You must wait." + +"But I don't like the method, sir." + +"What's wrong with the method?" + +Thyrsis was embarrassed. He was not sure, he said; but he did not think +that writing could be taught. Anyway, one had first to have something +worth saying-- + +"Are you laboring under the delusion that you know anything about +writing?" demanded the professor. (He had written across Thyrsis' last +composition the words, "Feeble and trivial".) + +"Why, no," began the boy. + +"Because if you are, let me disabuse your mind at once. There is no one +in the class who knows less about writing than yourself." + +"I think," said Thyrsis, "it's because I can't bring myself to write in +cold blood. I have to be interested. I'm sure that is the trouble." + +"I'm sure," said the other, "that the trouble is that you think you know +too much." + +"I'm sorry, sir," said Thyrsis, humbly. "I've tried my best---" + +"It is my business to teach students to write. I've given my life to +that, and I think I know something about it. But you think you know more +than I do. That's all." + +And so they parted. Thyrsis kept a vivid recollection of this interview, +for the reason that at a later stage of his career he came into contact +with Prof. Osborne again, and got another glimpse of the authoritarian +attitude towards the art of letters. + +Section 15. Thyrsis had not many friends at college, and none at all +at the university. He had no time to make any; and besides, there was +a certain facetious senior who had caught him hurrying through the +corridors one day, declaring in excitement that-- + + "Banners yellow, glorious, golden, + On its roof did float and flow!" + +But he had long ago ceased to hope for a friend, or to care what anybody +thought about him; it was clear to him by this time that he had made +himself into a poet, and was doomed to be unhappy. His mother had given +up all hope of seeing him a bishop, and they had compromised upon a +judgeship; but here at the university there was a law-school, and he met +the students, and saw that this, too, could not be. These "lawyers" were +not seeking knowledge for the love of it--they were studying a trade, by +which they could rise in the world. They were not going out to do battle +for truth and justice--they were perfecting themselves in cunning, so +that they might be of help in money-disputes; they were sharpening their +wits, to make them useful tools for the opening of treasure-chests. And +this attitude to life was written all over their personalities; they +seemed to Thyrsis a coarse and roistering crew, and he shrunk from them +in repugnance. + +He went his own impetuous way. He stayed at the university until he had +taught himself French and Italian, as well as German, and had read all +the best literature in those languages. And likewise he heard all the +best music, and went about full of it day and night. By this time he had +definitely beaten his devils, and had come to be master of himself; and +though nobody guessed anything about it, there was a new marvel going on +within him--he had, in a spiritual sense, become pregnant. + +There were many signs by which this state might have been known. He went +quite alone, and spoke to no man; he was self-absorbed, and walked +about with his eyes fixed on vacancy; he was savage when disturbed, and +guarded his time unscrupulously. He had given up the very last of the +formalities of life--he no longer attended any lectures, or wore cuffs, +and he would not talk at meal-times. He took long walks at impossible +hours, and he was fond of a certain high hill where the storms blew. +These things had been going on for a year; and now the book that had +been coming to ripeness in his mind was ready to be born. + +It had its origin in the reading of history, and the fronting of old +tyranny in its cruel forms. Thyrsis had come to hate Christianity for +many things by that time, but most of all he hated it because it taught +the bastard virtue of Obedience. Thyrsis obeyed no man--he lived his +life; and the fiery ardor with which he lived it was taking form in his +mind as a personality. He was dreaming a hero who should be _Resistance_ +incarnate; the passionate assertion of man's right and of man's +defiance. + +It was in the days of ferocity in Italy, the days of the despot and the +bravo; and Thyrsis' hero was a minstrel, a mighty musician whose soul +was free. And he sung in the despot's hall, and wooed the despot's +daughter. This was the minstrel of "Zulieka"--- + + "His ladder of song was slight, + But it reached to her window's height; + Each verse so frail was the silken rail, + From which her soul took flight." + +Thyrsis went about quite drunk with the burning words with which +the minstrel won the lady, and tore her free from the mockeries of +convention, and that divinity that doth hedge about a princess. He bore +her away, locked tightly in his arms, and all his own--into the great +lonely mountains; and there lived the minstrel and the princess, the +lord and the lady of an outlaw band. But the outlaws were cruel, and the +minstrel sought goodness; and so there was a struggle, and he and the +lady went yet deeper into the black forest, where they dwelt alone in a +hut, he a prince of hunters and she a princess of love. But the outlaws +led the despot to the place, and there was a battle; the princess was +slain, and the minstrel escaped in the darkness. All night he roamed +the forest, and in the morning he lay by the roadside with a bow in his +hand, and when the despot rode by he rose and drove the shaft through +his heart. Then they captured him, and tortured him, and he died with a +song of mockery and defiance upon his lips. + +Section 16. Now, when these things first came to Thyrsis, he whispered +in awe that it would be a life-time before he could write them. And a +year passed thus, while every emotion of his life poured itself into +some part of that story, and every note of music that he heard came out +of the minstrel's heart. At last the time came when he was so full of it +that he could no longer find peace; when the wonder of it was such that +he walked along the street laughing, and with tears in his eyes. Then he +said to himself, "It must be done! Now! Now!" And he looked about him as +a woman might, seeking some place for her labor. + +That was in the late winter, when the professors at the university, +and all his relatives and acquaintances, had given him up as a hopeless +case. He had stopped all his writing for money--he had a hundred +dollars laid by, and that would suffice him; and he was wandering about +whispering to himself: "The spring-time! The spring-time! For it must +be in the country!" When April had come he could stand it no longer--he +must go! So he left all behind him, and set out for a place in the +wilderness. + +When he reached it, he found a lake that was all ice, and mountains that +were all snow; the country people, who had never seen a poet, and knew +not the subtle difference between inspiration and insanity, heard with +wonder that he was going out into the woods. But he set out alone, +through the snowy forest and along the lake-shore, to find some place +far away, where he could build a hut, or even put up a tent; and when he +was miles from the village, he came suddenly on a little wonderland +that made his heart leap like the wild deer in the brake. Here was a +dreamland palace, a vision beyond all thinking--a little shanty built +of logs! It stood in a pretty dell, with a mountain streamlet dashing +through it, and the mighty forest hiding it, and the lake spread out +in front of it. It was all wet snow, and freezing rain, and mud and +desolation; but Thyrsis saw the summer that was to be, and he sat down +upon a stone and gazed at it, and laughed and sang for wonder and joy. + +Then he fled back to the village, and found the owner of the earthly +rights to this paradise, and hired it for a little gold; and then he +moved out, in spite of the snow. At last his soul was free! + +Twice a week they brought him provisions, and there he stayed. At first +he nearly froze at night, and he had to write with his gloves on; but +he did not feel the cold, because of the fire within. He climbed the +mountains and yelled with the mad wind, and tramped through the bare, +rocking forest, singing his minstrel songs. And all these days he +walked with God, and there was no world at all save the world of nature. +Millions of young-hearted things sprang up out of the ground to welcome +him; the forests shook out their dazzling sheen, and the wild birds +went mad in the mornings. All the time Thyrsis was writing, +writing--thrilling with his ecstasy, and pouring out all his soul. +He kept a little diary these days, and for weeks there was but one +entry--"The book! The book!" + +And then one day came a letter from his mother, saying that she was +coming to the village nearby to spend the summer; also that Corydon's +mother was coming, and that Corydon would be with her! + + + + + + +BOOK II + +THE SNARE + + + + + +_The streamlet tinkled on. She sat, gazing about her at each familiar +tree and rock. And meanwhile he was reading again from the book-- + + "Here, too, our shepherd-pipes we first assay'd!" + +"Is that from 'Thyrsis'?" she asked. "Read me those lines that we used, +to love so much." + +And so he turned the page, and read again-- + + "A fugitive and gracious light he seeks, + Shy to illumine; and I seek it, too. + This does not come with houses or with gold, + With place, with honor, and a flattering crew: + 'Tis not in the world's market bought and sold-- + But the smooth-slipping weeks + Drop by, and leave its seeker still untired; + Out of the heed of mortals he is gone, + He wends unfollow'd, he must house alone; + Yet on he fares, by his own heart inspired."_ + +Section 1. On the train Corydon was writing a letter to a friend, to say +where she was going, and that Thyrsis was there. "I don't expect to +see anything of him," she wrote. "He grows more egotistical and more +contemptuous every day, and I cordially dislike him." + +But when a man has spent three or four weeks with no company save the +squirrels and the owls, there comes over him a mood of sociability, +when the sight of a friendly face is an event. Thyrsis had now written +several chapters of his book, and the first fury of his creative impulse +had spent itself. So when Corydon stepped from the train, she found +him waiting there to greet her; and he told her that he was laying in +supplies for a feast, and that on the morrow she and her mother were to +come out and see his fairy-palace and have a picnic dinner. + +They came; and the May put on her finest raiment for their greeting. The +sun shone warm and bright, and there was a humming and stirring in grass +and thicket; one could feel the surge of the spring-time growth as a +living flood. There was a glory of young green over the hill-sides, and +a quivering sheen of white in the aspens and birches. Corydon clasped +her hands and cried out in rapture when she saw it. + +And Thyrsis, picturesque in his old corduroy trousers and his +grey flannel shirt, played the host. He showed them his domestic +establishment--wherein things were set in order for the first time since +he had come. He told all his adventures: how the cold had crept in at +night, and he had to fiddle to keep his courage up; how he had slept in +a canvas-cot for the first time, and piled all the bedding on top, +and wondered that he was cold; how he had left the pail with the +freshly-roasted beef on the piazza, and a wild cat had carried off +pail and all. He made fun of his amateur house-keeping--he would forget +things and let them burn, or let the fire go out; and he had tried +living altogether on cold food, to the great perplexity of his stomach. + +Then he gave a demonstration of his hard-won culinary skill. He boiled +rice and raisins, and fried bacon and eggs; and they had fresh bread +and butter, and jam and pickles, and a festive cake. And after they had +feasted, Thyrsis stretched himself and leaned back against the trunk of +a tree, and gazed up at the sky, quoting the words of a certain one-eyed +Kalandar, son of a king, "Verily, this indeed is life! 'Tis pity 'tis +fleeting!" + +Afterwards he took Corydon for a walk. They climbed the hill where he +came to battle with the stormwinds, and to watch the sunsets and the +moon rising over the lake. And then they went down into the glen, where +the mountain streamlet tumbled. Here had been wood-sorrel, and a carpet +of the white trillium; and now there was adder's tongue, quaint and +saucy, and columbine, and the pale dusty corydalis. There was soft new +moss underfoot, and one walked as if in a temple. + +Thyrsis pointed out a seat beside a deep bubbling pool. "Here's where I +sit and write," he said. + +"And how comes the book?" asked Corydon. + +"Oh, I'm hammering at it--that's the best I can say." + +"What is it?" + +"Why--it's a story. I suppose it'll be called a romance, though I don't +like the word." + +Corydon pondered for a moment. "I wouldn't expect you to be writing +anything romantic," she said. + +Thyrsis, occupied with his own thoughts, observed, "I might call it a +revolutionary romance." + +"What is it about?" + +He hesitated. "It happens in the middle ages," he said. "There's a +minstrel and a princess." + +"That sounds interesting," said Corydon. + +Now in the period of pregnancy the artist's mood is one of +secretiveness. But afterwards there comes a time for promulgation and +rejoicing; and already there had been hints of this in the mind of +Thyrsis. The great secret that he was cherishing--what would be the +world's reception of it? And now suddenly a wild idea came to him. He +had heard somewhere that it is the women who read fiction. And was not +Corydon a perfect specimen of the average middle-class young lady, and +therefore of that mysterious potentiality, "the public", to which he +must appeal? Why not see what she would think of it? + +He took the plunge. "Would you like me to read it to you?" he asked. + +"Why, certainly," she replied, and then added, gently, "If it wouldn't +be a desecration." + +"Oh, no," said Thyrsis. "You see, when it's been printed, all sorts of +people will read it." + +So he went back to the house and brought the precious manuscript; and he +placed Corydon in the seat of inspiration, and sat beside her and read. + +In many ways this was a revolutionary romance. Thyrsis had not spent any +of his time delving into other people's books for "local color"; he +was not relying for his effects upon gabardines and hauberks, and a +sprinkling of "Yea, sires," and "prithees." His castle was but the +vaguely outlined background of a stage upon which living hearts wrought +out their passions. One saw the banquet-hall, with its tapestries and +splendor, and the master of it, the man of force; there were swift +scenes that gave one a glimpse of the age-long state of things-- + + "Right forever on the scaffold, + Wrong forever on the throne." + +There was a quarrel, and a cruel sentence about to be executed; and then +the minstrel came. His fame had come before him, and so the despot, in +half-drunken playfulness, left the deciding of the quarrel to him. He +was brought to the head of the table, and the princess was led in; and +so these two met face to face. + +Here Thyrsis paused, and asked, "Are you interested?" + +"Go on, go on," said Corydon. + +So he read about his princess, who was the embodiment of all the virtues +of the unknown goddess of his fancy. She was proud yet humble, aloof +yet compassionate, and above all ineffably beautiful. And as for the +minstrel-- + + "The minstrel was fair and young. + His heart was of love and fire." + +He took his harp, and first he pacified the quarrel, and then he sang to +the lady. He sang of love, and the poet's vision of beauty; but most of +all he sang of the free life of the open. He sang of the dreams and the +spirit-companions of the minstrel, and of the wondrous magic that he +wields-- + + "Secrets of all future ages + Hover in mine ecstasy; + Treasures never known to mortals + Hath my fancy hid for thee!" + +He sang the spells that he would weave for her, the far journeys she +should take-- + + "For thy soul a river flowing + Swiftly, over golden sands, + With the singing of the steersman + Stealing into wonderlands!" + +Section 2. This song was as far as Thyrsis had written, and he paused. +Corydon was sitting with her hands clasped, and a look of enthrallment +upon her face. "Oh, beautiful! beautiful!" she cried. + +A thrill of pleasure went through the poet. "You like it, then?" he +said. + +"Oh, I like it!" she answered. And then she gazed at him, with wide-open +eyes of amazement. "But you! You!" she exclaimed. + +"Why not I?" he asked. + +"How in the world did you do it? Where did you get it from?" + +"It is mine," said Thyrsis, quickly. + +"But I can't imagine it! I had no idea you were interested in such +things!" + +"But how could you know what I am interested in?" + +"I see how you live--apart from everybody. And you spend all your time +in books!" + +Thyrsis suddenly recollected something which had amused him very much. +Corydon had been reading "Middlemarch," and had told him that Dr. +Casaubon reminded her of him. "And so I'm still just a bookworm to you!" +he laughed. + +"But isn't your interest in things always intellectual?" she asked. + +"Then you suppose I'm doing this just as an exercise in technique?" he +countered. + +"It's taken me quite by surprise," said Corydon. + +"We have three faculties in us," Thyrsis propounded--"intellect, +feeling, and will; and to be a complete human being, we have to develop +all of them." + +"But you spend so much time piling up learning!" + +"I need to know a great many things," he said. "I'm not conscious of +studying anything I don't need for my purpose." + +"What is the purpose?" she asked. + +He touched the precious manuscript. "This," he said. + +There was a pause. + +"But you lose so much when you cut yourself off from the world," said +Corydon. "And there are other people, whom you might help." + +"People don't need my help; or at least, they don't want it." + +"But how can you know that--if you never go among them?" + +"I can judge by the lives they live." + +"Ah!" exclaimed Corydon, quickly, "but people aren't to blame for the +lives they live!" + +"Why not?" he asked. + +"Because--they can't help them. They are bound fast." + +"They should break loose." + +"That is easy for you to say," said Corydon. "You have no ties." + +"I did have them--I might have them still. But I broke them." + +"Ah, but you are a man!" + +"What difference does that make?" + +"It makes all the difference in the world. You can earn money, you can +go away by yourself. But suppose you were a girl--shut up in a home, and +told that that was your 'sphere'?" + +"I'd fight," said Thyrsis--"I'd break my way out somehow, never fear. +If one doesn't break out, it simply means that his desire is not strong +enough." + +Thyrsis had been surprised at the depth of Corydon's interest in his +manuscript; he had not supposed that she would be so susceptible to +anything of the imagination. And now he was surprised to see that her +hands were clenched tightly, and that she sat staring ahead of her +intently. + +"Are you dissatisfied with your life?" he asked. + +"Is there anything in it that I could be satisfied with?" she cried. + +"I had no idea of that," he said. + +"No," she replied; "that only shows how stupid you can be!" + +"But--you never showed any signs--" + +"Didn't you know that I was trying to prepare for college last year?" + +"Yes; but you gave it up." + +"What could I do? I had no help--no encouragement. I was groping like a +blind person. And I told you about it." + +"But I told you what to study," objected Thyrsis. + +"Yes," said the girl; "but how could I do it? You know how to +study--you've been taught. But I don't know anything, and I don't know +how to find anything out. I began on the Latin, but I didn't even know +how the words should be pronounced." + +"Nobody else knows that," observed Thyrsis, somewhat inconsequently. + +"It was all so dull and dreary," she went on--"everything they would +have had me learn. I wanted things that had life in them, things that +were beautiful and worth while--like this book of yours, for instance." + +"I am really delighted that you like it," said Thyrsis, touched by that. + +"Tell me the rest of it," she said. + +Section 3. Thyrsis told his story at some length; in the ardor of +her sympathy his imagination took fire, and he told it eloquently, he +discovered new beauties in it that he had not seen before. And Corydon +listened with growing delight and amazement. + +"So that is the way you spend your time!" she exclaimed. + +"That is the way," he said. + +"And that is why you live like a hermit!" + +"Yes, that is why." + +"And you think that you would lose your vision if you went among +people?" + +"I know that I should." + +"But how do you know?" + +"I know because I have tried. You don't realize how hard I have to work +over a thing like this. I have carried it in my mind for a year; I have +lived for nothing else--I have literally had no other interest in the +world. Every sentence I have read to you has been the product of work +added to work--of one impulse piled upon another--of thinking and +criticizing and revising. Just the little bit I have done has taken me +a whole month, and I have hardly stopped to eat; it's been my first +thought in the morning and my last at night. And when the mood of it +comes to me, then I work in a kind of frenzy that lasts for hours and +even days; and if I give up in the middle and fall back, then I have to +do it all over again. It's like toiling up a mountain-side." + +"I see," whispered Corydon. "And then, do you expect to have no human +relationships as long as you live?" + +Thyrsis pondered for a moment. "Did you ever read Mrs. Browning's poem, +'A Musical Instrument'?" he asked. + +"No," she answered. + +"It's a most beautiful poem," he said; "and it's hardly ever quoted or +read, that I can find. It tells how the great god Pan came down by the +river-bank, and cut one of the reeds to make himself a pipe. He sat +there and played his music upon it-- + + 'Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! + Piercing sweet by the river! + Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! + The sun on the hill forgot to die, + And the lilies reviv'd, and the dragon-fly + Came back to dream on the river. + + 'Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, + To laugh as he sits by the river, + Making a poet out of a man. + The true gods sigh for the cost and pain,-- + For the reed which grows nevermore again + As a reed with the reeds in the river.'" + +Thyrsis paused. "Do you see what it means?" he asked. + +"Yes," said Corydon, "I see." + +"'Making a poet out of a man!' That is one of the finest lines I know. +And that's the way I feel about it--I have given up all other duties in +the world. If I can write one book, or even one poem, that will be an +inspiration to men in the future--why, then I have done far more than I +could do by a lifetime given to helping people around me." + +"I never understood before," said Corydon. + +"That is the idea the minstrel tries to voice to the princess. At first +he pours out his soul to her; but then, when he finds that she loves +him, he is afraid, and tries to persuade her not to come with him. He +tells her how lonely and stern his life is; and she has been born to a +gentle life--she has her station and her duty in the world. But the more +he pleads the hardness of his life, the more she sees she must go with +him. Even if the end be death to her, still she will be an inspiration +to him, and give wings to his music. 'Be silent,' she tells him--'let me +fling myself away for a song! To do one deed that the world remembers, +to utter one word that lives forever--that is worth all the failure and +the agony that can come to one woman in her lifetime!'" + +Corydon sat with her hands clasped. "Yes," she said, "that is the way +she would feel!" + +"I'm glad to hear you say that," remarked the other. "I must make it +real; and I've been afraid about it. Would she really go with him?" + +"She would go if she loved him," said Corydon. + +"If she loved him. But she must love his art still more." + +"She must love _him,"_ said Corydon. + +Thyrsis shook his head. "It would not do for her to go with him for +that," he said. + +"Why not? Doesn't he love her?" + +"Yes; but he is afraid to tell her so. They dare not let that sway +them." + +"I don't understand. Why not?" + +"Because personal love is a limited thing, and comparatively an ignoble +thing." + +"I don't see how there can be anything more noble than true love between +a man and a woman," declared Corydon. + +"It depends on what you mean by 'true' love," replied Thyrsis. "If two +people love each other for their own sakes, and go together, they soon +come to know each other, and then they are satisfied--and their growth +is at an end. What I conceive is that two people must lose themselves, +and all thought of themselves, in their common love for something +higher--for some great ideal, some purpose, some vision of perfection. +And they seek this together, and they rejoice in finding it, each for +the other; and so they have always progress and growth--they stand for +something new to each other every day of their lives. To such love there +is no end, and no chance of weariness or satiety." + +"I had never thought of it just so," said the girl. "But surely there +must be a personal love in the beginning." + +"I don't know," he responded. "I hadn't thought about that. I'm afraid +I'm impersonal by nature." + +"Yes," she said, "that's what has puzzled me. Don't you love human +beings?" + +"Not as a rule," he confessed. + +"But then--what is it you are interested in? Yourself?" + +"People tell me that's the case. And there's a sense in which it's +true--I'm wrapped up in the thought of myself as an art-work. I've a +certain vision of the possibilities of my own being, and I'm trying to +realize it. And if I do, then I can write books and communicate it to +other people, so that they can judge it, and see if it's any better than +the vision they have. It is a higher kind of unselfishness, I think." + +"I see," said Corydon. "It's not easy to understand." + +"No one understands it," he replied. "People are taught that they must +sacrifice themselves for others; and they do it, blindly and stupidly, +and never ask if the other person is worthy of the sacrifice--and still +less if they themselves have anything worth sacrificing." + +Corydon had clenched her hands suddenly. "How I hate the religion of +self-sacrifice!" she cried. + +"Mine is a religion of self-development," said Thyrsis. "I am +sacrificing myself for what other people ought to be." + +Section 4. They came back after a time, to the subject of love; and to +the ideal of it which Thyrsis meant to set forth in the book. It was +the duty of every soul to seek the highest potentiality of which it had +vision; and as one did that for himself, so he did it for the person +he loved. There could be no higher love than this--to treat the thing +beloved as one's self, to be perpetually dissatisfied with it, to +scourge it to new endeavor, to hold it in immortal discontent. + +This was a point about which they argued with eager excitement. To +Thyrsis, love itself was a prize to be held before the loved one; +whereas Corydon argued that love must exist before such a union could be +thought of. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone as she maintained the +thesis that the princess could not go with the minstrel unless his love +was given to her irrevocably. + +"If you mean by love a sense of oneness in the pursuit of an ideal, then +I agree with you," said Thyrsis. "But if you mean what love generally +means--a mutual admiration, the worshipping of another personality--then +I don't." + +"And are lovers not even to be interesting to each other?" cried +Corydon. + +But the poet did not shrink even from that. "I don't think a woman could +be interesting to me--except in so far as she was growing. And she +must always know that if she stopped growing, she would cease to be +interesting. That is not a matter of anybody's will, it seems to me--it +is a fact of soul-chemistry." + +"I don't think you will find many women to love you on that basis," said +Corydon. + +"I never expected to find but one," was Thyrsis' reply; "and I may not +find even one." + +She sat watching him for a moment. "I had never realized the sublimity +of your egotism," she said. "It would never occur to you to judge anyone +else by your own standards, would it?" + +"That is very well put," laughed Thyrsis. "As a matter of fact, I have a +maxim that I count all things lost in the world but my own soul." + +"Why is that?" + +"Because I can depend on my own soul; and I have not yet met anything +else in life of which I can say that." + +Again there was a pause. "You are as hard as iron!" exclaimed the girl. + +"I am harder than anything you can find for your simile," he answered. +"I know simply that there is no force existing that can turn me from my +task." + +"You might meet some woman who would fascinate you." + +"Perhaps," he replied. "I have done things I'm ashamed of, and I've +a wholesome fear of doing more of them. But I know that that woman, +whoever she might be, would wake up some morning and find me missing." + +Then for a while he sat staring at the eddies in the pool below. "I have +a vision of another kind of woman," he said--"a woman to whom my ideal +would be the same compelling force that it is to me--a living thing that +would drive her, that she was both master of, and slave to, as I am. So +that she would feel no fears, and ask no favors! So that she would not +want mercy, nor ask pledges--but just give herself, as I give myself, +and take the chances of the game. Don't you think there may be just one +such woman in the world?" + +"Perhaps," was the reply. "But then--mightn't a woman be sure of your +ideal, but not of you?" + +"As to that," said Thyrsis, "she would have to know me. + +"As to that," said Corydon, "she would have to love you." + +And Thyrsis smiled. "As in most arguments," he said, "it's mainly a +matter of definitions." + +Section 5. At this point there came a call from the distance, and +Corydon started. "There is mother," she exclaimed. "How the afternoon +has flown!" + +"And must you go home now?" he asked. + +"I'm afraid so," she replied. "We have a long row." + +"I'm sorry," he said. "I wanted to advise you about books to read. You +must let me help you to find what you are seeking." + +"Ah," said Corydon, "if you only will!" + +"I will do anything I can," he said. "I am ashamed of not having helped +you before." + +They had risen and started towards the house. "Can't you come to-morrow, +and we can talk it over," he said. + +"But I thought you were going to work," she objected. + +"I can spare another day," he replied. "A rest won't hurt me, I know. +And it's been a real pleasure to talk to you this afternoon." + +So they settled it; and Thyrsis saw them off in the boat, and then he +went back to the little cabin. + +On the steps he stood still. "Corydon!" he muttered. "Little Corydon!" + +That was always the way he thought of her; not only because he had known +her when she was a child, but because this expressed his conception of +her--she was so gentle and peaceable and meek. She was now eighteen, and +he was only twenty, but he felt towards her as a grandfather might. +But now had come this new revelation, that astonished him. She had +been deeply stirred by his work--she had loved it; and this was no +affectation, it was out of her inmost heart. And she was not really +contented at all--she had quite a hunger for life in her! + +It had been like an explosion; the barriers had been destroyed between +them, and he saw her as she really was. And he could hardly believe +it--all through the adventures that followed he would find himself +standing in the same kind of daze, whispering to himself--"Corydon! +Little Corydon!" + +He did not try to do any work that evening. He thought about her, and +the problem of her life. She had stirred him strangely; he saw her +beautiful with a new kind of beauty. He resolved that he would put her +upon the way to some of the joy she sought. + +She came early the next morning, and they sat by the lake-shore and +talked. They talked about the things she needed to study, and how she +should study them; about the books she had read and the books she was +to read next. And from this they went on to a hundred questions of +literature and philosophy and life. They became eager and excited; their +thoughts took wings, and they lost all sense of time and place. There +were so many things to be discussed! + +Corydon, in spite of all her anti-clericalism, believed in immortality; +she laid claim to intuitions and illuminations concerning it. And to +Thyrsis, on the other hand, the idea of immortality was the consummation +of all unfaith. To him life was a bubble upon the stream of time, a +shadow of clouds upon the mountains; there was nothing about it that +could be or should be immortal. + +"The act of faith," he cried, "is to give ourselves into the arms of +life, to take it as it comes, to rejoice in its infinite unfoldment, the +'plastic dance of circumstance'; to behold the budding flower and the +new-born suns as equal expressions of the joy of becoming. But people +are weak, they love themselves, and they set themselves up as the centre +of existence!" + +But Corydon was personal, and loved life; and she stood out that death +was unthinkable--that she had the sense of infinity within her. Thyrsis +strove to make her see that one was to wreak one's hunger for infinity +at each moment, and not put it off to any future age; that life was +a thing for itself, and needed no sequel to justify it. "It is a free +gift, and we have no claim upon it; we must take it on the terms of the +giver." + +From that they came to religion. Thyrsis loved the forms of the old +faiths, because of the poetry there was in them; and so he wrestled with +Corydon's paganism. He tried to show her how one could read "Paradise +Lost" and the English prayer-book, precisely as one read Virgil and +Homer; to which Corydon answered that she had been to Sunday-school. + +"But you once believed in Santa Claus!" he retorted. "And does that make +you quarrel with him now? Every time you read a novel, don't you pretend +to believe in people who never existed?" + +He went on to show her how much she lost of the sublime and inspiring +things of the past. He took the story of Jesus. It mattered not in the +least if it was fiction or fact--it was there, as an achievement of +the human spirit. He showed her the man of the gospels--not the +stained-glass god with royal robes and shining crown, but the humble +workingman, with his dream of a heaven nearby, and a father who loved +his children without distinction. He went about among the poor and +humble, the world's first revolutionist; teaching the supremacy of the +soul--a doctrine which was to be as dynamite beneath the pillars of all +established institutions. He lived as a tramp and an outcast, and he +died the death of a criminal; and now those who had murdered him were +using his doctrines to enslave the world!--All this was a new idea to +Corydon, and she resolved forthwith that she would begin her readings +with the New Testament. + +Section 6. So it went, until Thyrsis looked up with a start, and saw +that the shadows were falling. It was five o'clock, and they had not +stopped to eat! Even so, they had no time to cook, but made a cold +meal--and talked all the time they were eating. + +Then Corydon said, "I must start for home." + +"You won't want any supper," said Thyrsis. "Let's see the sunset first." + +"But mother will be expecting me," she objected. + +"She'll know you're all right," he replied. + +So they climbed the hill, and sat and watched the sunset and the rising +full moon. The air was clear, and the sky like opal, and the pale, +pearly tints of the clouds were ravishing to behold. To Thyrsis it +seemed that these colors were an image of the soul that was disclosed +to him. He would have been at a loss for words to describe the +extraordinary sense of purity that Corydon gave to him; it was not +simply her maidenhood--it was something far more rare than that. +Here was an utterly perfect human soul; a soul without speck or +blemish--without a base idea, with no trace of a vanity, unaware what +a pretense might be. The joy and wonder of life welled spontaneously in +her, she moved to a noble impulse as a cloud moves before the wind. She +was like a creature from the skies they were watching. + +And here, in the silver moonlight, a memorable hour came to them. +Thyrsis told her of his consecration, and why he lived his hermit-life. +He had known for years that he was not as other men; and now every hour +it was becoming clearer to him. He shrunk from the word, because it +had been desecrated by the world; but it was Genius. More and more +frequently there was coming to him this strange ecstasy, the source +of which he could not guess; it was like the giving way of flood-gates +within him--the pouring in of a tide of wonder and joy. It made him +tremble like a leaf, it made him cry aloud and fall down upon the ground +exhausted. And yet, whatever the strain might be, he never lost his +grip upon himself; rather, all the powers of his mind seemed to be +multiplied--it seemed as if all existence became one with his soul. + +Never before had he uttered a word of this to anyone. No one could +understand the burden it had laid upon him. For this was the thing that +all the world was seeking, for the lack of which the world was dying; +and it was his to give or to withhold, to lose or to save. He had to +forge it and shape it, he had to embody it, to set it forth in images +and symbols. And that meant a terrific labor, a feat of mental and +emotional endurance quite indescribable. He must hold it, though it +burned like fire; he must clutch it to his bosom, though it tore at his +heart-strings. + +"Sometimes," he said, "I fail and have to give up; and then I have +nothing but a memory without words--or perhaps a few broken phrases that +seem mere nonsense. Then I am like a man who has seen some loved one +drowned or burned to death before his eyes. It is a thing so ineffable, +so precious; and some power seeks to tear it away from me, to bear it +into oblivion forever. I can't know, of course--it might come to some +one else--or it might never come again. The feeling I have is like that +of a mother for an unborn child; if I do not give it life, no one ever +will. And don't you see--compared with that, what does anything else +count? I would lie down and be crushed to pieces, if that would help; +truly, I would suffer less than I suffer in what I try to do. And so, +the things that other men care for--they simply don't exist for me. I +must have a little money, because I have to have something to eat, and a +place to work in. But I don't want position or fame--I don't shrink from +any ridicule or humiliation. It seems like a mad thing to say, but I +have nothing to do either with men's evil or with their good. I am not +bound by any of their duties; I can't have any country or any home, I +can't have wife or children--I can hardly even have any friends. Don't +you see?" + +"Yes," whispered Corydon, deeply moved, "I see." + +"Look," he went on--"see all the vice and misery in the world--the +cruelty and greed and hate. And see all the stupid and petty things, the +narrow motives, the vanities and the jealousies! And all that is because +people haven't this thing that has come to me; they don't know the +possibilities of life, they lack the sense of its preciousness and +sacredness. And they seek and seek--and go astray! Take drunkenness, for +instance; that brings them joy, but it's a false scent, it leads them +over a precipice. I've been down at the bottom of it--you know why I +have to go there, and what I've seen. And that is where the best of +men's faculties go--yes, it's literally true! The men who are dull +and plodding, they are contented; it's the men who are adventurous and +aspiring who come to that precipice. I walk down an avenue and see the +lines of saloons with their gleaming lights, and that thought is like +a scream of anguish in my soul; there came a phrase to me once, that +I wanted to cry out to people--'the graveyards of your genius! the +graveyards of your genius!'" + +Corydon was gazing at his uplifted face. She said, "That is how Jesus +must have felt, when he wept over Jerusalem." + +"Yes," said Thyrsis. "It is a new religion trying to be born. Only +nowadays they don't persecute you, they just ignore you. They don't +hang you up on a cross and make you conspicuous and picturesque--they +ridicule you and let you starve. And that is what I face, you see. I've +saved a hundred dollars--just barely enough to buy me food until I've +written the book!" + +"And other people have so much!" cried Corydon. + +"So much--and no idea what to do with it. They just fling it away, in +a drunken frenzy. And down below are the poor, who slave to make +civilization possible. Such lives as they have to live--I can't ever get +the thought out of my mind, not in any happiest moment! I feel as if I +were a man who had escaped from a beleaguered city, and it all depended +upon me to carry the tidings and bring relief. I'm their one hope, and +if I fail them I'm a traitor, an accursed being! They are ignorant and +helpless, and their cry comes to me like some great storm-wind of grief +and despair. Oh, some day I mean to utter words that will reach them--I +can't fail! I can't fail!" + +"No!" whispered Corydon. "You must not fail!" + +They sat in silence for a while. + +"How I wish that I could help you!" she said. + +"Who can tell?" he answered. "Perhaps you may. A true friend is a rare +thing to find." + +"I would do anything in the world to share in such a work." + +"You really mean that? As hard as it is?" + +"I would bear anything," she said. "I would go to the ends of the earth +for it. I would fling away the whole world--just as you have done." + +"Ah, but are you strong enough? Could you stand it?" + +"I don't know that--I'm only a child. But I wouldn't mind dying." + +And so it came. It came as the dawn comes, unheralded, +unheeded--spreading wider, till the day is there. Months afterwards they +talked about it, and Thyrsis asked, "When did I propose to you?" + +"I don't think you ever proposed to me," she answered. "It just came. It +had to come--there was no other way." + +"But when did I first kiss you?" he asked. + +"I don't know even that," she said, and pondered. + +"Did I kiss you that night when we sat on the hill?" he asked. + +"I wouldn't have known it if you had," said Corydon. "It was as natural +for you to kiss me as it was for me to draw my breath." + +Section 7. The moon was high when they went down the hill, and he rowed +her home. They were silent with the awe that was upon them. They found +the people at home in a panic, but they scarcely knew this--and they +scarcely troubled to explain. + +Then Thyrsis went home, and spent half the night roaming about in +excitement. And early in the morning he was sitting on the edge of his +canvas-cot, whispering to himself again, "Corydon! Little Corydon!" + +He could not think of work that day, but set out to walk to the village +by the lonely mountain-road; and half-way there he met the girl, coming +in the other direction. There was a light of wonder in her eyes; and +also there was perplexity. For all that morning she had been whispering +to herself, "Thyrsis! Thyrsis!" + +They sat by the roadside to talk it over. + +"Corydon," he began, "I've been thinking about what we said last night, +and it frightens me horribly. And I want to ask you please not to think +about it any more. I could not take anyone else into my life--before +God, I couldn't be so cruel. I have been shuddering at the thought of +it. Oh please, please, run away from me--before it is too late!" + +"Is that the way it seems?" she asked. + +"Corydon!" he cried. "I am a tormented man! There can't be any happiness +in the world for me. And you are so beautiful and so pure and so good--I +simply dare not think of it! You must be happy, Corydon!" + +"I have never yet been happy," she said. + +"Listen," he went on--"there is a stanza of Walter Scott's that came +to me this morning--an outlaw song. It seemed to sum up all my feeling +about it: + + "'Maiden! a nameless life I lead, + A nameless death I'll die; + The fiend whose lantern lights the mead + Were better mate than I!'" + +Corydon sat staring ahead. "You can't frighten me away from you," she +said, in a low voice. "It isn't worth your while to try. But let me tell +you what I came to say. I'm so ignorant and so helpless--I didn't see +how I could be of any use to you. And so I wanted to tell you that you +must do whatever seemed best to you--just don't count me at all. You +see what I mean--I'm not afraid for myself, but just for you. I couldn't +bear the thought that I might be in your way. I felt I had to come and +tell you that, before you went back to your work." + +Now Thyrsis had set out with mighty battlements reared about him; and +not all the houris and the courtesans of all the ages could have found +a way to breach them. But before those simple sentences of Corydon's, +uttered in her gentle voice, and with her maiden's gaze of wonder--the +battlements crumbled and rocked. + +And that was always the way of it. There were endless new explanations +and new attitudes, new excursions and discoveries. They would part with +a certain understanding, but they never knew with what view they would +meet in the morning. They were swung from one extreme to the other, from +certitude to doubt, from joy to dismay and despair. And so, day after +day they would sit and talk, for uncounted hours. Corydon would come to +the little cabin, or Thyrsis would come to the village, and they would +wander about the roads or the woods, forgetting their meals, forgetting +all the world. Once they wandered away into the mountains, and they sat +until the dusk closed round them; they were almost lost that night. + +"Of course," Thyrsis had been saying, "we should not be married like +other men and women." + +"No," said Corydon, "of course not." + +"We should be brother and sister," he said. + +"Yes," she assented. + +"And it would not be real marriage--I mean, it would be just for the +world's eyes." + +"So I don't see how it could hinder you," Corydon added. "Whatever I +did that was wrong, you would tell me. And then too, about money. I +shouldn't be any burden; for I have twenty-five dollars a month of my +own." + +"I had no idea of that," said Thyrsis. + +"I've only had it for a year," said Corydon. "An aunt left me nearly +four thousand dollars. I can't touch the principal until I'm thirty, +but I have the income, and that will buy me everything I need. And so it +would be just as if you didn't have me to think of." + +"I don't think the money side matters so much," was his reply. "It's +only this summer, you see--until I've finished the book." + +Section 8. The key to all the future was the book; but alas, the book +was not coming on. How could one write amid such excitement? This was a +new kind of wine in Thyrsis' blood. This was reality! And before it his +dream-phantoms seemed to have dissolved into nothingness. + +They would make a compact for so many days, and he would start to work; +but he would find himself thinking of Corydon, and new problems would +arise, and he would take to writing her notes--and finally realize in +despair that he might as well go and see her. + +Meantime Corydon would be wrestling with tasks of her own. They had +talked over her development, and agreed that what she needed was +discipline. And because Thyrsis had read her some of Goethe's lyrics, +she had decided to begin with German. Thyrsis had wasted a great deal +of time with German courses in college, and so he was able to tell her +everything not to do. He got her a little primer of grammar, just enough +to make clear the language-structure; and then he set her to acquiring +a vocabulary. He had little books full of words that he had prepared for +himself, and these she drilled into her brain, all day and nearly all +night. She stopped for nothing but to eat--in the woods when the weather +was fair and in her room when it rained, she studied words, words, +words! And she made amazing progress--while Thyrsis was wrestling with +his angels she read Grimm's fairy tales, and some of Heyse's "Novellen," +and "Hermann and Dorothea," and "Wilhelm Tell." + +But these were children's tasks, and her pilgrimage was one of despair. +Above were the heights where Thyrsis dwelt, inaccessible, almost +invisible; and how many years must she toil to reach them! She would +come to him with tears in her eyes--tears of shame for her ignorance and +her stupidity. And then Thyrsis would kiss the tears away, and tell her +how many brilliant and clever women he had met, who had the souls of +dolls behind all their display of culture. + +So Corydon would escape that unhappiness--but alas, only to fall into +another kind. For she was a maiden, beautiful and tender, and ineffably +precious to Thyrsis; and when they met, their hands would come +together--it was as natural for them to embrace as for the flowers to +grow. And this would lead to moods of weakness and satisfaction--not to +that divine discontent, that rage of impatience which Thyrsis craved. It +seemed to him that Corydon grew more and more in love with him, and +more willing to cling to him; and he was savage because of his own +complaisance. They would spend hours, exchanging endearments and +whispering youthful absurdities; and then, the next day, he would write +a note of protest, and Corydon would be wild with misery, and would tear +up his love-notes, and vow in tears that he should never touch her hand +again. Now and then he would try to suggest to her that what she needed +for the fulfillment of her life was not a madman like himself, but a +husband who would love her and cherish her, as other women were loved +and cherished; and there was nothing in all the world that galled her +quite so much as this. + +Section 9. There came a time when all these happenings could no longer +be hid from parents. This unthinkable "engagement" had to be announced, +and the furies of grief and rage and despair unchained. No one could +realize the change that had come over Corydon--Cory-don, the meek and +long-suffering, who now was turned to granite, and immovable as the +everlasting hills. As for Thyrsis, all kinds of madness had come +from him, and were expected from him. But even he was appalled at the +devastation which this thunderbolt caused. + +"You have ruined your career! You have ruined your career!" was the cry +that rang in his ears all day. And he knew what the world meant by +this. Young men of talent who wished to rise in the world did not burden +themselves with wives at the age of twenty; they waited until their +careers were safe--and meantime, if they felt the need, they satisfied +their passions with the daughters of the poor. And it was for some such +"eligible man" as this that the world had been preparing Corydon; it was +to save her for his coming that her sheltered life had been intended. +Her beauty and tenderness would appeal to him, her innocence would bring +a new thrill to his jaded passions; and when he offered his hand, there +would be no whisper of what his past might have been, there would be +no questions asked as to any vices or diseases he might bring with him. +There would be trousseaus and flowers and wedding-cake, rice and white +ribbons and a honeymoon-journey; and then an apartment in the city, +or perhaps even a whole house, with a butler and a carriage--who could +tell? With wealth pouring into the metropolis from North and West and +South, such things fell often to beautiful and innocent maidens in +sheltered homes. + +And here was this one, flinging herself away upon a penniless poet who +could not support her, and did not even propose to try! "Does he mean to +get some work?" was the question; and gently Corydon explained that +they intended "to live as brother and sister." And that capped the +climax--that proved stark, raving madness, if it did not prove downright +knavery and fraud. + +In the end, being utterly baffled and helpless with dismay, the mothers +turned upon each other; for to each of them, the virtues of her own +offspring being so apparent, it was clear that this hideous tragedy must +have come from the machinations of the other. One day Thyrsis and his +mother, walking down a road, met Corydon and her mother, upon a high +hill where the winds blew wildly; and here they poured out their grief, +and hurled their impeachments against the storm. To Thyrsis they +assumed heroic proportions, they towered like queens of tragedy; in +after-history this was known as the Meeting of the Mothers, and he +likened it to the great contest in the Nibelungenlied between Brunhild +and Kriemhild. + +Then, on top of it all, there came another calamity. In the +boarding-house with Corydon lived some elderly ladies, who had a +remarkable faculty for divining the evil deeds of other people. They had +divined the evil deeds of Corydon and Thyrsis, and one of them was moved +to come to Corydon's mother one day, and warn her lest others should +divine them too. And so there was more agony; the discovery was made +that Corydon had become a social outcast to all the maids and matrons +of the summer population--a girl who went to visit a poet in his lonely +cabin, and stayed until unknown hours of the night. And so there came to +Thyrsis a note saying that Corydon must come no more to the cabin; +and later in the day came Corydon herself, to bring the tidings that +a telegram had come from the city, and that she and her mother were to +leave the place the next day. + +Thyrsis was aflame with anger, and was for going to the nearest parson +and having the matter settled there and then. But Corydon dissuaded him +from this. + +"I've been thinking it over," she said, "and it's best that I should +go. You must finish the book--everything depends upon that, and you know +that if I came here now you couldn't do it. But if I go away, there'll +be nothing to disturb you. I can study meantime; and when we meet in the +city in the fall, everything will be clear before us." + +She came and put herself in his arms. "You know, dear heart," she said, +"it won't be easy for me to go. But I'm sure it's for the best!" + +And Thyrsis saw that she was right, and so they settled it. She spent +that day with him--their last day; and floods of tenderness welled up in +their hearts, and the tears ran down their cheeks. It was only now that +she was going that Thyrsis realized how precious she had become to him, +and what a miracle of gentleness and trust she was. + +They agreed that here, and not in the village, was the place for their +parting. So they poured out their love and devotion, and made their +pledges for the future; and towards sundown he kissed her good-bye, and +put her in the boat, and stood watching until it was a mere speck +down the lake. Then he went back to the house, with a great cavern of +loneliness in his soul. + +And in spite of all resolves, he was up with the dawn next day, and +walking to the village--he must see her once again! He went to the depot +with her, and upon the platform they said another farewell; thereby +putting a seal upon Corydon's damnation in the eyes of the maids and +matrons of the summer population. + +BOOK III + +THE VICTIM HESITATES + +_They had opened a wooden box which lay beside them. + +"Ten years!" she said. "How they have faded!" + +"And the creases are tight," said he; "they will be hard to read." + +"Letters! letters!" she exclaimed--"some of them sixty pages long! How +much would they make?" + +"Perhaps a quarter of a million words," he said. + +"What is to be done about it?" + +"They must be selected, and then cut, and then trimmed and pruned." + +"And will that leave any idea of it?" + +He answered with a simile. "You wish to convey to a man how it feels to +pound stone for twelve hours in the sun. The only way you could really +do it would be to take him and let him pound for twelve hours. But he +wouldn't stand for that." + +"So you let him pound for one hour," said she, with a smile. + +"I will put up a sign," he said--_ + + 'HERE BEGINS THE STONE-POUNDING!' + +_And then those who are interested will come in and try it; and the rest +will peer through the fence and pass on." + +To which she responded, "I would make the sign read,_ + + 'ADMISSION TO LOVERS ONLY!'" + +MY THYRSIS! + +Oh, if I might only stay in a convent until you are ready to take +me! Since I left you I find myself possessed of cravings, which, if I +indulged them, might bring me the fate of the Maid of Neidpath! + +Truly I have known some miserable moments. But I am trying very hard to +cultivate a happy, confident activity. The people here are aggressive, +and I am afraid I have been rude, which I never like to be. I just +succeeded in getting away from a young man who wanted to walk to the +village with me. Do you know, it would drive me absolutely mad to talk +to anyone now! + +My soul has only one cry, and I could sometimes go out on the +mountain-side and scream it aloud to the winds. I fear I shall be +a trifle wild, in fact utterly in pieces, until you come, with that +wonderful recipe of yours for binding me together, and making me +complete. I think of you in your house, and wish to God I were there, or +out in the desert even, if you were with me. + +When I passed through the city I felt exactly as if I were in Hades. +The glaring lights and the fearful rattle, the lazy, lounging men--I +had dinner in a restaurant, in which all the people seemed to be feeding +demons! It has been distinctly shown me why so many people have thought +you a rude unmannerly boy! I don't know what people would think, if I +had to be amongst them long. + +I have begun so many letters to you in my mind, and oh, the times I have +told myself how much I loved you! I have read your letters and slept +with them under my pillow, like the veriest love-lorn maiden. But all my +happy thoughts are gone at present. It is distracting to me to have to +come into such close contact with people. + +Oh, tell me, dearest one, what I shall have to do to control myself and +preserve the peace of my soul, until I go to you forever? I must not +long to see you, it prevents me from studying. If you might only come to +me at one moment in the day, and give me one kiss, and then go away! You +see, I am conducting myself in a very unwise manner--and it is necessary +I should study! I should love to have an indomitable capacity for work, +and eat only two meals a day, and never have to think about my body. + +I want to tell you what I feel, how utterly and absolutely I am yours, +and how any image that comes between you and me enrages me. If only you +knew how I give myself up to you in thought, word, and deed!--My one +reason for acting now, is that I may show you something I have done, my +one thought is to be what you would wish me. No one, no one understands, +or ever will, what is in your heart and in mine--to be locked there for +ages. There I have placed all my power of love and religion and hope of +the life that is to be. To you I give all my trust, all my worship, you +are the one link that binds me to myself and to God. Without you I feel +now that I should be a poor wanderer. + +You give me my feeling of wholeness, of the possibility of completion, +that I never had before. In my best and truest moments I know that with +you I can be what I have hoped. With you before my eyes I have a grim +resolution to conquer or die. The one thing I am sure of always is my +love for you. It might be possible for you to stop loving me; but I, +now that I have begun, shall continue to love you to the day I die--and +after, I hope. I do not love you for what you can give me, I love you +because you are you, I must love you now no matter what you are. I +believe Shakespeare was right when he said that "love is not love which +alters, when it alteration finds." I do not believe that a person can +really love more than once. + +I must go to my German again and leave you. Do you love me? Do you love +me? Do you love me? + +II + +My dearest Corydon: + +I received a letter from you before dinner, and as usual had one of my +flights of emotion, and thought of many things to write to you. Now I +am up on the mountain-side, trying to recall them. Dearest, you are, +as always, more precious to me. I am glad to see that you are suffering +some, and I think that it is well that you have to be away from me for +awhile, to fight some of your own soul's battles. You see that I am in +my stern humor; as convinced as ever that the soul is to be deepened +only by effort, and that the great glory of life cannot be bought or +stolen, or even given for love, but must be earned. + +I will tell you what I have been doing since you left. I spent three +whole days in the most unimaginable wretchedness; I had no hindrances +like yours--only the most fearful burden of dullness and sloth, that +had crept upon me and mastered me, during all the weeks that I had let +myself be so upset and delayed. I cannot picture what I go through when +I lose my self-command in that way, but it is like one who is tied +down upon a railroad track and hears a train coming. He gets just as +desperate as he pleases, and suffers anything you can imagine--but he +does not get free. And always the book would be hanging before me, a +kind of external conscience, to show me what I ought to have been. + +Now I have gotten myself out of that, by an effort that has quite worn +me out. When I found myself at work again, I felt a kind of savage joy +of effort, a greater power than I ever knew before. In the reckless mood +that I had got to, it seemed to me that I could keep so forever. + +Now dearest, you must get the same unity in your life; you must +concentrate all your faculties upon that--get for yourself that precious +habit of being "instant in prayer", and "strenuous for the +bright reward". As Wordsworth has it, "Brook no continuance of +weak-mindedness!" Let it come to you with a pang that hurts you, that +for one minute you have been idle, that you have admitted to yourself +that life is a thing of no consequence, and that you do not care for it. +I shall have to talk to you that way--perhaps not so often as I do to +myself, because I do not think you are really in your heart such a very +dull and sodden creature as I am. + +I think the greatest trial we shall have will be our fondness for each +other, and the possibility of being satisfied simply to hold each other +in our arms. But we shall get the better of that, as of everything else; +and that is not the problem now. You must learn to strive, learn to +master yourself; you must prove your power so. Do not care how rude you +have to be to those people; look upon the things about you as a kind of +dream-world, and know that your own soul's life is the one real thing +for you. And don't write any more about how circumstances hold you back. +When you have got to work you will know that you are given your soul for +no purpose but to fight circumstances; that they are the things to make +you fight. When they are removed, as I know to my cost, there is still +the same necessity of fighting; only it is like a horse who has to win a +race without the spurs. + +You must talk to yourself about this, night and day, until this desire +is so awake in you that you can't go idle many moments without its +rushing into your mind, and giving you a kind of electric shock. And +when that happens you fling aside every thing else, every idea but the +work that you ought to be doing, and put all your faculties upon that; +and every time that you catch them wandering, you do the same thing +again, and again. Some times when I become very keenly aware of myself, +and of what a shallow creature I really am, it seems to me that it is +only by wearing myself out in that grim and savage way that I can make +myself even tolerable. + +I _must_ stop. Do you know that for five precious hours by my watch I +have sat up here thinking about you and writing to you? Dear me--and I +am tired, and frozen, for there is a cold wind. I shall have, I see, to +prove some of _my_ powers, by not writing letters to you when I should +be at the book. + +I see that it takes four or five days for letters to come and go between +us; and so if we write often, our letters will be crossing. Four or five +days is time enough for us to change our moods a dozen times, so our +correspondence will be apt to be complicated! + +III + +MY DEAREST THYRSIS: + +It has worried me somewhat to-day that you might be utterly disappointed +in the letter I wrote you. It was a wild jumble of words, but I was +fighting all sorts of uncomfortable things within me. To-day I have been +anything but despairing, and have "gone at" the German. In fact, I quite +lost myself in it, and believe I understand thoroughly the construction +of the first poem. Wonderful accomplishment! + +Your words, as I read them again, dear heart, are full of a great beauty +and fire and energy, and I only hope you may keep them always. I believe +that the possibility of the marriage we both desire, depends greatly if +not entirely on _your_ sternness. You must realize it. + +I cannot tell with the proper conditions and training what energy I +might be able to accumulate for myself, but in the meanwhile the thing +that makes me most wretched is my utter incapacity at times, and my +inability to share with you your work. In my weaker and more helpless +moods, I ask myself with a pang, whether I ought to go with you at all, +when I cannot help you. But I must stop fuming. I have come out of my +mudpuddle for good and for all, and that is the main consideration. I +don't intend to go back. + +We must not think of each other in any way but as co-workers in a great +labor; we must simply know that our love is rooted deeply, and the +harder we work the more firm it will be. There is no reason why we +should not go to the altar with just this sternness, and from now on +preserve this attitude until the day when we have earned the right to +consider what love means. Can you do it? I will prove to you that I can. + +IV + +MY DEAR THYRSIS: + +I am trying very dreadfully, and go away alone and pound at the German +as if my life depended upon it. I go to bed every night with a tight +feeling in my head, but I do not mind, as I take it for a guarantee that +I have not rested. + +And oh, my dearest, dearest and best, I am trying not to think of you +too much--that is too much in a way that does not help me to study. But +I love you really, yes, truly, and I know I would follow you anywhere. +I am not particularly joyful, but then I do not expect to be for a great +many years. + +V + +DEAR THYRSIS: + +Only a few words. I have been hovering to-day between spurts of hopeful +energy, and the most indescribable despair. It positively freezes my +heart, and I have been on the point of writing to you and telling you to +relieve yourself of the responsibility of me. The reason is because it +seems a perfectly Herculean task to read "Egmont". I have to look up +words in the dictionary until I am absolutely so weary I care not about +anything; and then I think of you, and what you are able to do, and at +one word from you I would give up all idea of marrying you. + +I tell you I am up and down in this mood. Great God, I could work all +day and all night if I could do what you do, but to strain at iron +fetters--a snail! Oh, I cannot tell you--I simply groan under it. At +such times I have no more idea of marrying you than of journeying to +the moon. I repeat to you, to be constantly choked back, while you are +rapidly advancing, will kill me. I don't know what you will say to this, +but it is intolerable, unendurable, to me. When I think of your ability +and mine, I simply laugh about it--Thyrsis, it is simply ridiculous. I +do not ask you to take me with you, Thyrsis. + +Do you wonder at my writing all this? You would not if you understood. +It is so hard for me to keep any joy in my heart, and I get tired of +repeated failures, that is all. I thought I must write you this, and +have it over with. This is the style of letter I have always torn up, +but this time it goes. I think I will practice the piano now, and try to +get some gladness into my soul again. + +VI + +MY DEAR, DEAR THYRSIS: + +There is a dreadful sort of letter which I wrote you last night which I +haven't sent you yet. + +I have been studying, or trying to most of the day, and my mind has +wandered most painfully. There were two days in which I seemed to have +hold of myself, but with an effort that was a fearful strain. I must try +so, that it almost kills me, if I wish to accomplish even a little of +what I ought. The heat here is almost insupportable, it is stifling, and +I spent an hour or so in the water this afternoon. + +And the thought is always torture to me--that you are accomplishing +so much more than I! I was thinking of your letters to-night, and I +recalled some words that seemed to speak more of your love for me. Oh, +Thyrsis, if your letters are fiery and passionate, is it for love +of _me_ that they are? I'm almost afraid at times, when I read your +letters--when you tell me of the kind of woman you _want_ to love. + +I at present am certainly not she. And do you know that when we are +married we shall be united forever? I don't know why I write you these +things, they are not at all inspiring thoughts to me. + +And yet I was able to go in swimming this afternoon, and forget +everything and frolic around as happily as any water-baby! + +VII + +MY DEAR CORYDON: + +I came off to write my poem, but I have been thinking about you, and I +must write a long letter. It is one of the kind that you do not like. + +In the first place, you complain of the contradictions in my letters. I +am sorry. I live so, struggling always with what is not best in me, and +continually falling down. Also, in this matter I am an utter stranger, +groping my way; and there is an element of passion in it, a dangerous +element, which leads me continually astray. + +I can only say that in my ideal of love, which is utter love and +spiritual love, I think of living my life with you in entire nakedness +of soul. Therefore, I shall always be before you exactly as I should be +by myself. And I shall write you now exactly what I have been thinking, +what is hard and unkind in it, as well as the rest. You will learn to +know me as a man far from perfect, often going astray himself, often +feeling wrong things, often leading you astray and making you wretched. +But behind all this there is the thing often lost sight of, but always +present--the iron duty that I have, and the force in me which drives me +to it. + +All this morning I have been thinking of my book, losing myself in it +and filling myself with its glory. This afternoon I fell to thinking +about us; and thoughts which have been lurking in my mind for a long +time got the upper hand for the first time. They were that I did not +love you as I ought to, that I could not; that the love which I felt was +a thing from my own heart, and that it had carried me away because I +was anxious to persuade myself I had found my ideal upon earth; that +you _could_ not satisfy the demands upon life that I made, and that if +I married you it would be to make you wretched, and myself as well; that +you had absolutely nothing of the things that I needed, and that the +life which your nature required was entirely different from mine; that +you had no realization of the madness that was driving me, could find +and give me none of the power I needed; and that I ought to write and +tell you this, no matter what it cost--that I owed it to the sacred +possibility of my own soul, to live alone if I could live better alone. +And when I had said these words, I felt a sense of relief, because they +were haunting me, and had been for a long time. + +How they will affect you I cannot tell, it depends upon deep your love +for me is; certainly they mean for me that _my_ love is not deep, that +you have not made yourself necessary to me. I think that in that last +phrase I put the whole matter in its essence--you have not _bound_ +yourself to me; I am always struggling to keep my love firm and right, +to hold myself to you. The result is that there is no food for my soul +in the thought of our love, in my thought of you; and therefore, I +am continually dissatisfied and doubting, continually feeling the +difference between the love I have dreamed and our love. + +I tried to think the matter out, and get to the very bottom of it. The +first thing that came to me on the other side was your absolute _truth_; +your absolute devotion to what was right and noble in our ideal. +So that, as I was thinking, I suddenly stopped short with this +statement--"If you cannot find right love with that girl, it must be +because you do not honor love, or care for it." And then I thought of +your helplessness, of your lack of training and opportunity for growth; +and I told myself how absurd it was of me to expect satisfying love from +you--when all that I knew about in life, and thought of, was entirely +unknown to you. I realized that I was a man who had tasted more or less +of all knowledge, and had an infinite vision of knowledge yet before +him, and an infinite hunger for it; and that you were a school-girl, +with all of a school-girl's tasks on your hands. So I said to myself +that the reason for the dissatisfaction was a fault of my own, that it +had come from my own blindness. I had gone wrong in my attitude to you; +I had failed in my sternness and my high devotion to perfection; I had +contented myself with lesser things, had come down from my best self, +and had failed to make you see what a task was before you, if you ever +meant to know my best self. You perceive that this is a return to my +old-time attitude; I am sorry if it makes you wretched, but I cannot +help it. It is a surgical operation that must be borne. I shall not make +it necessary again, I hope. + +Now, dear Corydon, I am not trying to choose pleasant words in this +letter, this is the way I talk to _myself_. And if anything good comes +from our love, it will be because of this letter. I challenge what is +noblest in you to rise to meet the truth of it. I should not care to +write to you if I did not feel that it would. + +You have had a possibility offered to you, and because you are very +hungry for life you have clasped it to you, placed all your happiness +in it. The possibility is the love of a man whose heart has been filled +with the fire of genius. There are few men whom life takes hold of as +it does me, who sacrifice themselves for their duty as I do, who demand +_experience_--knowledge, power, beauty--as I do. There are very few men +who will wrest out of existence as much as I will, or know and have as +much of life. I am a boy just now, and only beginning to live; but I +have my purpose in hand, and I know that if I am given health and life, +there is nothing that men have known that I shall not know, nothing that +is done in the world that I shall not do, or try to. I have a strong +physique, and I labor day and night, and always shall. I shall always +be hungry and restless, always dissatisfied with myself, and with +everything about me, and acting and feeling most of the time like a +person haunted by a devil. I make no apologies to you for the conceit +of what I am saying; it is what I think of myself, without caring +what other people think. I know that I have a tremendous temperament, +tremendous powers hidden within me, and they have got to come out. When +they do, the world will know what I know now. + +Now Corydon, as you understand, I dream love absolute, and would scorn +any other kind. I can master my passion, if it be that upon earth +there is no woman willing or able to go with me to the last inch of my +journey. I dream a life-companion to follow wherever my duty drives me; +to feel all the desperateness of desire that I feel, to be stern and +remorseless as I must be, wild and savage as I must be; to race through +knowledge with me and to share my passion for truth with me; a woman +with whom I need have no shame in the duty of my genius! As I tell you, +if I marry you, I expect to give myself to you as your own heart; and +then I think of the gentle and mild existence you have led! + +It is very hard for me even to tell about my life, or to explain this +thing that drives me mad. But I am writing this letter to you for the +purpose of making clear to you that there are two alternatives before +you, and that you must choose one or the other and stick by it, and bear +the consequences. It is painful to me to think that I have fascinated +you by what opportunities I have, even by what power and passion and +talents I have, and filled you with a hunger for me--when really you do +not realize at all what I am, or what I must be, and when what I have to +do will terrify you. I write in the thought of terrifying you _now_, and +making you give up this red-hot iron that you are trying to hold on to; +or else to show you my life so plainly that never afterwards can you +blame me, or shrink back except by your own fault. + +You must not blame me for writing these words, for wondering if a woman, +if _any_ woman has power to stand what I need to do. And when I talk to +you about giving me up, you must not think that is cold, but know that +it is my faithfulness to my vision, which is the one thing to which I +owe any duty in the world. Nor is it right that you should expect to +be essential to me, when I have labored to be all to myself. You could +become necessary to me in the years to come; if I marry you to-day I +shall marry you for what you are to become, and for that _alone_--at any +rate if I am true to myself. + +If you are to be my wife you are to be my soul--to live my soul's life +and bear its pain. You are to understand that I talk to you as I talk to +myself, call you the names I call myself, and if you cry, give you up in +disgust; that I am to deny you all pleasure as I do myself, and what God +knows will be ten thousand times harder, let you take pleasure, and then +spring up in the very midst of it--you know what I mean! That I am to +be ever dissatisfied with you, ever inconsiderate of your feelings, and +ever declaring that you are failing! That however much I may love you, I +am to be your conscience, and therefore keep you--just about as you are +now, miserable! You told me that you would gladly be whipped to learn to +live; and this can be the only thing to happen to you. + +You must understand why I act in this way. I am a weak and struggling +man, with a thousand temptations; and when I marry you, you will be the +greatest temptation of all. You are a beautiful girl, and I love you, +and every instinct of my nature drives me to you; for me to live with +you without kissing you or putting my arms about you, will remain always +difficult. It will be so for you, as for me, and it will always be our +danger, and always make us wretched. Your soul rises in you as I write +this, and you say (as you've said before) that if I offered to kiss you +after it, it would be an insult. But only wait until we meet! + +This is the one thing that has become clear to me: just as soon as there +comes the least thought of satisfaction in our love, just so soon does +it cease to satisfy my best self. You cannot satisfy my best self, you +do not even know it; and if it were a question of that, I should never +dream of marrying you! I love you for this and for this alone--because +you are an undeveloped soul, the dream of whose infinite possibilities +is my one delight in the matter. I think that you are _perfect_ in +character, that you are truth itself; and therefore, no matter how +helpless you may be, I have no fear of failing to make you "all the +world to me", provided only that I am not false to my ideal. You must +know from what I have written before that I _can_ love, that I do know +what love is, and that you may trust me. I am not trying to degrade +passion--I simply see how passion throws the burden on the woman, and +therefore it is utterly a crime with us--the least thought of it! I +ought to consider you as a school-girl, really just that; and instead of +that I write you love letters! + +I tell you there is nothing more hateful for me to look back upon than +that childish business of ours, that time when we went upstairs that we +might kiss each other unseen. I tell you, it revolts my soul, from love +and from you! I should be perfectly willing to take all the blame--I do; +only I have led you to like that (or to act as if you did) and I must +stop it. Can you not understand how hateful it is to me to think of +making you anything that I should be disgusted with? + +I expect you to read over this letter until you realize that it is, +every word of it, completely true and noble, and until you can write me +so. You and I are to feel ourselves two school-children and live just +so. It is not usual for school-children to marry, but that we dare upon +the strength of our purpose, and in defiance of all counsel, and of +every precedent. We are to feel that we owe our duty to our ideal; and +that simply _because_ of the strength and passion of our love for each +other, we demand perfection, each of the other. My setting this stern +challenge before you is nothing but my determination to give you my +right love, to demand that you be a perfect woman. + +I promise you therefore no quarter; I shall make no sacrifice of my +ideal for your sake. As I wrote you, I mean to be absolutely one with +you, and I expect you to be the same. You shall have (if you wish it) +all of my soul--I shall live my life with you and think all my thoughts +aloud--study to give you _everything_ that I have. And God only, who +knows my heart, knows what utter love for you lies in those words, what +utter trust of you--how I think of you as being purity and holiness +itself. To offer to take any other being into my soul, to lay bare all +the secret places of it to its gaze, all the weaknesses as well as all +the strength, and all that is vain as well as all that is sacred! You +cannot know how I feel about my heart, but this you may know, that no +one else has had a glimpse of it, you are the first and the last; and +so sure am I of you that I dare to say it, _all_ my life will I live in +your presence, and trust to your sympathy and truth--and feel that I am +false to love if I do not. If there were anything in my heart so foul +that I feared to speak of it, I should give you that first, as the +sacrifice of love; or any vanity or foible--such things are really +hardest to have others know, so great is our conceit. + +If I could talk to you to-night, I should do just as I did up on the +hill in the moonlight--frighten you, and make you wonder if there was +_any_ woman who wished to bear such a burden; and perhaps the saddest +thing of all to me is that I do not bear it--instead I bear the gnawing +of a conscience bitter and ashamed of itself. And could you bear _that_ +burden? For Corydon, as I look at myself to-night, I am before God, a +coward and a dastard! I have not done my work! I have not borne the pain +He calls me to bear, I have not wrested out the strength He put in my +secret heart! And here I am chattering, _talking_ about work to you! +And these things are like a nightmare to me; they turn all my +life's happiness to gall. And you are taking upon yourself this same +burden--coming to help me to get rid of it. Or if you do not wish to, +for God's sake, and mine, and yours, don't come near me--you have come +too near as it is! Can you not see that when I am face to face with +these fearful things--and you come and ask me to give my life to you, to +worship you with the best faculties I possess--that I have no right to +say yes? + +You once told me you were happy because I called you "mein guter Geist, +mein bess'res Ich"; well, you are not in the least that. The name that +I give you, and that you may keep, is "the beautiful possibility of a +soul". Remember a phrase I told you at the very beginning of our love, +of the peril of "ceasing to love perfection and coming to love a woman." +And read Shelley's sad note to "Epipsychidion"! + +VIII + +Dear Corydon: + +You tell me in your last letter that you are leaving all who love you; +and you ask "How do you know that because you love beauty, you will love +_me_?" + +I have been thinking a good deal about this; I do not believe, Corydon, +that a man more haunted by the madness of desire ever lived upon earth +than I. And when I get at the essence of myself, I do not believe that I +am a kind man; I think that a person with less patience for human hearts +never existed, perhaps with less feeling. There is only one thing in the +world that I can be sure of, or that you can, my fidelity to my ideal! +I know that however often I may fail or weaken, however many mistakes +I may make, my hunger for the things of the soul will _never_ leave me, +and that night and day I shall work for them. I do not believe I have +the right to promise you anything else, I have no right to dream of +anything else; this is not my pleasure, as I feel it, it is a frenzy, +it is that to which some blind and nameless and merciless impulse +drives me. And I may try to persuade myself all my life that I love you, +Corydon, and nothing else, and want nothing else; and all the time in +the depths of my heart I hear these words from my conscience--"You are a +fool." I love power, I love life, and seek them and strive for them, and +care for nothing else and never have; and nothing else can satisfy me. +And I cannot give any other love than this, any other promise. + +IX + +My dear Corydon: + +I have been taking a walk this morning, thinking about us, and that I +had treated you fearfully. The whole truth of it all is this--that I am +so raw and so young and so helpless (and you are as much, if not more +so) that I cannot, to save my life, be sure if my love for you is what +it ought to be, or even if I could love any one as I ought. And I am +so wretchedly dissatisfied! Do you know that for two weeks I have been +trying to write a passage of my book--and before God, I _cannot!_ I have +not the power, I have not the life! + +Dear Corydon, it comes to me that you are _miserable_ to be in love with +me--that I had no right to put this burden on your shoulders. I would +say better things if I could, but I think that our marriage will be a +setting out across a wild ocean in the dark! It is for you to be the +heroine, to dare the voyage if you choose. These sound like wild words, +but they are the truth of my life, and I dare not say any others. Can a +girl who has been brought up in gentleness and sweetness, in innocence +of life and of pain--can she say things, feel things like these? + +X + +Thyrsis: + +God did not endow me with your tongue, or else it would not be the great +effort it is to me to tell you some of the thoughts that have rushed +through my mind in the last hour. + +It is an hour since I began to read your letter of Horrible Truth. Now +it seems to me it might have been in the last year, in the last century. +Actually I feel like a stranger to myself; and my movements are +very slow. First, I will tell you that I believe in God, oh, so +implicitly--this thought gives me infinite hope. I long to let you know +as much of my heart as I can, if I am to be your life-companion, as I +firmly believe I am to be. I have such a strange calmness now, and I +imagine that I must feel very much the way Rip Van Winkle did when he +awoke. I want to try to show you my heart--it is right that I should +try, is it not? + +Know that I have placed much faith and trust in you, in anything that +you did. If you opened one door to me and told me it led to the great +and permanent truth, I believed you absolutely. If you hauled me back +and put me through an opposite one, telling me that there my road lay, +I believed you with equal faith. Now, now, at the end of an hour, I am, +through you, convinced of one door, the only and true entrance; and I am +as sure as I am that the sun is shining at this moment, that nothing in +God's world can ever again make me lose sight of it. I have found that +_you_ can lose sight of it, Thyrsis,--something shows me that I have in +the last month been more right than you. Yes, I have, Thyrsis, though +you may not know it. And the reason I couldn't stay right was because I +am not strong enough to grasp my good impulses, and keep hold of them: +because I have not enough faith in the soul within me. + +I will try to tell you what I have felt since reading your letter. All +is so disgustingly calm in me now. But listen, I believe I have had a +little glimpse this afternoon of what it is to _feel_; and because of +that knowledge I now am not afraid to tell you that I claim something of +God and life--that I can get it if you can. This has been very strong +in me at moments, but, as I tell you, I have not yet learned to hold my +glimpses of truth--they seem to come to me, and as quickly disappear. + +I began to read your letter, and I cannot describe to you the convulsion +that came over me. It seemed that I had the feeling of an empty skull +on a desert; such a feeling--you can never have it! All the horror and +despair! I tried to form my thoughts and tell myself it was not true. +I tried to pray, and I did pray--out loud--and asked God to give me +strength to read the letter. + +I tried to use all the penetration I was capable of, to find out +one thing, whether you were purely and unreservedly sincere in it. I +wondered whether you really wished to live your life alone, but could +not find the courage to tell me so. I firmly believe that no failure in +the future, no disgust or helplessness, could ever bring me the complete +anguish of those moments. + +Can you realize what such a thing meant to me, Thyrsis? + +Last spring, I had succeeded in bringing myself into an almost complete +state of coma--I saw that I could do nothing, and because I would not +endure such profitless pain I drugged myself to sleep. And you, you +fiend, waked me up; and may your soul be thrice cursed if you have only +pulled the doll to pieces _to see what it was made of!_ Know, you that +have a soul which says it lives and suffers--that I can't go to sleep +again! There is no joy for me in mother or father, in friends or +admiration--I can tolerate nothing that I tolerated before you came with +your cursed or blessed fire! + +Also, if you do not marry me, or if I do not find some man who has your +strength and desire for life, and who will take me and help me to learn, +I shall die without having lived.--And I cried out in misery--only +forty-two years, only forty-two little years, and I shall be an old +woman of sixty! Only forty-two years in which to learn to live! + +I believe if I had you here now I could almost strangle you. We may kill +each other some day. I sometimes feel that there is nothing that will +give me any relief, that I cannot breathe, I cannot support my body. But +these are foolish and unprofitable feelings--and I believe I will yet be +saved, if not by you, perhaps by myself. I think some heavenly aid came +to me to-day. I asked for it, I simply said it _must_ come--and now I +am able to bear myself and look around me, and say that the secret of my +liberation is not death but life. + +Please realize, Thyrsis, that I know you do not need me, that I cannot +either entertain you or help you. My dear, do you not know that I have +been conscious of this from the very beginning--and it has been this +thought that has often made me worry, and doubt, and question. And then +I have told myself that you had found _something_ in me to love; and +that I also was very hungry to know about life and God; and that if you +loved me enough to believe I was not dross, we might, with our untiring +devotion--well, we might be right in going with each other. And +now--would you rather I should tell you I will not marry you, be my +desire, or effort, what it may? I do not know--even though I want to +live so terribly. I have no word, no proof to give! + +And now, Thyrsis, I have no more strength to write. I only wish I had +some power to make you know what I have felt this afternoon--I think +if I could, you would have no more doubt of me. And I believe it is my +God-given right not to doubt myself. + +I will write no more--I have written enough to make you answer one of +two things. "Come with me," or, "I would rather go alone." I know which +one it will be, even now in my wretchedness. The sky is so blue this +evening, and everything is so beautiful--and I am trying so hard to be +right, to feel strong and confident! + +XI + +Dear Thyrsis: + +I have just arisen. I woke in the middle of the night, and there was a +spectre sitting by my bedside to frighten me; he succeeded at first, +but I managed finally to get rid of him, and to find some peace. Many of +your sentences came to me, and I was able to get behind the words, and I +saw plainly that the letters were just what you should have written, +and that they could not but benefit me. They have accomplished their +purpose, I believe--they are burned into my soul, and have placed me +rightly in our relation. I shall simply never trust the permission you +may give me, in the future, to rest or be satisfied. I shall only hate +you, for the pain of some of your words I shall _never_ forget. + +The memory of the first two pages of your letter will always put me in +mortal terror of you. For the rest, I am very grateful, and I will try +to show you how I love your ideal. I can never repay you as long as I +live for letting me come with you. Oh Thyrsis, I am sure that I will +never think or care whether you love me or not, if only I may go with +you and learn how to strive! + +I tore up all your love-letters this morning. I kept the last +letter--though I do not think I could bear to read it over. I should be +afraid of again going through with that despair. Oh, I beg for the time +when I shall be obliged to waste none of my minutes--and when I shall +have no opportunity of writing you! What _time_ I have spent over your +letters and mine! + +XII + +Dear Thyrsis: + +I am restlessly waiting for the supper-bell to ring, and my head is +aching intensely, and I am generally topsy-turvy. Alas! alas! the +distance that separates us and our understanding! + +I received a letter to-day while I was studying--but said I would not +open it for a week, that I wanted strength to study. Well, I studied all +the afternoon and found it none too easy. When I came home, I thought +perhaps it was better to read your letter, which I grimly did. + +Do you know, you are keeping me on the rack, literally on the rack, and +my flesh and blood do not seem to be able to stand it--my body seems to +be the organ that first fails me, my brain is never so tired as my body. +I love to think that you are not less merciful to me than you would be +to yourself, I feel that you could not have used more cruel whips to +yourself. Do you suppose that any disgust, scolding, or malediction to +me could, as your wife, hurt me, as your doubt of me hurts me now? + +And I just begin to read your letter again, and I tell you, you are +a fool. You say you do not know whether you could love any one as you +ought--well, I, with all my weakness, know whether _I_ can love, and I +love you a thousand times more than you have given me cause to. And you +are so _hungry!_ Will you always starve because you are blind? As to +being _satisfied,_ how could you be? But you say you will love me as +much as I deserve. How much do I deserve--do you know? I sometimes cry +out against you and long to get hold of you. If you have genius, why +doesn't it give you some inkling whether you are a man with a heart, +not only a stupid boy? And then I see it all plainly, or think I do, +and know that you are trying so hard to be right towards us, because you +think you love me the way other people love; and you know if I am weak, +it would degrade your genius; and you cannot be sure of my character or +strength. You cannot know whether I realize the life I am selecting--you +have found it hard, and you have every reason to think that I will +find it ten times harder; and you love me in a way that is not the +highest,--but yet you love me enough, thank God, to tell me the whole +truth! + +I have come to a pass where I can say to myself with truth, that I do +not care how much or how little you love me. That depends upon _you_, as +well as myself. I believe the time will come, when you will love me +as you ought, and I say this in perfect calm conviction, in all my +weakness, and with all my maudlin habits clinging to me. Strangely +enough your doubt of me has made me rise up in arms to champion my +cause, or else I should lie down forever in the dust, and deny my God. + +I wonder whether it is my love for you that makes me believe? I cling +to you, as a mother might cling to her child; I cling to you as the +embodiment, the promise, of all I will ever find true in life. I look +to live in you, to fulfil all my possibilities in you, and if you die +or forsake me, all my hope is gone, and I am dead. This is a letter in +which I have no scorn or doubt, or ridicule of myself, as formerly. + +And then you ask me, "Can a girl brought up in gentleness and sweetness, +and innocence of life and of pain, can she say things, feel things +like these?" It is the gentleness and sweetness and innocence that are +galling to me. I can tolerate no more of them. They have warped me, they +have given me no chance. But I have had some pain in my life, and since +I have known you I have known more about pain and what it brings, and +leaves.--And now I am feeling ill, and I cannot control that. Oh, God! + +XIII + +Dearest Corydon: + +I have a chance to finish the first part of my book to-day, and save +myself from Hades; and here I am writing to you--just a line. (Of course +it turned out to be six pages!) + +Your last letter was very noble; I can only say to you, that the +treatment which makes you upbraid me is not done for _my_ sake; that the +life which I live is not lived for _my_ sake. You say perhaps you are +better than I; it is very possible--I often think so myself; but that is +nothing to the point. I should be very wretched if I sat down to think +what I am. Oblige me by being better than my ideal--if you can! You must +understand, dearest, that behind all that I am doing, there is truth to +the soul; and that truth to the soul is love, and the only love. I am +seeking for nothing but the privilege of treating you as myself; and +rest assured, that if I treat you any differently it will be better than +I treat myself! There is no peril in our life except that! + +Some day you will understand that I can sometimes feel about myself that +I am utterly hateful, utterly false, utterly shallow and _bad_; and that +to get away from myself would be all that I desire in life. I cannot +imagine my having such opinion of you; but some dissatisfaction--just a +little--I may have. Only let us love perfection, you and I, with all our +souls, and I think our love for each other may safely be allowed to take +care of itself. Remember the two ships in Clough's poem, which parted, +but sailed by the compass, and reached the same port. + +I shall spend no more time comforting you about this. + +And dear Corydon, when you are angry at my doubting your power, and say +that I do not know you, I can only reply--Why of course I don't, and +neither do you. You find your own self out little by little--why get +angry with me because I don't know it until you tell me? You are a grown +woman compared to what you were three months ago; and this character +that you ask me to know--well, it takes years of hard labor to prove a +character. + +XIV + +Dearest Corydon: + +Do you ever realize how much _faith_ in you I have? As utterly different +is your whole life, as if you had been in another world; and through all +the wilderness that I have travelled, I hope to drag you. But I cannot +carry you, or take you; I must trust in the frenzy of your grip upon me. +There is nothing else you could have that I would trust. You might be +wonderfully clever and wonderfully wise--and I could do nothing with +you. Do you remember Beethoven's saying, that he would like to take a +certain woman, if he had time, and marry her and break her heart, so +that she might be able to sing? + +Ah dear heart, I wish you could read in my words what I feel! I wonder +if I am dreaming when I live in this ideal of what a woman's love can +be--so complete and so utter a surrender, so complete a forgetting, +a losing of the self, so complete a living in another heart! I am +not afraid to ask just this from a woman--from you! For I have enough +heart's passion to satisfy every thirst that you may feel. Ah, Corydon, +I want you! I am drunk with the thought of _making_ a woman to love. +I wonder if any man ever thought of that before! Artists go about the +world with the great hunger of their hearts, and expecting to find +by chance another soul like the one they have spent years in making +beautiful and swift and strong; but has anyone ever thought that instead +of writing books that no one understands, he might be making +another kind of an artwork--one that would be alive, and with sacred +possibilities of its own? + +XV + +DEAR THYRSIS: + +Your last letters have been very beautiful. I see one thing--though you +inform me that you believe you are a hard man, your natural gentleness +and sympathy of heart would be the ruin of both of us in the future if +I would permit it. But I think you can trust me, not ever as long as I +live to lead you into weakness. My desperateness, before I received your +letter saying that I might come with you, was rather dreadful; it made +me doubt myself, for it was so difficult to keep myself from going to +pieces. I have been wicked enough, to wonder whether I could ever make +you feel as I felt for two days--if I could only bring to your heart +that one pang, the only real one I ever felt in my life! But it taught +me one thing, that the only road toward realization of life and one's +self is through suffering. I found out that I could bear, for it seems +to me as I look back at that horrible nightmare, that it was almost by +a superhuman effort I was able to read the letter at all. But enough of +that! + +I think I have effectually cured myself of any weak yearning for your +love. I go to you in gratefulness, knowing what I lack and what you +need. Anything my love can do for you, it shall do. It may have some +power--I sometimes think that it could have more than you realize. + +I suppose every woman has thought that the man she loved was her very +life, but I do not think it of you, I simply _know_ it. I must go with +you, whether I loved you or not. + +Meanwhile my love has assumed a strength to me that I never felt before. +I don't know how my wild and incoherent letters have affected you, but +there were many times when I longed to get hold of you, literally, and +simply shake into you some recognition of my soul. Oh, I am afraid you +couldn't get away from me; the more merciless you are to me, the wilder +I get. + +I am possessed by so many opposite moods and influences. I am afraid of +you a little. I never know what you are going to do to me. + +I feel, I cannot help but feel, that I am part of your life, now, you +could not neglect me any more than you could your own soul. I consider +you just as responsible for mine as you are for your own. I say this +with no doubts, but know that it is true, and you must know it. + +XVI + +DEAR THYRSIS: + +You certainly have a wonderful task in store for me, and I pray God to +give me strength for it. I can see very plainly that you expect to find +the essence of my soul better than yours, because it seems that you are +making my task harder than yours. + +Do you know, I have actually found myself asking, at times, with a +certain defiant rage--if you were actually going to give love to your +princess before you had made her suffer! So far you have not made her +suffer at all. I had become quite excited over this idea--though +perhaps I had no right to. I suppose it is all right, because she is +an imaginary person, and you can endow her with all the perfections you +please. She is triumphant and thrilling, and worthy of love--whereas I +am just little Corydon, whom you have known all your life, and who is +stupid and helpless, and impossible to imagine romances about! Is that +the way of it? + +XVII + +MY DEAREST THYRSIS: + +A long letter has just come to me. I always receive your letters with +many palpitations, and by the time I get through reading, my cheeks are +flaming. It is too bad it takes letters so long to go to and fro. + +I have finally come to bear the attitude towards myself, that I would +to a naughty child. I will have no nonsense, and all my absurdities and +inefficiencies _must_ be cured. I think I have come to know myself a +little better within the last few days. I know that I have no right to +quick victories, or any happiness at all, even your love. I tell you +truly, if it were only possible, I would go away this minute--do you +hear?--oh! to some lonely place, and then I would do something with +myself. I want to be alone, alone--I want to be face to face with +myself, and God, if possible! I have come to the conclusion that I can +do anything I must do. I think (I am not sure) I could give you up, if +I were obliged to, and go away by myself and try alone. If I do not have +you, I must have solitude. + +XVIII + +MY DEAREST CORYDON: + +Thinking about my work this morning, and how hard it was, and how much +strength it would take, my thoughts turned to you, and I discovered, as +never before, just how I like to think of you. It seemed to me that you +were part of the raw material that I had to use; that I had mastered +you, and was going to make you what you had to be. And there woke in my +heart at those words a fierceness of purpose that I had never felt in +my life before--I was quite mad with it; and you cried out to escape me, +but I would not let you go, but held you right tightly in my arms. And +so--I do not mean to let you go! I shall bear you away with me, and make +you what I wish. And the promise of marriage that I make you is just +this: not that I love you--I do not love you; but what I wish the woman +to be whom I am to love--that I will make you! + +And do not ever dare to ask me for any other promise, for you will not +get it. You will come with this. + +XIX + +MY THYRSIS: + +I had an _iron grip_ at my heart just now, as I was trying to study. +I had a foreboding of something--and then I came home and found your +letter telling me I was yours, and I _must._ At last I may go to you the +way I wish! My love, my love, I do not care what you are, or what you do +to me, as long as I may go with you. + +How I laugh at myself as I say it! You have mastered me to worship your +_life_--not you. I shall not work for your love, I shall work to live. +Our love will be one of the incidents of our life. Meanwhile, I may go +with you, that is all that I say--I sing it. I may go with you, not to +happiness, but to necessity! + +And now that cursed German! It hangs over my head like a sword of +Damocles I have heard of--though I don't know why it was held over his +head! + +You think our love was settling into the cooing state! Dear me, Thyrsis, +I hope I will not always have to yell to you over a foggy ocean! + +XX + +DEAR THYRSIS: + +Can you imagine what it must be to be shut up in a little room on a +rainy night, with the children and people screaming under your window? +That is my position now. + +I find myself hard to manage at times. I want to become discouraged or +melancholy or disgusted, but I drive myself better than I used to. I +even was happy a little for a few moments to-night. I was playing one of +my piano-pieces, and I found myself imagining all sorts of things. But +this happens very seldom, and only lasts for a moment. I often wonder at +myself. Two months ago I did not love you one particle; I love you now, +so that--so that it is impossible for me to do anything else. In fact I +did not realize how much I loved you until that terrible moment when I +read you did not love me. I saw how impossible it will be to cease to +love you, no matter what you do to me. I do not know _why_ it is; I +simply know it is, and perhaps some day I may teach _you_ how to love. I +do not imagine you know how very well, at present--no, Thyrsis, I don't. + +I know your true self now, and I love it better than ever I loved the +other. I say it with a certain grimness. I know you, your real self, and +I love it. + +Know, oh, my Beloved, that in the last three months you have grown to me +from a boy into a man, into my husband! When I think of you as you were +at first you seem a child compared to what you are now. + +XXI + +DEAREST LOVE: + +Last night, as I went to sleep, I was thinking of you and our problem, +and there were all sorts of uncertainties; but one thing I have to tell +you, my Corydon--that it came to me how sweet and true, and how pure and +good you have been; and I loved you very, very much indeed. I thought: +I should like to tell her that, and ask her always to be so noble and +unselfish. Can you not realize how all your deficiencies are as nothing +to me, in the sight of that one unapproachable perfection? For my +Corydon is all devotion and love, and pure, pure, maiden goodness! And +there is quite a whole heart full of feeling for you in that, and I wish +I had you here to tell you. + +XXII + +MY CORYDON: + +I am coming more and more to realize myself, and what is the single +faculty I have been given. I think of a dear clergyman friend I used to +have, and I realize what a _loving_ heart is--what it is to delight in +a human soul for its own sake, and to be kind to it, fond of it. And +I know that there could not be a man with less of that than I have. +Certainly I know this, I never did love a soul for its own sake, and +don't think I could. I love beauty, and truth, and power, and I hate +everything else, if it come across my way. If I had to live the life +of that clergyman friend I should be insane in a month. I see this as +something very hateful; but there is only one thing I can do, to see +that I hate my own self more than I hate any other self--and work, work, +for the thing I love. + +You asked me once to tell you if your death would make any difference to +me. If you were to die to-morrow I should feel that a sacred opportunity +was gone out of my life, that all my efforts must have less result +forever after. But I do not think I should stop working a day. + +I love you because you are something upon which I may exert the force +of my will. I honestly believe that the truest word, the nearest to my +character, I ever spoke. If I care about you it is for one thing, +and one only--because you are a soul hungry for life, because you are +capable of sacrifice and high effort, because you are sensitive and +eager. I love you and honor you for this; I take you to my bosom, I give +all my life to your service; and I shall make you a perfect woman, or +else kill you. + +You must understand what I want; I want no concrete thing, no dozen +languages to throw you into despair. I want effort, effort, _effort!_ +That's all. And I believe that you might be a stronger soul than I at +this moment, if only you chose to hunt yourself out and fight! That is +truly what I feel about you, and that is why I love you. + +XXIII + +DEAREST THYRSIS: + +I have no more to say, my precious one; I bow in joy before your will, +your certainty, your power. Let it be so, I shall adore you as I so long +to do. + +You are giving me all I could ask for. What more could I wish from you, +dear Thyrsis, than to know you will never leave my side? I will try +not to do any more bemoaning of my shortcomings. To-night I reached a +wonderful security and almost sublimity, until I could have fallen on +my face and praised God for His mercy. I talked out loud to myself, I +exhorted myself, I explained to myself what is my beauty and possibility +in life--the _reason_ for which I was born. I was quite lifted out of +myself, by a conviction that came like a benediction, that the essence +of my soul was good and pure, and that if anybody upon earth had the +power to reach God, it was myself. + +Dear God, _how_ I have spent the years of my life! like an imbecile! But +you--if you take me, I shall go mad--I shall love you like a tigress! I +shall implore you to invent any way that will enable me to realize life! +Oh, if you take me, how madly I shall love you! I fancy myself seeing +you now, and I don't know what I should do--I love you so dreadfully! I +think of you, and everything about you seems so wondrously beautiful to +me! + +I almost have a feeling that I have no right to love you so much. Oh, +tell me, do you want me to love you as I can? Already you seem part of +me, mine--mine! And it is wonderful how you help me. + +XXIV + +Thyrsis: + +I spent the whole day in the park without a bite to eat, because I did +not want to take the trouble to come home after it, and I only had five +cents. I have tried, oh, tried to control myself and make myself saner. +I am seized with occasional fits of the horrors, and of wild cravings +for you, until I could scream. It is so unbearable, and I almost want +to die. Oh, but I do _not_ want to die! My imagination has become so +fevered in the last few days--if I do not see you soon, I know not what +will become of me! + +I have never loved you so wildly--though I have always longed for you. I +sometimes feel now as if my brain were utterly wrecked. I know not what +is the matter; I gasp, when I think of you. I am convinced of heaven and +hell almost in the same breath--experience each in rapid succession. One +touch of your hand and one look, I think would cure me. I seem as if +in a thunder-storm--pitchy blackness with flashes of light--and in the +flashes I see you, my beloved! + +XXV + +Thyrsis: + +I am atrociously weary of being able to depend upon myself not at all; +but oh, how marvellously sweet and good you are to me! I shall never be +able to pay you for your help! + +Dear Heaven, what a cup of bitterness I have drunk, since I last saw +you! Dearest, you have really torn me to pieces, unwittingly. But now I +am healed, and I may go on in your blessed sight, with my terrors gone +forever. + +And then I actually wonder if you have an earthly form! It will be very +strange to see you and touch you, I sometimes wake up with a start at +the thought of it! + +XXVI + +Thyrsis: + +Here I am, the most restless and miserable and uncomfortable and pining +of creatures--a very Dido! Are you satisfied, now that you have made +it almost impossible for me to put my mind on anything but you, you? I +spend hours reading one page of my book. + +I was reading peaceably just now, and I suddenly thought how I would +feel if I saw you coming in at the door. I started and could hardly +believe that I will really see you--in something besides visions. When +night comes I usually get fidgety, and can hardly realize I do not need +to worry over phantoms. Then I go on with "Classicism and Romanticism in +Music," and I think of you--and read a line and think of you! You see, +it doesn't do for me to be too intense, for I just devour myself, +and that is all. My only idea of a vent is to knock my head against +something. + +I suppose it is the inevitable result of caring for someone you cannot +see. Here I might be studying now, but what do I do? I go around seeking +rest--and I write you a dozen times a day, and use up all the stamps in +the house. + +Oh well, I dare say if you wished me to love you, you have accomplished +your purpose most successfully. There is nothing in life but you, and +to suddenly acquire a new self is most startling, and something hard to +believe. Thyrsis, I simply cannot realize that I may go to you and find +peace and security. + +XXVII + +MY DEAREST CORYDON: + +I have just a few words to say. I have two weeks left in which to shake +off my shoulders the fearful animal that has been tearing me. _For just +three weeks to-day,_ not a line written! + +The task seems almost beyond my powers. God, will people ever know how I +have worked over this book! + +But unless you develop some new doubt, or I persist in writing letters, +I ought to get it done now. I shall see you as soon as I have finished, +and meantime I shall write no letters. + +XXVIII + +DEAR THYRSIS: + +I would give a great deal to let you know how I have struggled and +suffered. + +I have had almost _more_ than I could bear--the more horrible because +the more unreasonable. You must know it. If it disturbs you, please put +the letter away until a favorable time. I account my trouble greatly +physical--I have never been in such a nervous state. The murky despair +that has come over me--that I have writhed and struggled in, as in the +clutches of some fiend! It seems to me I have experienced every torment +of each successive stage of Dante's Inferno. I know what is the emotion +of a soul in all the bloom and hope of youth, condemned _to die_. + +I woke up in the middle of the night last night--and felt as if a +monster sat by to throw a black cloth over me and smother me. I got up +and shook myself, and my heart was beating violently. + +I managed to get myself free. This morning I am better. God in Heaven +only knows--I would rather be torn limb from limb, yes, honestly, than +endure the blackness of soul that I have had through all these years of +strife and failure by myself. + +Dearest Thyrsis: + +Perhaps if I have written to you a few words, I shall be able to put my +mind on study--as so far I have not done. I actually to-night have been +indulging in all sorts of romantic moods about you. I felt in a singing +mood, and when I came up from dinner I put on a beautiful dress, just +for fun, and I looked quite radiant. I dreamed of you, and imagined that +you were at my feet, in true Romeo fashion--and I was your Juliet. I +imagined--I couldn't help thinking of this, and I knew I ought to be +doing something else! Oh, but how I want a poor taste of joy! You were +my Romeo to-night--you were beautiful and young and loving; and well, I +had one dream of youth and happiness before my miseries begin. + +I have felt that we were very near to each other lately. You have shown +me the tenderness of your heart, and I love you quite rapturously. I +love your goodness, your sympathy--perhaps when I see you I can tell +you! + +XXX + +DEAREST THYRSIS: + +I received a postal just now, saying that you were coming soon. I had +my usual queer faintness. It was like receiving word from the dead--it +seemed such centuries--aeons--since I heard from you! I send you this +batch of notes I have written you at various times, a sort of mental +itinerary, for my mind has traveled into all sorts of queer places, back +and forth. I tell you that without your continual influence, I am lost +in doubt and uncertainty. Please try to understand these notes and my +fits of love and fear. + +XXXI + +DEAR THYRSIS: + +I am in one of my cast-iron moods, this morning--in a fighting mood, +I do not care with whom or what. You, even you, have not altogether +understood me--you have often given me a dog's portion. I have been a +slave, a cowering kitten before you, and you (unwittingly I know) have +done much to destroy all my courage and hope and love--by what you call +making me aware of your higher self. Fortunately I _know_ what your +higher self is, quite as well as you do, if not a little better--and I +know that it is the self that most strengthens my love and courage, the +self that most fills me with life. I have a right to life as well as +you, and a right to the love in you that most inspires me. I feel I am +capable of judging this, in spite of all my lack of education, and my +inability to follow you in your intellectual life. + +I have thought lately that you were able to make yourself believe that +you were anything you wished to think yourself. Whenever you wring my +heart and deprive me of strength, I shall go somewhere alone, and when I +have controlled myself, come back to you. + +You say you are master--but it must be master of the right. I want +strength, and why you should think it right ever to have helped to throw +me into more despair, I do not know. The reason I have written all this +is because such ideas have come to me lately, and a fear that sometimes +you might resort to your unloving methods, with the thought of its being +right. I tell you I would rather stay at home, than ever go through +with some of the pangs you have cost me, in what you called your higher +moods. You must not gainsay me, that I am also capable of respecting +high moods and bowing before them; but it would seem to me that they are +only high if they are a source of inspiration and joy to me. + +Because we love each other, would that be any reason why we must dote +upon each other, or sink from our high resolves? I cannot see why our +love for each other should not always be a means of our reaching our +higher selves. You need not answer this letter--but when you come back, +tell me whether what I say impresses you as being right or wrong--if +there is not some justification in it. But perhaps I should wait. I have +no right to disturb you now. + +XXXII + +THYRSIS: + +I woke up this morning with the feeling that I did not love you. +That same thing has happened to me two or three times, and I do not +understand it. + +It must be because at the present moment you do not love _me!_ You are +writing your book, and telling yourself that you cannot love me as you +ought! Is this so? It is only a surmise on my part, and I do not know, +but I should not be surprised if you were. I only know that the one +thing that can bring us together is love, and I do not love you now. +Perhaps you can explain it to me. I write this absolutely without +emotion. + +I tell you there have been things horribly wrong about you. You have +done anything but inspire love in my heart--you have never seen me with +love in my heart. Until lately, I never have felt any love for you; +before, I simply compelled myself to think I loved you, because my life +seemed to depend upon it. There have been many times when, as I look +back, you seem to me to have been base. + +Well may you preach, while you are alone, and are monarch of yourself. +I shall have to have more of a chance than has ever come to me, before +I will bear your displeasure or your exhortations. If you come to me and +speak to me of the high, proud self that I must reach, every vestige +of love for you will leave my heart, and I would as soon marry a stone +pillar! + +Great Heaven, what strange moods I have! I picture our meeting each +other, unmoved by love; you determined, energetic, indifferent to all +things, myself included; and I disappointed, but with a hardness in my +heart--no tears! + +I am indulging now in the most lifeless and gloomy of broodings; if you +do not come back to me, the only soul I can love, if you are not joyful +and strong, sincere, sympathetic, and loving, all of these--I shall know +it is a farce for me to ever hope to gain any life with _you_. I do not +believe that any woman can grow without love, and a great deal of it. +Why do you suppose I am writing all this--I, who have felt such deep +and true love for you? I have no courage--the dampness of the day has +settled into my soul--and I shall be joyless until there is no more +cursed doubt of you and your love for me. + +XXXIII + +Dear Corydon: Against resolutions, I am writing to you again. I thought +of you--there is a boat up the lake to-day with some hunters, and if I +finish this letter, I can send it in by them as they pass. I have many +things to tell you, and you must think about them. + +This is one of my paralyzing letters. It will reach you Monday. I can't +tell where I may be then. I have been wrestling with the end of the +book, and I am wild with rage at my impotence. The fact has come to me +that no amount of will is enough, because all my life is cowardly and +false. I have found myself wanting _to sneak through this work_, and +come home and enjoy myself; and you can't sneak with God, and that's +all. I cannot come home beaten, and so here I am, still struggling--and +with snow on the ground, and the shack so cold that I sit half in the +fire-place. + +I think of you, and at times when my soul is afire, I imagine I can do +anything. I see that you are helpless, but I think that I can change +your whole being, and _make_ you what I wish. But then that feeling dies +out, and I think of you as you _are_, and with despair. I do not allude +to any of your "deficiencies"--music, learning, and other stuff. I mean +your life-force, or your lack of it. I see that you have learned nothing +of the unspeakable, unattainable thing for which I am panting. And it +has come to me that I dare not marry you, that I should be binding my +life to ruin. My head is surging with plans, and a whole infinity of +future, and I simply cannot carry any woman with me on this journey. + +As I say this, I see the tears of despair in your eyes. I can only tell +you what I am--God made me for an _artist,_ not a _lover!_ I have not +deep feelings--I do not care for human suffering; I can _work,_ that +is all. Art is no respecter of persons, and neither am I--I labor for +something which is not of self, and requires denial of self. And as I +think about you, the feeling comes to me that it is not this you want, +that I should make you utterly wretched if I married you. You love +_love;_ you do not wish to fling yourself into a struggle such as +my life must be. I see that in all your letters--your terror of this +highest self of mine. If you married me, you would have to fight a +battle that would almost kill you. You would have to wear your +heart out, night and day--you would have to lose yourself and your +feelings--fling away everything, and live in self-contempt and effort. +You would have to know it--I can't help it--that I love life, and +that to human hearts I owe no allegiance; that to me they are simply +impatience and vexation. + +Do you want such a life? If you can learn to love it for what it is--a +wild, unnatural, but royal life--very well. If you are coming to me with +pleading eyes, secretly wishing for affection, and in terror of me when +you don't get it, then God help you, that is all! + +You are a child, and you can not dream what I mean. But every day I +learn something more of a great savage force of mine, that will stand +out against the rest of this world, that is burning me up, that is +driving me mad. One of two things it will do to you--it will make you +the same kind of creature, or it will tear the soul out of you. Do you +understand that? And nothing will stop it--it cares for nothing in the +world but the utterance of itself! And if you wish to marry me, it will +be with no promise of mine save to wreak it upon you! To take you, +and make you just such a creature, kill or cure--nothing else! Not one +instant's patience--but just one insistent, frantic demand that +you succeed--and fiery, writhing disgust with you when you do not +succeed--disgust that will make you scream--and make you live! Do you +understand this--and do you get any idea of the temper behind this? And +how it seems to you, I don't know--it is the only kind of truth I am +capable of; I shall simply fling naked the force of my passionate, +raging will, and punish you with it each instant of your life--until you +understand it, and love it, and worship it, as I do. + +Now, I don't know what you will think about this letter--and I don't +care. It is here--and you must take it. It does not come to you for +criticism, any more than it would come for criticism to the world. It +will rule the world. If I marry you I must live all my soul before you, +and you must share it; if you think you can do this without first +having suffered, having first torn loose your own crushed self, you are +mistaken. But remember this--I shall demand from you just as much fire +as I give; you may say you _cannot_, you may weep and say you cannot--I +will gnash my teeth at you and say you _must_. + +Perhaps I'm a fool to think I can do this. At any rate, I don't want to +do anything else; I am a fool to think of doing anything else, and you +to let me. + +I _cannot_ be false to my art without having a reaction of disgust, and +you cannot marry me, unless you understand that. When I sat down to this +letter I called myself mad for trying to tie my life to yours. Now I am +interested in you again. You may wish to make this cast still; and oh, +of course I shall drop back as usual, and you'll be happy, and I'll be +your "Romeo"! + +_Ugh_--how I hated that letter! _"Romeo"_ indeed! Wouldn't we have a +fine sentimental time--you with your prettiest dress on, and I holding +you in my arms and telling you how much I loved you! + +XXXIV + +MY DEAR THYRSIS: + +I shall be your wife. This thought takes hold of me firmly and calmly, +and I have no tears, nor fright, nor uncertainty. I suffered, of course, +while I read your letter, and my self-control toppled, but no "tears of +despair" came into my eyes. I am not despairing--I shall be your wife, +and I shall feel that for many years one of my greatest efforts will be +to prevent you from becoming my "Romeo." I am very weak and human, and +you become that easily--do you know it? + +Rejoice, I have gained my self-control, and well, I am going to be your +wife. Or else (it comes to me quite as a matter of course, without any +feeling of it being unnatural or unusual) I shall not care to live. But +after all, I do not fear that I shall die--I shall be your wife. You may +even gainsay it, you may _even_ tell me I shall ruin your life, you may +_even_ tell me that you refuse to take me--but sooner or later I shall +be your wife. I say it with perfect certainty, and almost composure. + +It is unfortunate that at such a time as this I cannot see you--it is +quite cruelly wicked. There is so much to say, not all in _your_ favor +either. Some day I shall learn to bring out and keep before me that +higher self of yours, which _now_ I do not fear. I also have a higher +self, though it does not show itself very often. It is a self which +can meet that self of yours without flinching, but which loves it, and +stretches out its arms to it--which knows that without that self of +yours it cannot, _will_ not live. It is hard to realize such a thing, +but I beseech you no longer, I am going with you. You see now, I have no +fear of your not taking me--I simply have no fear of this. + +If I had, I could not write you this way. But you have been the means of +showing me I _can_ awaken, and that I was not meant to live the life of +the people around me. Chance tried hard to put me to sleep forever, but +you have roused me. Dear me, how I smile to myself at my confidence! +But I am so sure--this feeling would not be in my heart if it had no +meaning! I was not meant for this life I am leading. I am not afraid +because I have no proof that I am a genius, and no prospect of being +one at present. I do not know whether what you have must come as an +inspiration direct from God, I do not know whether I am _capable_ of +winning any of this life that you are seeking; but I do know this--I'm +going to have the chance to try, and you are going to give it to me. Do +you suppose I could tell you that I am willing to stay at home and let +you leave me? + +I have not even any fear now of your wishing to leave me. Why, I +wouldn't hold my life at a pennyworth if you were out of it! + +"You are my only means of breathing, you fool," I thought. I sometimes +wonder how you could think of leaving me, when I feel as I do at +present. I ask myself why it is that you know nothing of it, and why +it does not make you put out your hand in gladness to me--how you could +write me that all my letters showed you I did not want to struggle to +lead your life! + +My words are failing me now--this is probably the reason you know +nothing about me. + +Besides, when I have written you before this, I have been worrying and +doubting and afraid. I am none of these now; and I do not believe I am +deluding myself--in fact I _know_ I am not. _I shall be your wife._ It +is indeed a pity I cannot talk to you now--yes, a very great pity. It is +also rather incomprehensible, that you can imagine leaving me _now._ And +all my letters have told you that I wish to be petted and cuddled, did +they? If you were here, I do not know that it would do any good to give +my feelings vent, it would profit me nothing to strike you, and what +could I do? I cannot hate you--it is not natural that one should hate +one's husband. + +Some day, oh, _some_ day, I tell myself--you will no lonnger play and +trifle with me and my soul! + +Did you really think you are going to put me to sleep again? Surely my +life is something; and you have given me some reason for its existence. +I can hardly tell you what I wish to say; people run in and out, and I +am bothered--I suppose this is one of my tasks. But do you not see that +you have taken the responsibility of a soul into your hands? I +cannot live without you. What is it--do creatures go around the world +struggling and saying they must live, and are they only pitiful fools +for trying? + +And are you one of God's chosen ones? Will you tell me, "Corydon, you +simply cannot live my life--you are not fit?" Dear Thyrsis, I actually +believe that if you should tell me that now, I should laugh with joy, +for I would see that I had gained one victory, that of proving to you +your own weakness and stupidity. And I should not let you discourage me. +I should throw my arms around your neck, and cling to you until you had +promised to take me. After all, it is a small boon to ask the privilege +of trying to live, it cannot but be a glory to you to help me; and if I +do not make you waste your time or money, how can I hinder you? + +Ask yourself how you have treated me--have I not suffered a little? +Though I may have been miserably weak, have I not now a little courage? +Why do the moments blind you so, that you can speak to me as though I +were a sawdust doll? + +There is only one thing that I will let myself do. I know that you are +strong and brave, and that I can be if I go with you; and I am going +with you--there simply is no other alternative--for I love you! Yes, +dear, I saw it very plainly as I read your letter to-day. I seem to feel +very differently about it all now. I know we _cannot_ sit still and love +each other--this costs me no pang. You need not love me one bit; I may +simply belong to you, we may simply belong to each other. + +I see how I fall into blindness of the high things at home. How almost +impossible it is for me to do anything, while I have the earthly ties of +love! I study--but how? How is it possible to live the physical life of +other people--to be sympathetic and agreeable and conciliatory, and gain +anything for your own soul? How is such a creature as myself to get what +it wants, unless it goes away where there are no contrary and disturbing +influences--where it has no ties, no obligations? The souls that have +won, how did they do it--did they go alone, or did they stay in the +parlor and serve tea? + +Such thoughts as these would make me grovel at your feet, if need be, +in an agony of prayer. The means, I cry--and you are the means! What is +there for me, then, but to beseech you to have faith in me? I suppose, +as yet, you have little or no cause--though once or twice I have risen +to you, even though perhaps you did not know it. I am almost happy +now--for I feel that this _useless_ strife is at an end, this craving +and wondering if you wish to leave me. And for all that, I despise you, +too--for your blind and wanton cruelty in wishing to crush what you have +created! How do you expect God to value your soul, when you so lightly +value mine? + +But after all, will it help me to beseech you? The thing I honor in you +is your desire to be right--and I know that you will act toward me as +your sense of right prompts you. You will act toward me as you feel you +_must_ do, to be true. Yes, be true to yourself, please; I am happy to +trust in yourself so. If you believe that I will mar your life, I do not +wish to go I with you. I do not know why, but I feel that something has +come to me to prevent my despair from returning; I shall take care of +my soul--there _must_ be something for me in this life. I have a feeling +that perhaps you will think I am writing this last mute acceptance of +your will, without knowing what I am doing. But I _know_ that I shall +struggle without you, I shall not die. + +And I wish that you would do one thing--see me as soon as you can; let +it be early in the morning, and it shall be decided _on_ _that_ _day_ +whether I am to marry you or not. I shall leave you, not to see you +again--or knowing that I am to be your wife. I am sick unto death of +fuming and sighing, tears and fears. + +What will you do, Thyrsis? I cannot write any more. + +I unfold the letter again. _What, in the name of God, are you going to +do?_ + + + + + + +BOOK IV + +THE VICTIM APPROACHES + + + + + +_A silence had fallen upon them. She sat watching where the light of the +sun flickered among the birches; and he had the book in his hand, and +was turning the pages idly. He read-- + + "I know these slopes; who knows them if not I?" + +And she smiled, and quoted in return-- + + "Here cam'st thou in thy jocund youthful time, + Here was thine height of strength, thy golden prime! + And still the haunt beloved a virtue yields."_ + +Section 1. It was early one November afternoon, in his cabin in the +forest, that Thyrsis wrote the last of his minstrel's songs. He had +not been able to tell when it would come to him, so he had made no +preparations; but when the last word was on the paper, he sprang to his +feet, and strode through the snow-clad forest to the nearest farm-house. +The farmer came with a wagon, and Thyrsis bundled all his belongings +into his trunk, and took the night-train for the city. + +He came like a young god, radiant and clothed in glory. All the +creatures of his dreams were awake within him, all his demons and his +muses; he had but to call them and they answered. There was a sound of +trumpets and harps in his soul all day; he was like a man half walking, +half running, in the midst of a great storm of wind. + +He had fought the good fight, and he had conquered. The world was at +his feet, and he had no longer any fear of it. The jangling of the +street-cars was music to him, the roar and rush of the city stirred his +pulses--this was the life he had come to shape to his will! + +And so he came to Corydon, glorious and irresistible. His mind was quite +made up--he would take her; he was master now, he had no longer any +doubts or fears. He was thrilled all through him with the thought +of her; how wonderful it was at such an hour to have some one to +communicate with--some one in whose features he could see a reflection +of his own exaltation! He recollected the words of the old German poet-- + + "Der ist selig zu begrussen Der ein treues Herze weiss!" + +He went to Corydon's home. In the parlor he came upon her unannounced; +and she started and stared at him as at a ghost. She did not make a +sound, but he saw the pallor sweep over her face, he saw her tremble +and sway. She was like a reed shaken by the wind--so fragile and so +sensitive! He got a sudden sense of the storm of emotion that was +shaking her; and it frightened him, while at the same time it thrilled +him strangely. + +He came and took her hands in his, and gently touched her cheek with his +lips. She stared at him dumbly. + +"It's all right, sweetheart," he whispered. "It's all right." And she +closed her eyes, and it seemed as if to breathe was all she could do. + +"Come, dearest," he said. "Let us go out." + +And half in a daze she put on her hat and coat, and they went out on the +street. He took her arm to steady her. + +"Well?" she asked. + +"It's all right, dearest," he said. + +"You got my letter?" + +"Yes, I got it. And it was a wonderful letter. It couldn't have been +better." + +"Ah!" + +"And there's no more to be said. There's no refusing such a challenge. +You shall come with me." + +"But Thyrsis! Do you _want_ me to come?" + +"Yes," he said, "I want you." + +And he felt a tremor pass through her arm. He pressed it tightly to his +side. "I love you!" he whispered. + +"Ah Thyrsis!" she exclaimed. "How you have tortured me!" + +"Hush, dear!" he replied. "Let's not think of that. It's all past now. +We are going on! You have proven your grit. You are wonderful!" + +They went into the park, and sat upon a bench in the sun. + +"I've finished the book!" he said. "And in a couple more days it'll be +copied. I've a letter of introduction to a publisher, and he wrote me +he'd read it at once." + +"It seems like a dream to me," she whispered. + +"We won't have to wait long after that," he said. "Everything will be +clear before us." + +"And what will you do in the meantime?" she asked. + +"Mother wants me to stay with her," he said. "I've only got ten dollars +left. But I'll get some from the publisher." + +"Are you sure you can?" she asked. + +"Oh, Corydon!" he cried, "you've no idea how wonderful it is--the book, +I mean. You'll be amazed! It kept growing on me all the time--I got +new visions of it. That was why it took me so long. I didn't dare to +appreciate it, while I was doing it--I had to keep myself at work, you +know; but now that it's done, I can realize it. And oh, it's a book the +world will heed!" + +"When can I see it, Thyrsis?" + +"As soon as it's copied--the manuscript is all a scrawl. But you know +the minstrel's song at the end? My Gethsemane, I called it! I found a +new form for it--it's all in free verse. I didn't mean it to be that +way, but it just wrote itself; it broke through the bars and ran away +with me. Oh, it marches like the thunder!" + +He pulled some papers from his coat-pocket. "I was going over it on the +train this morning," he said. "Listen!" + +He read her the song, thrilling anew with the joy of its effect upon +her. "Oh, Thyrsis!" she cried, in awe. "That is marvellous! Marvellous! +How could you do it?" + +And yet, for all the delight she expressed, Thyrsis was conscious of +a chill of disappointment, of a doubt lurking in the background of his +mind. It was inevitable, in the nature of things--how could the book +mean to any human creature what it had meant to him? Seven long months +he had toiled with it, he had been through the agonies of a child-birth +for it. And another person would read it all in one day!--It was the +old, old agony of the artist, who can communicate so small a part of +what has been in his soul. + +Section 2. He wanted to talk about his book, but Corydon wanted to talk +about him. She had waited so long, and suffered so much--and now at +last he was here! "Oh, Thyrsis!" she cried. "There's just no use in my +trying--I can't do anything at all without you!" + +"You won't have to do it any more," he said. "We shall not part again." + +"And you are sure you want me? You have no more doubts?" + +"How could I have any doubts--after that letter. Ah, that was a brave +letter, Corydon! It made me think of you as some old Viking's daughter! +That is the way to go at the task!" + +"And then I may feel certain!" she said. + +"You may stop thinking all about it," he replied. "We'll waste no more +of our time--we'll put it aside and get to work." + +They spent the day wandering about in the park and talking over their +plans. "I suppose it'll be all right now that I'm with you," said +Thyrsis. "I mean, there's no great hurry about getting married." + +"Oh, no!" she answered. "We dare not think of that, until you have +money." + +"How I wish we didn't have to get married!" he exclaimed. + +"Why?" she asked. + +"Because-why should we have to get anybody else's permission to live our +lives? I've thought about it a good deal, and it's a slave-custom, and +it makes me ashamed of myself." + +"But don't you believe in marriage, dear?" + +"I do, and I don't. I believe that a man who exposes a woman to the +possibility of having a child, ought to guarantee to support the woman +for a time, and to support the child. That's obvious enough--no one but +a scoundrel would want to avoid it. But marriage means so much more +than that! You bind yourself to stay together, whether love continues or +whether it stops; you can't part, except on some terms that other people +set down. You have to make all sorts of promises you don't intend to +keep, and to go through forms you don't believe in, and it seems to me a +cowardly thing to do." + +"But what else can one do?" asked Corydon. + +"It's quite obvious what _we_ could do. We don't intend to be husband +and wife; and so we could simply go away and go on with our work." + +"But think of our parents, Thyrsis!" + +"Yes, I know--I've thought of them. But if every one thought of his +parents, how would the world ever move?" + +"But, dearest!" exclaimed Corydon, "if we didn't marry, they'd simply go +out of their senses!" + +"I know. But then, they might threaten to go out of their senses if we +_did_ marry? And would that work also?" + +"We must be sensible," said the girl. "It means so much to them, and so +little to us." + +"Yes, I suppose so," he answered. "But all the same, I hate it; when you +once begin conforming, you never know where you'll stop." + +"_We_ shall know," declared the other. "Whatever we may have to do to +get married, we shall both of us know that neither would ever dream of +wishing to hold the other for a moment after love had ceased. And that +is the essential thing, is it not?" + +"Yes," assented Thyrsis. "I suppose so." + +"Well, then, we'll make that bargain between us; that will be _our_ +marriage." + +"That suits me better," he replied. + +She thought for a moment, and then said, with a laugh, "Let us have a +little ceremony of our own." + +"Very well," said he. + +"Are you ready for it now?" she inquired. "Your mind is quite made up?" + +"Quite made up." + +She looked about her, to make sure that no one was in sight; and then +she put her hand in his. "I have been to weddings," she said. "And so +I know how they do it.--I take thee, Thyrsis, to be the companion of +my soul. I give myself to thee freely, for the sake of love, and I will +stay so long as thy soul is better with me than without. But if ever +this should cease to be, I will leave thee; for if my soul is weaker +than thine, I have no right to be thy mate." + +She paused. "Is that right?" she asked. + +"Yes," he said, "that is right." + +"Very well then," she said; "and now, you say it!" + +And she made him repeat the words--"I take thee, Corydon, to be the +companion of my soul. I give myself to thee freely, for the sake +of love, and I will stay so long as thy soul is better with me than +without. But if ever this should cease to be, I will leave thee; for if +my soul is weaker than thine, I have no right to be thy mate." + +"Now," she exclaimed, with an eager laugh--"now we're married!" And as +he looked he caught the glint of a tear in her eyes. + +Section 3. But the world would not be content to leave it on that +basis. When they parted that afternoon, it was with a carefully-arranged +program of work--they were to visit each other on alternate days and +go on with their German and music. But in less than a week they had run +upon an obstruction; there was no quiet room for them at Corydon's +save her bedroom, and one evening when Thyrsis came, she made the +announcement that they could no longer study there. + +"Why not?" he asked. + +"Well," explained Corydon, "they say the maid might think it wasn't +nice." + +She had expected him to fly into a rage, but he only smiled grimly. "I +had come to tell you the same sort of thing," he explained. "It seems +you can't visit me so often, and you're never to stay after ten o'clock +at night." + +"Why is that?" she inquired. + +"It's a question of what the hall-boy might think," said he. + +They sat gazing at each other in silence. "You see," said Thyrsis, at +last, "the thing is impossible--we've got to go and get married. The +world will never give us any peace until we do." + +"Nobody has any idea of what we mean!" exclaimed Corydon. + +"No idea whatever," he said. "They've nothing in them in anyway to +correspond with it. You talk to them about souls, and they haven't +any. You talk to them about love, and they think you mean obscenity. +Everybody is thinking obscenity about us!" + +"Everybody but our parents," put in Corydon. + +To which he answered, angrily, "They are thinking of what the others are +thinking." + +But everybody seemed to have to think something, and that was the +aspect of the matter that puzzled them most. Why did everybody find it +necessary to be thinking about it at all? Why did everybody consider +it his business? As Thyrsis phrased it--"Why the hell can't they let us +alone?" + +"We've got to get married," said she. "That's the only way to get the +best of them." + +"But is that really getting the best of them?" he objected. "Isn't that +their purpose--to make us get married?" + +This was a pregnant question, but they did not follow it up just then. +They went on to the practical problem of where and when and how to +accomplish their purpose. + +"We can go to a court," said he. + +"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "We'd have to meet a lot of men, and I couldn't +stand it." + +"But surely you don't want to go to a church!" he said. + +"Couldn't we get some clergyman to marry us quietly?" + +"But then, there's a lot of rigmarole!" + +"But mightn't he leave it out?" she asked. + +"I don't know," he said. "They generally believe in it, you see." + +He decided to make an attempt, however. + +"Let's go to-morrow morning," he said. "I'm going over to have the +sound-post set in my violin, and that'll take an hour or so. Perhaps we +can finish it up in the meantime." + +"A good idea," said Corydon. "It'll give me to-night to tell mother and +father." + +Section 4. So behold them, the next morning, emerging from the little +shop of the violin-dealer, and seeking for some one to fasten them in +the holy bonds of matrimony! They were walking down a great avenue, +and there were many churches--but they were all rich churches. "I never +thought about it before," said Thyrsis. "But I wonder if there are any +poor churches in the city!" + +They stopped in front of one brown-stone structure that looked a trifle +less elaborate. "It says Presbyterian," said Corydon, reading the sign. +"I wonder how they do it." + +"I don't know," said he. "But he'd want a lot of money, I'm sure." + +"But mightn't he have a curate, or something?" + +"Goose," laughed Thyrsis, "there are no Presbyterian curates!" + +"Well, you know what I mean," she said--"an assistant, or an apprentice, +or something." + +"I don't know," said he. "Let's go and ask." + +So, with much trepidation, they rang the bell of the parsonage on the +side-street. But the white-capped maid who answered told them that the +pastor was not in, and that there were no curates or apprentices about. + +They went on. + +"How much do you suppose they charge, anyway?" asked Thyrsis. + +"I don't know--I think you give what you can spare. How much money have +you?" + +"I've got eight dollars to my name." + +"Have you got it with you?" + +"Yes--all of it." + +"I get my twenty-five to-morrow," she added. + +"Do you really get it?" he asked. "You can depend on it?" + +"Oh yes--it comes the middle of each month." + +"I've heard of people getting incomes from investments, and things like +that, but it always seemed hard to believe. I never thought I'd meet +with it in my own life." + +"It's certainly very nice," said Corydon. + +"Where does it come from?" + +"There's a trustee of the estate who sends it. It's Mr. Hammond." + +"That bald-headed man I met once?" + +"Yes, he's the one. He's quite a well-known lawyer, and they say I'm +fortunate to have him." + +"I see," said Thyrsis. "I'll have to look into it some day. You know you +have to endow me with all your worldly goods!" + +They went on down the avenue, and came to a Jewish temple with a gilded +dome. "I wonder how that would do," said Corydon. + +"I don't think it would do at all," said Thyrsis. "We'd surely have to +believe something there." + +So they went on again. And on a corner, as they stopped to look about +them, a strange mood came suddenly to Thyrsis. It was as if a veil was +rent before him--as if a bolt of lightning had flashed. What was he +going to do? He was going to bind himself in marriage! He was going to +be trapped--he, the wild thing, the young stag of the forest! + +"What is it?" asked Corydon, seeing him standing motionless. + +"I--I was just thinking," he said. + +"What?" + +"I was afraid, Corydon, I wondered if we were sure--if we realized--" + +"If we _realized!_" she cried. + +"You know--it'll be forever--" + +"Why, Thyrsis!" she exclaimed, in horror. + +And so he started, and laughed uneasily. "It was just a queer fancy that +came to me," he said. + +"But how _could_ you!" she cried. + +"Come, dearest," he said, hurriedly--"it's nothing. It seems so strange, +that's all." + +In the middle of the block they came to another church. "Unitarian!" he +exclaimed. "Oh, maybe that's just the thing!" + +And so they went in, and found a friendly clergyman, Dr. Hamilton +by name, to whom they explained their plight. They answered his +questions--yes, they were both of age, and they had told their parents. +Also, with much stammering, Thyrsis explained that his worldly goods +amounted to eight dollars. + +"But--how are you going to live?" asked Dr. Hamilton. + +Thyrsis was tempted to mention the masterpiece, but he decided not to. +"I'm going to earn money," he said. + +"Well," responded the other, "I suppose it's all right. I'll marry you." + +And so the sexton was called in for a witness, and the clergyman stood +before them and made a little speech, and said a prayer, and then joined +their hands together and pronounced the spell. The two trembled just a +little, but answered bravely, "I do," in the proper places, and then it +was over. They shook hands with the doctor, and promised to come hear +one of his sermons; and with much trepidation they paid him two dollars, +which he in turn paid to the sexton. And then they went outside, and +drew a great breath of relief. "It wasn't half as bad as I expected," +the bridegroom confessed. + +Section 5. Thyris invested in a newspaper, and as they went back to +get the violin they read the advertisements of furnished rooms. In +respectable neighborhoods which they tried they found that the prices +were impossible for them; but at last, upon the edge of a tenement +district, they found a corner flat-house, with a saloon underneath, +where there were two tiny bedrooms for rent in an apartment. The woman, +who was a seamstress, was away a good deal in the day, and Corydon +learned with delight that she might use the piano in the parlor. The +rooms were the smallest they had ever seen, but they were clean, and +the price was only fifty cents a day--a dollar and a half a week +for Thyrsis' and two dollars for Corydon's, because there was a +steam-radiator in it. + +There was a racket of school-children and of streetcars from the avenue +below, but they judged they would get used to this; and having duly +satisfied the landlady that they were married, and having ascertained +that she had no objection to "light housekeeping," they engaged the +rooms and paid a week's rent in advance. + +"That leaves us two and a half to start life on!" said Thyrsis, when +they were on the street again. "Our housekeeping will be light indeed!" + +They walked on, and sat down in the park to talk it over. + +"It's not nearly so reckless as it would seem," he argued. "For I have +to earn money for myself any-how. And then there's the book." + +"When will you hear about it?" + +"I called the man up the day before yesterday. He said they were reading +it." + +"Have you said anything to him about money?" + +"Not yet." + +"Will they pay something in advance?" + +"They will, I guess, if they like the story. I don't know very much +about the business end of it." + +"We mustn't let them take advantage of us!" exclaimed Corydon. + +"No, of course not. But I hate to have to think about the money side of +it. It's a cruel thing that I have to sell my inspiration." + +"What else could you do?" she asked. + +"It's something I've thought a great deal about," said he. "It kept +forcing itself upon me all the time I was writing. Here I am with my +vision--working day and night to make something beautiful and sacred, +something without taint of self. And I have to take it to business-men, +who will go out into the market-place and sell it to make money! It will +come into competition with thousands of other books--and the publishers +shouting their virtues like so many barkers at a fair. I can hardly bear +to think of it; I'd truly rather live in a garret all my days than see +it happen. I don't want the treasures of my soul to be hawked on the +streets." + +"But how else could people get them?" asked Corydon. + +"I would like to have a publishing-house of my own, and to print my +books with good paper and strong bindings that would last, and then sell +them for just what they cost. So the whole thing would be consistent, +and I could tell the exact truth about what I wrote. For I know the +truth about my work; I've no vanities, I'd be as remorseless a critic +of myself as Shelley was. I'd be willing to leave it to time for my real +friends to find me out--I'd give up the department-store public to the +authors who wanted it. And then, too, I could sell my books cheaply, so +that the poor could get them. I always shudder to think that the people +who most need what I write will have it kept away from them, because I +am holding it back to make a profit!" + +"We must do that some day!" declared Corydon. + +"We must live very simply," he said, "so we can begin it soon. Perhaps +we can do it with the money we get from this first book. We could get +everything we need for a thousand dollars a year, and save the balance." + +The other assented to this. + +"I've got the prospectus of my publishing-house all written," Thyrsis +went on. "And I've several other plans worked out--people would laugh +if they saw them, I guess. But before I get through, I'm going to have a +reading-room where anyone can come and get my books. It'll be down where +the poor people are; and I'm going to have travelling libraries, so as +to reach people in the country. That is the one hope for better things, +as I see it--we must get ideas to the people!" + +Thus discoursing, they strolled back to the home of Thyrsis' mother, and +he went in to get his belongings together. Corydon went with him; and as +they entered, the mother said, "There's an express package for you." + +So Thyrsis went to his room, and saw a flat package lying on the bed. +He stared at it, startled, and then picked it up and read the label upon +it. "Why--why!--" he gasped; and then he seized a pair of scissors and +cut the string and opened it. It was his manuscript! + +With trembling fingers he turned it over. There was a letter with it, +and he snatched it up. "We regret," it read, "that we cannot make you an +offer for the publication of your book. Thanking you for the privilege +of examining it, we are very truly yours." And that was all! + +"They've rejected the book!" gasped Thyrsis; and the two stared at each +other with consternation and horror in their eyes. + +That was a possibility that had never occurred to Thyrsis in his wildest +moment. That anyone in his senses could reject that book! That anyone +could read a single chapter of it and not see what it was! + +"They only had it five days!" he exclaimed; and instantly an explanation +flashed across his mind. "I don't believe they read it!" he cried. "I +don't believe they ever looked at it!" + +But, read or unread, there was the manuscript--rejected. There was no +appeal from the decision; there was no explanation, no apology--they had +simply rejected it! It was like a blow in the face to Thyrsis; he felt +like a woman whose love is spurned. + +"Oh the fools! The miserable fools!" he cried. + +But he could not bring much comfort to his soul by that method. The +seriousness of it remained. The publishing-house was one of the largest +and most prosperous in the country; and if they were fools, how many +more fools might there not be among those who stood between him and the +public? And if so, what would he do? + +Section 6. So these two began their life under the shadow of a cloud. At +the very first hour, when they should have been all rapture, there had +come into the chamber of their hearts this grisly spectre--that was to +haunt them for so many years! + +But they clenched their hands grimly, and put the thought aside, and +moved their worldly goods to the two tiny rooms. When they had got +their trunks in, there was no place to sit save on the beds; and though +Corydon had cast away all superfluities for this pilgrimage, still it +was a puzzle to know where to put things. + +But what of that--they were together at last! What an ecstasy it was +to be actually unpacking, and to be mingling their effects! A kind of +symbol it was of their spiritual union, so that the most commonplace +things became touched with meaning. Thyrsis thrilled when the other +brought in an armful of books to him--all this wealth was to be added +to his store! He owned no books himself, save a few text-books, and some +volumes of poetry that he knew by heart. Other books he had borrowed +all his life from libraries; and he often thought with wonder that there +were people who would pay a dollar or two for a book which they did not +mean to read but once! + +Also there were a hundred trifles which came from Corydon's trunk, and +which whispered of the intimacies of her life; the pictures she put upon +her bureau, the sachet-bags that went into the drawer, the clothing she +hung behind the door. It disturbed him strangely to realize how close +she was to be to him from now on. + +And then, the excursion to the corner-grocery, and the delight of the +plunge into housekeeping! A pound of butter, and some salt and pepper, +and a bunch of celery; a box of "chipped beef", and a dozen eggs, and +a quart of potatoes; and then to the baker's, for rolls and +sponge-cakes--did ever a grocer and a baker sell such ecstasies before? +They carried it all home, and while Corydon scrubbed the celery in the +bath-room, Thyrsis got out his chafing-dish and set the beef and eggs +to sizzling, and they sat and sniffed the delicious odors, and meantime +munched at rolls and butter, because they were so hungry they could not +wait. + +What an Elysian festivity they made of it! And then to think that they +would have three such picnics every day! To be sure, the purchases had +taken one half of Thyrsis' remaining capital; but then, was it not just +that spice of danger that gave the keen edge to their delight? What was +it that made the sense of snugness and intimacy in their little retreat, +save the knowledge of a cold and hostile world outside? + +The next morning Thyrsis took his manuscript to another publisher, and +then they went at their work. Corydon laughed aloud with delight as +they began the German--for what were all its terrors now, when she had +Thyrsis for a dictionary! They fairly romped through the books. In +the weeks that followed they read "Werther" and "Wilhelm Meister" and +"Wahlverwandschaften"; they read "Undine" and "Peter Schlemil" and the +"Leben eines Taugenichts"; they read Heine's poems, and Auerbach's and +Freitag's novels, and Wieland's "Oberon"--is there anybody in Germany +who still reads Wieland's "Oberon?" Surely there must somewhere be young +couples who delight in "Der Trompeter von Sekkingen," and laugh with +delight over "der Kater Hidigeigei!" + +Also they went at music. Corydon had been taught to play as many +"pieces" as the average American young lady; but Thyrsis had tried to +persuade her to a new and desperate emprise--he insisted that there +was nothing to music until one had learned to read it at sight. So now, +every day when their landlady had gone out, he moved his music-stand +into the little parlor, and they went at the task. Thyrsis proposed to +achieve it by a _tour_ _de_ _force_--the way to read German was to read +it, and the way to read music was to read music. He would set up a piece +they had never seen before, and they would begin; and he would pound out +the time with his foot, and make Corydon keep up with him--even though +she was only able to get one or two notes in each bar, still she must +keep up with him. At first this was agony to her--she wanted to linger +and get some semblance of the music; but Thyrsis would scold and exhort +and shout, and pound out the time. + +And so, to Corydon's own amazement, it was not many weeks before she +found that she was actually reading music, that they were playing it +together. In this way they learned Haydn's and Mozart's sonatas, they +even adventured Beethoven's trios, with the second violin left out. Then +Thyrsis subscribed to a music-library, and would come home twice a week +with an armful of new stuff, good and bad. And whenever in all their +struggles with it they were able to achieve anything that really moved +them as music, what a rapture it brought them! + +Section 7. This was indeed the nearest they could ever come to creative +achievement together; this was the one field in which their abilities +were equal. In all other things there were disharmonies--they came upon +many reefs and shoals in these uncharted matrimonial seas. + +Thyrsis was swift and impatient, and had flung away all care about +external things; and here was Corydon, a woman, with all a woman's +handicaps and disabilities. She was like a little field-mouse in her +care of her person--she must needs scrub herself minutely every morning, +and have hot water for her face every night; her hair had to be braided +and her nails had to be cared for--and oh, the time it took her to get +her clothes on, or even to get ready for the street! She would struggle +like one possessed to accomplish it more quickly, while Thyrsis chafed +and growled and agonized in the next room. There was nothing he could do +meantime--for were they not going to do everything together? + +Then there was another stumbling-block--the newspapers! Thyrsis had to +know what was going on in the world. He had learned to read the papers +and magazines like an exchange-editor; his eye would fly from column to +column, and he would rip the insides out of one in two or three minutes. +To Corydon it was agony to see him do this, for it took her half an +hour to read a newspaper. She besought him to read it out loud--and was +powerless to understand the distress that this caused him. He stood +it as long as he could, and then he took to marking in the papers the +things that she needed to know; and this he continued to do religiously, +until he had come to realize that Corydon never remembered anything that +she read in the papers. + +This was something it took him years to comprehend; there were certain +portions of the ordinary human brain which simply did not exist in +his wife. She had lived eighteen years in the world, and it had never +occurred to her to ask how steam made an engine go, or what was the use +of the little glass knobs on the telegraph-poles. And it was the same +with politics and business, and with the thousand and one personalities +of the hour. When these things came up, Thyrsis would patiently explain +to her what she needed to know; and he would take it for granted that +she would pounce upon the information and stow it away in her mind--just +as he would have done in a similar case. But then, two or three weeks +later, the same topic would come up, and he would see a look of sudden +terror come into Corydon's eyes--she had forgotten every word of it! + +He came, after a long time, to honor this ignorance. People had to bring +some real credentials with them to win a place in Corydon's thoughts; it +was not enough that they were conspicuous in the papers. And it was the +same with facts of all sorts; science existed for Corydon only as it +pointed to beauty, and history existed only as it was inspiring. They +read Green's "History of the English People" in the evenings; and every +now and then Corydon would have to go and plunge her face into cold +water to keep her eyes open, The long parliamentary struggle was utter +confusion to her--she had no joy to watch how "freedom slowly broadens +down from precedent to precedent." But once in a while there would come +some story, like that Of Joan of Arc--and there would be the girl, +with her hands clenched, and hot tears in her eyes, and the fires of +martyrdom blazing in her soul! + +These were the hours which revealed to Thyrsis the treasure he had +won--the creature of pure beauty whose heart was in his keeping. He was +humbled and afraid before her; but the agony of it was that he could +not dwell in those regions of joy with her--he had to know about stupid +things and vulgar people, he had to go out among them to scramble for +a living. So there had to be a side to his mind that Corydon could not +share. And it did not suffice just to tolerate the existence of such +things--he had to be actively interested in them, and to take their +point of view. How else could he hold his place in the world, how could +he win in the struggle for life? + +This, he strove to persuade himself, was the one real difficulty between +them, the one thing that marred the perfection of their bliss. But +as time went on, he came to suspect that there was something +else--something even more vital and important. It seemed to him that +he had given up that which was the chief source of his power--his +isolation. The center of his consciousness had been shifted outside of +himself; and try as he would, he could never get it back. Where now were +the hours and hours of silent brooding? Where were the long battles in +his own soul? And what was to take he place of them--could conversation +do it, conversation no matter how interesting and worth while? Thyrsis +had often quoted a saying of Emerson's, that "people descend to meet." +And when one was married did not one have to descend all the time? + +He reasoned the matter out to himself. It was not Corydon's fault, +he saw clearly; it would have been the same had he married one of the +seraphim. He did not want to live the life of any seraph--he wanted +to live his own life. And was it not obvious that the mere physical +proximity of another person kept one's attention upon external things? +Was not one inevitably kept aware of trivialities and accidents? Thyrsis +had an ideal, that he should never permit an idle word to pass his lips; +and now he saw how inevitably the common-place crept in upon them--how, +for instance, their conversation had a way of turning to personality +and jesting. Corydon was sensitive to external things, and she kept him +aware of the fact that his trousers were frayed and his hair unkempt, +and that other people were remarking these things. + +Such was marriage; and it made all the more difference to an author, +he reasoned, because an author was always at home. Thyrsis had been +accustomed, when he opened his eyes in the morning, to lie still and +let images and fancies come trooping through his mind; he would plan his +whole day's work in that way, while his fancy was fresh and there +was nothing to disturb him. But now he had to get up and dress, thus +scattering these visions. In the same way, he had been wont to walk +and meditate for hours; but now he never walked alone. That meant +incidentally that he no longer got the exercise he needed--because +Corydon could never walk at his pace. And if this was the case with such +external things, how much more was it the case with the strange impulses +of his inmost soul! Thyrsis was now like a hunter, who starts a deer, +and instead of putting spurs to his horse and following it, has to wait +to summon a companion--and meanwhile, of course, the deer is gone! + +From all this there was but one deliverance for them, and that was +music. Music was their real interest, music was their religion; and +if only they could go on and grow in it--if only they could acquire +technique enough to live their lives in it! This would take years, of +course; but they did not mind that, they were willing to work every day +until they were exhausted--if only the world would give them a chance! +But alas, the world did not seem to be minded that way. + +Section 8. Thyrsis had waited a week, and then written the second +publisher, and received a reply to the effect that at least two weeks +were needed for the consideration of a manuscript. And meantime his last +penny was gone, and he was living on Corydon's money. It was clear that +he must earn something at once; and so he had to leave her to study and +practice in her own room, while he cudgelled his brains and tormented +his soul with hack-work. + +He tried his verses again; but he found that the spring had dried up in +him. Life was now too sombre a thing, the happy spontaneous jingles came +no more. And what he did by main force of will sounded hollow and vapid +to him--and must have sounded so to the editors, who sent them back. + +Then he tried book-reviewing; but oh, the ghastly farce of +book-reviewing! To read futile writing and sham writing of a hundred +degrading varieties--and never dare to utter a truth about them! To +labor instead to put one's self in the place of the school-girl reader +and the tired shop-clerk reader and the sentimental married-woman +reader, and imagine what they would think about the book, and what +they would like to have said about it! To take these little pieces of +dishonesty to an office, and sit by trembling while they were read, and +receive two dollars apiece for them if they were published, and nothing +at all if one had been so lacking in cunning as to let the editor think +that the book was not worth the space! + +However, Thyrsis had cunning enough to earn the cost of his room and his +food for two weeks more. Then one day the postman brought him a letter, +the inscription of which made his heart give a throb. He ripped the +envelope open and read a communication from the second publisher: + +"We have been interested in your manuscript, and while we do not feel +that we can undertake its publication, we should like an opportunity to +talk with you about it." + +"What does _that_ mean?" asked Corydon, trembling. + +"God knows," he answered. "I'll go and see them this morning." + +When he came back, it was to sink into a chair and stare in front of him +with a savage frown. "Don't ask me!" he said, to Corydon. "Don't ask!" + +"Please tell me!" cried the girl. "Did you see them?" + +"Yes," said Thyrsis--"I saw a fat man!" + +"A fat man!" + +"Yes--a fat man. A fat body, and a fat mind, and a fat soul." + +"Please tell me, Thyrsis!" + +"He said my book wouldn't sell, because the public had got tired of that +sort of thing." + +"That sort of thing!" + +"It seems that people used to buy 'historical romances', and now they've +stopped. The man actually thought my book was one of that kind!" + +"I see. But then--couldn't you tell him?" + +"I told him. I said, 'Can't you see that this book is original--that +it's come out of a man's heart?' 'Yes,' he said, 'perhaps. But you can't +expect the public to see it.' And so there you are!" + +Thyrsis sat with his nails dug into his palms. "It's just like the +book-reviews!" he cried. "He knows better, but that doesn't count--he's +thinking about the public! And he's got to the point where he doesn't +really care--he's a fat man!" + +"And so he'll not publish the book?" + +"He'll not have anything more to do with me. He hates me." + +"_Hates_ you?" + +"Yes. Because I have faith, and he hasn't! Because I wouldn't stoop to +the indignity he offered!" + +"What did he offer?" + +"He says that what the public's reading now is society novels--stories +about up-to-date people who are handsome and successful and rich. They +want automobiles and theatre-parties and country-clubs in their novels." + +"But Thyrsis! You don't know anything about such things!" + +"I know. But he said I could find out. And so I could. The point he made +was that I've got passion and color--I could write a moving love-story! +In other words, I could use my ecstasy to describe two society-people +mating!" + +There was a pause. "And what did you do with the manuscript?" asked +Corydon, in a low voice. + +"I took it to another publisher," he answered. + +"And what are you going to do now?" + +"I've been to see the editor of the 'Treasure Chest.'" + +The "Treasure Chest" was a popular magazine of fiction, a copy of which +Thyrsis had seen lying upon the table of their landlady. He had glanced +through the first story, and had declared to Corydon that if he had a +stenographer he could talk such a story at the rate of twenty thousand +words a day. + +"And did the editor see you?" + +"Yes. He's a big husky 'advertising man'--he looks like a prize-fighter. +He said if I could write, to go ahead and prove it. He pays a cent +for five words--a hundred dollars for a complete serial. He pays on +acceptance; and he said he'd read a scenario for me. So I'm going to try +it." + +"What's it to be about?" asked Corydon. + +"I'm going to try what they call a 'Zenda' story," said Thyrsis. "The +editor says the readers of the 'Treasure Chest' haven't got tired of +'Zenda' stories." + +And so Thyrsis spent the afternoon and evening wandering about in +the park; and sometime after midnight he wrote out his scenario. The +advantage of a "Zenda" story was that, as the adventures happened in an +imaginary kingdom, there would be no need to study up "local color". As +for the conventional artificial dialect, he could get it from any of the +"romances" in the nearby circulating library. He did not dare to take +the scenario the next day, but waited a decent interval; and when he +returned it was to report that the story was considered to be promising, +and that he was to write twenty thousand words for a test. + +Section 9. So Thyrsis shut himself up and went to work. Sometimes he +wrote with rage seething in his heart, and sometimes with laughter on +his lips. This latter was the case when he did the love-scenes--because +of the "passion and color" he bestowed upon the fascinating countess +and the clever young American engineer. He could have written the twenty +thousand words in three days; but he waited ten days, so that the editor +might not think that he was careless. And three days later he went back +for the verdict. + +The editor said it was good, and that if the rest was like it he would +accept the story. So Thyrsis went to work again, and finished the +manuscript, and put it away until time enough had elapsed. And meanwhile +came a letter from the literary head of the third publishing-house, +regretting that he could not accept the book. + +It was such a friendly letter that Thyrsis went to call there, and met a +pleasant and rather fine-souled gentleman, Mr. Ardsley by name, who told +him a little about the problems he faced in life. + +"You have a fine talent," he said--"you may even have genius. Your book +is obviously sincere--it's _vecu,_ as the French say. I suspect you must +have been in love when you wrote it." + +"In a way," said Thyrsis, flushing slightly. He had not intended that to +show. + +The other smiled. "It's overwrought in places," he went on, "and it +tends to incoherency. But the main trouble is that it's entirely over +the heads of the public. They don't know anything about the kind of love +you're interested in, and they'd laugh at it." + +"But then, what am I to do?" cried Thyrsis. + +"You'll simply have to keep on trying, till you happen to strike it." + +"But--how am I to live?" + +"Ah," said Mr. Ardsley, "that is the problem." He smiled, rather sadly, +as he sat watching the lad. "You see how _I've_ solved it," he went on. +"I was young once myself, and I tried to write novels. And in those days +I blamed the publishers--I thought they stood in my way. But now, I see +how it is; a publisher is engaged in a highly competitive business, +and he barely makes interest on his capital; he can't afford to publish +books that won't pay their way. Here am I, for instance--it's my +business to advise this house; and if I advise them wrongly, what +becomes of me? If I take them your manuscript and say, 'It's a real +piece of work,' they'll ask me, 'Will it pay its way?' And I have to +answer them, 'I don't think it will.'" + +"But such things as they publish!" exclaimed the boy, wildly. + +And Mr. Ardsley smiled again. "Yes," he said. "But they pay their way. +In fact, they save the business." + +So Thyrsis went out. He saw quite clearly now the simple truth--it +was not a matter of art at all, but a matter of business. It was a +business-world, and not an art-world; and he--poor fool--was trying to +be an artist! + +For three days more he toiled at his pot-boiler; and then, late at +night, he went out to get some fresh air, and to try to shake off the +load of despair that was upon him. And so came the explosion. + +Perhaps it was because the wind was blowing, and Thyrsis loved the wind; +it was a mirror of his own soul to him, incessant and irresistible and +mysterious. And so his demons awoke again. He had gone through all that +labor, he had built up all that glory in his spirit--and it was all +for naught! He had made himself a flame of desire--and now it was to be +smothered and stifled! + +He had written his book, and it was a great book, and they knew it. +But all they told him was to go and write another book--and to do +pot-boilers in the meantime! But that was impossible, he could not do +it. He would win with the book he had written! He would make them hear +him--he would make them read that book! + +He began to compose a manifesto to the world; and towards morning he +came home and shut himself in and wrote it. He called it "Business and +Art;" and in it he told about his book, and how he had worked over it. +He told, quite frankly, what the book was; and he asked if there was +anywhere in the United States a publisher who published books because +they were noble, and not because they sold; or if there was a critic, or +booklover, or philanthropist, or a person of any sort, who would stand +by a true artist. "This artist will work all day and nearly all night," +he wrote, "and he wants less than the wages of a day-laborer. All else +that ever comes to him in his life he will give for a chance to follow +his career!" + +Then Corydon awoke, and he read it to her. She listened, thrilling with +amazement. + +"Oh, Thyrsis!" she cried. "What are you going to do with it?" + +"I'm going to have it printed," he said, "and send it to all the +publishers; and also to literary men and to magazines." + +"And are you going to sign your name to it?" she cried. + +"I've already signed my name to it," he answered. + +"And when are you going to do it?" + +"As soon as the book comes back from the next publisher." + +Then he sat down to breakfast; and afterwards, without resting, he +finished the pot-boiler, and took it to the editor. After a due interval +he went again, trembling and faint with anxiety. He had sold only one +book-review, and he was using Corydon's money again. People who hated +him had predicted that he would do just that, and he had answered that +he would die first! + +He came home, radiant with delight. "He says he'll take it!" +he proclaimed. "Only I've got to do a new ending for the fourth +installment--he wants something more exciting. So I'm going to have the +countess caught in a burning tower!" + +And he wrote that, and went yet again, and came home with a hundred +dollars buttoned tightly in his inside vest-pocket. He was like a man +who has escaped from a dungeon. The field was clear before him at last! +His manifesto was going out to the world! + + + + + + +BOOK V + +THE BAIT IS SEIZED + + + + + +_They sat, gazing down the slope of the little vale. She was turning +idly the pages of the book, and she read to him-- + + "Lovely all times she lies, lovely to-night!-- + Only, methinks, some loss of habit's power + Befalls me wandering through this upland dim. + Once pass'd I blindfold here, at any hour; + Now seldom come I, since I came with him." + +"It was here we first read the poem," he said. "Every spot brings back +some line of it." + +"Even the old oak-tree where we used to sit," she smiled-- + +"Hear it, O Thyrsis, still our tree is there!"_ + +Section 1. Thyrsis was half hoping that the next publisher would decline +the manuscript; and he was only mildly stirred when he got a letter +saying that although the publisher could not make an offer for the book, +one of his readers was so much interested in it that he would like to +have a talk with the author. Thyrsis replied that he was willing; and to +his surprise he learned that the reader was none other than that Prof. +Osborne, who in the university had impressed upon him his ignorance of +the art of writing. + +He paid a call at the professor's home, and they had a long talk. There +was nothing said about their former interview. Evidently the other +recognized that Thyrsis had succeeded in making good his claim to be +allowed to hew his own way; and Thyrsis was content with that tacit +surrender. + +They talked about the book. The professor first assured him that it +would not sell, and then went on to explain to him why; and so they came +to a grapple. + +"The thing is sincere, perhaps even exalted," said Prof. Osborne; "but +it's overstrained and exaggerated." + +"But isn't it alive?" asked Thyrsis. + +The other pondered; he always spoke deliberately, choosing his words +with precision. "Some people might think so," he said. "For myself, I +have never known any such life." + +"But what's that got to do with it?" cried Thyrsis. + +"It has much to do with it--for me. One has to judge by what one +knows--" + +"But can't one be taught?" + +The professor meditated again. "I have lived forty-five years," he said, +"and you have lived less than half that. I imagine that I have read +more, studied more, thought more than you. Yet you ask me to submit +myself to your teaching!" + +"No, no!" cried Thyrsis, eagerly. "It is not as if it were a matter +of learning--of scholarship--of knowledge of the world. There is an +intensity of experience that is not dependent upon time; in the things +of the imagination--in matters of inspiration--surely one does not have +to be old or learned." + +"That might be true," admitted the other, hesitatingly. + +"You read the poetry of Keats or Shelley, for instance. They were +as young as I am when they wrote it, and yet you do not refuse to +acknowledge its worth. Is it just because they are dead, and their poems +are classics?" + +So these two wrestled it out. Thyrsis could bring the other to the point +of acknowledging that there might be genius in his work, but he could +not bring him to the point of _doing_ anything about it. The poet +went away, seeing the situation quite clearly. Prof. Osborne was an +instructor; it was his business to know; and if he should abdicate +before one of his pupils, then what would become of authority? He had +certain models, which he set before his class; these models constituted +literature. If anyone might disregard them and proceed to create new +models according to his own lawless impulse--then what anarchy would +reign in a classroom! Under such circumstances, it was remarkable that +the professor had even been willing to admit of doubts; as Thyrsis +walked home he clenched his hands and whispered to himself, "I'll get +that man some day!" + +Section 2. The road now lay clear before Thyrsis, and accordingly he set +grimly to work. He had his document printed upon a long slip of paper, +and got several packages for Corydon to address. And one evening they +took them out and dropped them into the mailbox. "And now we'll see!" he +said. + +They soon saw. When he came in for lunch the next day, Corydon came +to the door, in great excitement. "S-sh!" she whispered. "There's a +reporter here!" + +"A reporter!" he echoed. + +"Yes--a woman." + +"What does she want?" + +"She wants an interview about the book." + +"Where is she from?" + +"She's from the 'Morning Howl'. She's read the circular." + +"But I never sent it there!" + +"I know; but she says a friend gave it to her. She knows all about it." + +So Thyrsis went in, like a lamb to the slaughter. He was new to +interviews, and he yielded to the graces of the friendly and sympathetic +lady. Yes, he would be glad to tell about his book; and about where and +how he had written it, and all the hopes he had based upon it. + +"And your wife tells me you've just been married!" said the lady, with +a winning smile, and she proceeded to question him about this. They had +become good friends by that time, and Thyrsis told her many things that +he would not have told save to a charming lady. And then she asked for +his picture, explaining that she could give so much more space to the +"story" if she had one. And then she begged for a picture of Corydon, +and was deeply hurt that she could not have it. + +She prolonged the interview for an hour or so, and came back again and +again in the effort to get this picture of Corydon. Finally she rose to +go; but out in the hall, as she was bidding them good-bye, she suddenly +exclaimed that she had left her gloves, and went back and got them, +and then hurried away. And it was not until an hour or two later that +Thyrsis made the horrible discovery that the photograph of Corydon which +had stood upon his bureau was standing upon his bureau no longer! + +So next morning, there were their two photographs upon the second page +of the 'Morning Howl', and a two-column headline: + + "YOUTHFUL GENIUS OFFERS HIMSELF FOR SALE!" + +Thyrsis rushed through this article, writhing with horror and dismay. +The woman had made him into what they called a "human interest" feature. +There was very little about his book, but there was much about the +picturesque circumstances under which he had written it. There was a +description of their personal appearance--of Corydon's sweet face and +soulful black eyes, and of his broad forehead and sensitive lips. There +was also a complete description of their domestic _menage_, including +the chafing-dish and the odor of lamb-chops. There was a highly +diverting account of how they had "eloped" with only eight dollars in +the world; together with all the agonies of their parents, as imagined +by the sympathetic lady. + +They had been butchered to make a holiday for the readers of a yellow +journal! "This is a wonderfully interesting world," the paper seemed to +say--"well worth the penny it costs to read about it! Here on the +first page is Antonio Petronelli, who cut up his sweetheart with a +butcher-knife, and packed her in a trunk. And here are seven people +burned in a tenement-house; and an interview with Shrike, the plunger, +who made three millions out of the wheat-corner. But most diverting of +all are these two little cherubs who ran away and got married, and +now want the world to support them while they write masterpieces of +literature!" + +And could not one see the great public devouring the tale--the Wall +Street clerks in the cars, and the shop-girls over their sandwiches and +coffee, and the loungers in the cafes of the Tenderloin! Could not one +picture their smiles--not contemptuous, but genial, as of people who +have learned that it is indeed an interesting world, and well worth the +penny it costs to read about it! + +Section 3. Corydon shed tears of rage over this humiliation, and she +wrote a letter full of bitter scorn to the newspaper woman. In reply to +it came a friendly note to the effect that she had done the best thing +in the world for them--that when they knew more about life and the +literary game, they would recognize this! + +The tangible results of the adventure were three. First there came a +letter, written on scented note-paper, from a lady who commended their +noble ideals and wished them success--but who did not sign her name. +Second, there came a visit from a brother poet--a man about forty years +of age, shabby and pitiful, with watery, light blue eyes and a feeble +straggly moustache, and a manner of agonized diffidence. He stood in the +doorway and shifted from one foot to the other, and explained that he +had read the article, and had come because he, too, was an unrecognized +genius. He had written two volumes of poetry, which were the greatest +poetry ever produced in English--Milton and Shakespeare would be +forgotten when the world had read these volumes. For ten years he had +been trying to find some publisher or literary man to recognize him; and +perhaps Thyrsis would be the man. + +He came in and sat on the bed and unwrapped his two volumes--several +hundred typewritten pages, elaborately bound up in covers of faded pink +silk. And Thyrsis read one and Corydon the other, while the poet sat +by and watched them and twisted his hands nervously. His poetry was all +about stars and blue-bells and moonlight, about springtime and sighing +lovers, about cold, rain-beaten graves and faded leaves of autumn--the +subjects and the images which have been the stock in trade of minor +poets for two thousand years and more. Thyrsis, as he read, could have +marked fifty phrases which were feeble imitations of things in Tennyson +and Longfellow and Keats; and he read for half an hour, in the vain hope +of finding a single vigorous line. + +This interview was a very painful one. He could not bear to hurt the +poor creature's feelings, and he did not know how to get rid of him. The +matter was made still more difficult by the presence of Corydon, who did +not know the models, and therefore thought the poetry was good. She let +the visitor go on to pour out his heart; until at last came a climax +that Thyrsis had been expecting all along. The man explained that he +was a bookkeeper, out of work, and with a wife and three children on the +verge of starvation; and then he tried to borrow some money from them! + +The third result was the important one. It was a letter from a +publishing-house. + +"We are on the lookout for vital and worth-while books," it read, +"and we are not afraid to venture. We have been much interested in the +account of your work, and we should be very glad if you would give us a +chance to read it immediately." + +Thyrsis had never heard of this publishing-house, but that did not chill +his delight. He hurried downtown with the manuscript, and came back +to report. The concern was lodged in two small rooms in an obscure +office-building. The manager, a Mr. Taylor, was a man not particularly +prepossessing in appearance, but he was a person of intelligence, and +was evidently interested in the book. Moreover he had promised to read +it at once. + +And that same week came the reply--a reply which set the two almost +beside themselves with happiness. "I have read your manuscript," wrote +Mr. Taylor. "And I have no hesitation in pronouncing it a work of +genius. In fact, I am not sure but what it is the greatest piece of +literature it has ever been my fortune as a publisher to come upon. It +is vital, and passionately sincere, and I will stake my reputation upon +the prophecy that it will be an instantaneous success. I hope that we +may become the publishers of it, and will be glad if you will come to +see me at once and talk over terms." + +Thyrsis read this aloud; and then he caught Corydon in his arms, and +tears of joy and relief ran down her cheeks. + +He went to see the publisher, and for ten or fifteen nunutes he listened +to such a panegyric upon his book as made his cheeks burn. Visions of +freedom and triumph rose before him--he had come into his own at last. +An then Mr. Taylor proceeded to outline his business proposition--and +as Thyrsis realized the nature of it, it was as if he had been suddenly +plunged into an Arctic sea. The man wanted him to pay one-half the cost +of the plates of his book, and in addition to guarantee to take one +hundred copies at the wholesale price of ninety cents per copy! + +"Is that--is that customary in publishing?" asked the other. + +"Not always," Mr. Taylor replied; "but it is our custom. You see, we +are an unusual sort of publishing-house. We do not run after the +best-sellers and the trash--we publish real books, books with a mission +and a message for the world. And we advertise them widely--we make the +world heed them; and so we feel justified in asking the author to help +us with a part of the expense. We pay ten per cent. royalty, of course, +and in addition the author has the hundred copies of his book, which he +can sell to friends and others if he wishes." + +"What would it cost for my book?" Thyrsis asked. + +And the man figured it up and told him it could be done for about two +hundred and fifty dollars. "I'll make it two hundred and twenty-five to +you," he said--"just because of my interest in your future." + +But Thyrsis only shook his head sadly. "I wish I could do it," he said, +"but I simply haven't the money--that's all." + +And so he took his departure, and carried his manuscript to another +publisher, and then went home, crushed and sick. + +Section 4. But the more Thyrsis thought of this plan, the more it came +to possess him. If he could only get that book printed, it could +not fail to make its impression! He had thought many times in his +desperation of trying to publish it himself; and if he did that, +he would have to pay the cost of the plates, of the printing and +everything; whereas by this method he could get it for much less, and +would have a hundred copies which he could send to critics and men of +letters, in order to make certain of the book's being read. + +When the manuscript came back from the next publisher, with a formal +note of rejection, Thyrsis made up his mind that he would concentrate +his efforts upon this plan. So he got down to another pot-boiler. + +An old sea-captain had told him a story of some American college boys +who had stolen a sacred idol in China. Thyrsis saw a plot in that, and +the editor of the "Treasure Chest" considered it a "bully" idea. So he +toiled day and night for a couple more weeks, and earned another +hundred dollars. And then he did something he had never done in his life +before--he went to some relatives to beg. He pleaded how hard he had +worked, and what a chance he had; he would pay back the money out of the +first royalties from the book--which could not possibly fail to earn the +hundred dollars he asked for. + +Besides this, he had some money left from his first story; and so he +went to Mr. Taylor, who was affable and enthusiastic as ever, and paid +his money and signed the contracts. He was told that his book would be +ready for the spring-trade; which meant that he would have to possess +his soul in patience for three months. Meantime he had forty dollars +left--upon which he figured that he could have eight weeks of +uninterrupted study. + +But alas, for the best-laid plans of men! It was on a Tuesday morning +that he paid out his precious two hundred and twenty-five dollars; and +on the next Thursday morning, as he was glancing through the newspapers, +he gave a cry of dismay. + +"Corydon," he called. "What's the name of that lawyer, your trustee?" + +"John C. Hammond," she replied. + +"He shot himself in his office yesterday!" exclaimed Thyrsis; and he +read her the account, which stated that Hammond had been speculating, +and was believed to have lost heavily in the recent slump in cotton. + +Corydon was staring at him with terror in her eyes. "What does it mean?" +she cried. + +"I don't know," said Thyrsis. "We'll have to inquire!" + +They went out and telephoned to Corydon's father, and Thyrsis got hold +of a college friend, a lawyer, and the four went to the office of the +dead man. It was weeks before they became sure of the whole sickening +truth, but they learned enough on that first day to make them fairly +certain. John C. Hammond had got rid of everything--not only his own +funds, but the funds belonging to the eight or ten heirs of the estate. +The house in which he lived and everything in it was held in the name of +his wife; and so there was not a penny to pay Corydon her four thousand +dollars! + +The girl was almost prostrated with misery; she vowed that she would go +back to her parents, that she would go to work in an office. And poor +Thyrsis could only hold her in his arms and whisper, "It doesn't matter, +dear--it doesn't matter! The book will be out in the spring, and I can +do pot-boilers for two!" + +Section 5. But in the small hours of the night Thyrsis lay awake in +his little room, and the soul within him was sick with horror. He was +trapped--there was no use trying to dodge the fact, he was trapped! His +powers were waning hour by hour, his vision was dying within him; +every day he knew that he was weaker, that the grip of circumstance was +tighter upon him. Ah, the hideous cruelty of the thing--it was like a +murder in the night-time, like a torturing in some secret dungeon! He +was burning up with his inward fires--there was a new book coming to +ripeness within him, a book that would be greater even than his first +one. And he could not write it, he could not even think about it! And +there was the soul of Corydon calling to him, there were all the heights +of music and poetry--and instead of climbing, he must torture his brain +with hack-writing! He must go down to the editors, and fawn and cringe, +and try to get books to review; he must study the imbecilities of the +magazines and watch out for topics for articles; he must rack his brains +for jokes and jingles--he, the master of life, the bearer of a new +religion, the proud, high-soaring eagle, whose foot had never known a +chain! + +When such thoughts came to him, he would dig his nails into the palms of +his hands, he would grit his teeth and curse the world. No, they should +not conquer him! They should never bend him to their will! They might +starve him, they might kill him--they might kill Corydon, also, but he +would never give up! He would fight, and fight again, he would struggle +to the last gasp--he would do his work, though all the powers of hell +rose up to stop him! + +One thing became clear to him that night, they could not afford two +rooms. They must get along with one, and with the dollar and a half one +at that. The steam-radiator had proved a farce, anyway--there was never +any steam, and they had had to use gas-heaters. And now, what things +Corydon could not get into his room, she would have to send back to her +parents. The cost of the other room was the price of a book-review, and +that sometimes meant a whole day of his precious time. + +He talked it over with his wife, and she agreed with him. And so they +underwent the humiliation of telling their landlady, and they obtained +permission to keep Corydon's trunk in the hall, as there was no place +for it in the tiny room. Such things as would not go upon the little +dressing-stand, or hang behind the door, they put into boxes and shoved +under the bed. And now, when midnight came, Thyrsis would go out for a +walk while Corydon went to bed; and then he would come in and make his +own bed upon the floor, with a quilt which the landlady had given them, +and a pair of blankets they had borrowed from home, and his overcoat and +some of Corydon's skirts when it was cold. Sometimes it would be very +cold, and then he would have to sleep in his clothing; for there was no +room save directly under the window, and they would not sleep with the +window down. In the morning Corydon would turn her face to the wall +while Thyrsis washed and dressed; and then he would go out and walk, +while she took her turn. + +And so he parted with the last shred of his isolation. He had to do all +his work now with his wife in the room with him. And though she would +sit as still as a mouse for hours, still he could not think as before; +also, when she was worn out at night, he had to stop work and let +her sleep. Under such circumstances it was small wonder that he was +sometimes nervous and irritable; and, of course, there could be nothing +hid between them, and when he was out of sorts, Corydon would be plunged +into a bottomless pit of melancholy. + +Then the strain and worry, and the night and day toil, began to have +effects upon their health. Thyrsis had a strong constitution, but now he +began to have headaches, and sometimes, if he worked on doggedly, they +grew severe. He blamed this upon their heater; he knew little about +hygiene, but he had studied physics, and he knew that a gas-heater +devitalized the air. They had tried living in the room without heat, but +in mid-winter they could not stand it. So on moderate days they would +sit with the window up and their overcoats on; and when it was too cold +for this, they would burn the heater for an hour or so, and when they +began to feel the effects of the poisons, they would go out and walk for +a while and let the room air. + +But then again, Thyrsis wondered if the headaches might not be due to +the food he was eating. They were anxious to economize on food; but +they did not know just how to set about it. Thyrsis had read the world's +literature in English, French and German, in Italian, Latin and Greek; +but in none of that reading had he found anything about the care of +his own body. Such subjects had not been taught at school or college or +university, and he knew of no books about them. Both he and Corydon had +come from families which had the traditions of luxurious living, brought +down from old days when there were plenty of negro servants, and when +the ladies had been skilled in baking and preserving, and the men with +chafing-dish and punch-bowl. At his grandfather's table Thyrsis had been +wont to see a great platter of fried chicken at one end, and a roast +beef at the other, and a cold ham on a side table; and he had hot bread +three times a day, and cake and jam and ice-cream--and he had been +taught to believe that such things were needed to keep up one's +working-powers. + +But now he had read how Thoreau had lived upon corn-meal mush; and he +and Corydon resolved to patronize the less expensive foods. The price of +meat and eggs and butter in the winter-time was in truth appalling; so +they would buy potatoes and rice and corn-meal and prunes and turnips. +They paid the landlady for the use of her gas-range, and would cook a +sauce-pan full of some one of these things, and fill up with it three +times a day. Then, at intervals, some one would invite them out +to dinner; and because they were under-nourished they would gorge +themselves--which was evidently not an ideal method of procedure. So in +the end Thyrsis made up his mind to consult a physician about it; +and this was a visit he never forgot--for it led directly to the most +momentous events of his whole lifetime. + +Section 6. The doctor announced that he had a little dyspepsia, and gave +him a bottle full of a red liquid that would digest his food. Also he +warned him to eat slowly, and to rest after meals. And Thyrsis, after +thanking him, had started to go; when the doctor, who was an old friend +of both families, asked the question, "How's Corydon?" + +"She's pretty well," said Thyrsis. + +"And are you expecting any children yet?" asked the other, with a smile. + +Thyrsis started. "Heavens, no!" he said. + +"Why not?" asked the doctor. + +"We aren't going to have any." + +"But why? Are you preventing it?" + +Thyrsis hesitated a moment. "We're not living that way," he said. + +The doctor stared at him. "Come here, boy," he said, "and sit down." + +Thyrsis obeyed. + +"Now tell me what you mean," said the other. + +"I mean that we--we're just brother and sister," said Thyrsis. + +"But--why did you get married?" + +"We got married because we wanted to study." + +"To study what?" + +"Well, everything--music, principally." + +"And how long do you expect to keep that up?" + +"Oh, for a good many years--until we've accomplished something, and +until we've got some money." + +And the doctor sank back and drew his breath. "I don't wonder your +stomach's out of order!" he said. + +"What do you mean?" asked Thyrsis. + +But the man did not answer that question. Instead he asked, "Don't you +realize what you'll do to Corydon?" + +"What?" + +"You'll wreck her whole life--her health, to begin with." + +"But how, doctor? She's perfectly happy. It's what we both want to do." + +"But doesn't she love you?" + +"Why, yes--but not that way." + +The doctor smiled. "How do you know?" he asked. + +"Because--she's told me so." + +"And if it was otherwise--do you think she'd tell you that?" + +"Why, of course she would." + +"My boy," said the man, "she'd die first!" + +Thyrsis was staring at him, amazed. + +"Let me tell you a little about a good woman," said the other. "I've +been married for thirty years--really married, I mean; we've got five +children. And in all those thirty years my wife has never made an +advance of that sort to me!" + +After which the doctor went on to expound his philosophy of sex. "Love +is just a little thing to you," he said; "you've got your books and your +career. And you want it to be the same with Corydon--you've succeeded in +persuading her that that's what she wants also. You're going to make her +a copy of yourself! But you simply can't do it, boy--she's a woman. And +a woman's one interest in the world is love--it's everything in life +to her, the thing she's made for. And if you deprive her of love, whole +love, I mean, you wreck her entirely. Just now is the time when she +ought to be having her children, if she's ever to have any--and you're +trying to satisfy her with music and philosophy!" + +"But," cried Thyrsis, horrified, "I know she doesn't feel that way at +all!" + +"Maybe not," said the other. "Her eyes are not opened. It's your +business to open them. What are you a man for?" + +"But--she's all right as she is---" + +"Isn't she nervous?" + +"Why, yes--perhaps---" + +"Isn't she sometimes melancholy? And doesn't she like you to kiss her? +Doesn't she show she's happy when you hold her in your arms." + +Thyrsis sat mute. + +"You see!" said the other, laughing. "The girl is in love with you, and +you haven't sense enough to know it." + +Again Thyrsis could find no words. "But if we had a child it would +ruin us!" he cried, wildly. "I've not a cent, and my whole career's at +stake!" + +"Well," said the other, "if it's as bad as that, don't have any children +yet." + +"But--but how _can_ we?" + +"Don't you know how to control it?" + +Thyrsis was staring at him, open-eyed. "Why, no!" he said. + +"Good lord!" laughed the other. "Where have you been keeping yourself?" + +And then the doctor proceeded to explain to him the "artificial +sterilization of marriage." No whisper of such a thing had ever come +to the boy before, and he could hardly credit his ears. But the doctor +spoke of it as a man of the world, to whom it was a matter of course; +he went into detail as to the various methods that people used. And when +finally Thyrsis rose to leave he patted him indulgently on the shoulder, +and laughed, "Go home to your wife, my boy!" + +Section 7. The effect of this conversation upon Thyrsis was alarming +to him. At first he tried to put the thing aside, as being something +utterly inconceivable between him and Corydon. But it would not be put +aside. + +The doctor had planted his seed with cunning. If he had told Thyrsis +that he was doing harm to himself, Thyrsis would have said that it was +not true, and stood by it; for he knew about himself. But the man +had made his statements about Corydon--and how could he be sure about +Corydon? + +The crucial point was that it set him to thinking about her in this new +way; a way which he had not dreamed of previously. And when once he had +begun to think about her so, he found he could not stop. For hitherto +in his life, whenever he had thought of passion it had been as a +temptation; he had known that it was wrong, and all that was best in him +had risen up to oppose it. But now all that was changed--the image of +Corydon the doctor had called up was one that broke down all resistance, +and left him at the mercy of his impulses. + +These impulses awoke--and with a suddenness and force that terrified +him. He thought of her as his wife, and this thought was like a rush of +flame upon him. His manhood leaped up, and cried aloud for its rights. +He discovered, almost instantly, that he loved her thus, that he +desired her completely. This was true now, and it had been true from the +beginning; he had been a fool to try to persuade himself otherwise. What +else had been the meaning of the passionate protests in his letters to +her? Of the images he had used--of carrying her away in his arms, +of breaking her to his will? And she loved him, too--she desired him +completely! Why else had it been that those passages were precisely the +ones that satisfied her? Why was it that she was always most filled with +joy when he was aggressive and masterful? + +Ah God, what an inhuman life it was they had been living all these +months! In that inevitable proximity--shut up in a little room! And with +the most intimate details of her life about him--with her kisses always +upon his lips, her arms always about him, the subtle perfume of her +presence always in his senses! Was it any wonder that they were +nervous and restless--always sinking into tenderness, and exchanging +endearments, and then starting up to scourge themselves? + +He went home, and there was Corydon preparing supper. He went to her +and caught her in his arms and kissed her. "I love you, sweetheart!" he +whispered. And as she yielded to his embraces, he kissed her again and +again, upon her lips and upon her cheeks and upon her neck. Ah, she +loved him--else how could she let him kiss her like that! + +But it was not so quickly that the inhibitions of a lifetime could be +overcome. A sudden fear took hold of Thyrsis. What was he doing? No, she +must have no idea of this--at least not until he had reasoned it out, +until he had made up his mind that it was right. + +So he drew back--and as he did so he noticed in her eyes a look of +surprise. He did not often greet her in that way! + +"I'm hungry as a bear," he said, to change the subject; and so they sat +down to their supper. + +Thyrsis had important writing to do that evening, and he tried his best, +but he could not put his mind upon anything. He was all in a ferment. +He pleaded that he had to think about his work, and went out for a long +walk. + +A storm was raging, and the icy gale beat upon him. It buffeted him, it +flung him here and there; and he set himself to fight it, he drove his +way through it, lusty and exultant. And music surged within him, lusty +and exultant music. All the pent-up passion of his lifetime awoke in +him, the blood ran hot in his veins; from some hidden portion of his +being came wave after wave of emotion, sweeping him away--and he spread +his wings to it, he rose to the heights upon it, he laughed and sang +aloud in the glory of it. He had known such hours in his own soul's +life, but never anything like it with Corydon. He cried out, what a +child he had been! He had taken her, he had sought to shape her to his +will; and he had failed, she was not yet his--and all because he had +left unused the one great power he had over her, the one great hold he +had upon her. But now it would be changed--she should have him! And +as he battled on with the elements there came to him Goethe's poem of +passion: + + "Dem Schnee, dem Regen, + Dem Wind entgegen!" + +Section 8. So for hours he went. But when he had come home, and stood in +the vestibule, stamping the snow from him, there came a reaction. It was +Corydon he had been thinking of--Corydon, the gentle and innocent! How +could he say such things to her? How could he hint of them? Why, he +would fill her with terror! It was not to be thought of! + +He went upstairs, and found that she was asleep. So he crept into his +little bunk; but sleep would not come to him. The image of her haunted +him. He listened to her breathing--he was as close to her as that, and +still she was not his! + +It was nearly day before he slept, and so he awoke tired and restless. +And then came rage at himself--he went out and walked again, and stormed +and scolded. He would not permit this, he had work to do. And he made up +his mind that he would not allow himself to think about the matter for +three days. By that time the truth would be clearer to him; and he meant +to settle this question with his reason, and not with his blind desire. + +He adhered to his resolution firmly. But when the three days were past, +and he tried to think about it, it was only to be swept away in another +storm of emotion. It seemed that the more tightly he pent this river +up, the fiercer was its rush when finally it broke loose. For always +his will was paralyzed by that suggestion that he might be doing harm to +Corydon! + +At last he made up his mind that he must speak to her; and one afternoon +he came and knelt beside her and put his arms about her. "Sweetheart," +he said, "I've something to ask you about." + +Now to Corydon the mind of Thyrsis was like an open book. For days she +had known that something was disturbing him. But also she had known that +he was not ready to tell her. "What is it?" she asked. + +"It's something very important," he said. + +"Yes, dear." + +"You know, I went to see the doctor the other day." + +"Yes." + +"And he told me--he thinks we are doing each other harm by the way we +are living." + +"What way, Thyrsis?" + +"By not being really married. He says you are suffering because of it." + +"But Thyrsis!" she cried, in astonishment. "I'm not!" + +"He says you wouldn't know it, Corydon. It would keep you nervous and +upset." + +"But dear," she said, "I'm perfectly happy!" + +"Are you sure of it?" + +"Perfectly sure." + +"And--and if it was ever otherwise--you would tell me?" + +"Why, yes." + +"And are you sure of _that_?" + +She hesitated; and when she tried to answer, her voice was a whisper--"I +think so, dear." + +There was a pause. "Thyrsis," she exclaimed, suddenly, "I would have a +child!" + +"No, you needn't," he said; and he told her what the doctor had said. + +It was quite as new to her as it had been to him, and even more +startling. "I see," she said, in a low voice. + +"Listen, Corydon," he whispered, "do you think you love me at all that +way?" + +"I don't know," she answered. "I never thought of such a thing." + +"Do you think you could learn to love me so?" + +"How can I tell, Thyrsis? It's so strange to me. It--it frightens me." + +He looked up at her; and he saw that a flush was mottling her throat, +and spreading over her cheeks. He saw the wild look in her eyes also; +and he turned away. + +"Very well, dearest," he said. "I don't want to disturb you." + +So he tried to go back to his work. But he could not do his real work at +all. He could practice the violin or read German with Corydon, but when +he tried to plan his new book--that involved turning his thoughts loose +to graze in a certain pasture, and they would not stay in that pasture, +but jumped the fence and came back to her. And so he found himself +taking more long journeys, in which he walked in the midst of the storm +of his desire. + +So, of course, all the former naturalness was gone between them. +No longer could they kiss and toy with one another as children in +a fairy-world. They had suddenly become man and woman--fighting the +age-long duel of sex. They would talk about the question; and the more +they talked about it, the more it came to dominate the thoughts of both +of them; and this broke down the barriers between them--Thyrsis became +bolder, and more open in his speech. He lost his awe of her maidenhood +and her innocence--he wooed her, he lured her on; he rejoiced in his +power to agitate her, to startle her, to speak to her about secret +things. He would clasp her in his arms and shower his kisses upon her; +and she would yield to him, almost fainting with bliss--and then shrink +from him in sudden alarm. + +Then he would go out into the night and battle again with the wintry +winds. That frightened shrinking of hers puzzled him. Everything was so +strange to him; and how could he be sure what was right? He wanted to do +what was right, with all his soul he wanted it; if he were to do wrong, +or to make her think less of him, he could never forgive himself all his +life. But then would come the wild surge of his longing, and his man's +power would cry out within him. It was his business to overcome her +shrinking, to compel her to yield. The question of the doctor rang in +his ears as a taunt--"Why are you a man?" Why _was_ he a man? + +Section 9. In the end these emotions reached a point where Thyrsis could +no longer bear them. They were a torment to him, they deprived him of +all rest and sleep. One afternoon he had held her a long time in +his arms, and it hurt him; he turned away, and put his hands to his +forehead. "Dearest," he cried, "I can't stand this any longer!" + +"Why?" she asked. "What do you mean?" + +"I mean it's just tearing me to pieces!" + +She stared at him in fright. "Thyrsis!" she exclaimed. "You are +unhappy!" + +He sunk down upon the bed and hid his face in his arms. "Yes," he +whispered, "I am unhappy!" + +And so, all at once, he broke down her resistance. What had swayed him +had been the thought of her suffering; and the thought of his suffering +now conquered her. + +Only she did not take days to debate it. She fled to him instantly, and +wrapped her arms about him. + +"Thyrsis," she whispered, "listen to me! I had no idea of that!" + +"No, sweetheart," he said. "I'm sorry--I'm ashamed of myself--" + +"No, no!" she cried, vehemently. "Don't say that! I love you, Thyrsis! I +love you, heart and soul!" + +He turned and gazed at her with his haggard eyes. + +"I will do anything for you," she rushed on. "You shall have me! I will +be your wife!" + +Then, however, as he clasped her to him, there came once more the +shrinking. "Only give me a little time, dear," she whispered. "Let me +get used to it. Let it come naturally." + +But the only way he could have given her time would have been to go +away. Here he was, in her room--with every reminder of her about him, +with every incitement to his desire. And he had but two things to choose +between--to go out and walk and think about her, or to come home and sit +with her and talk about their love. + +They had their supper, and then again she was in his arms. He told her +about this trouble--he showed how the love of her was consuming him. Far +into the night they sat talking, and he poured out his heart to her, +he bore her with him to the mountain-tops of his desire. He took down +a book of Spenser's, and read her the "Epithalamium"; he read her +Shelley's "Epip sychidion," which they both loved. All the power of +Thyrsis' genius was turned now to passion, and the hidden forces of him +were revealed as never had they been revealed to her before. He became +eloquent; he talked to her as he had lived with himself; he awed her and +frightened her, as he had that evening upon the hill-top. Then at last, +as the tide of his feeling swept him away again, he clasped her to him +tightly, and hid his face in her neck. "I love you! Oh, I love you!" he +cried. + +She had sunk back and closed her eyes. "My Thyrsis!" she whispered. + +"You love me?" he asked. "You are quite sure?" + +"I am quite sure!" she said. + +He kissed her; again and again he kissed her, until he had made sure of +her desire. Then suddenly, he began with trembling fingers to unfasten +the neck of her dress. + +For a moment she did not comprehend what he meant. Then she gave a +start. "Thyrsis!" she cried. + +And she sprang up, staring at him with fright in her eyes. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Thyrsis!" she gasped. "What--what were you going to do?" + +And at her question, shame swept over him. He was horrified at himself. +How could he find words to tell her what he had been going to do? + +He turned away with a moan, and put his hands over his face. "Oh God, I +can't stand this!" he exclaimed. + +Suddenly he went to his hat and coat. "I must go out!" he said. + +"What do you mean?" cried Corydon. + +"I mean I've got to go somewhere!" he replied. "I can't stand it--I +can't stay here." + +"Thyrsis!" she cried, wildly. And she sprang to him and flung her arms +about him. "No, no!" she cried. "No!" + +"But what am I to do?" + +"Wait! Wait!" + +And she pressed him tightly to her. "Thyrsis!" she whispered. "Can't you +understand? Don't be so stupid, dear!" + +"Stupid!" + +"Yes, sweetheart--can't you see? I'm only a child! And it's so strange! +It frightens me! Try to realize how I feel!" + +"But what am I to do?" + +"Do? Why you must _make_ me, Thyrsis!" And as she said this she hid her +face upon his shoulder and sobbed. "You are a man, Thyrsis, you are a +man, and I am only a girl! Do what you want to! Don't pay any attention +to me!" + +And those words to Thyrsis were like the crashing of a peal of thunder. +He clutched her to him, with a force that crushed her, that made her cry +out. The soul of the cave-man awoke in him--he lifted his mate in his +arms and bore her away to a secret place. + +"Put down the light," she whispered, and he did this. And then again he +began to unfasten her dress. + +She submitted at first, she let him have his way. But later, when his +hands touched the soft garment on her bosom, he felt a sharp tremor pass +through her. + +"Thyrsis!" she whispered. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Wait dear, wait!" + +"Why wait?" he cried. + +"Just a moment--please, dear!" + +But he answered her--"No! Not a moment! No!" + +She clung to him, trembling, pleading. "Please, dearest, please! I'm +afraid, Thyrsis." + +But nothing could stop him now. She was his--his to do what he pleased +with! And he would bend her to his will! The voice of his manhood +shouted aloud to him now, and it was like the clashing of wild cymbals +in his soul. + +He went on with what he was doing. She shrunk away from him, but he +followed her, he held her fast. + +Then she began to sob--"Oh Thyrsis, wait--spare me! I can't bear it! No, +Thyrsis--no!" + +But he answered her, "Be still! I love you! You are mine." And for every +sob and every shudder and every moan of fear he had but one response--"I +love you! You are mine!" + +He knew that he loved her now--and he knew what his love meant. Before +this they had been strangers; but now he would penetrate to the secret +places, to the holy of holies of her being. + +Never in all his life had Thyrsis known woman. To him woman had been +the supreme mystery of life, a creature of awe and sacredness--not to +be handled, scarcely even to be thought about. Now the awful ban was +lifted, the barriers were down; what had been hidden was revealed, +what had been forbidden was permitted. So all the chained desire of a +lifetime drove him on; it was almost more than he could bear. The touch +of her warm breasts, the faint perfume of her clothing, the pressure of +her soft, white limbs--these things set every nerve of him a-tremble, +they turned a madness loose in him. A blinding whirl of emotion seized +him, he was like a leaf swept away in a gale; his words came now in wild +sobs, "I love you! I love you!" + +So with quivering fingers he stripped her before him; and she crouched +there, cowering and weeping. He took her in his arms; and that clasp +there was no misunderstanding, for all the mastery of his will was in +it. Nor did she try to resist him--she lay still, but shaking like a +leaf, and choking with sobs. And so it was that he wreaked his will upon +her. + +Section 10. And then came the reaction--the most awful experience of +his life. Thyrsis was sitting upon the bed, and staring in front of him, +dazed. He was exhausted, faint, shuddering with horror. "Oh, my God, my +God!" he whispered. + +What had he done? Corydon, the gentle and pure--she had trusted herself +to him, and how had he treated her? He had tortured her, he had defiled +her! Oh, it was sickening; brutal, like a butchery! He sunk down in a +heap, moaning, "My God! I can't bear it! I can't bear it!" + +And then a strange thing happened--the strangest of all strange things! +An unforeseeable, an unimaginable thing! + +Corydon had started up, and was listening; and now suddenly he felt her +arms stealing about him. "Thyrsis!" she whispered. "Thyrsis!" + +"Oh, what shall I do?" he sobbed. + +"What's the matter?" + +"Oh, it was so horrible! horrible!" + +"Thyrsis!" she panted, swiftly. "Don't say that!" + +"How could I have done it?" he rushed on. "What a monster I am!" + +"No! no!" she cried. "You don't understand, I love you! Don't you know +that I love you?" + +And she tightened her clasp about him, she stole into his arms again. +"Forgive me!" she whispered. "Please, please--forgive me, Thyrsis!" + +He stared at her, dazed. "Forgive _you_?" + +"I had no right to behave like that!" she cried. "I was afraid--I +couldn't control myself. But oh, Thyrsis, I love you!" + +And she pressed herself upon him convulsively; she was troubled no +longer. "Yes!" she panted. "Yes! I don't mind it any more! I am yours! I +am yours! You may do whatever you please to me, Thyrsis--I love you!" + +She covered him with kisses--his face, his neck, his body. She drew him +down to her again, whispering in ecstasy, "_My husband!_" + +He was lost in amazement. Could this be Corydon, the gentle and +shrinking? No, she was gone; and in her stead this creature of +desire--tumultuous and abandoned! She was like some passion-goddess +out of the East, shameless and terrible and destroying! She was like a +tigress of the jungle, calling in the night for its mate. She locked him +fast in her arms--she was swept away in a whirlwind of emotion, as +he had been swept before. And all her being rose up in one song of +exultation--"Mine! Mine! Mine! Mine!" + +"Ah, Thyrsis!" she cried. "My Thyrsis! I belong to you now! You can +never escape me now! You can never leave me--my love, my love!" + +And as Thyrsis listened to this song, his passion died. Reason awoke +again, and a cold fear struck into his heart! What was the meaning of +_this?_ + +Long hours afterward, as she lay, half-asleep, in his arms, she felt him +give a sudden start and shudder. + +"What is it?" she asked. + +"Nothing," he said--"I just happened to think of something. Something +that frightened me." + +"What was it?" + +"I was thinking, dear--_suppose I should become domestic!_" + + + + + + +BOOK VI + +THE CORDS ARE TIGHTENED + + + + + +_She had been reading in the little cabin, and a hush had fallen upon +them. + +"Yes, thou art gone! And round me too the night In ever-nearing circle +weaves her shade." + +"Gone!" she said, and smiled sadly. "Where is he gone?" + +And she turned the page and read again-- + + "But Thyrsis nevermore we swains shall see; + See him come back, and cut a smoother reed, + And blow a strain the world at last shall heed-- + For Time, not Corydon, hath conquer'd thee!" + +Then, after a pause, she added, "How often I have remembered those +words! And how pitiful they are, when I remember them!"_ + +Section 1. It was a tiny cupboard of a room in a tenement. They sat upon +their bed to eat, and they hid their soiled dishes beneath it. Dirty +children screamed upon the avenue in front, and frowsy-headed women and +wolfish men caroused in the saloon below. Yet here there came to them +the angel with the flame-tipped wings, and here they dreamed their dream +of wonder. + +In the glory of their new-found passion all life became transfigured to +them; they discovered new meaning in the most trivial actions. There was +no corner so obscure that they might not come upon the young god hidden; +they might touch his warm, tender flesh, and hear his silvery laughter, +and thrill with the wonder of his presence. They spoke a new language, +full of fire and color; they read new meanings in each other's eyes. +The slightest touch of hand upon hand, or of lips to lips, was enough to +dissolve them in tenderness and delight. + +They rejoiced in the marvel of each other's being--in the glory of +their bodies, newly revealed. To Thyrsis especially this was life's last +miracle, a discovery so fraught with bliss as to be a continual torment. +The incitements that were hidden in the softness and the odor of unbound +and tumbled hair; the exquisiteness of maiden breasts, moulded of +marble, rosy-tipped; the soft contour of snowy limbs, the rhythmic play +of moving muscles--to dwell amid these things, to possess them, was +suddenly to discover in reality what before had only existed in the +realm of painting and sculpture. + +Corydon also, in the glow of his delight, of his rapture and his +ravening desire, discovered anew the wonder of herself, and came to a +new consciousness of her beauty. She would stand and gaze before her, +with her hands upon her breasts, and her head flung back and her eyes +closed in ecstasy, so that he might come to her and kiss her--might kiss +her again and again, might touch her with his lover's hands and clasp +her with his lover's arms. + +In most of these things she was his teacher. For Corydon was one person, +in body, mind and soul; in her there were no disharmonies, no warring +elements. His friend the doctor had set forth his idea of "a good +woman"; but Corydon's goodness proved to be after no such pattern. Now +that she was his, she was his; she belonged to him, she was a part of +him, and there could be no thought of a secret shame, of any reserves or +hesitations. Her body was herself, and it was joy to her; it was joy the +more, because she could give it for love; and she sought for new ways to +utter the completeness of her giving. + +She was like a little child about it--so free, so spontaneous, so +genuine; Thyrsis marvelled at her utter naturalness. For himself, in the +midst of these things, there was always a sense of the strange and the +terrible, a sense of penetrating to forbidden mysteries; but Corydon +laughed in the sunlight of utter bliss--and she laughed most at him, +when she found that her simple language had startled him. + +For the maiden out of ancient Greece was now become a lover! And so she +was revealed to Thyrsis--she who might have marched in the Panathenaic +processions, with one of the sacred vessels in her hands, or run in the +Attic games, bare-limbed and fearless. So he learned to think of her, +singing in the myrtle groves Of Mount Hymettus, or walking naked in the +moonlight in Arcadian meadows. + +So he thought of her all through her life, whenever a moment of joy came +to her--whenever, for instance, she found her way to the water. They had +dressed her in long skirts and put her in a drawing-room--but Corydon +had got to the water in spite of them; and all that any Nereid had ever +known, that she had known from the time the waves first kissed her feet. + +And so it was also with love; she was born to be a priestess of love's +religion. She had waited for this hour--that she might take his hand, +and lead him into the temple, and teach him the ritual. It was a +ministry that she entered upon with the joy of all her being. "Ah, let +me teach you how to love!" she would cry. "Ah, let me teach you how to +love!" + +Love was to her an utter blending of two selves, the losing of one's +personality in another's; it meant the forgetting of one's self, and all +the ends of self. And Thyrsis marvelled at the glory that came upon her, +at each new rapture she discovered. All the language of lovers was known +to her, all the songs of lovers were upon her lips: + + "Du bist mir ewig, + Bist mir immer-- + Erb und Eigen + Ein und All!" + +Such was her woman's gift: precious beyond all treasures of earth, and +given without price or question. And Thyrsis trembled as he realized it; +he lived upon his knees before her, and floods of tenderness welled up +in his heart. How utterly she trusted him, how completely she belonged +to him! And what could he do to show himself worthy of it--this most +wonderful dream of his life come true-- + + "If someone should give me a heart to keep, + With love for the golden key!" + +Yet, amid all these raptures, Thyrsis was haunted by ghosts of doubt. +Would he be able to do what his heart yearned to do? Love meant so much +to her--and could it mean that much to him? Why could it not be to him +the complete thing it was to her--why must he argue and wonder and fear? + +For Thyrsis' ancestors had not dallied in Arcadian meadows. They had +come from the wilds of Palestine and the deserts of Northern Africa; +they had argued and wondered and feared in Gothic cloisters, in New +England meeting-houses; and the shadow of their souls hung over him +still. He could not love love as Corydon loved it, he could not trust +it as she trusted it. It could never seem to him the utterly natural +thing--there was always a fear of pollution, a hint of satiety, a thrill +of shame. Directly the first fires of passion had spent themselves, +these anxieties came to him; he remembered how in his virgin youth he +had thought of passion--as of something strange and uncomfortable, even +grotesque, suggesting too closely a kinship with the animals. So he +noticed that his feelings always waned before Corydon's. She wished him +to linger--love meant so much to her! + +Then too, the code of passion was all unknown to him. What was right +and what was wrong? When should one yield to desire, and when should one +restrain it? To Corydon such questions never came--to her there was no +such possibility as excess; she was complete and perfect, and nature +told her. If there were temptations and restraints and regrets, they +were for Thyrsis; and he had to keep them for his own secret, he could +ask no help from her. For he discovered immediately that with his proud +imperiousness, he could not endure to have Corydon refuse herself to +him. So this laid a new burden upon him, an appalling one. For were they +not always together--her lips always calling him, the impulse towards +her always with him? + +There was another circumstance--the means they had to take to prevent +the consequences of their love. From the very first, Thyrsis had shrunk +from the thought of this; but it was only later that he realized how +much it repelled him. It offended all his sense of economy and purpose; +it was something done, and at the same time undone--and so it had in +it the essence of all futility and wrongness. It took from passion its +meaning and its excuse; and yet he could not say this to Corydon; and +he knew also that he could no longer do without her. He was bound--bound +fast! And every hour his chains would become tighter; what was now +spontaneous joy would become a habit--a thing like eating and sleeping, +a new and humiliating necessity of the flesh! + +Section 2. Such were their problems. They might have solved them all, +perhaps--had they only had time. But others came crowding upon them, +others still more insistent and perplexing. The world was pressing them, +jealous of their dream of delight. + +Their little fund of money was gone, and so Thyrsis went back to his +hack-work. All day he sat by the window and slaved at it, while Corydon +lay upon the bed and read, or wandered about the park by herself. +Thyrsis' burden was twice as heavy now, for he had to earn for two; +and when in the ecstasies of love she cried out to him that she was his +forever, the cruel mockery of circumstance translated this to mean that +he would forever have to earn for two! + +He wrote more book-reviews, and peddled them about; sometimes he was +forced to exchange them for books he reviewed, and then to sell the +books for twenty or thirty cents apiece. He wrote up some ideas for +political cartoons, and got three dollars for one of them. He wrote +a parody upon a popular poem, and got six dollars for that. He met a +college friend, just returned from a trip in the Andes, and he patiently +collected the material for a narrative, and sold it to a minor magazine +for fifteen dollars. + +And meanwhile he toiled furiously at another pot-boiler, a tale of +Hessians and Tories and a red-cheeked and irresistible revolutionary +heroine, to fill the insatiable maw of the readers of the "Treasure +Chest." On one occasion, when everything went wrong, Corydon took +the half-dozen solid silver coffee-spoons and the heavy gold-plated +berry-spoon which had constituted her outfit of wedding-presents, and +sold them to a nearby jeweler for two dollars and a quarter. + +But through all this bitter struggle they looked forward to a glorious +ending. In April the book would be out--and then they would be free! +They would go away to the country--perhaps to the little cabin of last +summer! Ah, how they dreamed of that cabin, how they hungered for it! +They pictured it, covered in snow, with the ice-bound brook in front +of it--both the cabin and the brook asleep, and dreaming of the +spring-time. + +Thyrsis was dreaming of it also, with tears in his eyes and a mighty +passion in his heart; for his new book was calling to him--he had to +fight hard to keep it from taking possession of his thoughts and driving +the pot-boilers out of the temple. + +There came the joyful excitement of reading the proofs of his book; also +of inspecting the cover-design, and the sample of the paper, and the +"dummy". And then--it was two weeks from now! Then it was only ten +days--then only one week. And finally the raptures of the first sample +copy! + +It was time the publishers had begun to advertise it, and Thyrsis went +to see Mr. Taylor about the matter. Mr. Taylor was vague in his replies. +Then came publication-day, and still no advertisements; and Thyrsis +called again, and insisted and expostulated, and learned to his +consternation that they were not going to advertise it; the season was +a bad one, the firm had met with unexpected expenses, and so on. When +Thyrsis reminded them of their promises, and threatened and stormed, Mr. +Taylor informed him quietly that there was nothing in the contract about +advertising. + +So Thyrsis went home, and tried to forget his rage in the work of +disposing of his hundred copies. He had prepared himself for the +possibility of everything else failing, but here he had a plan whereby +he felt that his deliverance was assured. He had made up a list of +a hundred of the best-known men of letters in the country--college +presidents and professors, editors and clergymen, novelists and poets +and critics; and he had done more hack-work, and earned the twenty +dollars it would take to send to each of them a copy of the book, +together with his manifesto, and a little type-written note. This, he +felt, would make certain of the book's being read; and once let the +book be read by the real leaders of the country's thought, and his siege +would be at an end! + +So the packages went to the post-office, freighted with the burden of +his hopes and longings. And two or three times a week Thyrsis went to +see his publishers, and find out how the book was going. He was never +able to ascertain just what they were doing with it, or how they +expected to sell it; Mr. Taylor would tell him vaguely that it was doing +fairly well--the season was "slow", and he must give the book time to +"catch on". + +And then came the reviews. A clipping-bureau had written, offering to +furnish them at five cents apiece; and this was moderate, considering +that there were only a dozen altogether. Most of these were from +unimportant out-of-town papers, whose book-reviews are written by the +high-school nieces and the elderly maiden-aunts of the publishers. Of +the metropolitan newspapers and literary organs, only three noticed the +book at all; and two of these gave perfunctory mention, evidently made +up from the publisher's statement on the cover. + +The third writer had connected the book with the interview in the +"Morning Howl", and he wrote a burlesque review of it, in which he +hailed it as the "Great American Novel". His method was to retell +the story, quoting the most highly-wrought passages, with just enough +comment to keep it in the vein of farce. To Thyrsis this mockery came +like a blast of fire in the face; he did not know that it was the +regular method of the newspaper--a method by means of which it had made +itself known as the cleverest and most readable paper in the country. + +Section 3. All this was the harder for him, because it came at a black +and spectral hour of his life. It was not enough that the book was +falling flat, and that all their hopes were collapsing; a new and +most terrible calamity befell them. For three months now they had been +dissolved in the bliss of their young dream of love; and now suddenly +had come a thunderbolt, splitting the darkness about them, and revealing +the grim hand of Fate closing down! + +For several years of her life Corydon had carried a trying burden--once +each month she would have to lie down for three or four days and be a +semi-invalid. And last month this had not happened; the time had come +and gone, and she was as well as ever. She had told Thyrsis about it, +and how it disturbed her; it might mean nothing, it had happened +several times before to her; but then again--it might mean that she had +conceived. + +The idea had been too frightful to contemplate, however, and they had +put it aside. It was not possible--the doctor had told them how to +prevent it; he had told them that "everybody" did it, and that they +could feel safe. + +But now came the second month; and Corydon, filled with a vague terror, +waited for the day. And horrible beyond all telling--the day came and +went once more! And two days came--three days! And so finally Corydon +went to see the doctor. + +When she came home again, and entered the room, Thyrsis saw it all in +her face, without her uttering a word. He went sick, all at once; and +Corydon sank down upon the bed. + +"Well?" he asked, in a hoarse voice. + +"It's true," she said. + +"And what did he say?" + +"He said--he said I was in splendid shape, and that I would have a fine +baby!" + +And Thyrsis stared at her, and then suddenly burst into wild laughter, +and hid his head in his arms. Such was their mood that she could not +feel sure whether he was laughing or crying. + +Now, indeed, they were facing the reality of life. All the problems with +which they had ever wrestled were as child's play to this problem; they +could sit and read the deadly terror in each other's eyes. Corydon's lip +was trembling, and her face was white and drawn and old. So swiftly had +fled her young dream of joy! + +"Thyrsis," she said, in a low voice, "it means ruin!" + +"Yes," he answered. + +And she clenched her hands tightly. "I will kill myself first!" she +whispered. "I will not drag you down!" + +He made no reply. + +"Listen, Thyrsis," she went on. "There is only one thing to be thought +of. I must get rid of it." + +"Get rid of it?" he echoed. "How?" + +"I don't know," she said. "But women often do it." + +"I've heard of it," he replied. "But isn't it dangerous?" + +"I don't know," she said, "and I don't care." + +There was a pause. + +"Why don't you ask the doctor?" he inquired. + +"The doctor? There was no use us asking him, Thyrsis." + +"Why not?" + +"Because--he doesn't understand. He likes babies. That's his business." + +They argued this. But in the end Thyrsis resolved that he must see the +doctor himself. He must see him if it was only to pour out his anguish. +It was the doctor's fault that this fearful accident had befallen them! + +But the boy soon saw that it was as Corydon had said, there was nothing +to be gained in that quarter. Babies were indeed the doctor's business; +they were the business of the whole world, from his point of view. +People got married to have babies; they were in the world to have +babies, and anything else was just nonsense. Nowadays babies were the +only excuse that people had for living--their morality began and ended +with them. Moreover, babies were fine in themselves; they were beautiful +and fat and jolly. The pagan old gentleman sang a very paean in praise +of babies--the more of them there were, the more laughter upon earth. + +Also, having them was the business of women--that, and not reading +German poetry and playing the piano. They all made a little fuss at the +outset, but then they submitted, and they soon found that Nature knew +more than they. Babies completed women's lives, they settled their +nerves; they gave them something to think about, and saved them from +hysteria and extravagance and sentimentalism, and all the rest of the +ills of the hour. + +Then the doctor fixed his keen eyes upon him. "Are you and Corydon +thinking about an abortion?" he demanded. + +"I--I don't know," stammered Thyrsis. The word sounded ugly. + +"I got that impression from her," said the other. "And now let me tell +you--if you do that, it'll be something you'll never forgive yourself +for as long as you live. In the first place, you may lose your wife. +It's a very dangerous thing, and a woman is seldom the same after it. +You might make it impossible for her ever to have a child again, and so +blast her whole life. You'll have to trust her in the hands of some vile +scoundrel--you understand, of course, that it's a crime?" + +"I suppose so," said Thyrsis. + +"It's a crime not only against the law--it's a crime against God. And +it's the curse of our age!" + +There was a pause. + +"What's the matter with Corydon, anyway?" demanded the doctor. + +"She's so young!" cried Thyrsis. + +"Nonsense! She's nineteen now, isn't she? And she couldn't be in better +condition." + +"But she's so undeveloped--mentally, I mean." + +"There's nothing in the world will develop her like maternity. And can't +you see that she wants the baby?" + +"Wants it!" shouted Thyrsis. + +"Why, of course! She's dead in love with you, boy. And she wants the +baby! Why shouldn't she have it?" + +"If I could only make you understand--" protested Thyrsis, feebly. + +"Yes!" exclaimed the doctor. "That's what they all say! Not a day passes +that some woman doesn't sit in this office and say it! Each case is +different from any other case that ever was or could be. They tell me +how much they suffer, and what a state their nerves are in, and how busy +they are, and how poor they are--their social duties, and their artistic +duties, and their religious duties, and their philanthropic duties! And +they weep and wring their hands, and tell me agonizing stories, and +they offer me any sum I could ask--many a time I might earn a thousand +dollars by something that wouldn't take me ten minutes, if only I didn't +have a conscience!--Go away, boy, and get those ideas out of your head!" + +Section 4. So Thyrsis went away, with a new realization of the +seriousness of his position, with a new sense of the grip in which he +was fast. It was a conspiracy of Nature, a conspiracy of all the world! +It was a Snare! + +All through this love-adventure, even when most under the sway of +his emotions, Thyrsis' busy mind had been groping and reaching for an +understanding of it. Little by little this had come to him--and now the +picture was complete. He had beheld the last scene of the panorama; he +had got to the moral of the tale! + +He had been the sport of cosmic forces, of the blind and irresistible +reproductive impulse of Nature. Step by step he had been driven, he had +played his part according to the plan. He had hesitated and debated and +resolved and decided--thinking that he had something to do with it +all! But now he looked back, and saw himself as a leaf swept along by a +torrent. And all the while the torrent had known its destination! He had +had many plans and many purposes, but always Nature had had but one plan +and one purpose--which was the Child! + +Twelve months ago Thyrsis had been a boy, carefree and happy, rapt in +his dream of art; and now here he was, a married man, with the cares of +parenthood on his shoulders! If anyone had told him that a trick could +be played upon him, he would have laughed at them. How confident he had +been--how certain of his mastery of life! And now he was in the Snare! + +Dismayed as he was, Thyrsis could not but smile as he realized it. +The artist in him appreciated the technique of the performance. How +cunningly it had all been managed--how cleverly the device had been +hidden how shrewdly the bait had been selected! + +He went back over the adventure. What a fuss he and Corydon had made +about it! What a vast amount of posturing and preluding, of backing +and filling! And how solemnly they had taken it--how earnestly they +had believed in the game! What convictions had weighed upon them, what +exaltations had thrilled them--two pitiful little puppets, set here and +there by unseen hands! Rehearsing from prologue to curtain the age-long +drama, the drama of Sex that had been played from the beginning of the +world! + +He marvelled at the prodigality that Nature had displayed--at the +treasures she had squandered to accomplish her purpose! She would +create a million eggs to make one salmon; and she had created a million +emotions to make one baby! What poems she had written for them--what +songs she had composed for them! She had emptied the cornucopiae of her +gifts into their lap! She had strewn the pathway with roses before them, +she had filled their mouths with honey, and their ears with the sound +of sweet music; she had blinded them, she had stunned them, she had sent +them drunken and reeling to their fate! + +And the elaborate set of pretenses and illusions that she had invented +for them! The devices to lull their suspicions--the virtues and +renunciations, the humilities and the consecrations! Corydon had been +frightened and evasive; Nature had made him suffer, so as to break her +down! And he had been proud and defiant; and so Corydon, the meek and +gentle, had been turned into a heroine of revolt! Nay, worse than +that; those very powers and supremacies that he had thought were his +protection--were they not, also, a part of the Snare? His culture and +his artistry, his visions and his exaltations--what had they been but a +lure for the female? The iris of the burnished dove, the ruff about the +grouse's neck, the gold and purple of the butterfly's wing! Even his +genius, his miraculous, ineffable genius--that had been the plume of the +partridge, the crowning glory before which his mate had capitulated! + +These images came to Thyrsis, until he burst into wild, sardonic +laughter. He saw himself in new and grotesque lights; he was the +peacock, spreading his gorgeousness before a dazzled and wondering +world; he was the young rooster, strutting before his mate, and +thrilling with the knowledge of his own importance! He was each of +the barnyard creatures by turn, and Corydon was each of the +fascinated females. And somewhere, perhaps, stood the farmer, smiling +complacently--for should there not be somewhere a farmer in this +universal barnyard? + +But then, the laughter died; for he thought of Maeterlinck's "Life of +the Bee", and shuddered at the fate of the male-creature. He was a +mere accident in the scheme of Nature--she wasted all his splendors to +accomplish the purpose of an hour. And now it had been accomplished. He +had had his moment of ecstasy, his dizzy flight into the empyrean; and +now behold him falling, disembowelled and torn, an empty shell! + +But no--it was not quite that way, Thyrsis told himself, after further +reflection. In the human hive the male creature was not only the bearer +of the seed he was also the worker. And so there was one more function +he had to perform. All those fine frenzies of his, his ideals and his +enthusiasms--they had served their purpose, and would fade; but before +him there was still a future--a drab and dreary future of perpetual +pot-boiling! + +He recalled their bridal-night. All that had puzzled him in it and +startled him--how clear it was now! Corydon had shrunk from him, just +enough to lure him; and then, suddenly, her whole being had seemed to +change--she had caught him, and held him fast. For he had accomplished +her purpose; he had gotten her with child! And so he must stand by +her--he must bring her food, that she might give the child life! And +for that purpose she would hold him; for that she would use every art of +which she was mistress--the whole force of her being would go into it! + +She would not know this, of course; she would do it blindly and +instinctively, as she had done everything so far. She would do it by +those same generous and beautiful qualities that had made him hers! +Therein lay the humor of his whole adventure--there lay the deadly +nature of this Snare. The cords of it were woven out of love and +tenderness, out of ecstasy and aspiration; and they were wound about his +very heart-strings, so that it would kill him to pull them loose. And he +would never pull them loose--he saw that in a sudden vision of ruin! She +would be noble to the uttermost limit of nobleness. She would threaten +to destroy herself--and so he would save her! She would bid him cast +her away--and so he would stand by her to the end! And the end would be +simply the withering and shrivelling of those radiant qualities which +he called his genius--qualities which were so precious to him, but about +which Nature knew nothing! + +So grim an aspect had life come to wear to this boy of twenty-one! +He stripped all the flesh of illusion from its fair face, and saw the +grinning skull beneath. And he mocked at himself, because of all those +virtues by which he had been caught--and which yet he knew were stronger +than his will. Through faith and love he had been made a captive; and +through faith and love would he waste away and perish! + +Section 5. Meantime, Corydon was prosecuting an inquiry into these +matters upon her own account, and getting at quite other points of view. +There were some, it seemed, who took this game less seriously than she +and Thyrsis; and these managed to go free--they broke the cords of the +Snare, they slipped between the fingers of the hand of Fate. Corydon had +heard a certain scientist refer to man as "Nature's insurgent son"; and +now came the discovery that Nature had insurgent daughters also. + +Being in an "interesting condition," Corydon was entitled to the +confidences of the married women acquaintances of the family. They were +eager to know all about her, and what she was going to do; and they told +her their own experiences. She brought these to Thyrsis, who was thus +admitted to a view of the inner workings of the "race-suicide" mill. + +It was as the doctor had said; each one of these middle-class ladies +considered herself a special case, but their stories all seemed to fit +together. Nature's boundless and irrational fecundity was an exceedingly +trying feature of the life of middle-class ladies. In the first place, +the having of babies was a tedious and painful matter. One became +grotesquely disfigured, and had to hide away and sever all social +relationships. One lost one's grace and attractiveness, and hence the +power to hold one's husband. And then, there were all the cares and +the inconveniences of children. What was one to do with them, in a city +where the best hotels and apartment-houses barred them out? + +Then, too, even supposing the best of intentions--there was the cost +of living. At present prices it was impossible for a man who had only +a salary to support more than one or two children; and with prices +increasing as they were, one could not be sure of educating even these. +And meanwhile, the Nature of Things had apparently planned it that a +woman should bear a child once a year for half her life-time! + +So all these middle-class ladies used devices to prevent conception. +But these were not always successful--husbands were frequently +inconsiderate. And so came the abortion-business, which the doctor had +described as the curse of the age. + +Now and then one could accomplish the thing by some of the innumerable +drugs that were advertised for the purpose. But these always made one +ill, and seldom did anything else. Corydon met one young person, the +wife of a rising stockbroker, who had presented her husband with twins +in the first year of their marriage, and who declared that she was +apparently designed to populate all the tenements in the city. This +airy and vivacious young lady lay back in her automobile and prattled +to Corydon, declaring that she was "always in trouble." She had tried to +coax her family physician in vain, and had finally gone elsewhere. She +had got quite used to the experience. All that troubled her nowadays was +how to make excuses to her friends, one could not have "appendicitis" +forever! + +But there was another side to the matter. There was one woman who +had had a hemorrhage; and another whose sister had contracted +blood-poisoning, and had died in agony. There were even some who pleaded +and exhorted like the doctor, and talked about the thing's being murder. +All of which arguments and fears Corydon brought to her husband, to be +pondered and discussed. + +They spent whole days wandering about in the park in agony of soul. They +had one brief month in which to decide the question--the question of +life or death to the possible child. Truly here, once more, was an issue +to which Thyrsis might apply the words af Carlyle-- + + "Choose well, your choice is + Brief and yet endless!" + +Section 6. This was also the month in which the fate of the book was +decided. Each day, as he went for the mail, Thyrsis' heart would beat +high with expectation; and each day he would be chilled with bitter +disappointment. He was still hoping for a real review, or for some signs +of the book's "catching on". Nor did he finally give up until he chanced +to have a talk about it with his friend, Mr. Ardsley; who explained to +him that here, too, he had fallen into a trap. + +His "publishers" were not really publishers at all. They did not make +their profit by selling books--they made it out of authors. There were +many vain and foolish people who wrote books which they were anxious to +see in print, so that they might be known as literary lights among their +friends. Many of them had money, and would buy a number of copies; and +the "publishers" had the expenses guaranteed in advance and so would +make a profit upon the sale of even one or two hundred copies. All +this being well known, the reviews never paid any attention to the +announcements of this concern, nor did "the trade" handle their books. +As for Thyrsis' volume, they had printed it very cheaply--it was to be +doubted if it had cost them what he had paid them. And they had even +published it as a "net price" book--thereby taking three cents more off +the royalty to which he was entitled! + +Mr. Ardsley had declared that he would be lucky if his book sold three +hundred copies; and so he felt that it was quite a tribute to the +merits of his work when, after six months more of waiting, he received +a royalty statement from the concern showing a sale of seven hundred +and forty-three copies, and enclosing a check for eight-nine dollars and +sixteen cents. This check Thyrsis paid over to his rich relative, and +a week or two later, when he sold a short story, he sent the balance of +the hundred dollars that he owed. And so he figured that the privilege +of writing his first book and offering it to the hundred great men +of letters of the country, had cost him the sum of one hundred and +thirty-five dollars and eighty-four cents! + +Meantime, of course, Thyrsis was hearing from these great men of +letters. When he counted up at the end he found that he had received +replies from sixteen of them; whether the other eighty-four received +his book, or what they did with it, he never knew. Of these sixteen, +six wrote formal acknowledgements, and two others said that they found +nothing to appeal to them in his book; so there were left eight who gave +him comfort, Several of these were among the really vital men of the +time, as Thyrsis found out later, when he came to read their books, and +to know them as something other than newspaper names. Several of them +wrote him long and really helpful criticisms of his work, recognizing +the merits he knew it had, and pointing out defects which he was quick +to acknowledge. Four of them even told him that he had undoubted genius, +and predicted great things for him. But that was as far as any of them +went. They wrote their opinions, and there they stopped, as if at a +blank wall. No one among them seemed to feel that he could take any +action upon his opinion, however favorable; not one comprehended that +what the boy was groping for was neither praise nor blame, but a chance +for life. Not one had any advice of a practical sort to offer; not one +had any personal or human thing to say; not one even asked to see him! +And lest this should be due to oversight, or to false delicacy, Thyrsis +wrote, in his desperation, and reminded them that the "genius" they +recognized was being killed by starvation. To this, one did not reply, +and another advised him to take up newspaper work, as "a means of +getting in touch with the public"! + +It was a ghastly thing to the boy as he came to realize it--this utter +deadness and coldness of "the world". Thyrsis himself was all afire +with love--with love, not only for his vision and his art, but for all +humanity, and for humanity's noblest dreams. His friends were poets and +sages of past time, men of generous faith and quick sympathies; and in +all the world of the living, was there not one such man to be found? Was +there nothing left upon earth but critical discernment and epistolary +politeness? + +The question pursued him still more, after the one interview which +resulted from all this correspondence. There was a distinguished Harvard +professor who had told him that he had rare powers and must go on; and +hearing that the professor was in New York, Thyrsis asked the privilege +of calling. + +It was in one of the city's most expensive hotels--for the professor had +married a rich wife, and was what people called "socially prominent". +The other did not know this; but it seemed an awful thing to him that +anyone should be sitting in a brocaded silk-covered chair in a palace of +luxury like this, while possessed of the knowledge that his genius was +starving. + +"You tell me to go on, professor," he said. "But how _can_ I go on?" + +The professor was fingering his gold eyeglasses and studying his +visitor. + +"You must get some kind of routine work," he declared--"enough to +support you. You can't expect to live by your writing." + +"But if I do that, I can't write!" cried Thyrsis. + +"You'll have to do the best you can," said the other. + +"But I can't do _anything!_ The emotions of it eat me all up. I daren't +even let myself think about my work when I have to do other things." + +"I should think," commented the professor, "that you would find you are +still more hindered by the uncertainties of hack-work." + +"I do find that," the boy replied. "That is just what is the matter with +me." + +"I'm afraid you'll be forced to a compromise in the end." + +"But I won't! I won't!" cried Thyrsis, wildly. "I will starve first!" + +The other said nothing. + +"Or I will beg!" added Thyrsis. + +The other's look clouded slightly--as the boy, with his quick +sensitiveness, noted instantly. "Of course," said the professor, "if you +are not ashamed to do that--" + +"But why should I be ashamed? Greater men than I have begged for their +art." + +"Yes. I know that. And naturally--I honor that feeling in you. If you +have that much fervor--why, of course, you will do it. But I'm afraid +you'll find it a humiliating experience." + +"I wouldn't expect to find it a picnic," answered Thyrsis, and took his +departure--having perceived that the professor's leading thought was a +fear lest he should begin his begging that day. + +So there it was! There was the eminent critic, the writer of exquisite +appreciations of literature! The darling of the salons of Boston--which +called itself the Athens of America and the hub of the universe! A man +with a brain full of all the culture of the ages--and with the heart of +a mummy and the soul of a snob! He had approved of Thyrsis' consecration +with his lips--because he did not dare to disapprove it, because the +ghosts of a thousand paupers of genius had stood over him and awed +him into silence. But in his secret heart he had despised this wan and +haggard boy who threatened to beg; and the boy went out of the palace of +luxury, feeling like an outcast rat. + +Section 7. From this interview Thyrsis went to meet Corydon in the +park; and after he had told her what had happened, they began one more +discussion of their great problem. This had to be the final one; for the +month of respite had passed, and the time for action was come! + +Through their long arguments, Thyrsis had gradually come to realize that +the decision rested with him. Corydon was in his hands; she had become +a burden upon him, and she would rather she were dead; and so he had to +take the responsibility and issue the command. So through many an +hour while Corydon slept he had marshalled the facts and tested them, +hungering with all his soul for knowledge of the right. + +To bring a child into the world would shatter every plan they had +formed. And yet, again and again, he forced himself to face the idea. +They had always meant to have children ultimately; and now the gift was +offered--and suppose they rejected it, and it should never be offered +again! However unpropitious the hour might be, still the hour was +here--the task was already one-third done. And if there were cares and +responsibilities, expenses and pains of child-birth--at least they would +be for a child; whereas, in the other case, there were also cares and +responsibilities, expenses and pains--and for naught! + +Throughout all this long pilgrimage of love, Thyrsis had been struck +by the part which blind chance had played. It was blind chance that had +brought Corydon to the country where he had gone. It was blind chance +that he had read his book to her. And then--the chance that he had gone +to see a doctor about diet! And that dark accident in the night, that +had opened the gates of life to a new human soul! And now, strangest of +all--the chance by which this last issue was to be decided! By a walk in +the park, and a casual meeting with a nurse-maid! + +"God knows I want to do what is right!" Thyrsis had said. "But I just +don't know what to say!"--And then they sat down upon a bench, and the +nurse-maid came and sat beside them. + +It was five or ten minutes before Thyrsis noted what was going on. +He was lost in his sombre brooding, his eyes fixed upon vacancy; when +suddenly he heard Corydon exclaim: "Isn't he a little love!" He turned +to look. + +The nurse-maid was in charge of a carriage, and in the carriage was a +baby; and the baby was smiling at Corydon, and Corydon was smiling back. +She was poking her finger at it, and it was catching at the finger with +its chubby paws. "Isn't he a little love!" Corydon repeated. + +Thyrsis stared at her. But then, quickly, he hid his thought. He even +pretended to be interested. + +"Isn't he pretty?" she asked him. + +Now as a matter of fact he seemed to Thyrsis to be quite conspicuously +ugly. He had red hair, and a flat nose, and was altogether lacking in +aristocratic attributes. But Thyrsis answered promptly, "Yes, dear," and +continued to watch. + +And Corydon continued to play. Apparently she knew something about +babies--how to amuse them and how to handle them, and had even +heard rumors about how to feed them. She was asking questions of the +nurse-maid, and displaying interest--Thyrsis would have been no more +amazed had he found her in converse with a Chaldean astrologer. For a +full quarter of an hour she had managed to forget her agonies of spirit, +and to play with a baby! + +They got up to go. "You like babies, don't you, dearest?" asked Thyrsis, +as they walked. + +"Why, yes," she said. + +And then there was a silence, while he pondered. Here, he perceived in a +flash, was the great hand of Nature again! + +Since the first day of their marriage Thyrsis had been haunted by the +sense of a dark shadow hanging over them, of a seed of tragedy in their +love. He had his great task to do, and Corydon could not do it with him. +The long road of his art-pilgrimage stretched out before him; and some +day he must take his staff and go. + +And now here, of a sudden, was the solution of the problem! The answer +to the riddle of all their disharmonies! Let Corydon have her baby--and +then he might have his books! As he pondered, there came to him the +words of the old doctor--"She wants that baby!" + +So before he reached home, his mind was made up. Cost what it might, she +should have the baby. But he would not tell her his reason--that must +be a secret between himself and Mother Nature. And then it seemed to +him that he could hear Mother Nature laughing behind her curtain--and +laughing not only at Corydon, but at him. He recalled with a twinge all +his earlier cynicism, his biological bitterness; he had taken up the +burden of his virtues again! + +Section 8. In many ways this decision, once arrived at, was a relief +to them. It lifted the weight of a great fear from their lives; it +gave them six months more of respite--and in six months, what might not +Thyrsis be able to do? He had been toiling incessantly at his hack-work, +and had saved nearly ninety dollars, which would be enough to keep them +going until his new book was written. + +This book was now fairly seething in him. A wonderful thing it was to +be, far beyond his first; in the beauty of it and the glow of it he was +forgetting all his disappointments, all the mockeries of fate and the +hardness of the world. If only he could get _this_ book done, then +surely he would be saved, then surely men would be forced to give him a +chance! + +So he waited not a moment after the decision was made; he even blamed +himself for having waited so long. From the "higher regions" there had +come a windfall in the shape of two railroad-passes; and a couple of +days later they stepped out upon the depot-platform of a little town +upon the shore of Lake Ontario. + +Oh, the joy of being in the country again! The smell of the newly-plowed +earth, the sight of the spring-time verdure; and then the first glimpse +of the lake, with its marvellous clear-green water, and the fresh cold +breeze that blew from off it! There was challenge and adventure in that +air--Thyrsis thought of argonauts and old sea-rovers, and his soul was +stirred to high resolves. He took deep breaths of delight, and clenched +his hands, and imagined that he was at his book already. + +They found a second-hand tent which could be bought for eight dollars; +four dollars more would pay for the lumber, and so they would live +rent-free for the next five months! They went far down the shore of the +lake, looking for a place to camp, and picked out a rocky headland, a +mile from the nearest farmhouse, and completely out of sight of all the +world. The rich woman who owned it was in Europe, but the agent gave +permission; and then Thyrsis looked at his watch and made a wild +suggestion--"Let's get settled this afternoon!" + +"Why, it's nearly three o'clock!" cried Corydon. "It'll be dark!" + +"There'll be a moon," he replied, "and we can work all night if want +to." + +"But suppose it should rain!" + +"I don't see any signs of it. And what's the use of spending a night in +the town, and wasting all that money?" + +And so it was decided. They went to the store and purchased their +housekeeping equipment. What a sense of power and prosperity it gave +them as they made their selection--two canvas-cots and two pairs of +blankets, a lamp and an oil-can and a tiny oil-stove, two water-buckets +and an axe and a wash-basin, a camp-stool and a hammock and a box full +of groceries! They got a team to carry all this, in addition to their +lumber and their trunks. They stopped at a farm-house, and arranged to +get their milk and eggs and bread and vegetables, and also to borrow +a hammer and saw; and then till after sundown Thyrsis toiled at the +building of the platform and the cutting of stakes and poles for the +tent. + +Corydon fried some bacon and heated a can of corn, and they had a +marvellous and incredible supper. Afterwards they raised the tent, and +she held the poles erect while Thyrsis tied the guy-ropes. They had been +advised to choose a sheltered place, back in the woods; but they were +all for adventure and a view of the water, and so they were out on the +open point. There were pine-trees, however, and Thyrsis had strong ropes +with which to anchor the tent fast. When he finished, about ten o'clock +at night, he stood off and admired the job by the light of the moon, +and declared that a storm might tear the tent to pieces, but could never +blow it over. + +They hauled in their trunks and the rest of their belongings, and set up +the cots and spread the blankets. Then by the light of the oil-lamp they +gazed about. + +"Oh, Thyrsis," she cried, "isn't it glorious!" + +"It's our home," he said. "A home we made all for ourselves!" + +"And a home without a landlady!" she added. + +"And with no saloon underneath!" said he. "And no street-cars and no +screaming children in front of it!" + +Instead there was the night with its thousand eyes, and the lake, with +the moon-fire flung wide across it, and the pine-trees singing in the +wind. + +"Brr! it's cold!" exclaimed Corydon. + +"We'll have to sleep with our clothes on for a while," said he. And yet +they laughed aloud in glee. "It's all we want!" + +"It's all we ever could want!" declared Corydon. "Oh, let's work hard +and earn money enough, so that we can stay here beneath the open sky, +and not have to go back into slavery!" + +Then, in the morning, the joy of a plunge in the icy lake, and of a run +in the woods, and of breakfast eaten in the warm sunlight! There was +much work still to be done; Thyrsis had to build a stand of shelves +and a table for the tent, and a table and a bench outside; and then all +their belongings had to be unpacked and set in order. Such fun as they +had laying out the imaginary partitions in their house; two bedrooms and +a library, a kitchen and a pantry--and all outdoors for a living-room! + +They would count this the beginning of their love; at last they were +free to love, and to be happy as they chose. There was no longer anyone +to criticize them scarcely anyone to know about them; their only contact +with the world was when they went for the mail and for provisions. They +learned that the washer-woman who came for their clothes was ashamed +for the poverty in which they lived, and that some of the neighbors +suspected them of being oil-smugglers; on two occasions came sheriffs +from distant counties to compare Thyrsis with the photographs and +descriptions of long-sought bank-burglars and murderers. But although +Thyrsis had often declared that he would rob a bank to secure his +freedom to work, he had not yet done it, and so these experiences only +added piquancy to their adventure. + +It was a life such as might have been lived in the Garden of Eden. They +cooked and ate and studied out doors, in a sunny glade when it was cool, +and in the shade of a great oak-tree when it was warm. They wandered +about in the forest, they bathed naked in the crystal lake--diving +from the rocky headland, and afterwards standing upon it and drying +themselves in the sun. Corydon was now free to fling away the +conventionalities which had hampered her in the city; by way of +signalizing her enfranchisement she cut short her hair--that untamed, +rebellious hair which had taken so long to dry and to braid and to keep +in order! + +So they lived, in daily touch with the great heart of Nature. They saw +the sun rise on one side of the rocky headland, and set upon the other; +they watched the great storms sweep across the lake, and the lightnings +stab into the water. Sometimes, at night, the gale would shake their +tent until they could not be sure if it was wind or thunder; but the +stays held fast, and they slept untroubled. And then the storm would +pass, and in the morning there would be the lake, sparkling in the +sunlight; and the sky, clear as crystal, with the white gulls wheeling +about, and grey-blue herons standing near the shore. + +There were bass to be caught from the rocky point. "So we must have at +least one meal of fish every day," declared Thyrsis. + +"I'm willing," said Corydon--"if you'll catch them." + +"And then, there are lots of squirrels about." + +"Squirrels!" cried she. + +"Yes. I can knock one over with a stone now and then--you'll see." + +"But, Thyrsis! To eat them!" + +"Did you ever taste one?" he laughed. + +"But it's cruel!" she exclaimed; and he thought to himself, How like the +little Corydon of old! + +"Wait till I've skinned him and fried him in bacon grease," he answered. + +And even so it proved. Corydon was troubled by the crisp little toes +turned up in the air, but when these had been cut off, she yielded to +the allurements of odor and taste. "I'm nothing but a digesting machine +nowadays!" she lamented. + +To which Thyrsis replied in the words of the village-girl in "Faust," +"'She feeds two when she eats!'" + +They had been obliged to give up their attempt to live on prunes and +turnips. For the doctor had warned them that Corydon must have plenty of +"good nourishing food"; and this warning was backed up by all her women +acquaintances--and also by Corydon's own inner voices. The appetite that +she developed was appalling to them--not only as to quantity but as to +quality. She would find herself unable to eat anything they had in their +pantry, and with a craving for the wildest and most impossible things; +or she would not know what she wanted--and would travel to the store +and gaze about at the provisions, until a sudden illumination came. +Sometimes she would be so hungry for it that she could not wait to get +home, but would sit down by the road-side and devour the contents of the +market-basket. To these cravings she yielded religiously, because she +had been told that they represented vital needs of her system. Some +one had told her an appalling tale about a pregnant woman who had been +possessed by a desire for bananas; and because she had not gratified +it, the baby when born had cried for five weeks--until they had fed it a +banana! + +These strange experiences lent new interest to their intimacy. They went +through all the journey of maternity together. Pretty soon the changes +in her body began to be noticeable; and day by day they would watch +these. How wonderful it all was, how incredible! Thyrsis would sink +upon his knees before her, and clasp his arms about her and laugh "She's +going to have a little baby!" And Corydon would blush and protest; she +did not like to be teased about it--she was still only half +reconciled to it. "I'm only a child myself!" she would cry. "I've no +education--nothing! And I'm not fit for it!" Then he would have to +comfort her, telling her that life was long, and that the child would be +something to study. + +They discussed the weighty question of the name which they should give +the child. In this, as in other matters, they were without precedents +and limitations, and they found that excess of freedom is sometimes an +embarrassment. They were impelled towards literary reminiscence; and +Thyrsis soon realized that this was a matter in which the sensuous +temperament would have to have its way. "After all," argued Corydon, "to +you a name is a name. If you can call the baby and have it answer, isn't +that all you care about?" + +"Yes," he assented, "I suppose so; if the name's too unhandy for +calling, I can have a nickname." + +To Corydon, on the other hand, a name was a vital thing; a child that +was lovely under one name might be unendurable under another. She had +been reading Ossian, and the poems of the neo-Celtic enthusiasts; so +after much pondering and consultation she announced that Cedric and +Eileen were the two names from which they would choose. + +Section 9. Many moods of tenderness came to them. He loved to fondle +her, to exchange endearments with her. They gave each other foolish +names, after the fashion of lovers the world over; and they would go +on to modify these names, and add prefixes and suffixes, until the most +ingenious philologist could not have figured out where the names had +started. They made new words, also; they invented a whole language for +use in these times of illumination, and which Thyrsis denoted by the +name of "dam-fool talk". + +One was always discovering new qualities in Corydon. She had as many +moods as the lake by which they lived, and it seemed to him that with +each mood her whole personality changed--she would even look like +another being. There was the every-day Corydon, demure, and rather +silent; and then there was the Corydon who lived in the arms of +Nature--who swam in the water, a sister of the mermaids, and made +herself drunken with the sunlight; and then would come a mood of +mischief, and laughter would break from her, and her wit would be such +that Thyrsis would sigh for a stenographer. She would make herself a +Grecian costume out of a sheet, and dance to music of her own making; +or she would put trinkets upon her forehead, and be a gypsy-queen--she +could be anything that was wild and exotic and unpremeditated. She had +dances for that mood also--she would laugh and caper as merrily as any +young witch. But then, again, there would come the Corydon of melancholy +and despair; her features would shrink up, her face would become peaked +and pitiful, she would seem like a child of ten. Sometimes Thyrsis could +laugh her out of such a mood by telling her of her "beady black eyes"; +and she did not like to desecrate her eyes. + +And now there was a new Corydon--the Corydon who had been chosen of the +Lord, the worker of a miracle. This gave new awe to her presence, it set +a crown upon her forehead. One morning, in mid-summer, they had come +out from their bath, and she stood upon the rock in the sunshine; and +suddenly he saw her give a start, and stand transfixed, staring in front +of her. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +Her voice thrilled as she whispered, "Thyrsis! It moved!" + +"Moved?" he echoed. + +"I felt the child move!" she cried. + +And so he came and put his hands upon her body, and together they stood +waiting, breathless, as if listening for a far-off sound. + +"There! There!" she cried. "Did you feel it?" + +Yes, he had felt it. And in all his life had he ever felt anything +stranger? The first sign of the new life that was to be--the first hail +out of the darkness of nonentity! And truly, to hear that hail was to be +rapt into regions of wonder unspeakable! + +It was to be a new human soul; a creature like themselves, with a mind +of its own, and a sense of responsibility--It would be a man or a +woman, independent, self-creating, and knowing naught about this strange +inception. And yet, it would be their life also; they had caused it--but +for them it would never have been! Blindly, unwittingly, following the +guidance of some power greater than themselves, they had called it into +being. And in some mysterious and incredible way it would share their +qualities; it would be a blending of their natures, a symbol of their +union, of the strange fire that had blazed up in them and fused them +together. Truly, had they not come here to the essence of love, that +great blind force which had ruled and guided all things from Time's +beginning? + +They had come to the very making of life, it seemed. And yet, they +wondered--were they really there? This new soul that was to be--had they +in truth created it? Or had it existed before this? And whence did it +come? If it was really the dignified and divine thing that it would +someday imagine itself to be, was it not uncanny that it should have +come thus--a nameless, half-human, half-animal thing, kicking inside the +body of a woman? + +It was Being, in all its ineffable mystery, its monstrous and +unendurable strangeness. They lived face to face with it, they saw a +thousand aspects of it. Sometimes Corydon would be obsessed with the +sense of the sheer weight she carried; a burden fastened upon her and +not to be got rid of--an imposition and torment to her. Then again, she +would see herself in grotesque and even comical lights--as akin to all +the animals, a cousin of the patient cow. And then would come a moment +of sudden wonder, when she would be transfigured, a being divine, +conferring the boon of life upon another. + +It was in this last way that Thyrsis thought of her. There was about +her a sense of brooding mystery, as of one who walks in the midst of +supernatural presences. She would sit for hours gazing before her, like +Joan of Arc listening to her voices; and he would be touched with awe, +and would kiss her tenderly and with reverence. + +This brought new meanings into their love, new meanings into his life; +he would clench his hands and vow afresh his battle with the world. +How hideous a thing it was that at this time she should be tormented by +fears of want and failure! That she should have to go without comforts, +that she should even fear to ask for necessities--because she knew how +fast his little store of money was going! Other women had children, and +they did not have to be haunted by the doubt if it was right to have +them, if there would be any place for them in the world. And some of +these were selfish and idle women, too--and yet they had everything +they needed! And here was Corydon, beautiful and noble, the very soul of +devotion--Corydon must be harrowed and tortured! He did not really mind +the world's treatment of himself, but for this treatment of her--ah, +someday the world should pay for that! Someday it should do penance for +its mockery and its blindness, that had been a blasphemy against the +holy spirit itself! + +At such times as this he would put his arms about her, and try to +whisper something of the pity and grief that filled his heart. He would +try to tell her how much he really loved her, how utterly he was devoted +to her. Some day she should have her rights, some day he would repay her +for all that she had dared for him. And then the tears would come into +Corydon's eyes, and she would answer that she feared nothing and cared +about nothing, so long as she had his love. + +Section 10. After these things, Thyrsis would go at his book again. He +would go at it doggedly, desperately. He had scarcely taken time to +get settled in the tent and to get their housekeeping regime under way, +before he had heard the call of the book and wandered away to wrestle +with it. The writing of it was a matter of life and death with him +now--of life and death, not only for himself, and for Corydon, but for +the unborn soul as well. His money would last him only six or eight +weeks, and then he would have to take to pot-boiling again. So every +hour was precious; this time there could be no blundering permitted. + +Thyrsis was not writing now about minstrels and princesses; he was +not painting enraptured pictures of joy and love. The pain of life had +become too real to him. His six months of contact with the world had +filled him with bitterness; and he was forging a sharp spear, that he +could drive into the heart of folly and stupidity. + +It was the story of Hathawi, the dreamer, which he had come upon in a +Hindoo legend. "The Hearer of Truth," was to be the title of the book; +and for it Thyrsis was working out a new style. In the original it +had been a fanciful tale; but he meant to take it over to the world of +everyday reality, to give it the atmosphere of utter verihood. He meant +to use a style of biblical simplicity, bare of all ornament, dealing +with the most elemental things. And this might seem easy, but in reality +it was the hardest thing in the world--it was like blank verse. One +might toil all day for a single phrase into which to pack one's meaning. + +He wished to show Hathawi from the beginning; the solitary child, the +seer of life's mystery, who went away into a lonely place to brood. +He dwelt in the high mountains, where the lightning played and the +storm-winds shook him; he disciplined his will by fasting and prayer, +so that the self in him died, and he could perceive eternal things, and +aspects of being that are hidden. He went into the forests and dwelt +with the wild things, and learned to understand their language--not only +their beauty and their power, which are plain; not only their fears and +their hatreds, which are painful to discover; but also their love, which +is deepest of all. He learned to know the life which is in lifeless +things--in water and air and fire; the joys and sorrows of the flowers, +and the venerable wisdom of great trees, and the worship which is in the +floods of sunlight. And having learned these things, Hathawi came back +into the world. + +He found that he was able to read the souls of men, but at first he +could not believe what he read--it was so terrible, and so far from +nature. He preferred to stay among the poor, because they were closer to +the heart of things, and their falsehoods were simple. But he discovered +that the evil and misery of men's life came from above, and so he went +into the "great world" to dwell. + +And everywhere he went, men's innermost thoughts were revealed to him, +and to themselves through him. He acted upon men and women like wine--an +impulse seized them to speak the truth, the truth that they had hidden +even from their own hearts. Afterwards, when they realized what they had +done, they hated Hathawi and feared him; but they said nothing, because +each thought that the secret was his own. + +But then, as his power grew, Hathawi began to reveal men in more public +ways, and a scandal arose. There was whispered a story of a great +statesman who had declared at a banquet what was his real work in the +world; and one day a bishop arose in his cathedral and said that he +taught the dogmas of his church, because they were necessary to keep the +people in subjection. Then came the famous episode of a policeman +who bade the prisoner go free and arrested the judge instead. Other +policemen were called upon to hinder their comrade, but they declared +that he was right; and then newspaper reporters, when ordered to write +about it, avowed that they would write only what they believed. After +which came a convention of one of the great political parties; and the +presidential candidate made a speech, outlining his actual beliefs, and +so destroyed his party. This, of course, was a national calamity, for +all statesmen declared that the people could not be deceived by one +party; and then, too, it was reported that Hathawi meant to attend the +convention of the other party! + +Because of this they shut him up in jail, charging him with being a +vagrant, which he undoubtedly was. But he won over all the jailers and +the prisoners to his doctrine, and so the jail was emptied. Moreover, it +was found that some of those who loved him most truly had come to +share his power of hearing truth. The madness was spreading everywhere; +agitators were busy among the people, and public safety was threatened. +So a certain very rich man, who in Hathawi's presence had vowed himself +a wolf, engaged an assassin to strike him down in broad daylight upon +the street. + +Then in order to suppress the disturbance, they spirited the body away +and burned it, and scattered the ashes. But this was a bad thing for +them to do, for the ashes became seeds of the new contagion, and all +through the great city, in the strangest and most unaccountable way, +men would suddenly begin to speak the truth. And, of course this made +business impossible--the merchants and traders had to move away; and +how was it possible to preserve authority, when sooner or later all the +lawyers and the judges and the politicians would speak truth? So the +people arose and declared that they were weary of lies, and they erected +a statue of Hathawi at one of the places where his ashes had fallen, and +declared that every candidate for office must make his speeches +there. After that it was a long time before there were any officials +elected--because no man could be found to whom prominence and power were +not more precious than public welfare. But meanwhile the people thrived +exceedingly. + +Finally, however--the climax of the story--the news of all this had +spread to other nations, and the rulers of these nations perceived that +it was anarchy, and could by no means be permitted--their own people +were threatening to rise. It must be clearly shown that a state without +a government would be plundered by enemies; and so they prepared to +plunder it. And so arose a great agitation in Hathawi's home-state, +and men called for a dictator, and for preparations of defence. But the +followers of Hathawi cried out, saying, "Let us submit! Let us open +our city to these men, and let them do their will--for the power of the +truth is greater than even they." And so it was decided. + +When the hostile rulers heard of this a great fear took possession of +them. They remembered the fate of certain famous diplomatists they had +already sent over; and they dared not trust themselves near the statue +of the Hearer of Truth. So their plans of invasion came to naught; +and among their own people there was laughter and bitter mockery; and +behold, one morning, a statue of Hathawi which some one had set up in a +public-square! Here the lovers of truth gathered by thousands, and the +soldiers who were sent to shoot them laid down their arms and joined +them; and so, all over the world, was the end of the dominion of the +lie. + +Section 11. Such was the outline of Thyrsis' story. He judged that it +might be a very great story, or a comparatively commonplace one--it all +depended upon the power with which it was visioned. He must get +into himself and wrestle the thing out. This was to be his act of +creation--his baby! + +It was the first time since his marriage that Thyrsis had tried really +to do what he called work. All things else had been mere echoes of the +work he had done the previous summer; but now he had to do something +new, something that was an echo of nothing else. Every day that he faced +the task, his agony and despair of soul grew greater; for he found that +he _could_ not do the work. He could not even begin to do it--he could +not even try to do it! He was helpless, bound hand and foot! + +It was not his fault, it was not Corydon's fault; it was a tragedy +inherent in the very nature of things--in the two natures that were in +himself. There was the man, who loved a woman, and hungered to see her +happy; and there was the artist, to whom solitude was the very breath +of life. To write this book--to write it really--he would have to spend +weeks of brooding over it, thinking about nothing else day and night; +he would have to shape his whole existence to that end to be free from +every distracting circumstance, from everything that called him out of +himself. And how could he hope for such a thing, while he was living in +a tent with another person? + +Thyrsis had his artist's standard of perfection. Of course, he could +never actually be satisfied with what he did; but at least he could feel +that it was the best he was equal to--he could get a real and honest +sense of exhaustion for himself. But now, the moment that he faced the +problem fairly, he saw he could never get that real and honest sense of +exhaustion again. He was dragged up to the issue and forced to face it +instantly. The pressure of circumstances upon him was overwhelming; +and he had to make up his mind to do something he had never done +before--instead of really writing his books, to do the best he could +with them! + +Yet, inevitable as this was, and clearly as he saw it, he could not make +up his mind to it. In reality, he never did make up his mind to it. He +did it, and in his inmost heart he knew that he was doing it; but all +the time he was trying to deny it, was wrestling with agony and despair +in his soul in the effort to do something else. + +He would go away in the morning and try to think about the book; and +just when he would get started, it would be time for dinner, and there +would be the image of Corydon waiting for him. And so he would go home, +and go back in the afternoon--and when he had got started again, it +would be dark. The next day, having explained his trouble, he would +take his lunch away with him; but in the forenoon there would come a +drenching thunder-storm, and he would have to go back again. Or he would +try to work in the tent at night; and the wind would howl and blow the +lamp so that he could not put his mind on anything. Nor did it avail him +to rail at himself, to tell himself that he was a fool for being at the +mercy of such mishaps. It was none the less a fact that he was at the +mercy of them, and that he could no longer give himself up to the sway +of his imagination. + +And always there was Corydon, yearning for his companionship. It +had always been their idea that they should do the work together; so +completely would they be fused in the fire of love, that she would share +his soul states and write parts of his books. But now that idea had to +be abandoned; and this was _her_ tragedy. + +"I have to sit and think of my health!" she would exclaim. + +"It isn't your health, dear," he would plead; "it's the health of the +child!" + +"I know that. But then, am I always to sit at home and be placid, while +you go away to wrestle with the angels?" + +"Not always, Corydon," he said. "This will pass--" + +"If I do," she cried, "I only stay to wrestle with the demons. And is +that so very good for a pregnant woman?" + +"My dear!" he protested. + +"It's just as I said!" she went on. "I ought not to have had the child! +I'm only a school-girl, with a school-girl's tasks. And I try and +try, but I can't help it--everything within me rebels at the cares of +mother-hood." + +"That's one mood, dear," he said. "But you know that's not true always." + +"It's all the clearer to me," she insisted, "since we've had to give up +our music. I can't work at the piano any more--I may never be able to." + +"But even if you could, Corydon, I couldn't afford to get you one now." + +"No, of course not. And you have to give up your violin!" + +"Much time I have to practice it in our present plight!" + +"I know--I know! But don't you see, we lose our last hope of growing +together? I've a vision that haunts me all the time--you going away to +do your work, and staying for longer and longer periods--and I sitting +at home to mind the baby!" + +Day after day he would come back, and she would ask him how the book was +going; and he would have to answer that it was not going at all. Then, +in his desperation, he would make up his mind to write what he could--to +be content with this glimpse of one scene, and with that feeble echo of +what he knew the next scene ought to be; and he would bring the result +to Corydon, and would discover with a secret pang that she did not know +the difference. But then he would ask himself--how could she know the +difference? The difference did not exist! His vision of the thing had +existed in himself, and in himself alone; if he never uttered it, the +world would never know what it might have been--and would never care. +Ah, what a future was that to look forward to--to filling the ears of +the world with lamentations concerning the books that he might have +written! And all the time knowing that the ears of the world were deaf +to every sound he made! + +Section 12. He thought that he realized the bitterness of this tragedy +all at once; but the real bitterness was that he had to realize more and +more of it every day. It was a tragedy he had to live in the house with. +He had to watch it working itself out in all the little affairs of life; +he had to see it manifesting itself in his own soul, and in the soul +of Corydon, and even in the soul of the child. Worst of all to him, the +artist, he had to see it working itself out in what he wrote--in book +after book that went out to represent him to the world, and that did +not represent him at all, but only represented the Snare in which he had +been caught! It was one of the facts about this Snare, that there was no +merciful Keeper to come and put the victim out of his misery with a +blow upon the head; that he was left alone, to writhe and twist and +tear himself to pieces, and to perish of slow exhaustion. It was not a +murder--it was a crucifixion! + +He could not have told for whom his heart bled most, for himself, or +for Corydon. Here she was, with her grim problems and her bitter +necessities; needing advice and comfort, needing companionship--needing +a husband! And she had married an artist--a reed that would grow +"nevermore again as a reed with the reeds by the river!" That could not +grow, even if it had wanted to! For it was quite in vain that the world +cried out to him to settle down and become as other men; he could not. +The thing that was tearing at his vitals would continue to tear; the +only choice he had was between self-expression and madness. + +So, wrung as his heart was, he had to go away and as he could. If he +yielded to his desire and stayed by her, then the book would not be +written in time; and so all their hopes would be gone--they would never +win their freedom then! And he would explain this to her; with their +relentless devotion to the truth, they would talk it all out between +them. They would trace every cord and knot of the Snare. And Corydon +would grant that he was right, and that she must submit. He must stay +away all day--and all night, if need be--till the book was done. + +Not that they were always able to settle their problems in the cold +light of reason. Sometimes Thyrsis, with his artist's ups and downs, +would be nervous and irritable; he would manifest impatience over +trifles, and this would give rise to tragedies. There was a vast +amount of fetching and emptying of water to be done for their little +establishment; and sometimes a man who was carrying the destinies of the +human race in his consciousness was not as prompt as he might have been +in attending to these humble tasks. And moreover, the water all had to +be dipped up from the lake; and sometimes, when it was stormy, it was +a difficult matter to get it as free from specks as was needed for the +ablutions of a fastidious young lady like Corydon. + +"If you'd only take a little trouble!" she would say. + +"Trouble!" he would exclaim. "Do you think I enjoy hearing you complain +about it?" + +"But Thyrsis, this is dirtier than ever!" + +"I know it. The wind is blowing harder." + +"But if you'd only reach out a little ways---" + +"I reached out till I nearly fell into the water!" + +"But Thyrsis, how can I ever wash my face?" + +And so it would go. Thyrsis would be absorbed in some especially +important mental operation, and it would be a torment to him to have +such things forced upon his attention. Corydon, it seemed to him, was +always at the mercy of externals; and she was forever dragging him out +of himself, and making him aware of them. The frying-pan was not clean +enough, or his hair was unkempt; his trousers were ragged or his coat +was too small for him. Was life always to consist of such impertinences +as this? + +And so Thyrsis, in a sudden burst of rage, gave the water-bucket a kick +which sent it rolling down the bank, and then strode away to his work. +But unfortunately his work was not of a sort which he could do with +angry emotions in his soul. And so very soon remorse overcame him. He +returned, to find that Corydon had rushed out to the end of the point, +and flung herself down upon the rocks in hysterics. And this, of course, +was not a good thing for a pregnant woman, and so he had to set to work +to soothe her. + +But alas, to soothe her was never an easy task, because of her +sensitiveness, and her exalted ideals of him. However humbly he might +apologize and beg forgiveness, there would remain her grief that it had +been possible for a quarrel to occur between them. She would drive him +nearly wild by debating the event, and rehearsing it again and again, +trying to justify herself to him, and him to himself. Thyrsis was +robust, he wanted to let the past take care of itself; he would tell her +of all the worries that were harassing him, and would plead with her +to grant him the privilege of any ordinary human creature, to manifest +annoyance now and then. And Corydon would promise it--she would promise +him anything he asked for; but this was a boon it did not lie within the +possibility of her temperament to grant. He could be angry at fate and +at the world, and could rage and storm at them all he pleased; but he +could never be harsh with Corydon without inflicting upon her pain that +wrecked her, and wrecked him into the bargain. + +Perhaps, he thought, it was her condition that accounted for this +morbidness. She was liable to fits of depression, and to mysterious +illness--nausea and faintness and what not. Also, she had been told +weird tales about prenatal influences; and he, not having been educated +in such matters, could not be sure what were the facts. So, whenever +she had been unhappy, there was the possibility that she had done +some irreparable harm to the child! And that made more problems for an +over-worked and sensitive artist. + +He soon saw that he had to suppress forever the side of him that was +stern and exacting. Such things had a place in his own life, but no +longer in Corydon's. Instead, he would see how she suffered, and his +heart would be wrung, and he would come back again and again to comfort +her, and to tell her how he loved her, how he longed to do what was +right. He would set before her the logic of the situation, so that if +things went wrong she might realize that it was neither his fault nor +hers--that it was the world, which kept them in this misery, and shut +them up to suffer together. So it was, all through their lives, that +their remorseless reason saved them; they would find in the analysis +and exposition of the causes of their own unhappiness the one common +satisfaction they had in life. + +Section 13. These were the circumstances of the writing of "The Hearer +of Truth". It was completed in six weeks, and it did not satisfy its +author, the finishing of it brought him no joy. But that, though he +did not realize it, was the one circumstance in its favor--the less it +satisfied him, the more chance there was that the world would know what +it was about. + +He had the manuscript copied, and then he sent it off to a magazine +in Boston, whose editor had been one of his hundred great men, and had +promised to read the new manuscript at once. Meantime Thyrsis sent for +some books to review, and got to work at another plot to be submitted to +the editor of the "Treasure Chest". For their own treasure-chest was now +all but empty, and one could not live forever upon blueberries and fish. + +Day by day they waited; and at last, one fateful afternoon, the farmer +came with some provisions and their mail. There was a letter from +Boston, and Thyrsis opened it and read as follows: + +"I have read your manuscript, 'The Hearer of Truth', and I wish to tell +you of the very great pleasure it has given me. It is noble and fine, +and amazingly clever as well. I must say frankly that I was astonished +at the qualities of maturity and restraint it shows. I think it quite +certain that we shall wish to use it as a serial; but before I can say +anything definite, the manuscript will have to be read by my associates. +In the meantime I wished to tell you personally how highly I think of +your work." + +Thyrsis read this, and then, without a word, he passed it on to Corydon. +As soon as the farmer's back was turned, the two fell into each other's +arms, and all but wept. It was victory, beyond all question. The +magazine might pay as much as five hundred dollars for the serial +rights--and with that start, they would surely be safe. Besides that, it +would mean recognition for Thyrsis--the world would have to discuss his +work! + +Doing pot-boilers was easy after such a triumph as that. They even +treated themselves to holidays--they purchased a quart of ice-cream on +one day, and hired a boat and went picnicking on another. Thyrsis got +out his fiddle once again, and even became so reckless as to inquire +about the price of a "practice-clavier" for Corydon. Also he began +inquiring as to the cost of houses; when they got the money they would +build themselves a little cabin here--a cabin just the size of the tent, +but with a room upstairs where Thyrsis could do his work. After that +they would be free from all the world--they would never go back to be +haunted by the sight of + + "Sorrow barricadoed evermore + Within the walls of cities." + +Section 14. So a month passed by; and Thyrsis wrote again to the editor, +and was told that they were still discussing the story. And then, after +two more weeks, there came another letter; and this was the way it read: + +"I am sorry to have to tell you that the decision has been adverse to +using your story. My own opinion of it has not changed in the least; but +I have been unable to induce my associates to view it in the same light. +They seem to be unanimous in the opinion that your work is too radical +for us to put to the front. We have a very conservative, fastidious, and +sophisticated constituency; and this is one of the limitations by which +we are bound. I am more than sorry that things have turned out so, and I +trust I need hardly say that I shall be glad to read anything else that +you may have to submit to us." + +And there it was! "A conservative, fastidious, and sophisticated +constituency!" Thyrsis believed that he would never forget that phrase +while he lived. Could one get up a thing like that anywhere in the world +save in Boston? + +It was a bitter and cruel disappointment--the more so because it had +taken six weeks of his precious time. But there was nothing to be done +about it save to send off the manuscript to another magazine. And +when it had come back from there he sent it to another, and to +yet another--paying each time a total of eighty cents to the +express-company, a sum which was very hard for him to spare. To make an +ending at once to the painful episode, he continued to send it from one +place to another, until "The Hearer of Truth" had had the honor of +being declined by a total of fifteen magazines and twenty-two +publishing-houses. The pilgrimage occupied a period of nineteen +months--after which, to Thyrsis' great surprise, the thirty-eighth +concern offered to publish it. And so the book was brought out, with +something of a flourish, and met with its thirty-eighth rejection--at +the hands of the public! + + + + + + +BOOK VII + +THE CAPTURE IS COMPLETED + + + + + +_The shadow of a dark cloud had fallen upon the woods, and the voices of +the birds were strangely hushed. + +"There is a spell about this place for me," she said, and quoted-- + + "Here came I often, often in old days-- + Thyrsis and I, we still had Thyrsis then!" + +"Where is Thyrsis now?" she asked; and he smiled sadly, and responded: + + "Ah me! this many a year + My pipe is lost, my shepherd's holiday! + Needs must I lose them, needs with heavy heart + Into the world and wave of men depart!"_ + +Section 1. They returned to the city early in October--not so much +because they minded the cold in the tent, as because their money was +gone, and it was not easy to do hack-work at a distance. One had to be +on the spot, to interview the editors, to study their whims and keep +one's self in their minds; otherwise some one else got the work. + +So Thyrsis came back to his "world"; and he found this world up in arms +against him. All the opposition that he had ever had to face was nothing +to what he faced now. Society seemed to have made up its collective mind +that he should give in; and every force it could use was brought to bear +upon him--every person he knew joined in the assault upon him. + +He was bound to admit that they had all the arguments on their side. +He had gone his own obstinate way, in defiance of all advice and of +all precedent; and now he saw what had come of it--exactly what every +common-sense person had foreseen. He and Corydon had tried their "living +as brother and sister"--and here she was with child! And that was all +right, no one proposed to blame him for it; it was what people had +predicted, and they were rather pleased to have their predictions come +true--to see the bubble of his pretenses burst, and to be able to point +out to him that he was like all other men. What they wanted now was +simply that he should recognize his responsibility, and look out for +Corydon's welfare. Living in tenement-rooms and in tents, like gypsies +and savages, was all right by way of a lark; it was all very picturesque +and romantic in a novel; but it would not do for a woman who was about +to become a mother. Corydon had been delicately reared. She was used to +the comforts and decencies of life; and to get her in her present +plight and then not provide these things for her would be the act of a +scoundrel. + +All through his life the world had had but one message for Thyrsis: "Go +to work!" From the world's point of view his languages and literatures, +his music and writing were all play; to "work" was to get a "position". +And now this word was dinned into his ears day and night, the very +stones in the street seemed to cry it at him--"Get a position! Get a +position!" + +As chance would have it, the position was all ready. In the higher +regions they were preparing to open a branch of a great family +establishment abroad, and Thyrsis was invited to take charge of it. He +would be paid three thousand dollars a year at the start, and two or +three times as much ultimately; and what more could he want? He knew +nothing about the work, but they knew his abilities--that if he would +undertake it, and give his attention to it, he would succeed. He would +meet people of culture, they argued, and be broadened by contact with +men; as for Corydon, it would make her whole life over. Surely, for her +sake, he could not refuse! + +Thyrsis had foreseen just such things. He had braced himself to meet the +shock, and the world found him with his hands clenched and his jaws set. +There was no use in arguing with him, he had but one answer--"No! No! +No!" He would not take that position, and he would not take any +other position--neither now, nor at any future time. He was not a +business-man, he was an artist; and an artist he would remain to the +end. It might as well be understood at the outset; there was nothing +that the world could do or say to him that would move him one inch. They +might starve him, they might kill him, they might do what they could or +would--but never would he give in. + +"But--what are you going to do?" they cried. + +He answered, "I am going to write my books." + +"But you have already written two books, and nothing has come of them!" + +"Something may come of them yet," he said. "And if it doesn't, I shall +simply go on and write another, and another, and another. I shall +continue to write so long as I have the strength left in me; I shall be +trying to write when I die." + +And so, while they argued and pleaded and scolded and wept, he stood +in silence. They could not understand him--he smiled bitterly as he +realized how impossible it was for them to understand even the simplest +thing about him. There was the dapper corporation lawyer and his +exquisite young wife, who came to argue about it; and Thyrsis asked them +not to tell Corydon why they had come. He saw them look at each other +significantly, and he could read their thought--that he was afraid of +his wife's importunities. And how could he explain to them what he had +really meant--that if they had told Corydon they had come to persuade +him to give up his art, Corydon would probably have found it impossible +to be even decently polite to them! + +Section 2. So Thyrsis went away, carrying the burden of the scorn and +contempt of every human soul he knew. It was in truth a dark hour in his +life. He was at his wit's end for the bare necessities. He had reached +the city with less money in his pocket than he had had the year before; +and all the ways by which he had got money seemed to have failed him at +once. All the editors who published book-reviews seemed to have a stock +on hand; or else to know of people whose style of writing pleased their +readers better. And none of them seemed to fancy any ideas for articles +that Thyrsis had to suggest. + +Worst of all, the editor of the '"Treasure Chest" turned down the +pot-boiler which he had been writing up in the country. He would not say +anything very definite about it--he just didn't like the story--it +had not come up to the promise of the scenario. He hinted that perhaps +Thyrsis was not as much interested in his work as he had been before. It +seemed to be lacking in vitality, and the style was not so good. Thyrsis +offered to rewrite parts of the story; but no, said the editor, he did +not care for the story at all. He would be willing to have Thyrsis try +another, but he was pretty well supplied with serials just then, and +could not give much encouragement. + +Corydon had yielded to her parents and gone to stay with them for a +while; and Thyrsis had got his own expenses down to less than five +dollars a week--including such items as stationery and postage on his +manuscripts. And still, he could not get this five dollars. In his +desperation he followed the cheap food idea to extremes, and there +were times when an invitation to an honest meal was something he looked +forward to for a week. And day after day he wandered about the streets, +racking his brains for new ideas, for new plans to try, for new hopes of +deliverance. + +In later years he looked back upon it all--knowing then the depth of the +pit into which he had fallen, knowing the full power of the forces +that were ranged against him--and he marvelled that he had ever had the +courage to hold out. But in truth the idea of surrender did not occur +to him; the possibility of it did not lie in his character. He had +his message to deliver. That was what he was in the world for, and for +nothing else; and he must deliver what he could of it. + +He would go alone, and his vision would come to him. It would come to +him, radiant, marvellous, overwhelming; there had never been anything +like it in the world, there might never be anything like it in the world +again. And if only he could get the world to realize it--if only he +could force some hint of it into the mind of one living person! It +was impossible not to think that some day that person would be +discovered--to believe otherwise would be to give the whole world up for +damned. He would imagine that chance person reading his first book; he +would imagine the publishers and their advisers reading "The Hearer of +Truth"--might it not be that at this very hour some living soul was in +the act of finding him out? At any rate, all that he could do was to +try, and to keep on trying; to embody his vision in just as many forms +as possible, and to scatter them just as widely as possible. It was like +shooting arrows into the air; but he would go on to shoot while there +was one arrow left in his quiver. + +Section 3. Thyrsis reasoned the problem out for himself; he saw what he +wanted, and that it was a rational and honest thing for him to want. +He was a creative artist, engaged in learning his trade. When he had +completed his training, he would not work for himself, he would work to +bring joy and faith to millions of human beings, perhaps for ages after. +And meantime, while he was in the practice-stage, he asked for the bare +necessities of existence. + +Nor was it as if he were an utter tyro; he had given proof of his power. +He had written two books, which some of the best critics in the country +had praised. To this people made answer that it was no one's business +to look out for genius and give it a chance to live. But with Thyrsis it +was never any argument to show that a thing did not exist, if it was a +thing which he knew _ought_ to exist. He looked back over the history of +art, and saw the old hideous state of affairs--saw genius perishing +of starvation and misery, and men erecting monuments to it when it +was dead. He saw empty-headed rich people paying fortunes for the +manuscripts of poems which all the world had once rejected; he saw the +seven towns contending for Homer dead, through which the living Homer +begged his bread. And Thyrsis could not bring himself to believe that a +thing so monstrous could continue to exist forever. + +There was no other department of human activity of which it was true. +If a man wanted to be a preacher, he would find that people had set +up divinity-schools and established scholarships for which he could +contend. And the same was true if he wished to be an engineer, or an +architect, or a historian, or a biologist; it was only the creative +artist of whom no one had a thought--the creative artist, who needed it +most of all! For his was the most exacting work, his was the longest and +severest apprenticeship. + +Brooding over this, Thyrsis hit upon another plan. He drew up a letter, +in which he set forth what he wanted, and stated what he had so far +done; he quoted the opinions of his work that had been written by +men-of-letters, and offered to submit the books and manuscripts about +which these opinions had been written. He sent a copy of this letter +to the president of each of the leading universities in the country, +to find out if there was in a single one of them any fellowship or +scholarship or prize of any sort, which could be won by such creative +literary work. Of those who replied to him, many admitted that his point +was well taken, that there should have been such provision; but one and +all they agreed that none existed. There were rewards for studying the +work of the past, but never for producing new work, no matter how good +it might be. + +Then another plan occurred to him. He wrote an anonymous article, +setting forth some of his amusing experiences, and contrasting the +credit side of the "pot-boiling" ledger with the debit side of the "real +art" ledger. This article was picturesque, and a magazine published it, +paying twenty-five dollars for it, and so giving him another month's +lease of life. But that was all that came of it--there was no rich man +who wrote to the magazine to ask who this tormented genius might be. + +Then Thyrsis, in his desperation, joined the ranks of the begging +letter-writers. He would send long accounts of his plight to eminent +philanthropists--having no idea that the secretaries of eminent +philanthropists throw out basketsful of such letters every day. He would +read in the papers of some public-spirited enterprise--he would hear of +this man or that woman who was famous for his or her interest in +helpful things--and he would sit down and write these people that he +was starving, and implore them to read his book. In later years, when he +came to know of some of these newspaper idols, it was a comfort to him +to feel certain that his letters had been thrown away unread. + +Also he begged from everybody he met, under whatever circumstances +he met them. If by any chance the person might be imagined to possess +money, sooner or later would come some hour of distress, when Thyrsis +would be driven to try to borrow. On one occasion he counted it up, +and there were forty-three individuals to whom he had made himself +a nuisance. With half a dozen of them he had actually succeeded; but +always promising to return the money when his next check came in--and +always scrupulously doing this. There was never anyone who rose to the +understanding of what he really wanted--a free gift, for the sake of his +art. There was never anyone who could understand his utter shamelessness +about it; that fervor of consecration which made it impossible for a man +to humiliate him, or to insult him--to do anything save to write himself +down a dead soul. + +People were quite clear in their views upon this question; a man must +earn his own way in the world. And that was all right, if a man were in +the world for himself. But what if he were working for humanity, and had +no time to think about himself? Was that truly a disgraceful thing? Take +Jesus, for instance; ought he to have kept at his carpenter's trade, +instead of preaching the Sermon on the Mount? Or was it that his right +to preach the Sermon was determined by the size of the collection he +could take among the audience? + +And then, while he pondered this problem of "earning one's own way," +Thyrsis was noting the lives of the people who were preaching it. What +were _they_ doing to earn the luxuries they enjoyed? Even granting +that one recognized their futile benevolence as justifying them +personally--what about the tens of thousands of others who lived in +utter idleness, squandering in self-indulgence and ostentation huge +fortunes of which they had never earned a penny? The boy could not go +upon the streets of the city without having this monstrous fact flaunted +in his face in a thousand forms. So many millions for folly and vice, +and not one cent for his art! This was the thing upon which he was +brooding day and night--and filling his soul with an awful bitterness +which was to horrify the world in later years. + +Section 4. He might not come to see Corydon in her home; but she would +meet him in the street, and they would walk in the park, a pitiful and +mournful pair. They had to walk slowly, and often he would have to +help her, for her burden had now become great. She had altered all her +dresses, and she wore a long cape, and even then was not able to hide +the disfigurement of her person. They would sit upon a bench in the +cold, and talk about the latest aspects of his struggle, what he was +doing and what he hoped to do. Corydon would bring him the opinions of a +few more members of the bourgeois world, and they would curse this world +and these people together. For there was no more thought of giving up on +Corydon's side than there was on his; it was not for nothing that he had +talked to her upon the hill-top in the moonlight. + +Meanwhile, however, time was passing, and the prospect of her +approaching confinement hung over them like a black thunder-cloud. It +came on remorselessly, menacingly. The event was due about Christmas +time, and there must be some money then--there must be some money then! +But where was it to be found? + +Thyrsis had tried another story for the "Treasure Chest," but the editor +had not liked his plot. Also he was taking "The Hearer of Truth" from +one place to another; but with less and less hope, as he learned +from various editors and publishers how radical and subversive they +considered it. He took it now mechanically, as a matter of form--making +it his rule always to count upon rejection, so that he might never be +disappointed. + +One of Corydon's rich friends had told her of a certain famous surgeon, +and Corydon had gone to see him. He had a beautiful private hospital, +and his prices were unthinkable; but he had seemed to be interested in +her, and when she told him her circumstances, he had said that he would +try to "meet her halfway." But even with the reductions he quoted, +it would cost them nearly a hundred and fifty dollars; and how could +Thyrsis get such a sum? Even if the surgeon were willing to wait--what +prospect was there that he could ever get it? + +This again was the curse of their leisure-class upbringing. They did not +know how poor women had their babies, and they shrunk from the thought +of finding it out. Corydon had met this man, and had been impressed by +him; and Thyrsis realized, even if she did not, that she had got her +heart set upon the plan. And if he did not make it possible, and then +anything were to go wrong with her, how would he ever be able to forgive +himself? This event would come but once, and might mean so much to them. + +So he said to himself that he would "raise the money". But the days +passed and became weeks, and the weeks became months, and there was +no sign of the raising. And then suddenly came one of those shafts of +sunlight through the clouds--one of those will-o'-the-wisps that were +forever luring Thyrsis into the swamps. Another editor liked "The Hearer +of Truth"; another editor said that it was a great piece of literature, +and that he would surely use it! So Thyrsis went to the great surgeon +and told him that he would be able to pay him in a little while; and the +arrangement was made for Corydon to come. And then the editor put the +"great piece of literature" away in his desk, and forgot all about it +for a month--while Thyrsis waited, day by day, in an agony of suspense. + +The appointed time had come--the day when Corydon must go to the +hospital; and still the editor had not reported, and there was only +fifteen or twenty dollars, earned by weeks of verse-writing and +reviewing. So in desperation Thyrsis made up his mind to give up his +violin. He had paid ninety dollars for it three years before; and now, +after taking it round among the dealers, he sold it for thirty-five +dollars. + +So, to the very gateway of life itself, Thyrsis was hounded by these +spectres of want; even to the hospital they came, and followed +him inside. Here was a beautiful place, a revelation to him of the +possibilities of civilization and science. But it was all for the rich +and prosperous, it was not for him; he felt that he had no business to +be there. + +What a contrast it all made with the tenement-room in which he had to +house! Here were glimpses to be had of rich women, soft-skinned and +fair, clad in morning-gowns of gorgeous hue; here were baskets of +expensive fruits and armfuls of sweet-scented flowers; and here was +he with his worn clothing and his haggard face, his hungry stomach and +still hungrier heart! Must not all these people know that he had had to +ask for special rates, and then for credit on top of that? Must they +not all know that he was a failure--that most worthless of all worthless +creatures, the man who cannot support his family? What did it mean to +them if he had written masterpieces of literature--what would it avail +with them that he was the bearer of a new religion! Thyrsis had heard +too much of the world's opinion of him; he shrunk from contact with his +fellow-creatures, reading an insult into every glance. He was like a dog +that has been too much beaten, and cringes even before it is struck. + +Section 5. But these thoughts were for himself; he did not whisper them +to Corydon. However people might despise him, they did not blame +her, and there was no need of this bitterness in her cup. Corydon was +beautiful--ah God, how beautiful she looked, lying there in the snowy +bed, with the snowy lace about her neck and arms! How like the very +goddess of motherhood she looked, a halo of light about her forehead. +She, too, must have flowers, to whisper to her of hope and joy; and so +he had brought her three pitiful little pinks, which he had purchased +from a lame girl upon the corner. The tears started into Corydon's eyes +as she saw these--for she knew that he had gone without a part of his +dinner in order to bring them to her. + +Everybody had come to love her already, he could see. How gentle and +kind they were to her; and how skillfully they did everything for her! +His heart was full of thankfulness that he had been able to bring her +to this haven of refuge. And resolutely he put aside all thoughts of his +own humiliation--he swept his mind clear of everything else, and went +with her to face this new and supreme experience of her life. + +"You will stay with me?" she had pleaded; and he had promised that he +would stay. She could not bear to have him out of her sight at all, and +so they made him a bed upon the couch, and he spent the night there; and +through the next day he sat with her and read to her. But now and then +he would know that her thoughts had wandered, and he would look at her +and see her eyes wide with fear. "Oh, Thyrsis," she would whisper, "I'm +only a child; and I'm not fit to be a mother!" + +He would try to comfort her and soothe her. But in truth, he too was +full of fears and anxieties. He had felt the dome-like shape within her +abdomen, which they said was the head of the child; and he could not +conceive how it was ever to be got out. But they told him that the thing +had happened before. There was nothing for either of them to do but to +wait. + +They were in the hands of Nature, who had brought them thus far, who +had had her will with them so utterly. And now her purpose was to be +revealed to them--now they were to know the wherefore of all that they +had done. They were like two children, travelling through a dark valley; +they walked hand in hand, lifting their eyes to the mountain-tops, and +seeking the first signs of the coming light. + +Section 6. Outside, whenever they opened the window, they could hear the +noise of the busy city; and it seemed so strange that street-cars +should jangle on, and news-boys shout, and tired men hurry home to +their dinners--while such a thing as this was preparing. Thyrsis gave +utterance to the thought; and the doctor, who was in the room, smiled +and responded, "It happens twice every second in the world!" + +This was the house-physician, who was to take charge of the case; a +young man, handsome and rather dapper. He went about his work with +an air of its being an old story to him--an air which was at once +reassuring and disturbing. The two sat and watched him, while he made +his preparations. + +He had two white-gowned nurses with him, and he spoke to them for +the most part in nods. One of them was elderly and grey-haired, and +apparently his main reliance; the other was young and pretty, and her +heart went out to Corydon. She sat by the bedside and confided to her +that she was a pupil, and that this was only her third "case". + +"Will it hurt me much?" the girl asked, weakly. + +And then suddenly, before there was time for an answer, she turned +white, and clutched Thyrsis' hand with a low cry. + +"What's the matter?" he whispered. + +Her fingers closed upon his convulsively, and she started up, crying +aloud. + +The doctor was standing by the window, opening a case of instruments. He +did not even turn. + +"Doctor!" Thyrsis cried, in alarm. + +He put the case down and came toward the bed. "I guess there is +nothing wrong," he said, with a slight smile. He laid his hand upon the +shuddering girl. + +"It is all right," he said, "I shall examine her in a few moments." + +He turned away, while Thyrsis and the young nurse held Corydon's hand +and whispered to her soothingly. + +She sank back and lay tossing from side to side, moaning; and meantime +the doctor went quietly on, arranging his basins and bottles, and giving +his orders. Then finally he came and made his examination. + +"She is doing very well," he said, "and now, Miss Mary, I have an +engagement for the theatre for this evening. I think there will be no +need of me for some hours." + +Thyrsis started, aghast. "Doctor!" he cried. + +"What is it?" asked the other. + +"Something might happen!" he exclaimed. + +"I shall be only two or three blocks away," was the reply--"They will +send for me if there is need." + +"But this pain!" cried Thyrsis, excitedly. "What is she to do?" + +The man stood by the bedside, washing his hands. "You cannot have a +child-birth without pain," he said. "These are merely false pains, as +we call them; the real birth-pains may not come for hours--perhaps not +until morning. There are membranes which have to be broken, and muscles +which have to be stretched--and there is no way of doing it but this +way." + +He stood with his hand on the doorknob. "Do not be worried," he said. +"Whatever happens, the attendant will know what to do." + +"The theatre!" It seemed so strange! To be sure, it was unreasonable--if +a man had several cases each week to attend to, he could not be expected +to suffer with each one. But at least he need not have mentioned the +theatre! It gave one such a strange feeling of isolation! + +Section 7. However, he was gone, and Thyrsis turned to Corydon, who lay +moaning feebly. It was like a knife cutting her, she said; she could not +bear to lie down, and when she tried to sit up she could not endure the +weight of her own body. She found it helped her for Thyrsis to support +her, and so he sat beside her, holding her tightly, while she wrestled +with her task. The nurse fanned her brow, on which the sweat stood in +drops. + +Thyrsis' position strained every muscle in his body; it made each minute +seem an hour. But he clung there, till his head reeled. Anything to help +her--anything, if only he could have helped her! + +But there was no help; she was gone alone into the silent chamber of +pain, where there comes no company, no friend, no love. His spirit cried +out to her, but she heard him not--she was alone, alone! Is there any +solitude that the desert or the ocean knows, that is like the solitude +of suffering? + +It would come over her in spasms, and Thyrsis could feel her body +quiver; it would be all he could do to hold her. And minute after +minute, hour after hour, it was the same, without a moment's +respite--until she broke into sobbing, crying that she could not bear +it, that she could not bear it! She clutched wildly at Thyrsis' hand, +and her arms shook like a leaf. + +He ran in fright for the elder nurse, who had left the room. She came +and questioned Corydon, and shook her head. "There is nothing to be +done," she said. + +"But something is wrong!" Thyrsis cried. He had been reading a book, and +his mind was full of images of all sorts of accidents and horrors, of +monstrosities and "false presentations." "You must send for the doctor," +he repeated, "I know there _must_ be something wrong!" + +"I will send for the doctor if you wish," was the reply. "But you +must order it. The birth has not yet begun, you know--when it does +the character of the pains will change altogether, and she will know. +Meantime there is nothing whatever for the doctor to do." + +"He might give her an opiate!" Thyrsis exclaimed. + +"If he did," said the woman, "that would stop the birth. And it must +come." + +So they turned once more to the task. Thyrsis bore it until it seemed +to him that his body was on fire; then he asked the nurse to take his +place. He reeled as he tried to walk to the sofa; he flung himself down +and lay panting. Outside he could still hear the busy sounds of the +street--the world was going on its way, unknowing, unheeding. There came +a chorus of merry laughter to him--his soul was black with revolt. + +He went back to his post, biting his lips together. + +She was only a child--she was too tender; it was monstrous, he cried. +Why, she was being torn to pieces! She writhed and quivered, until he +thought she was in convulsions. And then, little by little, all this +faded from his thoughts; he had his own pain to bear. He must hold her +just so, with the grip of a wrestler; his arms ached, and his temples +throbbed, and he fought with himself and whispered to himself--he would +stay there until he dropped. + +Would the doctor never come? It was preposterous for him to leave her +like this. The time passed on; he was wild with impatience, and suddenly +Corydon sank back and burst into tears. He could stand it no more, and +sent for the nurse again. + +"You must send for the doctor!" he cried. + +"He has just come in," the woman answered; "I heard him close the door." + +The doctor entered the room, softly. He was perfectly groomed, clad in +evening-dress, and with his gloves and his silk hat in his hand. Thyrsis +hated him at that moment--hated him with the fury of some tortured +beast. He was only an assistant; and were not assistants notoriously +careless? Why had the great surgeon himself not come to see to it? + +"How does she bear it?" he said, to the nurse; and he took off his +overcoat and coat, and rolled up his sleeves, while she reported +progress. Then he felt Corydon's pulse, and after washing his hands, +made another examination. Thyrsis watched him with his heart in his +mouth. + +He rose without saying anything. + +"Has it presented?" the nurse asked. + +"Not yet," he said, and turned to look at the temperature of the room. + +It was so, then--there was nothing to be done! Thyrsis was dazed--he +could hardly believe it. He had never dreamed it could be anything like +this. + +"How long is this to last, doctor?" he cried. "She is suffering so +horribly!" + +"I fear it will be until morning," he said--"it is a question of the +rigidity of certain muscles. But you need not be alarmed, she is doing +very well." + +He spoke a few words to the patient, and then turned towards the door. +"I shall sleep in the next room," he said to his assistant; "you may +call me at any time." + +Section 8. So the two went apart again; and the leaden-footed hours +crept by, and the girl still wrestled with the fiend. The young nurse +was asleep on the couch, and the elder sat dozing in her chair; the two +were alone--all alone! One of the window-shades was raised, and Thyrsis +could see far over the tops of the buildings. Somewhere out there was +another single light, where perhaps some other soul counted the fiery +pulses of torture. A death--or another birth, perhaps! The doctor had +said it happened twice every second! + +Thyrsis was unskilled in pain, and perhaps he bore it ill; he feared +that the nurses thought so too--that Corydon called too often for +something, or cried out too much in mere aimless misery. + +But the time sped on, and at last a faint streak of day appeared in +the sky, and the shadows began to pale in the room. Thyrsis started, +realizing that it was morning. He had given up the morning, as a thing +that would never come again. He insisted upon sending for the doctor, +who came, striving not to yawn, but to look pleased. Once more he shook +his head; there was nothing to do. + +The street began to waken. The milkman came, his cans rattling; now and +then he shouted to his horse, or whistled, or banged upon a gate. Then +the sun came streaming into the room. The newsboys began to call--the +young nurse woke up and began to straighten her hair. The elder nurse +also opened her eyes, but did not stir; she seemed to challenge anyone +to assert that she had ever been asleep. + +"Perhaps, Miss Mary," ventured the young nurse, timidly, "we had best +prepare the patient." + +Corydon seemed to rest a little easier now, and they carried her and +laid her on the couch. They made the bed, with many sheets and with +elaborate care; and then they brought her back and dressed her, putting +a short gown upon her, and drawing long white bags over her limbs. Ah, +how white she was, and what fearful lines of suffering had been graven +into her forehead! + +She lay in a kind of stupor, and Thyrsis, exhausted, began to doze. He +knew not how long a time had passed--it had been an hour, perhaps two, +when suddenly he opened his eyes and sat up with a bound galvanized into +life by a cry from Corydon. She had started forward, grasping around her +wildly, uttering a series of rising screams. He clutched her hand, and +stared around the room in fright. + +They were alone. He leaped up; but the nurse ran into the room at the +same instant. She gazed at the girl, whose face had flushed suddenly +purple; she came to her, and took her hand. + +"You feel some pain?" she asked. + +Corydon could not speak, but she nodded; a moment later she sunk back +with a gasp. + +"A kind of bearing-down pain?" said the nurse. "Different from the +other?" + +Corydon gasped her assent again. + +"That is the birth," the nurse said. "The doctor will be here in a +moment." + +Again the horrible spasm seized the girl, and brought her to a sitting +posture; again her hand clutched Thyrsis' with a grip like death, and +again the veins on her forehead leaped out. Like the surging of an ocean +billow, it seemed to sweep over her; and then suddenly she screamed, and +sank back upon the pillow. + +Thyrsis was wild with alarm; but the doctor entered, placid as ever. "So +they've come?" he said. + +Nothing seemed to disturb him. He was like a being out of another +region. He took off his coat and bared his arms; he put on a long +white apron, and washed his hands elaborately again, and then once more +examined his patient. His face was opposite to Thyrsis, and the latter +watched his expression, breathless with dread. But the doctor only said, +"Ah, yes." + +He turned to Corydon. "These pains that you feel," he said, "are from +the compressing of the womb. Don't let them frighten you--everything is +just as it should be. You will find that you can help at each pang +by holding your breath; just as soon as you cry out, it releases the +diaphragm, and the pressure stops, and the pain passes. You must +bear each one just as long as you can. I don't want you to faint, of +course--but the longer the pressure lasts, the sooner it will all be +over." + +The girl was staring at him with her wild eyes--she looked like a hunted +creature in a trap. It sounded all so very simple--but the horror of it +drove Thyrsis mad. Ah, God, it was monstrous--it was superhuman--it was +a thing beyond all thinking! It wrung all his soul, it shook him as the +tempest shakes a leaf--the sight of this awful agony. + +It was like the sudden closing of a battle; the shock of squadrons, the +locking of warriors in a grip of death. There was no longer time for +words now, no longer time for a glance about him; the spasms came, one +after another, relentless, unceasing, inevitable--each trooping upon +the heels of the last; they were uncounted--uncountable--piling upon one +another like waves upon the sea, like the gusts of a raging storm. And +this girl, this child, that he had watched over so hungrily, that was so +tender and so sensitive--it was like wild horses tearing her apart! The +agony would flame up in her, he would see her body turn rigid, her face +flush scarlet, her teeth become set and her gums fleshed. The muscles +would stand out in her cheeks, the perspiration start upon her forehead. +She would grip Thyrsis' hand until all the might of both his arms was +not enough to match her. + +On the other side of the bed knelt the young nurse, wrestling with the +other hand; and Thyrsis could see her face flush too, each time--until +at last a cry seem to tear its way from the girl's throat, and would +sink back, faint and white. + +It was a new aspect of life to Thyrsis, a new revelation of being; it +was pain such as he had never dreamed it was horror the like of which +was unknown in his philosophy. All the suffering of the night was +nothing to a minute of this; it came upon her with the rush of a flood +of waters--it seized her--instant, insistent, relentless as the sweep +of the planets. Thyrsis had been all unprepared for it; he cried out +for time to think--to realize it. But there was no time to think or +to realize it. The thing was here--now! It glared into his eyes like +a fiend of hell; it was fiery, sharp as steel--and it had to be seized +with the naked hands! + +The pangs came, each one worse than the last. They built themselves up +in his soul in a symphony of terror; they lifted him out of himself, +they swept him away beyond all control, like a leaf in the autumn wind. +He had never known such a sensation before--his soul seemed whirled into +pieces. His feeling was apart from his action; he could not control his +thoughts; he was going mad! He loved her so--she was so beautiful; and +to see her thus, in the grip of horror! + +He tried to get hold of himself again--he talked to himself, pinning his +attention on the task of his hands. Perhaps maybe it was his fancy--it +did not really hurt her so! Maybe-- + +He spoke to her, calling to her, in between the crises. She turned her +eyes upon him, looking unutterable agony; she could not speak. And then +again came the spasm, and she reared herself to meet it. She seemed +to loom before his eyes; she was no longer human, but in her agony +transfigured. She was the suffering of being, made flesh; a figure +epic, colossal, worthy of an Angelo; the mighty mother herself, the +earth-mother, from whose womb have come the races! + +And then--"Perhaps she would be more comfortable with another pillow," +said the doctor, and the spell was broken. + +Corydon shook her head with swift impatience. This was her conflict, the +gesture seemed to say. They had only to let her alone--she had no words +to spare for them. + +"How long does this last?" Thyrsis asked, his voice trembling. The +doctor made a motion to him to be silent--evidently he did not wish +Corydon to hear the answer to that question. + +Section 9. For the girl's soul was rising within her; perhaps from +the deeps of things there came comfort to her, from the everlasting, +universal motherhood of life. Nature must have told her that this at +least was pain to some purpose; something was being accomplished. And +she shut her jaws together again, and closed with it--driving, driving, +with all the power of her being. A feeling of awe stole over Thyrsis as +he watched her--a feeling the like of which he had never known in his +life before. She was a creature consecrated, made holy by suffering; she +was the sacredness of life incarnate, a thing godlike, beyond earth. It +came as a revelation, changing the whole aspect of life to him. It was +hard to realize--that woman, woman who endured this, was the same +being that he had met in the world all his life--laughing and talking, +careless and commonplace. This--this was woman's _fate_! It was the +thing for which woman was made, and the lowest, meanest of them might +have to bear it! He swore vows of reverence and knighthood; he fell +upon his knees before her, weeping, his soul white-hot with awe. Ah +what should he do that he might be worthy to live upon the earth with a +woman? + +And this was no mere fine emotion; there was no room for imagination in +it--the reality exceeded all imagination. Overwhelming it was, furious, +relentless; his thoughts strove to roam, but it seized him by the hair +and dragged him back. Here--_here!_ + +She was wrung and shaken with her agony, her eyes shut, her face +uplifted, her muscles turned to stone. And the minutes dragged out into +hours--there was no end to it--there was no end to it! There was no +meaning--it was only naked, staring terror. It beat him up again and +again; he would sink back exhausted, thinking that he could feel no +more; but it dragged him up once more--to agony without respite! The +caverns of horror were rent open; they split before his eyes--deeper, +deeper--in vistas and abysses from which he shrunk appalled. Here dwelt +the furies, despair and madness--here dwelt the demon-forces of being, +grisly phantoms which come not into the light of day. Their hands +were upon him, their claws were in his flesh; and over their chasms he +shuddered--he scented the smoke of that seething pit of life, whose top +the centuries have sealed, and into which no mortal thing may gaze and +live. + +Life--life--here was life, he felt. What had he known of it before +this?--the rest was pageantry and sham. Beauty, pleasure, love--here +they were in the making of them--here they were in the real truth of +them! Raw, naked, hideous it was; and it was the source of all +things else! His being rose in one titan throb of rebellion. It was +monstrous--it was unthinkable! He wanted no such life--he had no right +to it! Let there be an end of it! No life that ever was could be worth +such a price as this! It was a cheat, a horror--there could be no +justice in such a thing! There could be no God in it--it was oppression, +it was wrong! He thought of the millions that swarmed on the earth--they +had all come from this! And it was happening every hour--every second! +He saw it, the whole of it--the age-long agony, the universal birth-pang +of being. And he hated it, hated it with a wild, raging hatred--he would +have annihilated it with one sweep of his arm. + +And yet--there was no way to annihilate it! It was here--it was +inevitable. And it was everlasting--it was an everlasting delusion, an +everlasting madness. It was a Snare! + +Yes, he came back to the thought--that was the image for it! It mattered +not how much you might cry out, you were in it, and it held you! It held +you as it held Corydon, in throb after throb of torment. She moaned, she +choked, she tossed from side to side; but it held her. It seemed to +him that the storm of her agony beat upon her like the tempest upon a +mountain pine-tree. + +Section 10. The doctor's hands were red with blood now, like a +butcher's. He bent over his work, his lips set. Now and then he would +speak to the young nurse, whom he was teaching; and his words would +break the spell of Thyrsis' nightmare. + +"You can see the head now," he said once, turning to the boy. + +And Thyrsis looked; through the horrible gaping showed a little patch, +the size of a dollar--purplish black, palpitating, starting forward when +the crises shook the mother. "And that is a head!" he whispered, half +aloud. + +"But how can it ever get out?" he cried suddenly with wildness. + +"It will get out," the doctor answered, smiling. "Wait--you will see." + +"But the baby will be dead!" he panted. + +"It is very much alive," replied the other. "I can hear its heart +beating plainly." + +All the while Thyrsis had never really believed in the child--it was too +strange an idea. He could think only of the woman, and of her endless +agony. Every minute seemed a life-time to him--the long morning had come +and gone, and still she lay in her torment. He was sick in body, and +sick in soul; she had exerted the strength of a dozen men, it seemed to +him. + +But now her strength was failing her, he was certain; her moans were +becoming more frequent, her protests more vehement. The veins stood +out on the doctor's forehead as he worked with her--muscular, like a +pugilist. Gigantic, he seemed to Thyrsis--terrible as fate. Time and +again the girl screamed, in sudden agony; he would toil on, his lips +set. Once it was too much even for him--her cries had become incessant, +and he nodded to the nurse, who took a bottle from the table, and +wetting a cloth with it, held it to Corydon's face. Then she shouted +aloud, again and again--wildly, and more wildly, laughing hysterically; +she began flinging her arms about--and then calling to Thyrsis, as her +eyes closed, murmuring broken sentences of love, "babbling o' green +fields." It was too much for the boy--there was a choking in his throat, +and he rushed from the room and sank down upon a chair in the hall, +crying like a child. + +After a while he rose up. He paced the hall, talking to himself. He +could not go on acting in this way--he must be a man. Others had borne +this--he would bear it too; he would get himself together. It would all +be over before long, and then how he would be ashamed of himself! + +He went back. "It is the chloroform that makes her do that," said the +young nurse, soothingly. "She is out of pain when she cries out so." + +Corydon was coming back from her stupor; the strife began again. She +cried out for its end, she could bear no more. "Help me! Help me!" she +moaned. + +The head was the size of a saucer now--but each time that she screamed +it would go back. Thyrsis stood up to get the strength to grip her hand; +her face stared up into the air, looking like the face of a wolf. And +still there was no end--no end! + +There was an hour more of that--the room seemed to Thyrsis to reel. +Corydon was crying, moaning that she wished to die. There was now in +sight a huge, bulging object--black, monstrous--rimmed with a band of +bleeding, straining flesh, tight like the top of a drum. The doctor was +bent over, toiling, breathless. + +"No more! No more!" screamed the girl. "Oh, my God! my God!" + +And the doctor answered her, panting: "Once more! once more! Now! now!" +And so on, for minute after minute; luring her on, pleading with her, +promising her, lying to her--"Once more! Once more! This will be the +last!" He called to her, he rallied her; he signalled to Thyrsis to help +him--to inspire her, to goad her to new endurance. + +And then another titan effort, and suddenly--incredibly--there burst +upon Thyrsis' sight an apparition. Sick at heart, numb with horror, +dazed--he scarcely knew what it was. It happened so swiftly that he +had hardly time to see; but something leaped forth something enormous, +supernatural! It came--it came--there seemed never to be an end to it! +He started to his feet, staring, crying out; and at the same moment +the doctor lifted the thing aloft, with a cry of exultation. He held it +dangling by one leg. Great God! It was a man! + +A man! A thing with the head of a man, the body of a man, the legs and +arms, the face of a man! A thing hideous--impish--demoniac! A thing +purple and dripping with blood--ghastly--unthinkable--monstrous--a +spectre of nightmare dreams! + +And suddenly the doctor lifted his hand and smote it; and the mouth of +the thing opened, and there came forth a purplish froth--and then a cry! +It was a sound like a tin-pan beaten--a sound that was itself a living +presence, an apparition; a thing superhuman, out of another world--like +the wailing of a lost spirit, terrifying to every sense! With Thyrsis +it was like the falling down of towers within him--his whole being +collapsed, and he sunk down upon the bed, sobbing, choking, convulsed. + +Section 11. When he looked up again the elder nurse had the baby in her +arms; and there was a wan smile on Corydon's face. + +The doctor's hand was in the ghastly wound, and he was talking to the +young nurse, giving her instruction, in a strange, monotonous tone. "The +placenta," he was saying, "often has to be removed; we do it by twisting +it round and round--very gently, of course. Then it comes--so!" + +There came a rush of blood, and Thyrsis turned away his head. + +"Give me the basin," said the doctor. "There!--And now the next thing +is to see that the uterus contracts immediately. We assist it by +compressing the walls, thus. It must be tightly bandaged." + +Thyrsis had turned to see the child. He looked at it, and clenched his +hands to control his emotions. Yes, it was a man! it was a man! Not a +monster, not a demon--a baby! + +His boy! himself! God, what a ghastly thing to realize! It had his +forehead, it had his nose! It was a caricature of himself! A caricature +grotesque and impish, and yet one that no human being could mistake--a +caricature by the hand of a master! + +And it was a living thing! It had power of motion--it twisted and +writhed, it bent its arms and legs! It winked its eyelids, it opened and +shut its mouth, it breathed and made sounds! And it had feeling, too! It +had cried out when it was struck! + +Gently, with one finger, he touched it; and the contact with its flesh +sent a shudder through every nerve of him. His child! His child! And a +living child! A creature that would go on; that would eat and sleep and +grow, that would learn to make sounds, and to understand things! That +would come to think and to will! That would be a man! + +"Is it--is it all right?" he asked the nurse, in a trembling whisper. + +"It's a magnificent boy," she said. And then she struck a match, and +held the light in front of its eyes; and the eyes turned to follow the +light. "He sees!" she said. + +Yes, he could see! And Thyrsis had already heard that he could speak! +What could it not do--this marvellous object! It was Nature's supreme +miracle--it was the answer to all the riddles, the solution of all the +mysteries! It was a vindication of the subterfuges, a reward for the +sacrifices, a balm for the pain! It was the thing for which all the rest +had been, it was the crown and consummation of their love--it was Life's +supreme shout of triumph and exultation! + +The nurse was holding the child up before Corydon; and she was gazing at +it, she was feeding her eyes upon it. And oh, the smile that came +upon her face--the ineffable smile! The pride, and the relief, and the +beatific happiness! This thing she had done--it was her act of creation! +Her battle that had been fought, her victory that had been won; and +now they brought her the crown and the guerdon! To Thyrsis there came +suddenly the words of Jesus: "A woman when she is in travail hath +sorrow, because her hour hath come; but as soon as she is delivered of +the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is +born into the world." And he sunk down beside the bed, and caught the +woman's hand in his, and began to sob softly to himself. + +Section 12. Later on he went into the street. Evening was come +again--for twenty-two hours that siege had lasted! And the boy had eaten +nothing since noon of the day before, and he was weak and dizzy. + +But how strange the world seemed to him all at once! Peopled with +phantom creatures, that came he knew not whence, and went he knew not +whither! Creatures of awe and horror, who came out of chaos, and went +back into annihilation! Who were flung here and there by cosmic forces, +played with by tragic destinies! And all of them without any sense of +the perpetual marvel of their own being! They ate and dressed and slept, +they laughed and played and worked, they hated and loved and got and +spent, with no thought of the wonder of their lightest breath, with no +sense of the terrors that ringed them about--the storms that swept them +hither and thither, the million miracles that were wrought for them +every instant of their lives! + +He went into a restaurant, and sat down; and in the seat beside him, +close at his elbow, was a man. He was a fat man--eating roast pork, and +apple-sauce, and mashed potatoes, and bread. And Thyrsis looked at him +with wondering eyes. "Man," he imagined himself saying, "do you know how +you came into this world? A thing impish, demoniac--purple and dripping +with blood--a spectre of nightmare dreams?" + +"W-what?" the man gasped. + +"And you know nothing of the pain that it cost! You have no sense of +the strangeness of it! You never think what your coming meant to some +woman!" + +And then--in the seat opposite was a woman; and Thyrsis watched her. + +"You!" he thought, "a woman! Can it be that you know what you are? The +fate that you play with--the power that dwells in you! To create new +life, that may be handed down through endless ages!" + +Thyrsis did not say these things; they were what he wanted to say--what +he thought that he ought to say. But then he reminded himself that +these things were forbidden; these mighty facts of child-birth, of +life-creation--they might not be spoken about! They must be kept hidden, +veiled with mystery--if one wished to refer to them, he must employ +metaphors and polite evasions. + +And as Thyrsis sat and thought about this, he clenched his hands. Some +day the world would hear about it--some day the world would think about +it! Some day people would behold life--would realize what it was and +what it meant. They did not realize it now--else how could it be that +women, who bore the race with so much pain and sorrow, should be drudges +and slaves, or the ornaments and playthings of men? Else how could it be +that life, which cost such a fearful price, should be so cheap upon the +earth? For every man that lived and walked alive, some woman had had to +bear this agony; and yet men were pent up in mines and sweatshops, they +were ground up in accidents in factories and mills--nay, worse than +that, were dressed up in gaudy uniforms, and armed with rifles and +machine-guns, and marched out to slaughter each other by tens and +hundreds of thousands! + +So, as he walked the streets that night, Thyrsis made a vow. Some day he +would put before the world this vision that had come to him, some day he +would blast men's souls with it. He would shake them with this horror, +he would thrill them with this sense of the infinite preciousness and +holiness of life! He would drive it into them like a barbed arrow--that +never afterwards in all their lives would they be rid of. Never +afterwards would they dare to mock, never afterwards would they be able +to rest until these things had been done away with, until these horrors +had been driven from the earth. + + + + + + +PART II + +Love's Captivity + +BOOK VIII + +THE CAPTIVE BOUND + + + + + +_They sat with the twilight shadows about them. Memories too poignant +assailed them, and her hand trembled as it lay upon his arm. + +"How strange it was!" she whispered. "Have we kept the faith?" + +"Who knows?" he answered; and in a low voice he read-- + + "And long the way appears, which seem'd so short + To the less practised eye of sanguine youth; + And high the mountain-tops, in cloudy air, + The mountain-tops where is the throne of Truth, + Tops in life's morning-sun so bright and bare!"_ + +Section 1. This was a golden hour in Thyrsis' life. The gates of wonder +were flung open, and all things were touched with a new and mystic glow. +He scarcely realized it at the time; for once he was too much moved to +think about his own emotions, the artist was altogether lost in the man. +Even the room in which he lodged was relieved of its sordidness; it was +a thing that men had made, and so a part of the mystery of becoming. +He yearned for some one to whom he could impart his great emotion; +but because of the loneliness of his life he could find no one but +the keeper of his lodging-house. Even she became a human thing to him, +because of her interest in the great tidings. If all the world loved a +lover, it loved yet more one through whom the supreme purpose of love +had been accomplished. + +Thyrsis went each day to the hospital, to watch the new miracle +unfolding itself; to see the Child asserting its existence as a being +with a life of its own. He could never tire of watching it; he watched +it asleep, with the faint heaving of its body, and the soft, warm odor +that clung to it; he watched its awakenings--the opening of its eyes, +and the sucking movements that it made perpetually with its lips. They +had dressed it up now, and hid some of its strangeness; but each morning +the nurse would undress it, and give it a bath; and then he marvelled at +the short crooked legs, and the tiny red hands that clutched incessantly +at the air, and the strange prehensile feet, that carried one back to +distant ages, hinting at the secrets of Nature's workshop. Sometimes +they would permit him to hold this mystic creature in his arms--after +much exhortation, and assurance that his left arm was properly placed at +the back of its head. One found out in this way what a serious business +life really was. + +Corydon lay back among her pillows and smiled at these things. Most +wonderful it was to him to see how swiftly she recovered from her +ordeal, how hourly the flush of health seemed to steal back into her +cheeks. He became ashamed of the memory of his convulsive anguish and +his blind rebellions. He saw now that her pain had not been as other +pain; it was a constructive pain, a part of the task of her life. It was +a battle in which she had fought and conquered; and now she sat, throned +in her triumphal chariot, acclaimed by the plaudits of a multitude of +hopes and joys unseen. + +There came the miracle of the milk. Incessantly the Child's lips +moved, and its hands groped out; it was an embodied demand for new +experience--for life, it knew not what. But Nature knew, and had +timed the event to this hour. And Thyrsis watched the phenomenon, +marvelling--as one marvels at the feat of engineers, who tunnel from +opposite sides of a mountain, and meet in the centre without the error +of an inch. + +It was in accordance with the impression which Corydon made upon him, as +a dispenser of abundance, a goddess of fruitfulness, that there should +have been more milk than the Child needed. The balance had to be drawn +off with a little vacuum-pump; and Thyrsis would watch the tiny jets as +they sprayed upon the glass bulb. The milk was rich and golden-hued; he +tasted it, with mingled wonder and shuddering. + +These procedures filled the room with a warm, luscious odor, as of a +dairy; they were eminently domestic procedures, such as in fancy he had +been wont to tease her about. But he had few jests at present--he was +in the inner chambers of the temple of life, and hushed and stilled +with awe. The things that he had witnessed in that room were never to be +forgotten; each hour he pledged himself anew, to the uttermost limits of +his life. The voice of skeptic reason was altogether silent in him now. +And also he was interested to observe that all protest was ended in +Corydon; the impulses of motherhood had now undisputed sway in her. + +Section 2. BUT even in such an hour of consecration, the sordid world +outside would not leave him unmolested. It was as if the black clouds +had parted for a moment, while the sunlight poured through; and now +again they rolled together. The great surgeon, who had told Thyrsis +that he would wait for his money, professed now to have forgotten his +agreement. Perhaps he had really forgotten it--who could tell, with the +many things he had upon his mind? At any rate, Corydon found herself +suddenly confronted with a bill, which she was powerless to pay; with +white cheeks and trembling lips she told Thyrsis about it--and so came +more worry and humiliation. The very food that she ate became tasteless +to her, because she felt she had no right to it; and in a few days she +was begging Thyrsis to take her away. + +So he helped to carry her downstairs, and back to her parents' home; and +then he returned to his own lonely room, and sat for hours in the bitter +cold, with his teeth set tightly, and the nails dug into the palms of +his hands. It so happened that just then the editor was beginning to +change his mind about "The Hearer of Truth"; and so he had new agonies +of anxiety and disappointment. + +Again he might not come to see Corydon; and this led to a great +misfortune. For she could not do without him now, her craving for him +was an obsession; and so she left her bed too soon, and climbed the +stairs to his room. Again and again she did this, in spite of his +protests; and when, a little later, the doctors found that she had what +they called "womb-trouble", they attributed it to this. Perhaps it was +not really so, but Corydon believed it, and through all the years she +laid upon it the blame for innumerable headaches and backaches. Thus +an episode that might have been soon forgotten, stayed with her, as the +symbol of all the agonies of which her life was made. + +She would come, bringing the baby with her; and they would lay it upon +the bed, and then sit and talk, for hours upon hours, wrestling with +their problems. Later on, when Corydon was able, they would go to the +park, craving the fresh air. But in midwinter there were few days when +they could sit upon a bench for long; and so they would walk and walk, +until Corydon was exhausted, and he would have to help her back to the +room. + +Thyrsis in these days was like a wild animal in a cage; pacing back and +forth and testing every corner of his prison. But they never thought of +giving up; never in all their lives did that possibility come into +their discourse. And doggedly, blindly, they kept on with their studies. +Corydon mastered new lists of German words, and they read Freitag's +"Verlorene Handscrift" together, and von Scheffel's "Ekkehard", and +even attempted "Iphigenie auf Tauris"--though in truth they found it +difficult to detach themselves to quite that extent from the world of +every-day. It is not an easy matter to experience the pure _katharsis_ +of tragedy, with a baby in the room who has to be nursed every hour or +two, and who is liable to awaken at any moment and make some demand. + +He was such an intricate and complicated baby, with so many things to +be understood--belly-bands and diapers and irrational length of skirts. +Sometimes, when Corydon was quite exhausted, the attending to these +matters fell to Thyrsis, who became for the time a most domestic poet. +He once sent an editorial-room into roars of merriment by offering to +review a book upon the feeding of infants. But he told himself that +even the hilarious editors had been infants once upon a time; and he +had divined that there were secrets about life to be learned, and +great art-works to be dreamed, even amid belly-bands and diapers. Also, +Thyrsis would brave a great deal of ridicule in order to be paid a +dollar for the reading of a book that he really wanted to read. For +books that one wanted to read came so seldom; and dollars were so +difficult to earn! + +It seemed as if the task grew harder every week. He went without cuffs, +and wore old and frayed collars, and washed his solitary necktie until +it was threadbare, and lived upon prunes and crackers, and gave up +the gas-stove in his room--and still he could scarcely manage to get +together the weekly rent. He studied the magazines in the libraries, +and racked his wits for new ideas to interest their editors. He haunted +editorial-rooms until his presence became a burden, and he brought new +agonies and humiliations upon himself. He would part from Corydon in +the afternoon, and shut himself in his room; and sitting in bed to keep +warm, he would work until midnight at some new variety of pot-boiler. +After which he would go out to walk and clear his brain--and even then, +exhausted as he was, his vision would come to him again, wonderful and +soul-shaking. So he would walk on, and go back to write until nearly +dawn at something he really loved. + +Section 3. It was so that he wrote his poem, "Caradrion". It was out of +thoughts of Corydon, and of the tears which they shed in each other's +presence, that this poem was made. Thyrsis had a fondness for burrowing +into strange old books, in which one found the primitive wonder of the +soul of man, first awakening to the mystery of life. Such a book was +Physiologus, with his tales of strange beasts and magic jewels. "There +is a bird called Caradrion", Thyrsis had read.... "And if the sick man +can be healed, Caradrion goes to him, and touches him upon the mouth, +and takes his sickness from him; and so the man is made well." And out +of this hint he had fashioned the legend of the two children who had +grown up together in "the little cot, fringed round with tender green"; +one of them Cedric, and one Eileen--for he had given the names that +Corydon preferred. + +They grew "unto the days of love", so the story ran-- + + "And Cedric bent above her, stooping light, + To press a kiss upon her tender cheek. + And said, 'Eileen, I love thee; yea I love, + And loved thee ever, thou my soul's delight.' + +So time sped on, until there came + + "To Cedric once a strange unlovely thought, + That haunted him and would not let him be. + 'Eileen,' he said, 'there is a thing called death, + Of which men speak with trembling at the lips; + And I have thought how it would be with me + If I should never gaze upon thee more.'" + +So Cedric went to find out about these matters; he sought a witch--"the +haggard woman, held in awe." + + "He found her crouching by a caldron fire; + Far gleams of light fled through the vault away. + And tongues of darkness flickered on the wall. + Then Cedric said, 'I seek the fate to know'. + And the witch laughed, and gazed on him and sang: + + 'Fashioned in the shadow-land, + Out into darkness hurled; + Trusted to the Storm-wind's hand, + By the Passion-tempest whirled! + Ever straining, + Never gaining, + Never keeping, + Young or old! + Whither going + Never knowing, + Wherefore weeping, + Never told! + Rising, falling, disappearing, + Seeking, calling, hating, fearing; + Blasted by the lightning shock, + Trampled in the earthquake rock; + Were I man I would not plead + In the roll of fate to read!' + + "Then Cedric shuddered, but he said again, + 'I seek the fate,' and the witch waved her hand; + And straight a peal of thunder shook the ground, + And clanged and battered on the cavern walls, + Like some huge boulder leaping down the cliff. + And blinding light flashed out, and seething fire + Shattered the seamy crags and heaving floor." + +And so in a vision of terror Cedric saw the little vale, and the cot +"fringed round with tender green"; and upon the lawn he saw Eileen, +lying as one dead. + + "And Cedric sprang, and cried, 'My love! Eileen!' + And on the instant came a thunder-crash + Like to the sound of old primeval days, + Of mountain-heaving shock and earthquake roar, + Of whirling planets shattered in the dark." + +And so, half wild with grief and despair, Cedric wandered forth into the +world; and after great suffering, the birds took pity upon him, and gave +him advice--that he should seek Caradrion. + + "'Caradrion?' cried Cedric, starting up, + 'Speak swiftly, ere too late, where dwelleth he?' + 'Ah, that I know not,' spake the little voice, + 'Yet keep thy courage, seek thou out the stork, + The ancient stork that saw from earliest days, + Sitting in primal contemplation lost, + Sphinx-like, seraphic, and oracular, + Watching the strange procession of men's dreams.'" + +But the stork was cruel and would not heed him, and led Cedric a weary +chase through the marshes and the brakes. But Cedric pursued, and +finally seized the bird by the throat, and forced the secret from him-- + + "'Fare southward still, + Fronting the sun's midnoon, all-piercing shaft, + Unto the land where daylight burns as fire; + Where the rank earth in choking vapor steams, + And fierce luxurious vegetation reeks. + So shalt thou come upon a seamed rock, + Towering to meet the sun's fierce-flashing might, + Baring its granite forehead to the sky. + There on its summit, in a cavern deep, + Dwells what thou seekest, half a bird, half man, + Caradrion, the consecrate to pain.'" + +Then came the long journey and the search for the seamed rock. + + "'Twas night; and vapors, curling, choked the ground, + And the rock writhed like flesh of one in pain. + But Cedric mounted up to find the cave, + Crying aloud: 'I seek Caradrion.' + And so, till from the cavern depth a voice: + 'Come not, except to sorrow thou be born.' + And Cedric, panting, stretched his shrunken arms: + 'Another's sorrow would I change to joy, + And mine own joy to sorrow; help thou me.' + To which the voice, sunk low, replied: 'Come thou.' + And Cedric came, unfearing, in the dark, + And saw in gloomy night a form in pain, + With wings stretched wide, and beating faint and fast. + 'Art thou Caradrion?' he murmured swift, + And echo gave reply, 'Caradrion'." + +So Cedric told of his errand, and pleaded for help; he heard the answer +of the voice: + + "'Yea, I can save her, if thou be a soul + That can dare pain and face the rage of fate; + A soul that feareth not to look on death.' + 'Speak on,' said Cedric, shaking, and he spoke: + 'This is my law, that am Caradrion, + Whose way is sorrow and whose end is death; + That by my pain some fleeting grace I win, + Some joy unto another I can give. + Far through this world of woe I seek, and find + Some soul crushed utterly, and steeped in pain; + And when it sleeps, I stoop on silent wing, + And with a kiss take all its woe away-- + Take it for mine, and then into this cave + Return alone, the blessing's price to pay.' + Then up sprang Cedric. 'Nay,' he,' cried, 'then swift, + Ere life be gone!' But once more spake the voice: + 'Nay, boy, my race is run, my power is spent; + This hope alone I give thee, as thou wilt; + Whoso stands by and sees my heart-throb cease, + Who tastes its blood, my power and form are his, + And forth he fares in solitary flight, + Caradrion, the consecrate to pain. + And so my word is said; now hide thee far + In the cave's night, and wrestle there in prayer.' + But Cedric said, 'My prayer is done; I wait.' + So in the cave the hours of night sped by, + And sounds came forth as when a woman fights + In savage pain a life from hers to free." + +Then in the dawn a dark shadow flew from the cave, and sped across the +blue, and came to the little vale, where Eileen lay dying, as he had +seen her in the vision in the "haggard woman's" cavern. + + "Then Cedric sprang, and cried, 'My love! Eileen!' + And Eileen heard him not; nor knew he wept.-- + For mighty sorrow burst from out his heart, + And flooded all his being, and he sunk, + And moaned: 'Eileen, I love thee! Yea, I love, + And loved thee ever; and I can not think + That I shall never gaze upon thee more. + My life for thine--ah, that were naught to give, + Meant not the gift to see thee nevermore! + Never to hear thy voice. Nay, nay, Eileen, + Gaze on me, speak to me, give me but one word, + And I will go and never more return.' + But Eileen answered not; he touched her hand, + And she felt nothing. Then he whispered, low, + 'Oh, may God keep thee--for it must be done-- + Guard thee, and bless thee, thou my soul's delight! + And when thou waken'st, wilt thou think of me, + Of Cedric, him that loved thee, oh so true? + Nay, for they said thou shouldst no sorrow know, + And that would be a sorrow, yea, it would. + And must thou then forget me, thou my love? + And canst not give me but one single word, + To tell me that I do not die in vain? + Gaze at me, Eileen, see, thy love is here, + Here as of old, above thee stooping light, + To press a kiss upon thy tender lips.-- + Ah, I can kiss thee--kiss thee, my Eileen, + Kiss as of yore, with all my passion's woe!' + And as he spoke he pressed her to his heart, + Long, long, with yearning, and he felt the leap + Of molten metal through his throbbing veins; + His eyes shot fire, and anguish racked his limbs, + And he fell back, and reeled, and clutched his brow. + An instant only gazed he on her face, + And saw new life within her gray cheek leap, + And her dark eyelids tremble. Then with moan, + And fearful struggle, swift he fled away, + That she might nothing of his strife perceive. + And then, reminded of his gift of flight, + He started from the earth, and beat aloft, + Each sweep of his great wings a torture-stroke + Upon his fainting heart. And thus away, + With languid flight he moved, and Eileen, raised + In new-born joy from off her couch of pain, + Saw a strange bird into the distance fade." + +And so Cedric went back to the seamed rock, and there he heard a voice +calling, "I seek Caradrion!" And as before he answered, + + "Come not, except to sorrow thou be born!" + +And again, in the cave-- + + "The hours of night sped by. + And sounds came forth as when a woman fights + In savage pain, a life from hers to free. + + But Eileen dwelt within the happy vale, + Thinking no thought of him that went away." + +Section 4. This had come so very easily to Thyrsis that he could not +believe that it was good. "Just a little story," he said to Corydon, +when he read it to her, and he was surprised to see how it affected +her--how the tears welled into her eyes, and she clung to him sobbing. +It meant more to her than any other thing that he had written; it was +the very voice of their tenderness and their grief. + +Then Thyrsis took it to the one editor he knew who was a lover of +poetry, and was surprised again, at this man's delight. But he smiled +sadly as he realized that the editor did not use poetry--they did +not praise so recklessly when it was a question of something to be +purchased! + +"The poem is too long for any magazine," was the verdict, "and it's not +long enough for a book. And besides, poetry doesn't sell." But none the +less Thyrsis, who would never take a defeat, began to offer it about; +and so "Caradrion" was added to the list of stamp-consuming manuscripts, +and set out to see the world at the expense of its creator's stomach. + +So there was one more wasted vision, one more futile effort--and one +more grapple with despair, in the hours when he and his wife sat wrapped +in a blanket in the tenement-room. Corydon was growing more nervous and +unhappy every day, it seemed to him. There were, apparently, endless +humiliations to be experienced by a woman "whose husband did not support +her". Some zealous relative had suggested to her the idea that the +"hall-boys" might think she was not really married; and so now she +was impelled to speculate upon the psychology of these Ethiopian +functionaries, and look for slights and disapproval from them! + +Thyrsis, from much work and little sleep, was haggard and wild of +aspect; the cry of the world, "Take a position!" rang in his ears day +and night. The springs of book-reviews had dried up entirely, and by +sheer starvation he was forced to a stage lower yet. A former college +friend was editing a work of "contemporary biography", and offered +Thyrsis some hack-writing. It meant the carrying home of huge bundles +of correspondence from the world's most brightly-shining lights, and the +making up of biographical sketches from their eulogies of themselves. +With every light there came a portrait, showing what manner of light it +was. As for Thyrsis, he did his writing with the feeling that he would +like to explore with a poniard the interiors of each one of these +people. + +For nearly three months now an eminent editor had been trying to summon +up the courage to accept "The Hearer of Truth". He had written several +letters to tell the author how good a work it was; and now that it was +to be definitely rejected, he soothed his conscience by inviting the +author to lunch. The function came off at one of the most august and +stately of the city's clubs, a marble building near Fifth Avenue, where +Thyrsis, with a new clean collar, and his worn shoes newly shined, +passed under the suspicious eyes of the liveried menials, and was +ushered before the eminent editor. About the vast room were portraits of +bygone dignitaries; and there were great leather-upholstered arm-chairs +in which one might see the dignitaries of the present--some of them with +little tables at their sides, and decanters and soda and cracked +ice. They went into the dining-room, where everyone spoke and ate in +whispers, and the waiters flitted about like black and white ghosts; +and while Thyrsis consumed a cupful of cold _bouillon_, and a squab +_en casserole_, and a plate of what might be described as an honorific +salad, he listened to the soft-voiced editor discussing the problem of +his future career. + +The editor's theme was what the public wanted. The world had existed +for a long time, it seemed, and was not easily to be changed; it +was necessary for an author to take its prejudices into +consideration--especially if he was young, and unknown, +and--er--dependent upon his own resources. It seemed to Thyrsis, as +he listened, that the great man must have arranged this luncheon as a +stage-setting for his remarks--planning it on purpose to light a blaze +of bitterness in the soul of the hungry poet. "Look at me," he seemed to +say--"this is the way the job is done. Once I was poor and unknown +like you--actually, though you might not credit it, a raw boy from the +country. But I had taste and talent, and I was judicious; and so now +for thirty years I have been at the head of one of the country's leading +magazines. And see--by my mere word I am able to bring you here into the +very citadel of power! For these men about you are the masters of the +metropolis. There is a rich publisher--his name is a household word--and +you saw how he touched me on the shoulder. There is an ex-mayor of the +city--you saw how he nodded to me! Yonder is the head of one of the +oldest and most exclusive of the city's landed families--even with him I +am acquainted! And this is power! You may know it by all these signs of +mahogany furniture, and leather upholstery, and waiters of reverential +deportment. You may know it by the signs of respectability and +awesomeness and chaste abundance. Make haste to pay homage to it, and +enroll yourself in its service!" + +Thyrsis held himself in, and parted from the editor with all courtesy; +but then, as he walked down Fifth Avenue, his fury burst into flame. +Here, too, was power--here, too, the signs of it! Palaces of granite and +marble, arid towering apartment-hotels; an endless vista of carriages +and automobiles, with rich women lolling in them, or descending into +shops whose windows blazed with jewels and silver and gold. Here were +the masters of the metropolis, the masters of life; the dispensers of +patronage--that "public" which he had to please. He would bring his +vision and lay it at their feet, and they would give him or deny him +opportunity! And what was it that they wanted? Was it worship and +consecration and love? One could read the answer in their purse-proud +glances; in the barriers of steel and bronze with which they protected +the gates of their palaces; in the aspects of their flunkeys, whose +casual glances were like blows in the face. One could read the answer in +the pitiful features of the little errand-girl who went past, carrying +some bit of their splendor to them; or of the ragged beggar, who hovered +in the shelter of a side-street, fearing their displeasure. No, they +were not lovers of life, and protectors; they were parasites and +destroyers, devourers of the hopes of humanity! Their splendors were +the distilled essence of the tears and agonies of millions of defeated +people--their jewels were drops of blood from the heart of the human +race! + +Section 5. So, with rage and bitterness, Thyrsis was gnawing out his +soul in the night-time; distilling those fierce poisons which he was to +pour into the next of his works--the most terrible of them all, and the +one which the world would never forgive him. + +There came another episode, to bring matters to a crisis. In the far +Northwest lived another branch of Thyrsis' family, the head of which had +become what the papers called a "lumber-king". One of this great man's +radiant daughters was to be married, and the family made the selecting +of her trousseau the occasion for a flying visit to the metropolis. So +there were family reunions, and Thyrsis was invited to bring his wife +and call. + +Corydon voiced her perplexity. + +"What do they want to see _us_ for?" she asked. + +"I belong to their line," he said. + +"But--you are poor!" she exclaimed. + +"I know," he said, "but the family's the family, and they are too proud +to be snobbish." + +"But--why do they ask me?" + +Thyrsis pondered. "They know we have published a book," he said. "It +must be their tribute to literature." + +"Are they people of culture?" she asked. + +"Not unless they've tried very hard," he answered. "But they have old +traditions--and they want to be aristocratic." + +"I won't go," said Corydon. "I couldn't stand them." + +And so Thyrsis went alone--to that same temple of luxury where he had +called upon the college-professor. And there he met the lumber-king, who +was tall and imposing of aspect; and the lumber-queen, who was verging +on stoutness; and the three lumber-princesses, who were disturbing +creatures for a poet to gaze upon. It seemed to Thyrsis that he had been +dwelling in the slums all his life--so sharp was the shock which came +to him at the meeting with these young girls. They were exquisite beyond +telling: the graceful lines of their figures, the perfect features, +the radiant complexions; the soft, filmy gowns they wore, the faint, +intoxicating perfumes that clung to them, the atmosphere of serenity +which they radiated. There was that in Thyrsis which thrilled at their +presence--he had been born into such a world, and might have had such a +woman for his mate. + +But he put such thoughts from him--he had made his choice long ago, and +it was not the primrose-path. Perhaps he was over-sensitive, acutely +aware of himself as a strange creature with no cuffs, and with hardly +any soles to his shoes. And all the time of these women was taken up by +the arrival of packages of gowns and millinery; their conversation was +of diamonds and automobiles, and the forthcoming honeymoon upon the +Riviera. So it was hard for him not to feel bitterness; hard for him +to keep his thoughts from going back to the lonely child-wife wandering +about in the park--to all her deprivations, her blasted hopes and dying +glories of soul. + +The family was going to the matinee; as there was room in their car, +they asked Thyrsis to go with them. So he watched the lumber-king (who +had refused to lend him money, but had offered him a "position") +draw out a bank-note from a large roll, and pay for a box in one of +Broadway's great palaces of art. And now--having been advised so often +to study what the public wanted--now Thyrsis had a chance to recline at +his ease and follow the advice. + +"The Princess of Prague", it was called; it was a "musical comedy"; and +evidently exactly what the public wanted, for the house was crowded to +the doors. The leading comedian was said by the papers to be receiving +a salary of a thousand dollars a week. He held the center of the stage, +clad in the costume of a lieutenant of marines, and winked and grinned, +and performed antics, and sang songs of no doubtful significance, and +emitted a fusillade of cynical jests. He was supposed to be half-drunk, +and making love to a run-away princess--who would at one moment accept +his caresses, and then spurn him coquettishly, and then execute an +unlovely dance with him. In between these diverting procedures a chorus +would come on, a score or so of highly-painted women, hopping and +gliding about, each time clad in new costumes more cunningly indecent +than the last. + +From beginning to end of this piece there was not a single line of real +humor, a spark of human sentiment, a gleam of intelligence; it was a +kind of delirium tremens of the drama. To Thyrsis it seemed as if a +whole civilization, with all its resources of science and art--its music +and painting and costumes, its poets and composers, its actors, singers, +orchestra, and audience--had all at once fallen victims to an attack of +St. Vitus' dance. He sat and listened, while the theatre full of people +roared and howled its applause; while the family beside him--mother and +father and daughters--laughed over jokes that made him ashamed to +turn and look at them. In the end the realization of what this scene +meant--not only the break-down of a civilization, but the trap in which +his own spirit was caught--made him sick and faint all over. He had to +ask to be excused, and went out and sat in the lobby until the "show" +was done. + +The family found him there, and the bride-to-be inquired if he "felt +better"; then, looking at his pale face, an idea occurred to her, and +after a bit of hesitation, she asked him if he would not stay to dinner. +In her mind was the conflict between pity for this poor boy, and doubt +as to the fitness of his costume; and Thyrsis, having read her mind in +a flash, was divided between his humiliation, and his desire for some +food. In the end the baser motive won; he buried his pride, and went to +dinner.--And so, as the fates had planned it, the impulse to his next +book was born. + +Section 6. There came another guest to the meal--the rector of the +fashionable church which the family attended at home. He was a +young man, renowned for the charm of his oratory; smooth-shaven, +pink-and-white-cheeked, exquisite in his manners, gracious and +insinuating. His ideas and his language and his morals were all as +perfectly polished as his finger-nails; and never before in his life had +Thyrsis had such a red rag waved in his face. But he had come there for +the dinner, and he attended to that, and let Dr. Holland provide the +flow of soul; until at the very end, when the doctor was sipping his +_demi-tasse_. + +The conversation had come, by some devious route, to Vegetarianism; +and the clergyman was disapproving of it. That made no difference to +Thyrsis, who was not a vegetarian, and knew nothing about it; but how he +hated the arguments the man advanced! For that which made the doctor +an anti-vegetarian was an attitude to life, which had also made him a +Republican and an Imperialist, a graduate of Harvard and a beneficiary +of the Apostolic Succession. Because life was a survival of the fittest, +and because God had intended the less fit to take the doctor's word as +their sentence of extermination. + +The duty of animals, as the clergyman set it forth to them, was to +convert plant-tissue into a more concentrated and perfect form of +nutriment. "The protein of animal flesh," he was saying, "is more nearly +allied to human tissue; and so it is clearly more fitted for our food." + +Here Thyrsis entered the conversation. "Doctor Holland," he said, +mildly, "I should think it would occur to you to follow your argument to +its conclusion." + +The other turned to look at him. "What conclusion?" he asked. + +"I should think you would become a cannibal," Thyrsis replied. + +And then there was silence at the table. When Dr. Holland spoke again +it was to hurry the conversation elsewhere; and from time to time +thereafter he would steal a puzzled glance at Thyrsis. + +But this the boy did not see. His thoughts had gone whirling on; here, +in this elegant dining-room, the throes of creation seized hold of +him. For this was the image he had been seeking, the phrase that would +embrace it all and express it all--the concentrated bitterness of his +poisoned life! Yes, he had them! He had them, with all their glory and +their power! They were Cannibals. _Cannibals_! + +So, when he set out from the hotel, he did not go home, but walked +instead for uncounted hours in the park. And in those hours he lived +through the whole of his new book, the unspeakable book--"The Higher +Cannibalism"! + +In the morning he told Corydon about it. She cried in terror, "But, +Thyrsis, nobody would publish it!" + +"Of course not," said he. + +"But then," she asked, "how can you write it?" + +"I shall write it," he said, "if I have to die when I get through". So +he shut himself up in his room once more. + +Section 7. A famous scientist began the story--reasoning along the lines +of Dr. Holland's argument. The grass took the inorganic matter, and made +it into food; the steer ate the grass, and carried it to the next +stage; and beyond that was one stage more. So the scientist began making +experiments--in a quiet way, of course. He reported the results before a +learned scientific body, but his colleagues were so scandalized that the +matter was hushed up. + +The seed had been sown, however. A younger man took up the idea, and +made researches in the South Seas--substantiating the claim that those +races which took to anthropophagy had invariably supplanted the others. +The new investigator printed his findings in a book which was circulated +privately; and pretty soon he was called into consultation by the +master-mind of the country's finance--the richest man in the world. This +man was old and bald and feeble; and now suddenly there came to him a +new lease of life--new health and new enthusiasm. It was given out that +he had got it by wandering about bare-footed in the grass, and playing +golf all day--an explanation which the public accepted without question. +No one remarked the fact that the old man began devoting his wealth +to the establishing of foundling asylums; nor did any one think it +suspicious that the younger generation of this multi-millionaire should +rise so suddenly to power and fame. + +But there began to be strange rumors and suspicions. There were young +writers, who had developed a new technique, and had carried poetic +utterance to undreamed of heights; and in this poetry were cryptic +allusions, hints of diabolic things. A Socialist paper printed the menu +of a banquet given by these "Neo-Nietzscheans", and demanded to know +what one was to understand by _filet de mouton blanc_, and wherein lay +the subtle humor of _pate de petit bete_. And at last the storm broke--a +youth scarcely in his teens published a book of poems in which the dread +secret was blazoned forth to the world with mocking defiance. There +were frantic attempts to suppress this book, but they failed; and then +a prosecuting officer, eager for notoriety, placed the youth upon trial +for his life. And so the issue was drawn. + +The public at large awakened to a dazed realization of the head-way +which the new idea had made. It had become a cult of the ruling-class, +the esoteric religion of the state; everywhere its defenders sprang +up--it seemed as if all the intellectual as well as the material power +of the community was under its spell. To oppose it was not merely bad +form--it was to incur a stigma of moral inferiority, to be the victim of +a "slave-ethic". + +With the scientific world, of course, its victory was speedy; the new +doctrine was in line with recognized evolutionary teaching. The great +names of Darwin and Spencer were invoked in its support; and, of course, +when it came to economic science, there could be no two opinions. Had +_laissez-faire_ ever meant anything, if _laissez-faire_ did not mean +this? + +At the very outset, the country was startled by the publication of a +book by a college professor, famed as a leading sociologist, in which +the case was presented without any attempt at sophistication. It was a +fact, needing no attestation, that the mass of mankind had always +lived in a state of slavery. At the present hour, under the forms of +democracy, there were a quarter of a million men killed every year +in industry, and half a million women living by prostitution, and two +million children earning wages, and ten million people in want; and in +comparison with these things, how humane was the new cult, how honest +and above-board, how clean and economical! For the first time there +could be offered to the submerged tenth a real social function to be +performed. Once let the new teaching be applied upon a world-wide scale, +and the proletariat might follow its natural impulse to multiply without +limit; there would be no more "race-suicide" to trouble the souls of +eminent statesmen. + +And this at the time when the attention of the community was focussed +upon the new _cause celebre_! When the public prints were filled with +an acrimonious discussion as to the meaning of the instructions given +to the jury. If anyone chose to will his body to a purchaser, said the +judge, and then go and commit suicide, there was no law to prevent him; +and, of course, the subsequent purposes of the purchaser had nothing to +do with the point at issue. This was a matter of taste--here the learned +justice rapped for order--a matter of prejudice, largely, and the +question at issue was one of law. There was no law controlling a man's +dietetic idiosyncrasies, and it was to be doubted if constitutionally +any such law would stand--certainly not in a federal court, unless it +chanced to be a matter of interstate commerce. + +In their bewilderment and dismay, the people turned to the Church. +Surely the doctrines of Christianity would stand like a barricade +against this monstrous cult. But already within the Church there had +been rumors and disturbances; and now suddenly a bishop arose and voiced +his protest against this attempt "to drag the Church into the mire +of political controversy." It must be made perfectly clear, said the +bishop, that Christianity was a religion, and not a dietetic dogma. Its +purpose was to save the souls of men, and not to concern itself with +their bodies. It had been stated that we should have the poor always +with us; which made clear the futility of attempting to change the facts +of Nature. Also it was certain that the founder of Christianity had been +a meat-eater; and though there might be more than one interpretation +placed upon his command concerning little children--- + +There we might leave Thyrsis with the established Church. He had it just +where he wanted it, and he shook it until its smoothly-shaven pink and +white cheeks turned purple, and the _demi-tasse_ went flying out of its +beautifully manicured fingers! And while he did it he laughed aloud in +hideous glee, and in his soul was a cry like the hunting-call of the +lone gray wolf, that he had heard at midnight in his wilderness camp. So +far a journey had come the little boy who had been dressed up in scarlet +and purple robes, and had carried the bishop's train at the confirmation +service! And so heavy a penalty did the church pay for its alliance with +"good society"! + +Section 8. Thyrsis paid a week's living expenses to have this manuscript +copied; and then he took it about to the publishers. First came his +friend Mr. Ardsley, who had become his chief adviser. When Thyrsis went +to see him, Mr. Ardsley drew out an envelope from his desk, and took +from it the opinion of his reader. "'What in the world is the matter +with this boy?'" he read. "That's the opening sentence." + +And then he fixed his eyes upon the boy. "What in the world _is_ the +matter?" he asked. + +Thyrsis sat silent; there was no reply he could make. He was strongly +tempted to say to the man, "The matter is that I am not getting enough +to eat!" + +But already Thyrsis himself had judged "The Higher Cannibalism" and +repudiated it. It was born of his pain and weakness, and it was not the +work he had come into the world to do. So at the end he had placed a +poem, which told of a visit from his muse, after the fashion of Musset's +"Nuits"; the muse had been sad and silent, and in the end the poet had +torn up the product of his hours of despair, and had renewed his faith +with the gracious one. + +Meantime the long winter months dragged by, and still there was no gleam +of hope. For Corydon it was even harder than for her husband. He at +least was expressing his feelings, while she could only pine and chafe, +without any sort of vent. Her life was a matter of colorless routine, +in which each day was like the last, except in increased monotony. She +tried hard not to let him see how she suffered; but sometimes the tears +would come. And her unhappiness was bad for the child, which in the +beginning had been robust and magnificent, but now was not growing +properly. Thyrsis would have ridiculed the idea that nervousness could +affect her milk; but the time came when, in later life, he saw the +poisons of fatigue and fear in test-tubes, and so he understood why the +child had not been able to lift its head until it was a year old, and +had then been well on the way to having "rickets." + +All their life was so different from the way they had dreamed it! The +dream still lured them; but its voice grew fainter and more remote. How +were they to keep it real to themselves, how were they to hold it? Their +existence was made up of endless sordidness, of dreary commonplace, that +opposed them with its passive inertia where it did not actively attack +them. "Ah, Thyrsis!" Corydon would cry to him, "this will kill us if it +lasts too long!" + +For one thing, they no longer heard any music at all--She was not strong +enough to practice the piano; and his violin was gone. Here in the great +city an endless stream of concerts and operas and recitals flowed past; +and here were they, like starving children who press their faces against +a pastry-cook's window and devour the sweets with their eyes. Thyrsis +kept up with musical and dramatic progress by reading the accounts in +the papers and magazines; but this was a good deal like slaking one's +thirst with a mirage. He used to wonder sometimes if he were to write to +these great artists--would they invite him to hear them, or would they +too despise him? He never had the courage to try. + +Once in the course of the long winter some one presented Corydon with +two tickets to the opera, and they went together, in a state of utter +bliss. It was an unusual experience for Thyrsis, for their seats were +in the orchestra, and hitherto he had always heard his operas from the +upper rows in the fifth balcony, where the air was hot and stifling, +and the singers appeared as a pair of tiny arms that waved, and a head +(frequently a bald head) that emitted a thin, far-distant voice. This +had become to him one of the conventions of the opera; and now to +discover the singers as full-sized human beings, with faces and legs and +loud voices, was very disturbing to his sense of illusion. + +Also, alas, they had not been free to select the opera. It was "La +Traviata"; and there was not much food for their hungry souls in this +farrago of artificiality and sham sentiment. They shut their eyes and +tried to enjoy the music, forgetting the gallant young men of fashion +and their fascinating mistresses. But even the music, it seemed, was +tainted; or could it be, Thyrsis wondered, that he could no longer lose +himself in the pure joy of melody? Many kinds of corruption he had by +this time learned about; the corruption of men, and of women, and of +children; the corruption of painting and sculpture, of poetry and the +drama. But the corruption of music was something which even yet he could +not face; for music was the very voice of the soul--the well-spring +from which life itself was derived. Thyrsis thought, as he and Corydon +wandered about in the foyers of this palatial opera-house, was there +anywhere on earth a place in which heaven and hell came so close +together. A place where the lust and pride of the flesh displayed +themselves in all their glory; and in contrast with the purest ecstasies +the human spirit had attained! He pointed out one rich dowager who +swept past them; her breasts all but jostling out of her corsage as she +walked, her stomach squeezed into a sort of armor-plate of jewels, her +cheeks powdered and painted, her head weighted with false hair and a +tiara of diamonds, her face like a mask of pride and scorn. And then, in +juxtaposition with that, the _Waldweben_ and the _Feuerzauber_, or the +grim and awful tragedy of the Siegfried funeral-march! There were people +in this opera-house who knew what such music meant; Thyrsis had read it +in their faces, in that suffocating top-gallery. He wondered if some day +the demons that were evoked by the music might not call to them and lead +them in revolt, to drive the money-changers from the temple once again! + +Section 9. Another editor was reading "The Hearer of Truth," and +a publisher was hovering on the brink of venturing "The Higher +Cannibalism"; and so the two had new hopes to lure them on. When the +spring-time had come, they would once more escape from the city, and +would put up their tent on the lake-shore! They spent long afternoons +picturing just how they would live--what they would eat, and what they +would wear, and what they would study. As for Cedric--so they had called +the baby--they saw him playing beneath the big tree in front of the +tent. And what fun they would have giving him his bath on the little +beach inside the point! + +"I'll fix up a clothes-basket for him to sleep in!" declared Thyrsis. + +"Nonsense, dear!" said Corydon. "I've told you many times before--we'll +_have_ to have a crib for him!" + +"But why?" cried he; and there would follow an argument which gave pain +to his economical soul. + +Corydon declared herself willing to do her share in the matter of saving +money; but it seemed to him that whenever he suggested a concrete idea, +there would be objections. "We can get up at dawn," he would say, "and +save the cost of oil." + +"Yes," she would answer. + +"And we can do our own laundry," he would continue. But immediately +another argument would begin; it was impossible to persuade Corydon that +diapers could be washed in cold water, even when one had the whole of +the Great Lakes for a washtub. + +They would go on to contemplate the glorious time when they would have +money enough to build a home of their own, that could be inhabited in +winter as well as in summer; Corydon always referred to it with the line +from "Caradrion"--"the little cot, fringed round with tender green." It +would be fine for the baby, they agreed--he should never have to go back +to the city again. Thyrsis had a vision of him as he would be in that +home: a brown and freckled country boy, with what were known, in the +dialect of "dam-fool talk", as "yagged panties and bare feets". + +But Corydon would protest at that picture. "It's all right," she said, +"to put up with ugliness if you have to. But what's the use of making a +fetish of it?" + +"It wouldn't be ugliness," replied he. "It would be Nature! 'Blessings +on thee, little man!'" + +"That's all very well. But I want Cedric to have curls--" + +"Curls!" he cried. "And then a Fauntleroy suit, I suppose!" + +"No--at least not while we're poor. But I want him to look decent----" + +"If you have curls, then you'll want a nurse-maid to brush them!" + +"Nonsense, Thyrsis! Can't a mother take care of her child's own hair?" + +"_Some_ mothers can--they have nothing better to do. But if you were +going in for the hair-dresser's art, why did you cut off your own?" + +And so would come yet new discussions. "You'll be wanting me to maintain +an establishment!" Thyrsis would cry, whenever these aesthetic impulses +manifested themselves. He seemed to be haunted by that image of an +establishment. All married men came to it in the end--there seemed to be +something in matrimony that predisposed to it; and far better adopt +at once the ideals and habits of the gypsies, than to settle into +respectability with a nurse-maid and a cook! + +Thyrsis was under the necessity of sweeping clean his soul, because of +all the luxury and wantonness he saw in this metropolis, and the +madness to which it goaded his soul. Some day fame would come to him, +he knew--wealth also, perhaps; and oh, there must be one man in all +the city who was not corrupted, who did not learn extravagance and +self-indulgence, who practiced as well as preached the life of faith! +And so, again and again, he and Corydon would renew the pledges of their +courtship-days--pledges to a discipline of Spartan sternness. + +Poor as he was, Thyrsis still found time to figure over the things he +meant to do when he got money: the publishing-house that was to bring +out his books at cost, and the free reading-rooms and the circulating +libraries. Also, he wanted to edit a magazine; for there was a great +truth which he wished to teach the world. "We must make these things +that we have suffered count for something!" he would say to Corydon, +again and again. "We must use them to open people's eyes!" He was +thinking how, when at last he had escaped from the pit, he would be in a +position to speak for those others who were left behind. Men would heed +him then, and he could show them how impossible it was for the creative +artist to do his work, and at the same time carry on the struggle +for bread. He would induce some rich man to set aside a fund for the +endowment of young writers; and so the man who had a real message might +no longer have to starve. + +Thyrsis had by this time tried all the world, and he knew that there was +no one to understand. Just about now he was utterly stranded, and had to +borrow money for even his next day's food. And oh, the humiliations and +insults that came with these loans! And worse yet, the humiliations and +insults that came without any loans! There was one rich man who advanced +him ten dollars; Thyrsis, when he returned it, sent a check he had +received from some out-of-town magazine--and in return was rebuked by +the rich man for failing to include the "exchange" on the check. Thyrsis +wrote humbly to inquire what manner of thing the "exchange" on a check +might be; and learned that he was still in the rich man's debt to the +sum of ten cents! + +His case was the more hopeless, he found, because he was a married man. +The world might have pardoned a young free-lance who was willing to +"rough it" and take his chances for a while; but a man who had a +wife and child--and was still prating about poetry! To the world the +possession of a wife and child meant self-indulgence; and when a man +had fallen into that trap, he simply had to settle down and take the +consequence. How could Thyrsis explain that his marriage had not been as +other men's? How could he hint at such a thing, without proving himself +a cad? + +Section 10. The work of "contemporary biography" had come to an end; +there followed weeks of seeking, and then another opening appeared--Mr. +Ardsley offered him a chance to do some manuscript-reading. This was +really a splendid opportunity, for the work would not be difficult, and +the payment would be five dollars for each manuscript. Thyrsis accepted +joyfully, and forthwith carried off a couple of embryo books to his +room. + +It was a new and curious occupation, which opened up to him whole +worlds whose existence he had not previously suspected. Through his +review-writing he had become acquainted with the books that had seen +the light of day; now he made the startling discovery that for every one +that was born, there were hundreds, perhaps thousands, that died in the +womb. He could see how it went--the hordes of half-educated people who +read books and were moved to write something like them. Each manuscript +was a separate tragedy; and often there would be a letter or a preface +to make certain that one did not miss the sense of it. Here would be +a settlement-worker, burning with a message, but unable to draw a +character or to write dialogue; here would be a business-man, who +had studied up the dialect of the region where he spent his summer +vacations, and whose style was so crude that one winced as he turned the +pages; here would be a poor bookkeeper, or a type-writer, or other cog +in the business machine, who had read of the fortunes made by writers of +fiction, and had spent all his hours of leisure for a year in +composing a tale of the _grand monde_, or some feeble imitation of the +sugar-coated "historical romance" of the hour. + +Sometimes as he read these manuscripts, a shudder would come over +Thyrsis; how they made him realize the odds in the game of life! These +thousands and tens of thousands panting and striving for success; and +he lost in the throng of them! What madness it seemed to imagine that +he might climb over their heads--that he had been chosen to scale the +heights of fame! Their letters and prefaces sounded like a satire upon +his own attitude, a _reductio ad absurdum_ of his claims to "genius". +Here, for instance, was a man who wrote to introduce himself as +America's first epic poet--stating incidentally that he was an inspector +of gas-meters, and had a wife and six children. His poem occupied some +six hundred foolscap sheets, finely bound up by hand; it set forth +the soul-states of a Byron from Alabama--an aristocratic hero who was +refused by the lady of his heart, and voiced his anger and perplexity +in a long speech, two lines of which stamped themselves forever upon the +mind of the reader--- + + "But I! he cried. My limbs are straight, + My purse well-filled, my veins all F. F. V.!" + +As a method of earning one's living, this was almost too good to be +true. The worse the manuscripts were the easier was his task; in fact, +when he came upon one which showed traces of real power and interest he +cursed his fate, for then it might take several days to earn his five +dollars. But for the most part the manuscripts were bad enough, and +he could have earned a year's income in a week, if only there had been +enough of them. So he made a great effort to succeed at the work, +and filled his reports with epigrams and keen observations, carefully +adapted to what he knew was Mr. Ardsley's point of view. He allowed time +for these devices to be effective, and then paid a visit to find out +about the prospects. + +"Mr. Ardsley," he began, "I am going to try to meet you half way with a +book." + +"Ah!" said the other. + +"I want to write a novel that you can publish. I believe that I can do +it." + +Mr. Ardsley warmed immediately. "I have always been certain that +you could," said he. He went on to expound to Thyrsis the ethics +of opportunism--how it would not be necessary to be false to his +convictions, to write anything that he did not believe--but simply to +put his convictions into a popular form, and to impart no more than the +public could swallow at the first mouthful. + +Thyrsis told him the outline of a plot. He would write a story of the +struggles of a young author in the metropolis--not such a young author +as himself, a rebel and a frenzied egotist, but a plain, everyday young +author whom other people could care about. He had the "local color" +for such a tale, and he could do it without too much waste of time. Mr. +Ardsley thought it an excellent idea. + +After which Thyrsis came, very cautiously, to the meat of the matter. +"I want to get away into the country to write it," he said; "and so I +wanted to ask you about the manuscripts you are sending me. Have you +found my work satisfactory?" + +"Why, yes," said the other. + +"And do you think you can send them through the summer?" + +"I presume so. It depends upon how many come to us." + +"You--you couldn't arrange to let me have any more of them?" + +"Not at present," said Mr. Ardsley. "You see, I have regular readers, +whose work I know. I'll send you what I have to spare." + +"Thank you," said Thyrsis. "I'll be glad to have all you can give me." + +So he went away; and in the little room he and Corydon had an anxious +consultation. He had been getting about twenty dollars a month; which +was not enough for the family to exist upon. "Our only hope is a new +book," he declared; and Corydon saw that was the truth. "Each week that +I stay here is a loss," he added. "I have to pay room-rent." + +"But can you stand tenting out in April?" asked she. + +"I'll chance it," he replied--"if you'll say the word." + +She saw that her duty was before her; she must nerve herself and face +it, though it tore her heartstrings. She must stay and take care of the +baby, while he went away to work! + +He sat and held her hands, and saw her bite her lips and fight to keep +back the tears in her eyes. Their hearts had grown together, so that it +was like tearing their flesh to separate them. They had never imagined +that such a thing could come into their lives. + +"Thyrsis," she whispered--"you'll forget me!" + +He pressed her hands more tightly. "No, dear! No!" he said. + +"But you'll get used to living without me!" she cried. "And it's the +time in my life when I need you most!" + +"I will stay, dearest, if you say so." + +She exclaimed, "No, no! I must stand it!" + +And seeing her grief, his heart breaking with pity, a strange impulse +came to Thyrsis. He took her hands in his, and knelt down before her, +and began to pray. It had been years since he had thought of prayer, and +Corydon had never thought of it in her life. It came from the deeps of +him--a few stammering words, simple, almost childish, yet exquisite as +music. He prayed that they might have courage to keep up the fight, that +they might be able to hold their love before them, that nothing might +ever dim their vision of each other. It was a prayer without theology +or metaphysics--a prayer to the unknown gods; but it set free the +well-spring of tenderness and pity within them; and when he finished +Corydon was sobbing upon his shoulder. + + + + + + +BOOK IX + +THE CAPTIVE IN LEASH + + + + + +_They were standing on the hill-top, watching the last glimmer of the +sinking moon. As the faint perfume of the clover came to them upon the +warm evening wind, she sighed, and whispered-- + + "Too rare, too rare, grow now my visits here! + 'Mid city noise, not as with thee of yore, + Thyrsis! in reach of sheep-bells is my home!" + +She paused. + +"Go on," he said, and she quoted-- + + "Then through the great town's harsh, heart-wearying roar, + Let in thy voice a whisper always come, + To chase fatigue and fear: + Why faintest thou? I wandered till I died. + Roam on! The light we sought is shining still."_ + +Section 1. Thyrsis made his plans and packed his few belongings. There +came another pass from the "higher regions", and he took the night-train +once more, and came to the little town upon the shores of Lake Ontario. +Once more the sun shone on the crystal-green water, and the cold breeze +blew from off the lake. There was still snow in the ravines of the deep +woods, but Thyrsis got his tent out of the farmer's barn, and patched up +the holes the mice had gnawed, and put it up on the old familiar spot. + +It was strange to him to be there without Corydon. There were so many +things to remind him of her--a sudden memory would catch him unawares, +and stab him like a knife. There was the rocky headland where they had +swam, and there was the pine-tree that the lightning had splintered, +one day while they were standing near. When darkness came, and he was +unpacking a few old things that they had left up in the country, his +loneliness seemed to him almost more than he could bear; he sat by the +little stove, holding a pair of her old faded slippers in his hands, and +felt his tears trickling down upon them. + +But it took him only a day or two to drive such things out of his mind. +There was no time for sentiment now--it was "Clear ship for action!" For +once in his life he was free, and had a chance to work. He was full of +his talk with Mr. Ardsley, and meant to do his best to be "practical." +And so behold him wandering about in the water-soaked forests, or +tramping the muddy roads, or sitting by his little stove while the +cold storms beat upon the tent--wrestling with his unruly Pegasus, and +dragging it back a hundred times a day to what was proper, and human, +and interesting! + +The neighbors had warned him that it was too early for tenting, but +Thyrsis had vowed he would stand it. And now, as if to punish him for +his defiance, there was emptied out upon him the cave of all the winds; +for four weeks there were such storms of rain and sleet and snow as the +region had never known in April. There were nights when he sat wrapped +in overcoats and blankets, with a fire in the stove; and still shivering +for the gale that drove through the canvas. There came one calm, starlit +night when he lay for hours almost frozen, and sat up in the morning to +find a glass of water at his bedside frozen solid. Thirteen degrees +the thermometer showed, according to the farmer; and oh, the agony of +getting out of bed, and starting a fire with green wood! In the end +Thyrsis poured in half a can of kerosene, and got the stove red-hot; and +then he turned round to warm his back, and smelled smoke, and whirled +about to find his tent in a blaze! + +With a bucket of water and a broomstick he beat out the fire, and went +for a run to warm up. But when he came back there was more wind, so that +he could not keep warm in the tent, and more rain, so that he could not +find shelter in the woods. In the end he discovered a ruined barn, in a +corner of which he would sit, wrapped in his blankets and writing with +cold fingers. + +Perhaps all these mishaps had something to do with the refusal of his +ideas to flow. But apparently it was in vain that Thyrsis tried at any +time to work at things that were interesting to other people. Perhaps he +could have worked better at them, if there had not been so many things +that were interesting to _him_. He would find himself confronted with +the image of the society clergyman, or of the sleek editor in his club, +or some other memory out of the world of luxury and pride. And each +day came the newspaper, with its burden of callousness and scorn; and +perhaps also a letter from Corydon, with something to goad him to new +tilts with the enemies of his soul. + +So, before long, almost without realizing it, he was putting the +"interesting" things aside, and girding himself for another battle. His +message was still undelivered; and in vain he sought to content himself +by blaming the world for this. Until he had forced the world to hear +him, he had simply not yet done his work. He must take his thought and +shape it anew--into some art-work finer, stronger, truer than he had yet +achieved. + +Day after day he pondered this idea--eating with it and walking with +it and sleeping with it; until at last, of a sudden, the vision came to +him. It came late at night, while he was undressing; and he sat for five +or ten minutes, with his shirt half off, as if in a trance. Then he put +the shirt on again, and went out to wander about the woods, laughing and +talking to himself. + +"Genius surrounded by Commercialism"--that was his theme; and it would +have to be a play. Its hero would be a young musician, a mere boy, +a master of the demon-voices of the violin; he would be rapt in his +vision, and around him a group of people who would be embodiments of the +world and all its forces of evil. One by one they came trooping before +Thyrsis' fancy, with all their trappings of pomp and power, their +greatness and their greed--sinister and cruel figures, but also +humorous, very creatures of the spirit of comedy! Yes, he had a comedy +this time--a real comedy! + +Section 2. In this hour, of course, Thyrsis forgot all about the +"plot" he had outlined to Mr. Ardsley, and about his promises to be +"practical." Something arose within him, imperious and majestic, and +swept all this out of the way with one gesture of the hand. He dropped +everything else and plunged into the play. Never yet in his life had +anything taken hold of him to such an extent; it drove him so that he +forgot to eat, he forgot to sleep. He would work over some part of it +until he was exhausted--and then, without warning, some other part would +open out in a vista before him, and he would spring up in pursuit of +that. Characters and episodes and dialogue, wild humor, scalding satire, +grim tragedy--they thronged and jostled and crowded one another in his +imagination. + +"The Genius" was the title of the play. Its protagonist had come home +after completing his education in Vienna; and there was the family +gathered to greet him. Mr. Hartman, the father, was a wholesale +grocer--a business large enough to have brought wealth, but painfully +tainted with "commonness". Then there was Mrs. Hartman, stout and +tightly-laced, who had studied the science of elegance while her husband +studied sugar. There was the elder son, who under his mother's guidance +had married well; and Miss Violet Hartman, who was looking up to the +perilous heights of a foreign alliance. + +Only of late had the family come to realize what an asset to their +career this "Genius" might be. They had humored him in his strange whim +to devote his life to fiddling; money had been spent on him freely--he +brought home with him a famous Cremona instrument for which three +thousand dollars had been paid. But now it was dawning upon them +that this was an "ugly duckling"; he was to make his _debut_ in the +metropolis, where an overwhelming triumph was expected; and then he +would return to the home city in the middle West, and would play at +_musicales_, which even the most exclusive of the "_elite_" must attend. + +There was also the great Prof. Reminitsky, the teacher who had made +Lloyd, and had come to New York with him; and there was the Herr Prof. +von Arne, of the University of Berlin, a world-renowned psychiatrist, +author of "The Neurosis of Inspiration". The Herr Professor had come +to America to make some studies for his forthcoming masterpiece on the +religious mania; and he was glad to see his old friend Reminitsky, whose +seventeen-year-old musical prodigy was most interesting material for +study. + +Prof. Reminitsky was the world's greatest authority in the art of +tearing the human soul to pieces by means of horse-hair rubbed with +resin and scraped over the intestines of a pig. There were no tricks of +finger-gymnastics and of tone-production that he had not mastered. +As for the emotions produced thereby, he felt them, but in a purely +professional way; that is, the convictions he had concerning them +related to their effects upon audiences, and more especially upon +the score or two of critical experts whose psychology had been his +life-study. But having studied also the psychology of youth, he knew +that his _protege_ must needs have other convictions concerning his +performances. This was his supreme greatness--that he understood the +paranoia of enthusiasm, and used this understanding to tempt his pupils +to new heights of achievement. + +In all of which, of course, his friend von Arne was a great help to him. +Von Arne had dug through a score of great libraries, and had travelled +all the world over, frequenting cafes and salons, monasteries and +prayer-cells, prisons and hospitals and asylums--wherever one might +get new glimpses of the extraordinarily intricate phenomena of the +aberration called "Genius". He had several thousand cases of it at +his finger-tips--he had measured its reaction-times and calculated its +cephalic index, and analyzed its secretions and tested it for indecan. +He knew trance and clairvoyance, auto-suggestion and telepathic +hallucination, epilepsy and hysteria and ecstasy; and over the head +of any disputatious person he would swing the steam-shovel of his +erudition, and bury the unfortunate beneath a wagon-load of Latin and +Greek derivatives. + +Also, there was Moses Rosen, the business-manager. Moses was short, and +wore a large diamond ring, and he also was a specialist in the phenomena +of "Genius". He studied them from the point of view of the box-office, +and his tests were quite as definite as those of the psychological +laboratory. There came to Moses an endless stream of prodigies, all of +them having long hair and picturesque aspects, and talking rapidly and +rolling their eyes; the problem was to determine which of them had the +faculty of true Genius, which not only talked rapidly and rolled its +eyes, but also had the power of causing money to flow in through a +box-office window. + +In this case Moses felt that the prospects were good; the only trouble +being that the prodigy intended to render a _concerto_ by a strange +composer--a stormy and unconventional thing which would annoy the +critics. Moses suggested something that was "classic"; and agreed with +Mrs. Hartman that there ought to be something corresponding to "good +form" in music. + +Section 3. So all these strange creatures were poking and peering and +smelling about the "Genius"; and meanwhile, there came at intervals +faint strains of music from a distant room. At last Lloyd Hartman +entered; beautiful, pale and sensitive--a haunted boy, and the most +haunting figure that had yet come to Thyrsis' imagination. Also, it was +the hardest piece of work he had ever undertaken; for the character +had come to him, not as a formula or a collection of phrases, but as an +intuition, a part of his own soul; and he would work out a scene a score +of times, finding words to phrase it, and then rejecting them. By what +speeches could he give his sense of the gulf that lay between Lloyd and +the people about him? For this boy could not cope with them in argument, +he would have no mastery of the world of facts. He must be without any +touch of sophistication, of cynicism; and yet, when he spoke to them, +it must be clear that he knew them for different beings from himself. +He would go with them meekly; but one would feel that it was because his +path lay in their direction. When the point came that their ways +parted, he would go his own way; and just there lay the seed of the +tragi-comedy. + +The family gathers about him, and he answers their questions. He will +wear the kind of tie that his sister prefers, and they may set any date +they please for the _musicales_ at home. He hears the "copy" which Moses +has prepared for his advertisements; and then he sits, absent-minded, +while they talk about him. Music is in his thoughts, and gradually it +steals into his aspect and the gestures of his hand. They watch him, and +a pall comes over them: until at last the mother exclaims that he makes +her nervous, and leads the family off. + +Then Miss Arnold is announced--Helena Arnold, who has been recommended +as accompanist at the great concert. She is young and beautiful; and the +two go into the next room to play, while the professors remain to talk +over this new complication. + +Prof. von Arne, of course, lays especial emphasis upon the sex-element +in psychopathology; he and Reminitsky have talked the subject out many +years ago, and adopted a definite course of action. The abnormalities +incidental to sex-repression were innumerable, and for the most part +destructive; but there could be no question that all the more striking +phenomena of the neurosis called "Genius" were greatly increased in +their intensity by this means. So, in dealing with his pupils, and +especially with a prodigy like young Hartman, Prof. Reminitsky would +call into service all the paraphernalia of religious mysticism; teaching +his pupil to regard woman as the object of exalted adoration, a being +too holy to be attained to even in thought. And now, of course, when the +proposed accompanist turns out to be a decidedly alluring young female, +it is necessary to take careful heed. + +Meanwhile from the distance come bursts of wild music; and at last +Helena returns--pale, and deeply agitated. "It is that _concerto!_" she +says, and then asks to be excused from talking. Lloyd comes, and stands +by the door watching her. When his teacher begins to open business +negotiations, he asks him abruptly to leave them alone. + +Helena asks, "Who wrote that music?" He tells her a ghastly story of +a titan soul who starved in a garret and shot himself, crushed by the +mockery of the world. + +"I might have saved him!" the boy exclaims. "I was so busy with the +music I forgot the man!" + +They talk about this epoch-making _concerto_, and how Lloyd means to +force it upon the public. "And you shall play it with me!" he exclaims. +"You are the first that has ever understood it!" + +"I cannot play it!" she protests; to which he answers, "It was like his +voice come back from the grave!" And so we see these two souls cast into +the crucible together. + +Section 4. The second act showed the aftermath of the great concert, +and took place in the drawing-room of the Hartman family's apartment, +at four o'clock in the morning. We see Moses and the two professors, +who have not been able to tear themselves away; dishevelled, _distrait_, +wild with vexation, they pace about and lament. Failure, utter ruin +confronts them--the structure of their hopes lies in the dust! They +blame it all on "that woman"--and members of the family concur in this. +It was she who kept Lloyd to his resolve to play that mad _concerto;_ +and then, to cast aside all the master had taught them, all the results +of weeks of drilling--and to play it in that frantic, demonic fashion. +Now the men await the morning papers, which will bring them the verdict +of "the world"; and they shudder with the foreknowledge of what that +verdict will be. + +Lloyd and Helena enter. They have been walking for hours, and have not +been thinking of "the world". They listen, half-heeding, to the protests +and laments; they could not help it, they explain--the music took hold +of them. + +The two professors go off to get the papers, and Moses goes into the +next room to rest; after which it becomes clear to the audience that +Lloyd and Helena are fighting the sex-duel. + +"You do not care about people," she is saying, sombrely. + +To which his reply is, "It is not to be found in people." + +"And yet from people it must come!" she insists. + +He answers, "They do not even know what I mean; and they have no +humility." + +"It is a problem," Lloyd continues, after a pause. "Shall one go on +alone, or wait and bring others with him?--You have brought that problem +into my life." + +She answers to this, "I cannot see how my love will hinder you." + +He replies, "If you love _me_, who will love my art?" + +So it goes--until the professors return with their freight of the +world's Philistinism. And here came a scene, over which Thyrsis shook +for many a day with merriment. The accounts of the concert are read; +Moses awakens and comes in; and as the agony increases, the members of +the family appear, one by one, clad in their dressing-gowns, and adding +their lamentations to the chorus. Gone is all the prestige of the two +professors, gone all the profits of Moses, gone all the visions of +social triumphs in the city of the middle West! + +To all of which uproar the two listen patiently; until at last the +mother, in a transport of vexation, turns upon Helena, and accuses her +of ensnaring the boy. And then--the climax of the scene--Lloyd springs +up; all that Genius in him, which has so far gone into music, turns +now into rage and scorn. He pictures these people--pawing over his +inspiration with their unclean hands--peering at it, weighing it, +chaffering over it--taking it into the market-place to be hawked about. +He shows them what they are, and what that "world" is, to which they +would offer his muse as a whore. And then at the climax of his speech, +as he is waving his violin in the air, the Herr Prof. von Arne ventures +to put in a word; and the boy whirls upon him, and brings down the three +thousand-dollar treasure upon the eminent psychiatrist's head! + +The third act, which was the hardest of all to write, was to take place +in a garret. Lloyd has gone away alone, and three years have passed, +and now he lies dying of a wasting disease. Helena has come to him +again--and still they are fighting the duel. "A woman will do anything +for a man but renounce him," says Lloyd; and she cannot understand this +fierce instinct of his. + +She has come and found him; and he lies gasping for breath, and speaking +in broken sentences. Yet he will not have her bring grief into his +chamber; he has fought his way through grief, and through hatred and +contempt, and now he lies at peace upon the bosom of nature. No longer +is he wrapped up in his own vision; he has learned from the million suns +in the sky and the million trees of the forest. He tells her that the +thing called "Genius" springs ceaselessly from the heart of life. + +He has cast out fear; and with it he has cast out love. "What are you?" +he asks. "What am I?" And he sets forth in blazing words his vision of +the soul, which is as a flash of light in a raindrop, and yet one with +the eternal process. As the fruit of his life he leaves one symphony +in manuscript, and some pages of writing in which he has summed up his +faith. That is enough, he says--that is victory; for that he fled away, +and killed his love. + +The two professors come, having learned that Lloyd is dying. But even +they cannot divert him. He tells von Arne that his learning will submit +itself, and that scientists will be as gardeners, tending the young +flowers of faith. His mother and father come, and he whispers that even +for them there is hope--that in the deepest mire of respectability the +spark of the soul still glows. His mother bursts into weeping by his +bed, and he tells her that even from the dungeon of pride there may be +deliverance. So he sends them all away to pray. + +Then Helena sits at the piano and plays a few bars of that sonata of +Beethoven's which is an utterance of most poignant grief, and which some +publisher has cruelly misnamed the "Moonlight". And after long silence, +the dying man communes with his muse. A light suffuses the room, and he +whispers, "Take thine own time; for the seeds of thy glories are planted +in the hearts of men!" + +Section 6. Over these things Thyrsis would work for six hours at a +stretch, sitting without moving a muscle; for days and nights he would +wander about at random in the woods. He ate irregularly, of such things +as he could put his hands upon; and sleep fled from him like a mistress +spurned. When, after a couple of months, he had finished the task, there +was an incessant throbbing in his forehead, and--alas for the sudden +tumble from the heights of Parnassus!--he had lost almost entirely the +power of digesting food. + +But the play was done. He sent it off to be copied, and wrote paeans +of thanksgiving to Corydon. Once more he had a weapon, newly-forged and +sharpened, wherewith to pierce that tough hide of the world! + +There remained the practical question: What did one do when he had a +play completed? What was the first step to be taken? Thyrsis pondered +the problem for several days; and then, as chance would have it, his eye +was caught by a newspaper paragraph to the effect that "Ethelynda Lewis, +the popular _comedienne_, is to be starred in a serious drama next +season, under the management of Robertson Jones. Miss Lewis's play has +not yet been selected." Now, as it happened, "Ethelynda Lewis" had +been on the play-bill of "The Princess of Prague", that tragic "musical +comedy" to which Thyrsis had been taken; but he never noticed the names +of actors and actresses, and had no suspicions. He sent his manuscript +to this future star; and a week later came a note, written on scented +monogram paper in a tall and distinguished chirography, acknowledging +the receipt of his play and promising to read it. + +Then Thyrsis turned to attack the manuscripts which had been +accumulating while he was writing. They were coming more frequently +now--apparently Mr. Ardsley liked his work. To Corydon, who had gone to +the country with her parents, he wrote that he was getting some money +ahead, and so she might join him before long. + +This brought him a deluge of letters; and it forced him to another +swift descent into the world of reality. "I have told you nothing of my +sufferings," wrote Corydon. "At least a score of times I have written +you long letters and then torn them up, saying that your work must +not be disturbed. But oh, Thyrsis, I do not think I can stand it much +longer! Can you imagine what it means to be shut up in a boarding-house, +without one living soul to understand about me?" + +She would go on to tell of her griefs and humiliations, her longings and +rages and despairs. Then, too, Cedric was not growing as he should. "He +is beautiful," she wrote, "and every one loves him. But he makes not the +least attempt to sit up, and I am very much worried. I fear that I ought +not to go on nursing him--I am too nervous to eat as I should. And then +I think of the winter, and that we may still be separated, and I do not +see how I am to stand it. It is as if I were in a prison. I think of +you, and I cannot make you real to me." + +To all of which Thyrsis could only reply with vague hopes--and then go +away for a tramp in the forest, and call to his soul for new courage. +He had still troubles enough of his own. For one thing, the fiend in his +stomach was not to be exorcised by any spell he knew. It was all very +picturesque to portray one's hero as dying of disease; but in reality it +was not at all satisfactory. Thyrsis did not die, he merely ate a bowl +of bread and milk, and then went about for several hours, feeling as if +there were a football blown up inside of him. + +He had a touching faith in the medical profession in those days, and +whenever there was anything wrong with him, he would turn the problem +over to a doctor and his soul would be at rest. In this case the doctor +told him that he had dyspepsia--not a very difficult diagnosis--and gave +him a bottle full of a red liquid to be taken after meals. To Thyrsis +this seemed an example of the marvels of science, of the adjustment of +means to ends; for behold, when he had taken the red liquid, the bread +and milk disappeared as if by magic! And he might go on and eat anything +else--if there was trouble, he had only to take more of the red liquid! +So he plunged into work on a pot-boiler, and wrote Corydon to be of +cheer, that the dawn was breaking. + +Section 7. Corydon, in the meantime, had received a copy of his play; +and he was surprised at the effect it had upon her. "It is marvellous," +she wrote; "it is like a blaze of lightning from one end to the other. +And yet, much as I rejoice in its power, the main feeling it brought me +was of anguish; for it seemed to me as if in this play you had spoken +out of your inmost soul. Can it be that you are really chafing against +the bond of our love? That you feel that I have hold of you and cling to +you; and that you resent it, and shrink from me? Oh Thyrsis, what can +I do? Shall I bid you go, and blot the thought of you from my mind? +Is that what you truly want? 'A woman will do anything for a man but +renounce him!' Did you not shudder for me when you wrote those words? + +"It is two o'clock in the morning, and so far I have not been able to +sleep. I have lain awake with torturing thoughts; and then the baby +wakened up, and I had to put him to sleep again--any indisposition of +mine always affects him. I am sitting on the floor at the foot of +the bed, writing with a candle; and hoping to get myself sufficiently +exhausted, so that I shall no longer lie awake. + +"Go and find your vision over my corpse, and may God bless you!... I +wrote that hours ago, and I tried to mean it. I try to tell myself that +I will take the child and go away, and crush my own hopes and yearnings, +and give my life to him. But no--I cannot, I cannot! It is perfectly +futile for me to think of that--I crave for life, and I cannot give up. +There is that in me that will never yield, that will take no refusal. +Sometimes I see myself as a woman of seventy, still seeking my life. Do +you not realize that? I feel that I shall never grow old! + +"How strange a thing it is, Thyrsis, that you and I, who might do so +much with so little chance, should have no chance at all. I read of +other poets and their wives--at least they managed to have a hut on some +hillside, and they did not absolutely starve. + +"I am tired now; perhaps I can sleep. But I will tell you something, +Thyrsis--does it sound so very foolish? Not only will I never grow old, +but I will never give up your love! Yes, some day you will find out how +to seek your vision in spite of the fact that I am your wife!" + +Section 8. Another day, there would be moods of peace, and even of +merriment; it was always like putting one's hand into a grab-bag, to +open a new letter from Corydon. In after years he would read them, and +strange were the memories they brought! + +"My Thyrsis," she wrote: "I have been reading a story of Heine in +Zangwill's "Dreamers of the Ghetto". I did not know about Heine. He +loved and married a sweet little woman of the people--Mathilde--who +didn't appreciate his writings. I am not only going to love you, but +I am going to appreciate your writings! Some day I am going to be +educated--and won't it be fine when I am educated? + +"I keep very busy, but I have not so much time as I had last summer. I +live almost all my life in hope--the present is nothing. I think I get +more strength by gazing at my baby than in any other way. I wonder if I +can ever infuse into him my inspiration and my desire. It is wonderfully +exciting to me to think of what a free soul could do, if it possessed my +spirit and my dreams. Ah, even you don't know! I smile to myself when I +think how surprised you might some day be! Oh, my baby, my baby, surely +you will not fail me--little soul that is to be. This is what I say to +him, and then I squeeze him in ecstasy, and he coughs up his milk. +Dear funny little thing, that is so pleased with a red, white and blue +rattle. At present he is grinning at it ecstatically--and he is truly +most horribly cunning. His favorite expression is 'Ah-boo, ah-boo'; +and is not that just _too_ bright? Everybody tries to spoil him--even a +twelve-year-old boy here wanted to kiss him. And wonder of wonders, he +has two teeth appearing in his lower gums! Poor me--he bites hard enough +as he is." + +And then again: + +"My Beloved: I am sitting with my candle once more. It is too hot for +a lamp. I have been reading 'Paradise Lost', and truly I am astonished +that it is so beautiful. Also I have been reading a book about +Unitarianism, and I did not know that such things had been written. But +I think it is hardly worth while to call one's self a Unitarian. I was +thinking that I will go back and read the Bible through. I would not +mind, if I knew I did not have to believe it. + +"Also; this week, I read 'Paul and Virginia'. Oh, do not write anything +to me about our meeting, until you are sure it can be! It breaks my +heart. + +"Did it ever occur to you that we might embark for the tropics? We'd +have a hut, and I might learn to raise fruits and vegetables. I sigh for +some verdant isle--and I am not joking. We might find some place where +steamers came now and then, and some one in New York could attend to +your manuscripts. + +"To-night I was trying to put my baby to sleep and he wouldn't go, but +just lay in my lap and kicked and grinned. I tried to coax him to go to +sleep, but if I was the least bit impatient he'd begin to cry. And then +he'd grin at me so roguishly, as if to say, 'Let's play before I go to +sleep!' Finally I looked right at him and said, 'Now, you have played +long enough, and I wish you to be a good boy and go to sleep!' And then +he laughed, and I put him on his side and he went to sleep! Wasn't that +bright for a baby just seven months old? + +"I think I write you much more interesting letters than you write me. +To be sure I have no books into which to put my thoughts. Also, I have a +great deal of time to compose letters to you; Cedric wakes me up so much +in the night, and often I cannot go to sleep again. It plays havoc with +me as a rule; and yet sometimes, when I'm not too exhausted, there is a +certain joy in watching by the dim candle light the rosy upturned face +and the little groping mouth. Oh Thyrsis, he is all mine and yours, and +we must make him glad he was borned, mustn't we?" + +Section 9. Such letters would come at a time when Thyrsis was almost +prostrated with exhaustion; and great waves of loneliness and yearning +would sweep over him. Ah God, what a fate it was--to labor as he +labored, and then to have no means of recreation or respite, no hand +to smooth his forehead, no voice to whisper solace! Who could know the +tragedy of that aspect of his life? + +There came one day an incident that almost broke his heart. Down the +lake came a private yacht, beautiful and swift, clean as a new penny, +its bronze and white paint glistening in the sunlight. It anchored not +far out from the point where Thyrsis camped, and a boat put off, +and from it three young girls stepped ashore. They were slender and +graceful, clad all in white--as spotless as the vessel itself, and +glowing with health and joyfulness. They cast shy glances at the tent, +and asked Thyrsis to direct them to the nearest farm-house; he watched +them disappear through the woods, and saw them return with a basket of +fruit. + +It was just at sunset, and there was a new moon in the sky, and the +evening star trembled upon the bosom of the waters. There in the magic +stillness lay the vessel--and suddenly came the sounds of a guitar, and +of young voices singing. Wonderful to tell, they sang--not "ragtime" and +"college songs," but the chorus of the "Rheintoechter," and Schubert's +"Auf dem Wasser zu singen", and other music, unknown to Thyrsis, +exquisite almost beyond enduring. It pierced him to the heart; he sat +with his hands clenched, and every nerve of him a-quiver, and the hot +tears raining down his cheeks. It was loveliness not of this earth, it +was an apparition; that presence which had been haunting him ever since +he had come to this spot-- + + "So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, + Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; + Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, + And hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn." + +The music died away, and rose again; and the deeps of his spirit were +opened, and ecstasy and grief welled up together within him. Then he +made out that the anchor was being lifted; and he was tempted to spring +up and cry out to them to stay. But no--what did they know of him? What +would they care about him? So he crouched by the bank, drinking greedily +the precious notes; and as the yacht with its gleaming lights stole away +into the twilight, all the poet's soul went yearning with it. Still he +could hear the faint strains swelling-- + + "Blow, blow, breathe and blow, + Wind of the western sea!" + +He sat with his face hidden in his hands, shuddering. Here he was, +wrestling in the pit with sickness and despair--and there above him +were the heights of art. If only he could live with such music, what +prodigies could he not perform. And they who possessed it--did it mean +to them what it meant to him? They who had everything that life could +offer--music and art, freedom and beauty and health--all the treasures +of life as their birthright--had they never a thought of those who had +nothing, and were set to slave in the galleys of their pleasure-craft? + +Thyrsis was always coming upon some aspect of this thing called +Privilege. Corydon had suggested that there might be some work that she +could do at home; and so one day he was looking over the advertisements +in a newspaper, and came upon a composition by a man who was seeking a +governess for his three children. It was written in a style all its own; +it revealed a person accustomed to specify exactly what he wanted, and +it occupied three or four inches, as if symbolic of the fact that he did +not consider expense. He described the life of his children; they had +servants and a tutor to attend to their physical and mental needs, and +the father now sought a friend and, companion, to take charge of their +spiritual and social development. The specifications evoked a picture +of an establishment, in which all the community's resources, all the +sciences and arts of civilization, were set at work to create joy and +power for three young people. What a contrast it made with the care that +little Cedric was getting, as revealed in his mother's letters! + +Thyrsis could see in his mind's eye the master and provider of this +establishment. How well he knew the type--how often had he sat in some +quiet corner and listened while it revealed itself. A man alert and +aggressive; immaculate in appearance as the latest fashion-plate, and +overlaid with a veneer of culture--yet underneath it still the predatory +talons, the soul of the hawk. He was a "practical" man; that is, he +understood profit. He was trained to see where profit lay, and swift +to seize upon it. As a business-man he ruled labor, and crushed his +competitors, and directed legislatures and political machines; as a +lawyer he protected his kind from attack, as a judge he bent the law +to the ends of greed. So he lived in palaces, and travelled about +in private-cars and yachts, and had servants and governesses for his +children, and valets and secretaries to attend himself. And whenever by +any chance he got a glimpse of Thyrsis' soul, how he hated it! On the +other hand, to Thyrsis he was a portent of terror. He ruled in every +field of human activity; and yet one saw that if his rule continued, it +would mean the destruction of civilization! Whenever Thyrsis met one +of these men, whether in imagination or reality, he found himself with +hands clenched, and every nerve of him a-tingle with the lust of combat. + +Section 10. A most trying thing it was to a man who carried the burden +of the future in his soul--to have to wrestle with an obstinate stomach! +But so it was again; the magic red liquid seemed to be losing its power. +Then, the pot-boiler was not going well; and to cap the climax, the +manuscripts stopped coming. Thyrsis, after waiting two or three weeks +in suspense and dread, wrote to Mr. Ardsley, and received a reply to the +effect that he would not be able to send any more. Mr. Ardsley had sent +them because of his interest in the proposed "practical" novel; and now +he had learned that the poet had been giving his time to the writing of +an impossible play! + +Thyrsis' predicament was a desperate one, and drove him to a desperate +course. It was now midsummer; and run down from overwork as he was, +could he face the thought of returning to the sweltering city, to go to +work in some office? Or was he to hire out as a farm-laborer, under he +knew not what conditions? He recoiled from either of these alternatives; +and then suddenly, as he racked his brains, a wild idea flashed over +him. For years he had talked and dreamed of escaping from civilization. +He had pictured himself upon some tropic island, where bananas and +cocoanuts grew; or again in some Northern wilderness, where he might +hunt and fish, and live like the pioneers. And now--why not do it? He +had an axe and a rifle and a fishing-rod; and only a few days previously +he had heard a man telling of a lake in the Adirondacks, where not a +dozen people went in the course of a year. + +It was early one morning the idea came to him; and within an hour he +had struck his tent and packed his trunk. He stowed his camp-stuff and +bedding in a dry-goods box, and leaving his tent with the farmer, he +purchased a ticket to a place on the edge of the wilderness. He put up +at a village-hotel, and the next day drove fifteen miles by a stage, and +five more by a wagon, and spent the night at a lumber-camp far in the +wilderness. The next day, carrying as much of his belongings as he +could, he walked three miles more, and came to the tiny lake that was +his goal. + +It was perhaps half a mile long; the virgin forest hung about it like a +great green curtain, and the shadows of the blue mountains seemed as if +painted upon its surface. Thyrsis gave a gasp of delight as he pushed +through the bushes and saw it; he stripped and plunged into the crystal +water--and hot and tired and soul-sick as he was, the coolness of it +was like a clasp of protecting arms. There was a rock rising from the +centre, and he swam out and stood upon it, and gazed about him at all +the ravishing beauty, and laughed and whooped so that the mountains rang +with the echoes. + +He found an abandoned "open-camp", or shed, the roof of which he made +water-proof with newspapers and balsam-boughs. He cut fresh boughs +for his bed, and spread his blankets upon them, and went back to the +lumber-shanties, and purchased a box of prunes and a bag of rice. There +were huckleberries in profusion upon the hills, and in the lakes were +fish, and in the forests squirrels and rabbits, partridges and deer. +There were the game-laws, to be sure; but there was also a "higher +law", as eminent authorities had declared. As one of the wits at the +lumber-camp put it, "If any wild rabbit comes rushing out to bite you, +don't you hesitate to defend yourself!" + +So, with the sum of one dollar and twenty-three cents in his +pocket-book, Thyrsis began the happiest experience of his life. He +watched the sun rise and set behind the mountains; and sometimes he +climbed to the summits to see it further upon its way. He watched the +progress of the tempests across the lake, and swam in the water while +the rain splashed his face and the lightning splintered the pines in the +forest. He crouched in the bushes and saw the wild ducks feeding, and +the deer that came at sunset to drink. He watched the loons diving, and +spying him out with their wild eyes--sometimes, as they rose in flight, +beating the surface of the water with a sound like thunder. At night he +heard their loud laughter, and the creaking cries of the herons flying +past. Sometimes far up in the hills a she-fox would bark, or some +too-aged tree of the forest would come down with a booming crash. +Thyrsis would lie in his open camp and watch the moonlight through the +pines, and prayers of thankfulness would well up within him-- + + "Peace of the forest, rich, profound, + Gather me closely, fold me round!" + +There had been much carrying and hard work to do before he was settled, +and there was more of it all through his stay. He had to cook all his +meals and clean up afterwards; and because the nights were cold and his +blankets few, there was much firewood to be cut. Also, there was no food +unless he went out and found it, and so he spent hours each day tramping +about in the forests. By the time he had got home and had cleaned the +game and cooked it, he was ravenously hungry, and there was never any +question as to what would digest. This was just what he had sought; and +so now, deliberately, he banned all the muses from his presence, and +poured the rest of the dyspepsia-medicine into the lake. His muscles +became hard, and the flush of health returned to his cheeks, and as he +went about his tasks he laughed and sang, and shouted his defiance to +the world. And to Corydon he wrote his newest plan--to earn a little +in the city that winter, and come back in the early spring and build a +log-cabin for herself and the baby! + +Section 11. Twice a week his mail came to the lumbercamp, in care of +the friendly foreman. Each time that he went out to get it, he hoped +for some new turn. There was a publisher interested in "The Hearer of +Truth", and an editor was reading "The Higher Cannibalism"; also, and +most important of all, Miss Ethelynda Lewis had now had "The Genius" +for nearly two months, and had not yet reported. Thyrsis wrote to remind +her, and after another two weeks, he wrote yet more urgently. At last +came a note--"I have been away from the city, and have not had a chance +to read the play. I will attend to it at once." And then, after three +weeks more, Thyrsis wrote again--and at last came a letter that made his +heart leap. + +"I have read your play", wrote the popular _comedienne_: "I am very much +interested in it indeed. I have asked my manager to read it, and will +write you again shortly." + +Thyrsis sent this to Corydon, and again there was rejoicing and +expectation. "If only I can get the play on," he wrote, "our future is +safe, for the profits from plays are enormous. It will be a great piece +of luck if I have found the right person at the first attempt." + +More weeks passed. Thyrsis watched the pageant of autumn upon the +mountains--he saw the curtains of the lake-shore change to gold and +scarlet, and from that to pale yellow and brown; and now, with every +lightest breeze that stirred, there were showers of leaves came +fluttering to the ground. The deer left the lake-shore and took to the +"hard-wood", and the drumming of partridges thundered at sunset. The +nights were bitterly cold, and he spent a good part of his day chopping +logs and carrying them to camp, so that he might keep a blazing fire all +night. There were hunting-parties in the woods, and he got a deer, and +sold part of it, and had the rest hanging near his camp. + +And then one night came the first snow-storm; in the morning it +lay white and sparkling in the sunlight--and oh, the wonder of a +hunting-trip, when the floor of the wilderness was like a page on which +could be read the tale of all that happened in the night! One could +hardly believe that so many creatures were in these woods--there were +tracks everywhere one looked. Here a squirrel had run, and here a +partridge; here had been a porcupine, with feet like a baby's, and here +a fox, and here a bear with two cubs. And in yon hollow a deer had slept +through the night, and here he had blown away the snow from the moss; +here two bucks had fought; and here one of them had been started by a +hunter, and had bounded away with leaps that it was a marvel to measure. + +Thyrsis nearly lost his life at these fascinating adventures; for +another storm came up, and covered his tracks, and when he tried to find +his way back by the compass, he found that he had forgotten which end of +the needle pointed to the North! So he wandered about for hours; and in +the end had to decide by the toss of a penny whether he should get +out to the main road, or wander off into twenty miles of trackless +wilderness, without either food or matches. Fortunately the penny fell +right; and he spent the night at a farmhouse, and the next day got back +to the lumber-camp. + +And there was a letter from Ethelynda Lewis! Thyrsis tore it open and +read this incredible message: + +"Your play has been carefully considered, and I am disposed to accept +it. It is certainly very unusual and interesting, and I think it can be +made a success. There are, however, certain changes which ought to be +made. I am wondering if you will come to the city, so that we can talk +it over. It would not be possible to settle a matter so important by +mail; and there is no time to be lost, for I am ready to go ahead with +the work at once, and so is my manager." + +Section 12. Nothing that the mail had ever brought to Thyrsis had meant +so much to him as this. He was transported with delight. Yes, for this +he would go back to the city!--But then, he caught his breath, realizing +his plight. How was he to get to the city, when he had only three +dollars to his name? + +He turned the problem over in his mind. Should he send a telegram to +some relative and beg for help? No, he had vowed to die first. Should he +write to the actress, and explain? No, for that would kill his chances. +There was just one way to be thought of; venison in the woods was worth +eleven cents a pound, and the smallest of deer would get him to the +city! + +And so began a great adventure. Thyrsis wrote Miss Ethelynda that he +would come; and that night he loaded up some more buckshot "shells", +and before dawn of the next day was out upon the hunt. The snow was gone +now; and with soft shoes on his feet he wandered all day through the +wilderness--and was rewarded by two chances to shoot at the white tails +of flying deer. + +And then came night, and he rigged up a "jack", a forbidden apparatus +made of a soap-box and a lantern and a tin-plate for a reflector. He had +an ingenious arrangement of straps and cords, whereby he could fasten +this upon his head; and he had found an old lumber-trail where the deer +came to feed upon the soft grass. Down this he crept like a thief in +the night, with the light gleaming ahead, and the deer tramping in the +thickets and whistling their alarms. Now and then one would stand and +stare, his eye-balls gleaming like coals of fire; and at last came the +roar of the gun, and the jacklight tumbled to the ground. When Thyrsis +lighted up again and went to examine, there were spots of blood upon the +leaves--but no deer. + +So the next day he was up again at dawn, watching by one of the runways +to the lake. And then came another tramp, through the thickets and +over the mountains--and more shots at the "flags" of the elusive enemy. +Thyrsis' back ached, and his feet were as if weighted with lead, but +still he plodded on and on--it was his life against a deer's. + +If only he had had a boat, so that he could have set up his "jack" in +that! But he had no boat--and so he wrapped himself in blankets and sat +to watch another runway at sunset; and when no deer came he decided to +stay on until the moon rose. It was a bitterly cold night, and his hands +almost froze to the gun-barrel when he touched it. And the moon rose, +and forthwith went behind a cloud--and then came a deer! + +There was hardly a trace of motion in the air, but somehow the creature +half-scented Thyrsis; and so it stood and trumpeted to the night. Oh, +the wildness of that sound--and the thumping of the heart of the hunter, +and the breathless suspense, and the burning desire. The deer would take +a step, and a twig would crack; and then it would stand still again, and +Thyrsis would listen, crouching like a statue, clutching his weapon and +striving to penetrate the darkness. And then the deer would take two +or three more steps, and stand again; and then, in sudden alarm, +bound away; and then come back again, step by step--fascinated by this +mysterious thing there in the darkness. For three mortal hours that +creature pranced and cavorted about Thyrsis, while he waited with +chattering teeth; then in the end it took a sudden fright, and went +bounding away through the thicket. + +So came another day's hunting; and at sundown another watch by a runway; +and another deer, that approached from the wrong direction, and came +upon a man, worn out by three days and nights of effort, lying sound +asleep at his post! + +But there could be only one ending to this adventure. Thyrsis was out +for a deer, and he would never quit until he got one. All his planning +and wandering had availed him nothing; but now, the next morning, as he +stepped out from his camp with a bucket in his hand--behold, at the edge +of a thicket, a deer! Thyrsis stood rooted to the spot, staring blankly; +and the deer stood staring at him. + +It was a time of agony. Should he try to creep back to his gun, or +should he make a sudden dash? He started to try the latter, and had a +pang of despair as the deer whirled and bolted away. He leaped to the +camp and grabbed his gun and sprang out into sight again--and there, off +to the right, was another deer. It was a huge buck, with wide-spreading +antlers, rising out of the bushes where it stood. It saw Thyrsis, and +started away; and in a flash he raised his gun and fired. He saw the +deer stumble, and he fired the other barrel; and then he started in wild +pursuit. + +He had been warned to beware of a wounded deer; but he forgot that--he +forgot also that he had no more shells upon him. He ran madly through +the forest, springing over fallen logs, plunging through thickets--he +would have seized hold of the animal with his bare hands, if only he +could have caught up with it. + +The deer was badly hurt. It would leap ahead, and then stumble, half +falling, and then leap again. Even in this way, the distance it covered +was amazing; Thyrsis was appalled at the power of the creature, its +tremendous bounds, the shock of its fall, and the crashing of the +underbrush before it. It seemed like a huge boulder, leaping down +a precipice; and Thyrsis stood at a safe distance and watched it. +According to the poetry-books he should have been ashamed--perhaps +moved to tears by the reproachful look in the great creature's eyes. But +assuredly the makers of the poetry-books had never needed the price of a +railroad-ticket as badly as Thyrsis did! + +He only realized that night how desperate his need had been. He lay in +his berth on board a train for the city--while back at his "open-camp" +a wild blizzard was raging, and the thermometer stood at forty degrees +below zero. But Thyrsis was warm and comfortable; and also he was brown +and rugged, once more full of health and eagerness for life. All night +he listened to the pounding of the flying train; and fast as the music +of it went, it was not fast enough for his imagination. It seemed as if +the rails were speaking--saying to him, over and over and over again, +"Ethelynda Lewis! Ethelynda Lewis! Ethelynda Lewis!" + +BOOK X + +THE END OF THE TETHER + +_They sat still watching upon the hill-top, drinking in the scent of the +clover. + +"Ah, if only we might have come back here!" she sighed. "If only tee had +never had to leave!" + +"That way lies unhappiness" he said. + +"Perhaps," she answered; and then quoted-- + + 'Yet, Thyrsis, let me give my grief its hour + In the old haunt, and find our tree-topp'd hill! + Who, if not I, for questing here hath power?" + +"I wonder," said he, "if the poet put as much into these stanzas as we +find in them!"_ + +Section 1. Through the summer Corydon had been living week by week upon +the hope that her husband would be able to send for her; all through the +fall she had been dreaming of the arrangements they would make for +the winter. But by now it had become clear that they would have to +be separated for a part of the winter as well. She had sent him long +letters, full of hopes and yearnings, anxieties and rebellions; but +in the end she had brought herself to face the inevitable. And then it +transpired that even a greater sacrifice was required of her--she was to +be forbidden to see Thyrsis at all! If a man did not support his wife, +said the world, it was common-sense that he should not have any wife; +that was the quickest way to bring him to his senses. And so the two had +threshed out that problem, and chosen their course; they would live in +the same city, and yet confine themselves to writing letters! + +A curious feeling it gave Thyrsis, to know that she was so near to him, +and yet not to be going to meet her! He could not endure any part of the +city where he had been with her, and got himself a hall bedroom on the +edge of a tenement-district far up town. Then he had his shoes shined, +and purchased a clean collar, and wrote Miss Ethelynda Lewis that he was +ready to call. While he was waiting to hear from her, there came to him +a strange adventure; assuredly one of the strangest that ever befell a +struggling poet, in a world where many strange adventures have befallen +struggling poets. + +For six months Thyrsis had not seen his baby; and there had come in the +meantime so many letters, telling so many miraculous things about that +baby! So many dreams he had dreamed about it, so many hopes and so many +prayers were centered in it! Twenty-two hours had he sat by the bedside +when it was born; and through all the trials that had come afterwards, +how he had suffered and wept for it! Now his heart was wrung with +longing to see it, to touch it--his child. He wrote Corydon that he +could not stand it; and Corydon wrote back that he was right--he should +surely see the baby. And so it was arranged between them that Thyrsis +was to be at a certain place in the park, and she would send the +nurse-girl there with little Cedric. + +He went and sat upon a bench; and the hour came, and at last down the +path strolled a nurse-girl, wheeling a baby-carriage. He looked at +the girl--yes, she was Irish, as Cordon had said, and answered all +specifications; and then he looked at the baby, and his heart sank into +his boots. Oh, such a baby! With red hair and a pug-nose, plebeian and +dull-looking--such a baby! Thyrsis stared at the maid again--and she +smiled at him. Then she passed on, and he sank down upon a bench. Great +God, could it be that that was his child? That he would have to go +through life with something so ugly, so alien to him? A terror seized +him. It was like a nightmare. He was hardly able to move. + +But then he told himself it could not be! Corydon had written him all +about the baby; it was beautiful, with a noble head; everyone loved +it. But then, were not mothers notoriously blind? Had there ever been a +mother dissatisfied with her child? Or a father either, for that matter? +Was it not a kind of treason for him to be so disgusted with this +one--since it so clearly must be his? + +There was none other in sight; and though he waited half an hour, none +came. At last he could stand it no more, but hurried away to the nearest +telegraph-office. "Has baby red hair?" he wrote. "Did he come to the +park?" And then he went to his room and waited, and soon after came the +reply: "Baby has golden hair. Nurse was ill. Could not come." + +Thyrsis read this, and then shut the door upon the messenger-boy, +and burst into wild, hilarious laughter. He stood there with his arms +stretched out, invoking all posterity to witness--"What do you think of +_that?_ What do you think of _that?_" + +And a full hour later he was sitting by his bedside, his chin supported +on his hands, and still invoking posterity. "Will you ever know what I +went through?" he was saying. "Will you ever realize what my books have +cost?" Then he smiled grimly, thinking of Voltaire's cruel epigram--that +"letters addressed to posterity seldom reach their destination!" + +Section 2. Thyrsis received a reply to his note, and went to call upon +Miss Ethelynda Lewis. Miss Lewis dwelt in a luxurious apartment-house on +Riverside Drive, where a colored maid showed him into a big parlor, full +of spindle-legged gilt furniture upholstered in flowered silk. Also the +room contained an ebony grand piano, and a bookcase, in which he had +time to notice the works of Maupassant and Marie Corelli. + +Then Miss Lewis entered, clad in a morning-gown of crimson "liberty". +She was _petite_ and exquisite, full of alluring dimples--and apparently +just out of a perfumed bath. Thyrsis sat on the edge of his chair and +gazed at her, feeling quite out of his element. + +She placed herself on the flowered silk sofa and talked. "I am immensely +interested in that play," she said. "It is _quite_ unique. And you are +so young, too--why, you seem just a boy. Really, you know I think you +must be a genius yourself." + +Thyrsis murmured something, feeling uncomfortable. + +"The only thing is," Miss Lewis went on, "it will need a lot of revision +to make it practical." + +"In what part?" he asked. + +"The love-story, principally," said the other. "You see, in that +respect, you have simply thrown your chances away." + +"I don't understand," said he. + +"You have made your hero act so queerly. Everyone feels that he is in +love with Helena--you meant him to be, didn't you? And yet he goes away +from her and won't see her! Everyone will be disappointed at that--it's +impossible, from every point of view. You'll have to have them married +in the last act." + +Thyrsis gasped for breath. + +"You see," continued Miss Lewis, "I am to play the part of Helena, and +I am to be the star. And obviously, it would never do for me to be +rejected, and left all up in the air like that. I must have some sort of +a love-scene." + +"But"--protested the poet--"what you want me to change is what my play +is _about!_" + +"How do you mean?" asked the other. + +"Why, it's a new kind of love," he stammered--"a different kind." + +"But, people don't understand that kind of love." + +"But, Miss Lewis, that's why I wrote my play! I want to _make_ them +understand." + +"But you can't do anything like that on the stage," said Miss Lewis. +"The public won't come to see your play." And then she went on to +explain to him the conditions of success in the business of the theatre. + +Thyrsis listened, with a clutch as of ice about his heart. "I am very +sorry, Miss Lewis," he said, at last--"but I couldn't possibly do what +you ask." + +"Couldn't do it!" cried the other, amazed. + +"It would not fit into my idea at all." + +"But, don't you want to get your play produced?" + +"That's just it, I want to get my play produced. If I did what you want +me to, it wouldn't be my play. It would be somebody else's play." + +And there he stood. The actress argued with him and protested. She +showed him what a great chance he had here--one that came to a new and +unknown writer but once in a lifetime. Here was a manager ready to +give him a good contract, and to put his play on at once in a Broadway +theatre; and here was a public favorite anxious to have the leading +role. It would be everything he could ask--it would be fame and fortune +at one stroke. But Thyrsis only shook his head--he could not do it. He +was almost sick with disappointment; but it was a situation in which +there was no use trying to compromise--he simply could not make a +"love-story" out of "The Genius". + +So at last there came a silence between them--there being nothing more +for Miss Lewis to say. + +"Then I suppose you won't want the play," said Thyrsis, faintly. + +"I don't know," she answered, with vexation. "I'll have to think +about it again, and talk to my manager. I had not counted on such a +possibility as this." + +And so they left it, and Thyrsis went away. The next morning he received +a letter from "Robertson Jones, Inc.", asking him to call at once. + +Section 3. Robertson Jones, the great "theatrical producer", was large +and ponderous, florid of face and firm in manner--the steam-roller +type of business-man. And it became evident at once that he had invited +Thyrsis to come and be rolled. + +"Miss Lewis tells me you can't agree about the play," said he. + +"No," said Thyrsis, faintly. + +And then Mr. Jones began. He told Thyrsis what he meant to do with this +play. Miss Lewis was one of the country's future "stars", and he was +willing to back her without stint. He had permitted her to make her own +choice of a role, and she should have her way in everything. There were +famous playwrights bidding for a chance to write for her; but she had +seen fit to choose "The Genius". + +"Personally," said Mr. Jones, "I don't believe in the play. I would +never think of producing it--it's not the sort of thing anybody is +interested in. But Miss Lewis likes it; she's been reading Ibsen, and +she wants to do a 'drama of ideas', and all that sort of thing, you +know. And that's all right--she's the sort to make a success of whatever +she does. But you must do your share, and give her a part she can make +something out of--some chance to show her charm. Otherwise, of course, +the thing's impossible." + +Mr. Jones paused. "I'm very sorry"--began Thyrsis, weakly. + +"What's your idea in refusing?" interrupted the other. + +Thyrsis tried to explain--that he had written the play to set forth +a certain thesis, and that he was asked to make changes that directly +contradicted this thesis. + +"Have you ever had a play produced?" demanded the manager abruptly. + +"No," said Thyrsis. + +"Have you written any other plays?" + +"No." + +"Your first trial! Well, don't you think it a good deal to expect that +your play should be perfect?" + +"I don't think"--began Thyrsis. + +"Can't you see," persisted the other, "that people who have been in this +business all their lives, and have watched thousands of plays succeed +and fail, might be able to give you some points on the matter?"--And +then Mr. Jones went on to set forth to Thyrsis the laws of the +theatrical game--a game in which there was the keenest competition, and +in which the "ante" was enormously high. To produce "The Genius" would +cost ten thousand dollars at the least; and were those who staked this +to have no say whatever in the shaping of the play? Manifestly this was +absurd; and as the manager pressed home the argument, Thyrsis felt as if +he wanted to get up and run! When Mr. Jones talked to you, he looked +you squarely in the eye, and you had a feeling of presumption, even of +guilt, in standing out against him. Thyrsis shrunk in terror from that +type of personality--he would let it have anything in the world it +wanted, so only it would not clash with him. But never before had it +demanded one of the children of his dreams! + +Mr. Jones went on to tell how many things he would do for the play. It +would go into rehearsal at once, and would be seen on Broadway by the +first of February. They would pay him four, six and eight per cent., and +his profits could not be less than three hundred dollars a week. With +Ethelynda Lewis in the leading role the play might well run until +June--and there would be the road profits the next season, in addition. + +Thyrsis' brain reeled as he listened to this; it was in all respects +identical with another famous temptation--"The devil taketh him upon a +high mountain, and showeth him all the kingdoms of the earth!" + +"And then there is England"--the man was saying. + +"No, no!" cried Thyrsis, wildly. "No!" + +"But _why_ not?" demanded the other. + +"It's impossible! I _couldn't_ do it!" + +"You mean you couldn't do the writing?" + +"I wouldn't know how to!" + +"Well then, that's easily arranged. Let me get some one to collaborate +with you. There's Richard Haberton--you know who he is?" + +"No," said Thyrsis, faintly. + +"He's the author of 'The Rajah's Diamond'--it's playing with five +companions now, and its third season. And he dramatized 'In Honor's +Cause'--you've seen that, no doubt. We have paid him some sixty +thousand dollars in royalties so far. And he'll take the play and fix it +over--you wouldn't have to stir a finger." + +Thyrsis sprang up in his agitation. "Please don't ask me, Mr. Jones," he +cried. "I simply _could_ not do it!" + +It seemed strange to Thyrsis, when he thought it over afterwards, that +the great Robertson Jones should have taken the trouble to argue so long +with the unknown author of a play in which he did not believe. Was it +that opposition incited him to persist? Or had he told Ethelynda Lewis +he would get her what she wanted, and was now reluctant to confess +defeat? At any rate, so it was--he went on to drive Thyrsis into a +corner, to tear open his very soul. Also, he manifested anger; it was a +deliberate affront that the boy should stand out like this. And Thyrsis, +in great distress of soul, explained that he did not mean it that +way--he apologized abjectly for his obstinacy. It was the _ideas_ that +he had tried to put into his play, and that he could not give up! + +"But," persisted the manager--"write other plays, and put your ideas +into them. If you've once had a Broadway success, then you can write +anything you please, and you can make your own terms for production." + +That thought had already occurred to Thyrsis; it was the one that nearly +broke down his resistance. He would probably have surrendered, had the +play not been so fresh from his mind, and so dear to him; if he had had +time enough to become dissatisfied with it, as he had with his first +novel--or discouraged about its prospects, as he had with "The Hearer of +Truth"! But this child of his fancy was not yet weaned; and to tear it +from his breast, and hand it to the butcher--no, it could not be thought +of! + +Section 4. So he parted from Mr. Jones, and went home, to pass two of +the most miserable days of his life. He had pronounced his "_Apage,_ +_Satanas!_"--he had turned his back upon the kingdoms of the earth. And +so presumably--virtue being its own reward--he should have been in a +state of utter bliss. But Thyrsis had gone deeper into that problem, +and asked himself a revolutionary question: Why should it always be that +Satan had the kingdoms of the earth at his bestowal? Thyrsis did not +want any kingdoms--he only wanted a chance to live in the country with +his wife and child. And why, in order to get these things, must a poet +submit himself to Satan? + +Then came the third morning after his interview; and Thyrsis found in +his mail another letter from Robertson Jones, Inc. It was a letter brief +and to the point, and it struck him like a thunderbolt. + +"Miss Ethelynda Lewis has decided that she wishes to accept your play as +it stands. I enclose herewith a contract in duplicate, and if the terms +are acceptable to you, will you kindly return one copy signed, and +retain the other yourself." + +Thyrsis read, not long after that, of a young playwright who died of +heart-failure; and he was not surprised--if all playwrights had to go +through experiences such as that. He could hardly believe his eyes, and +he read the letter over two or three times; he read the contract, with +Mr. Jones' impressive signature at the bottom. He did not know anything +about theatrical contracts, but this one seemed fair to him. It provided +for a royalty upon the gross receipts, to be paid after the play had +earned the expenses of its production. Thyrsis had hoped that he might +get some cash in advance, but that was not mentioned. In the flush of +his delight he concluded that he would not take the risk of demanding +anything additional, but signed the contract and mailed it, and sent a +telegram to acquaint Corydon with the glorious tidings. + +Section 5. One of the consequences of this triumph was that Thyrsis +purchased a new necktie and half a dozen collars; and another was that +an angry world was in some part appeased, and permitted the struggling +poet to see his wife and child once more. + +They met in the park; and strange it was to him to see Corydon after six +months' absence. She was beautiful as ever, somewhat paler, though still +with the halo of motherhood about her. He could scarcely realize that +she was his; she seemed like a dream to him--like some phantom of music, +thrilling and wonderful, yet frail and unsubstantial. She clung to his +arm, trembling with delight, and pouring out her longing and her grief. +There came to them one of those golden hours, when the deeps of their +souls welled up, and they pledged themselves anew to their faith. + +Even stranger it was to see the child; to be able to look at him all +he pleased, and to speak to him, and to hold him in his arms! He was as +beautiful as Thyrsis could have wished, and the father had no trouble +at all in being interested in him; his smiles were things to make the +angels jealous. Thyrsis would push his carriage out into the park, and +they would sit upon a bench and gaze at him--each making sure that the +other had missed none of his fine points. + +He was beginning to make sounds now, and had achieved the word +"puss-ee". This originally had signified the woolly kitten he carried +with him, but now by a metonymy it had come to include all kinds of +living things; and great was the delight of the parents when a big red +automobile flashed past, and the baby pointed his finger, exclaiming +gleefully, "Puss-ee!" It is an astonishing thing, how little it takes +to make parents happy; regarded, purely as an abstract proposition, it +would be difficult to explain why two people who possessed between them +a total of sixty-four teeth, more or less, should have been so much +excited by the discovery that the baby had four. + +But parenthood, as Thyrsis found, meant more than charming baby-prattle +and the counting of teeth. Little Cedric's tiny fingers were twisted +in his heart-strings--he loved him with a love the intensity of which +frightened him when he realized it. And sometimes things went wrong, and +then with a pang as from the stab of a knife would come the thought that +he might some day lose this child. So much pain and toil a child cost, +so much it took of one's strength and power; and then, such a fragile +thing it was--exposed to so many perils and uncertainties, to the +ravages of so many diseases, that struck like a cruel enemy in the +dark! Corydon and Thyrsis were so ignorant--they were like children +themselves; and where should they turn for knowledge? There were +doctors, of course; but this took so much money--and even with all the +doctors, see how many babies died! + +Thyrsis was learning the bitter truth of Bacon's saying about "giving +hostages to fortune." And dearly as he loved the child, the artist in +him cried out against these ties. Where now was that care-free outlook, +that recklessness, that joy in life as a spectacle, which made up so +much of the artist's attitude? When one had a wife and child one no +longer enjoyed tragedies--one lived, them; and one got from them, not +_katharsis_, but exhaustion. One became timid and cautious and didactic, +and other inartistic things. One learned that life was real, life was +earnest, and the grave was not its goal! + +Cedric had been weaned; but still he was not growing properly. Could it +be that there was something wrong with what they fed him? Corydon would +come upon advertisements telling of wonderful newly-discovered foods for +infants, and giving pictures of the rosy and stalwart ones who were fed +upon these foods. She would take to buying them--and they were not cheap +foods either. Then, during the winter, the child caught cold; and they +took that to mean that it had been in some way exposed--that was what +everybody said, and what the name "cold" itself suggested. So Corydon +would add more flannel dresses and blankets, until the unfortunate +mite of life would be in a purple stew. And still, apparently, these +mysterious "colds" were not to be thwarted. Thyrsis felt that in all +this there must be something radically wrong, and yet he knew not what +to do. Surely it should not have been such a task to keep life in one +human infant. + +Then, too, the training of the baby was going badly. He lived in close +contact with nervous people who were disturbed if he cried; and so +Corydon's energies were given to a terrified effort to keep him from +crying. He must be dandled and rocked to sleep, he must be played with +and amused, and have everything he cried for; and it was amazing how +early in life this little creature learned the hold which he had upon +his mother. His chief want had come to be to sleep all day and lie awake +half the night; and during these hours of wakefulness he pursued the +delightful pastime of holding some one's hand and playing with it. +Corydon, nervous and sick and wrestling with melancholia, would have to +lie awake for uncounted hours and submit to this torment. The infant had +invented a name for the diversion; he called it "Hoodaloo mungie"--which +being translated signified "Hold your finger". To the mother this was +like the pass-word of some secret order of demons, who preyed upon and +racked her in the night; so that never after in her life could she hear +the phrase, even in jest, without experiencing a nervous shock. + +Section 6. This was a period of great hopefulness for Thyrsis, but also +of desperate struggle. For until the production of his play in January, +he had somehow to keep alive, and that meant more hack-work. Also he had +to lay something by, for after the rehearsals the play would go on the +road for a couple of weeks, to be "tried on the dog"; and during that +period he must have money enough to travel, and stay at hotels, and also +to take Corydon with him, if possible. + +The rehearsals began an interesting experience for him; he was +introduced into a new and strange world. Thyrsis himself was shy, and +disposed to run away and hide his emotions; but here were people--the +actor-folk--whose business it was to live them in sight of the world. +And these emotions were their life; they were very intense, yet quick +both to come and to go. Such people were intensely personal; they were +like great children, vain and sensitive, their moods and excitements +not to be taken too seriously. But it was long before Thyrsis came to +realize this, and meanwhile he had some uncomfortable times. To each of +the players, apparently, the interest of a play centered in those places +in which he was engaged in speaking his lines; and to each the author of +the play was a more or less benevolent despot, who had the happiness of +the rest of the world in his keeping. Once at a rehearsal, when Thyrsis +was engaged in cutting out one of the speeches attributed to "Mrs. +Hartman", he discovered that lady standing behind him in a flood of +tears! + +In the beginning Thyrsis paid many visits to the apartment on Riverside +Drive; for Miss Lewis professed to be very anxious that he should +consult with her and tell her his ideas of her part. But Thyrsis soon +discovered that what she really wanted was to have him listen to _her_ +ideas. Miss Lewis was at war with Thyrsis' portrayal of Helena--it was +incomprehensible to her that Lloyd should not be pursuing her, and she +playing the coquette, according to all romantic models. Particularly she +could not see how Lloyd was to resist the particularly charming Helena +which she was going to make. She was always trying to make Thyrsis +realize this incongruity, and to persuade him to put some "charming" +lines into her part. "You boy!" she would exclaim. "I believe you are +as obstinate as your hero!" Miss Lewis was only two years older than the +"boy", but she saw fit to adopt this grandmotherly attitude toward him. + +And then came Robertson Jones, suggesting a man who could play the part +of Lloyd. But Miss Lewis declared indignantly that she would not have +him, because he was not handsome enough. "If," she vowed, "I've got to +make love to a man and be rejected by him, at least I'm not going to +have it an ugly man!" When an actor was finally agreed upon and engaged, +Thyrsis had a talk with him, and it seemed as if Miss Lewis, in her +preoccupation with his looks, had overlooked the matter of his brains. +But Thyrsis was so new at this game that he did not feel capable +of judging. He shrunk from the thought of having any actor play his +part--that was so precious and so full of meaning to him. + +But when the rehearsals began, Thyrsis speedily forgot this feeling. The +most sensitive poet to the contrary notwithstanding, the purpose of a +play is to be acted; and Thyrsis was like an inventor, who has dreamed a +great machine, and now sees the parts of it appearing as solid steel +and brass; sees them put together, and the great device getting actually +under way. + +The rehearsals were held in a little hall on the East Side, and thither +came the company--six men and three women. There was no furniture or +setting, they all wore their street clothing, and in the beginning +they went through their parts with the manuscript in their hands. And +yet--they had been selected because they resembled the characters in the +play; and every time they went over the lines they gave them with +more feeling and understanding. So--vaguely at first, and then more +clearly--the poet began to see them as incarnations of his vision. These +characters had been creatures of his fancy; they had lived in it, he had +walked and talked and laughed and wept with them. Now to discover them +outside him--to be able to hear them with his physical ears and see +them with his physical eyes--was one of the strangest experiences of his +life. It was so thrilling as to be almost uncanny. It was a new kind of +inspiration, of that strange "subliminal uprush" which made the mystery +of his life. And it was a kind that others could experience with him. +Corydon would come every day to the rehearsals, and for four or five +hours at a stretch they would sit and watch and listen in a state of +perfect transport. + +Section 7. Also, there were things not in the manuscript which were +sources of interest and delight. There was Mr. Tapping, the stage +director, for instance; Thyrsis could see himself writing another play, +just to get Mr. Tapping in. He was a man well on in years, and wrecked +by dissipation--almost bald and toothless, and with one foot crippled +with gout. Yet he was a perfect geyser of activity--bounding about the +stage, talking swiftly, gesticulating--like some strange gnome or cobold +out of the bowels of the earth. Thyrsis was the creator of the play, so +far as concerned the words; but this man was to be the creator of it on +the stage. And that, too, required a kind of genius, Thyrsis perceived. + +Mr. Tapping had talked the problems out with him at the +beginning--talking until two o'clock in the morning, in a super-heated +office filled with the smoke of ten thousand dead cigars. He talked +swiftly, eagerly, setting forth his ideas; to Thyrsis it was a most +curious experience--to hear the vision of his inmost soul translated +into the language of the Tenderloin! "Your fiddler's this kind of a +guy," Mr. Tapping would say--"he knows he's got the goods, and he don't +care whether those old fogies think he's dippy, or what the hell they +think. Ain't that the dope, Mr. Author?" And Thyrsis would answer +faintly that he thought that was "the dope."--This was a word that Mr. +Tapping used every time he opened his mouth, apparently; it designated +all things connected with the play--character, dialogue, action, +scenery, music, costume. "That's the way to dope it out to them!" he +would cry to the actors. + +Miss Lewis, and Mr. Tilford, the leading man, moved through their parts +with dignity; the stage director showed them the "business" he had +laid out, but they did not trouble to act at rehearsals, and he did not +criticize what they did. But all the other people had to be taught their +roles and drilled in them; and that meant that Mr. Tapping had to have +in him five actors and two actresses, and play all their seven parts as +they came. Marvellous it was to see him do this; springing from place to +place, and changing his whole aspect in a flash--now scolding shrewishly +in the words of Violet Hartman, now discoursing, with the accent and +manner of Prof, von Arne, upon the _psychopathia_ _sexualis_ of Genius. + +He did not know all the parts, of course; but that was never allowed to +trouble him. He would take a sentence out of the actor's lips, and then +go on to elaborate it in his Tenderloin dialect; or, if the scene was +highly emotional, and required swift speech, he would fall back upon the +phrase "and so and so, and so and so." He could run the whole gamut of +human emotions with those words, "and so and so." + +"No, that's no good!" he would cry to "Mrs. Hartman." "What are those +words?--'Wretched, ungrateful son--do you care nothing at all for your +parents' feelings? Do you owe us nothing for what we have done? And so +and so? And so and so? And so and so?'" Mr. Tapping's voice would rise +to a wail; and then in a flash he would turn to Moses Rosen (he called +all the actors by their character-names). "That's your cue, Rosen, +you rush in left centre, and throw up your hands--right here--see? And +what's your dope?--oh yes--'I have spent seven thousand dollars on this +thing! You have ruined me! You have betrayed me! And so and so! And +so and so! And so and so!'--And then you run over here to the +professor--'You have trapped me! And so and so!'" + +Day by day as the work progressed, and the actors came to know their +lines, Thyrsis' excitement grew. The great machine was running, he +was getting some sense of the power of it! And new aspects of it were +revealed to him; there came the composer who was to do the incidental +music, and the orchestra-leader who was to conduct it; there came the +costume-designer and the scene-painter, and even the press-agent who was +to "boost" the play, and wanted picturesque details about the author's +life. Corydon and Thyrsis were invited to go with Mr. Tilford to select +a wig, and with Mr. Tapping to see the carpenters who were building +the various "sets", in a big loft over near the North River. As the two +walked home each day after these adventures, it was all they could do to +keep from hugging each other on the street. + +It was a thing of especial moment to Thyrsis, because it was the first +time in his life that his art had received any assistance from the +outside world--the first time this world had done anything but scold at +him and mock him. Here at last was recognition--here was success! Here +were material things submitting themselves to his vision, coming to him +humbly to be taught, and to co-operate in the creation of beauty! So +Thyrsis caught sudden glimpses of what his life might have been. He was +like a man who had been chained in a black dungeon, and who now gets +sight of the green earth and the blue sky, and smells the perfume of the +flowers and hears the singing of the birds. With forces such as this at +his command, the power of his vision would be multiplied tenfold; and he +was transported with the delight of the discovery, he and Corydon found +their souls once more in this new hope. + +So out of these moods there began the burgeoning of new plans in his +mind. Even amid the rush of rehearsals, he was dreaming of other things +to write; some time before "The Genius" had reached the public, he had +finished the writing of "The Utopians"--that fragment of a vision which +was perhaps the greatest thing he ever did, and certainly the most +characteristic. + +Section 8. As usual, the immediate occasion of the writing was trivial +enough. It was his "leading lady" who was responsible for it. Miss Lewis +had taken a curious fancy to Thyrsis--he was a new type to her, and it +pleased her to explore him. "How in the world did you ever get him to +marry you?" she would exclaim to Corydon. "I could as soon imagine a +marble statue making love to me!" And she told others about this strange +poet, who was obviously almost starving, and yet had refused to let +Richard Haberton revise his play for him, and had all but refused to let +Robertson Jones Inc., produce it. Before long she came to Thyrsis to +say that one of her friends desired to meet him, and would he come to a +supper-party. + +Thyrsis heard this with perplexity. + +"A supper-party!" he exclaimed. "But I can't!" + +"Why not?" + +"Why--I have no clothes." + +"Nobody expects a poet to have clothes," laughed Miss Lewis. "Come in +the garments of your fancy. And besides, Barry's a true Bohemian." + +Barry Creston, the giver of this party, was one of the sons of "Dan" +Creston, the mine-owner and "railroad-king", who a short while before +had been elected senator from a Western state under circumstances of +great scandal. "The old man's a hard character, I guess," said Miss +Lewis; "but you must not believe all you read in the papers about +Barry." + +"I never read anything about him," said the other; and so Miss Lewis +went on to explain that Griswold, the Wall Street plunger, had got a +divorce from his wife after throwing her into Barry's arms; and that +Barry's sister had married an Austrian arch-duke who had maltreated her, +and that Barry had kicked him out of a hotel-window in Paris. + +This invitation was a cause of much discomfort to Thyrsis. He had not +come to the point where he was even curious about the life of the Barry +Crestons of the world; and yet he did not like to hurt Miss Lewis' +feelings. She made it evident to him that she was determined to exhibit +her "lion"; and so he said "all right." + +The supper party was at the _Cafe_ _de_ _Boheme_, which was an Aladdin's +palace buried underground beneath a building in the "Tenderloin". +Fountains splashed in marble basins, and birds sang amid the branches of +tropical flowering trees, while on a little stage a man in the costume +and character of a Paris _apache_ sang a song of ferocious cynicism. And +after him came a Japanese juggler of prodigious swiftness, and then a +fat German woman in peasant guise who sang folk-songs, and wound up with +"O, du lieber Augustin!" After which the company joined in the chorus +of "Funiculi, funicula" and "Gaudeamus igitur"--for the patrons of the +"Boheme" were nothing if they were not cosmopolitan. + +Cosmopolitan also was the company at Barry Creston's table. On one side +of Thyrsis was Miss Lewis, and on the other was Mlle. Armand, the dancer +who had set New York in a furore. Opposite to her was Scarpi, the famous +baritone; and then there was Massey, a sculptor from Paris, and Miss +Rita Seton, of the "Red Hussars" Company, and a Miss Raymond, a gorgeous +creature with a red flamingo feather in her hat, who had been Massey's +model for his sensational figure of "Aurora". + +Finally there was Barry Creston himself: a new type, and a disconcerting +one. He was not at all the "gilded youth" whom Thyrsis had expected to +find; he was a man of about thirty, widely cultured, urbane and gracious +in his manner, and quite evidently a man of force. He was altogether +free from that crude egotism which Thyrsis had found to be the most +prominent characteristic of the American man of wealth. He spoke in +French with Armand and in Italian with Scarpi and in German with the +head-waiter who worshipped before him; and yet one did not feel that +there was any ostentation about it--all this was his _monde_. And +although he exhaled an atmosphere of vast wealth, this, too, seemed a +matter of course; he assumed that you also were provided with unlimited +funds--that all the world, in fact, was in the same fortunate case. +Evidently he was well-known at the "Boheme", for the waiters gathered +like flies around the honey-pot, and the august head-waiter himself took +the order, and beamed his approval at Barry's selections. So presently +there flowed in a stream of costly viands, served in _outre_ and +fantastic fashion--many of them things not known even by name to +Thyrsis. There were costly wines as well, and at the end an ice in the +shape of a great basket of fruit, wonderfully carved and colored like +life, resting upon a slab of ice, which in turn was set in a silver tray +with handles. + +Thyrsis was dazed at all this waste, and at the uproar in the place, +where dozens of other parties were squandering money in the same blind +fashion, and all laughing, chatting, joining in the choruses with the +performers on the stage. Now and then he would catch a little of his +host's conversation, which was of all the capitals of Europe, and of +art-worlds, the very existence of which was unknown to him. And then, on +his left hand, there was Mlle. Armand, deftly picking off the leaves +of an artichoke and dipping them into _mayonnaise_, and saying in her +little bird's voice, "They tell me, Monsieur, that you have _du genie_. +Oh, you should go to Paree to live--it is not here that one appreciates +_du genie_!" And, then while Thyrsis was working out an explanation of +his failure to visit Paris, some one in the cafe caught sight of Scarpi, +and there was a general call for him; and according to the genial custom +of the "Boheme" he stood up, amid tumultuous applause, and sang one of +his own rollicking songs. + +So the revelry went forward, while Thyrsis marvelled, and tried to hide +his pain. There could be no question of any enjoyment for him--when he +knew that the cost of this affair would have paid all his expenses for +a winter! Doubtless what Barry Creston spent for his cigars would +have saved Thyrsis and his family from misery all their lives; and he +wondered if the man would have cared had he known. Barry was one of +the princes of the new dispensation; and sometimes princes were +compassionate, Thyrsis reflected. Apparently this one was all urbanity +and charm, having no thought in life save to play the perfect host to +brilliant artists and _demi-mondaimes_, and to skim the cream off the +top of civilization. + +But then suddenly the conversation took a new turn, and Thyrsis got +another view of the young prince. There had been trouble out in the +Western mines; and some one mentioned it--when in a flash Thyrsis saw +the set jaw and the clenched fist and the steel grey eye of old "Dan" +Creston. (Thyrsis had read somewhere a sketch of this senator, whose +fortune was estimated at fifty millions, and who ran the governments of +three states.) Barry, it seemed, had had charge of the mines for three +years--that was how he had won his spurs. In those days, he said, there +had been no unions--he told with a quiet smile how he had broken them. +Now again "agitators" had crept in, so that in some of the camps the men +were being moved out bodily, and replaced by foreigners, who knew a good +job when they had it. To make this change had taken the militia; but it +would be done thoroughly, and afterwards there would be no more trouble. + +The supper-party broke up about two o'clock, and Miss Raymond, the lady +of the flamingo hat, was the only one who showed any effects from +all the wine that had been consumed. Thyrsis, to his great surprise +discovered that his host had taken a fancy to him, and had asked Miss +Lewis to bring him out to luncheon at the Creston place in the country. +And so came the wonderful experience which brought to him the vision of +"The Utopians." + +Section 9. They went, one Saturday morning, in Miss Lewis' +automobile--out to Riverside Drive, and up the valley of the Hudson. +This was in itself a Utopian experience for Thyrsis, who had never +before taken a trip in one of these magic chariots. It leaped over the +frozen roads like a thing of life, and he lay back in the cushioned +seats and closed his eyes and listened to the hum of the machinery, +imagining what life might be for him, if he could rest like this when he +was worn from overwork. It was like some great adventure in music, +like a minstrel's chanting of heroic deeds; it was Nature with all her +pageantry unrolled in a panorama before his eyes. And meantime Miss +Lewis was chattering on about the play and its prospects; and +about other plays and their prospects; and about the people at the +supper-party and their various loves and hates. + +So they came to the great stone castle of the Crestons, set upon a +mountain-top overlooking the valley of this "American Rhine." Thyrsis +gasped when he saw it, and he gasped many times again while Barry was +showing them about. For this place was a triumph of a hundred arts and +sciences; into its perfections had gone all the skill of the architects +and designers, the weavers and carpenters, the painters and sculptors +of a score of centuries and climes. The very dairies, the stables, the +dog-kennels were things to be wondered at and studied; and in the vast +halls were single pictures over which Thyrsis would fain have lingered +for hours. Then, best of all, the great portico, with its stone pillars, +and its view of the noble river, and of the snow-clad hills, dazzling in +the sunlight! + +They had luncheon; after which Barry played upon the organ, and Miss +Lewis sat beside him and left Thyrsis to wander at will. He made his way +out to the portico, and paced back and forth there; and while the organ +rolled and thundered to him, the majesty of the scene swept over him, +and in towering splendors his soul arose. He thought of the wretched +room in which he was pent, he thought of his starved and struggling +life; and all the rage of his defeated genius awoke in him. In the name +of that genius he uttered his defiance, and by the title of it he took +possession of this castle, and of all things it contained. Yes--for he +was the true lord and master of it--he was the prince disinherited! And +the meaning of it, its excuse for being, was this brief hour! For this +its glories had been assembled; for this the architects and designers, +the weavers and carpenters, the painters and sculptors had labored in a +score of centuries and climes; for this the great organ had been built, +and for this the great musician had composed--that he might behold, in +one hour of transfiguration, what the life of man would be in that glad +time when all the arts of civilization were turned to the fostering of +the soul! When he who carried in the womb of his spirit the new life +of the ages, would be loved instead of being hated, would be cherished +instead of being neglected, would be reverenced instead of being mocked! +When palaces would be built for him and beauty and joy would be gathered +for him, and the paths would be made clear before his feet! So out of +boundless love and rapture would he speak to men, and bring to them +those gifts that were beyond price, the treasures of his unfolding +inspiration. + +So it was that the Utopians came to Thyrsis; those men of the future, +worshippers of joy! They came to him, alive and in the flesh, beautiful +and noble, gracious and free-hearted--as some day they will come, if so +the earth endure; as they will stand upon that portico, and listen to +that music, and gaze upon the valley of that American Rhine! And will +they remember the long-dead dreamer, and how they walked with him there +and spoke with him; how they put their arms about him, and gave him of +their love and understanding? Will they remember what shuddering rapture +their touch conveyed to him; how the tears ran down his cheeks, and he +pledged his soul to yet more years of torment, so only their glory might +come to be upon earth? Will they read the blazing words in which he +pictured them, the trumpet-blast he sounded to the dead souls of his +time? + +Thyrsis knew that this was the greatest hour of his life, and he fought +like mad to hold it. But that might not be--the music ceased, and he +heard the voices of his host and Miss Lewis. They came to the door; and +then Thyrsis' thoughts came back quickly to earth. For he saw that Barry +Creston's arm was about the woman, and she was leaning upon him; nor did +they separate when they saw him, but stood there, smiling; so that at +last Thyrsis had solved for him the problem of their relationship. It +was not so that the Utopians loved, he thought, as he watched them; and +found himself wondering if young Creston was as imperious with his women +as he was with the slaves in his Western mines. + +The car came to the door, and they parted from their host and sped back +to the city. "What do you think of him?" asked Miss Lewis--and went on +in a burst of confidence to tell him that it was to this prince of the +new dispensation that he owed the great chance of his life. For it was +Barry Creston who had given the Broadway "show-girl" the start that had +made her a popular _comedienne_; it was Barry Creston who had awakened +in her an interest in the "drama of ideas", and had set her to +fermenting with new ambitions; and finally it was Barry Creston who in +a moment of indulgence had promised the money which had set the managers +and actors and musicians, the stage-carpenters and scene-painters and +press-agents to work at the task of embodying "The Genius"! + +Section 10. It may have been a coincidence; but from that hour dated +the process of Thyrsis' disillusionment concerning the production of his +play. Could it be, he asked himself, that such wealth as Barry Creston's +could buy true art? Could it be that forces set in motion by it could +really express his vision? "Genius surrounded by Commercialism", had +been the formula of his play; and did not the formula describe his own +position as well as Lloyd's? + +A strange thing was this theatrical business--the business of selling +emotions! One had really to feel the emotions, in order to portray them +with force; yet one had at the same time to appraise them with the eye +of the business-man--one must not feel emotions that would not pay. +Also, one boomed and boosted his own particular emotions, celebrating +their merits in the language of the circus-poster. If you had taken up a +certain play, you considered it the greatest play that had ever made its +bow to Broadway; and you actually persuaded yourself to believe it--at +least those who made the real successes were men who possessed that +hypnotic power. + +There was, for instance, Mr. Rosenberg, the press-agent and +advertising-man. He was certain that "The Genius" was a play of genius, +and its author a man of genius; and yet Thyrsis knew that if it had +been Meyer and Levinson, across the street, who were producing it, Mr. +Rosenberg would have called it "rot". Mr. Rosenberg was to Thyrsis a +living embodiment of Moses Rosen in the play--so much so that he felt +the resemblance in the names to be perilous, and winced every time he +heard Rosenberg speak of Rosen. But fortunately neither Rosenberg nor +Rosen possessed a sense of irony, and so there were no feelings hurt. +Thyrsis had written the play without having met either a press-agent or +the head of a music-bureau; he had drawn the character of Moses after +the fashion of the German, evolving the idea of an elephant out of his +inner consciousness. But now that it was done, he was amazed to see how +well it was done; he was like an astronomer who works out the orbit of a +new planet, and afterwards discovers it with his telescope. + +As the preparations neared completeness, Thyrsis found himself more and +more disturbed about the production. He was able to judge of the actors +now, and they seemed to him to be cheap actors--to be relying for their +effects upon exaggeration, to be making the play into a farce. But when +he pointed this out to Mr. Tapping, Mr. Tapping was offended; and when +he spoke to Mr. Jones, he was referred to Miss Lewis. All he could +accomplish with Miss Lewis, however, was to bring up the eternal +question of the lack of "charm" in her part. Poor Ethelynda was also +getting into an unhappy frame of mind; she had begun to doubt whether +the "drama of ideas" was her _forte_ after all--and whether the ideas +in this particular drama were real ideas or sham. She got the habit of +inviting friends in to judge it, and she was always of the opinion of +the last friend; so the production was like a ship whose pilot has lost +his bearings. + +The time drew near for the opening-performance, which was to be given in +a manufacturing city in New England. The nerves of all the company were +stretched to the breaking point; and overwrought as he was himself, +Thyrsis could not but pity the unhappy "leading lady", who could hardly +keep herself together, even with the drugs he saw her taking. + +The "dress-rehearsal" began at six o'clock on Sunday evening; and from +the very start everything went wrong. But Thyrsis did not know the +peculiar fact about dress-rehearsals, that everything always goes wrong; +and so he suffered untellable agonies at the sight of the blundering and +stupidity. Mr. Tapping stormed and fumed and hopped about the stage, and +swore, first at his gouty foot, and then at some member of the company; +and he sent them back, over and over again through the scenes--it was +midnight before they finished the first act, and it was six o'clock in +the morning before they finished the second, and it was nearly noon of +Monday before the wretched men and women went home to sleep. + +Thyrsis had left before that, partly because he could not endure to see +the mess that things were in, and partly because they told him he +would have to make a speech that night, and he had to spend two of his +hardearned dollars for the hire of a dress-suit. Here, as always, the +scarcity of dollars was like a thorn in his flesh. He had been obliged +to leave Corydon heart-broken at home, because he had not been able to +lay by enough to bring her; he had to stay at a cheap hotel--cheaper +even than any of the actors; and when Miss Lewis and Mr. Tapping went +out to lunch, he would have to say that he was not hungry, and then go +off and get something at a corner grocery. + +The hour of the performance came; and Thyrsis, like a gambler who has +staked all his possessions upon the turn of one card, sat in a box +and watched the audience and the play. The house was crowded; and the +play-wright saw with amazed relief that all his agonies of the night +before had been needless--the performance went without a hitch from +beginning to end. And also, to his unutterable delight, the play seemed +to "score". He had gazed at the rows of respectable burghers of this +prosperous manufacturing town, and wondered what understanding +they could have of his tragedy of "genius". But they seemed to be +understanding; at any rate they laughed and applauded; and when Lloyd +smashed the violin over von Arne's head and the curtain went down, there +was quite a little uproar. + +Thyrsis came out and made his timid speech, which was also applauded; +and then came the last act, and the women got out their handkerchiefs +on schedule time, and Mr. Rosenberg stood behind Thyrsis in the box, +rubbing his hands together gleefully. So the play-wright sent a telegram +to his wife, saying that the play was a certain success; and then he +went to bed, assuredly the happiest man who had ever slept in that +fifty-cent hotel! + +But alas--the next morning, there were the local papers; and with one +accord they all "roasted" the play! Their accounts of it sounded for all +the world like the play itself--those extracts which the two professors +had read from the criticisms of Lloyd's concert! Thyrsis wondered if the +critics must not have taken offence at the satire! + +Then, going to the theatre, the first person he met was Rosenberg, who +sent another chill to his heart. "First nights are always good," said +Mr. Rosenberg. "It was all 'paper', you know. To-night is the real +test." + +And so the second performance came; and in the theatre were some two +hundred people, and the occasion was the most awful "frost" that ever +froze the heart of an unhappy partisan of the "drama of ideas". After +which, according to schedule, the play moved to another manufacturing +town; and in the theatre were some two hundred and fifty people--and a +frost some ten degrees lower yet! + +Section 11. So at twelve o'clock that night there was a consultation in +a room at the hotel, attended by Thyrsis and Miss Lewis and Mr. Tapping +and Mr. Jones. + +"You see," said the last named; "the play is a failure." + +"Absolutely!" said Mr. Tapping. + +"I knew it would be!" cried Miss Lewis. + +"And you?" asked Mr. Jones of Thyrsis. + +"It has not succeeded in these towns," said Thyrsis. "But then--how could +it succeed, except where there are intellectual people? You promised to +take it to New York." + +"It's no use!" declared Jones. "New York would laugh it dead in one +night." + +"It would," said Mr. Tapping, decisively. + +"I knew it all along," cried Miss Lewis. + +So they went on for ten minutes; and then, "What are you going to do?" +asked Thyrsis, in terror. + +"The play must be altered," said Jones. + +"How altered?" + +"It must be altered as Miss Lewis asked you at first." + +Thyrsis sprang up. "What!" he cried. + +"It must be done!" said Mr. Jones. + +"It must," said Mr. Tapping. + +"I knew it all along!" cried Miss Lewis again. + +"But I won't stand for it!" exclaimed Thyrsis, wildly. + +"It must be done!" said Mr. Jones, in his heaviest steam-roller tone. + +"But I won't have it!" + +"What'll you do?" + +"I'll go to law! I'll get an injunction." + +"What is there in our contract to prevent our altering the play?" +demanded the man. + +"What!" gasped Thyrsis. "You know what our understanding was!" + +"Humph!" said the other. "Can you prove it?" + +"And do you mean that you would go back on that understanding?" + +"And do you mean that you expect me to see this money wasted and the +play sent to pot?" + +Thyrsis, in his agony, turned to Miss Lewis. "Will you let him break our +bargain?" he cried. + +"But what else is there to be done?" she answered. + +"Don't you see that the play is a failure? And don't you see the plight +you've got me in?" + +Thyrsis was dumb with dismay. He stared from one of these people +to another, and his heart went down--down. He saw that his case was +hopeless. He had no one to help him or to advise him, and he had less +than eleven dollars in his pocket. + +"What do you propose to do?" he asked, weakly. + +"I have already telegraphed to Richard Haberton," said Jones. "He +will meet us and see the next two performances; and then we'll lay the +company off until we get some kind of a practical play." + +And so the steam-roller rolled and the matter was settled; and Thyrsis, +broken-hearted, bid the trio farewell, and took an early train back to +New York. + +He never saw any member of the company again--and he never saw the +"practical play" which Mr. Richard Haberton made out of "The Genius". +What was done he gathered from the press-clippings that came to him--the +famous author of "The Rajah's Diamond" caused Helena to fall into +Lloyd's arms at the end of the second act, and had them safely if not +happily married at the beginning of the third. Also he wrote several +"charming" scenes for Ethelynda Lewis, and two weeks later the play had +a second opening in another manufacturing town of New England--where +the critics, awed by the name of the distinguished dramatist upon the +play-bills, were moved to faint praise. But perhaps it was that Mr. +Richard Haberton required more than two weeks' time for the evolving of +real "charm"; at any rate the audience came in no larger numbers to see +this new version, and the misbegotten production lived for another +six performances, and died a peaceful death at the very gates of the +metropolis. + +And such was the end of Thyrsis' career as a play-wright. In return for +all his labors and his agonies he received some weeks later a note from +Robertson Jones, Inc., to the effect that the books of "The Genius" +showed a total deficit of six thousand seven hundred and forty-two +dollars and seventeen cents; and accordingly, under the contract, there +was nothing due to the author. + + + + + + +BOOK XI + +THE TORTURE-HOUSE + + + + + +_They sat in the darkness, watching where the starlight gleamed upon the +water. + +"We had always hope," she was saying. "How endlessly we hoped!" + +"Could we do it now?" he asked; and after a pause, he quoted from the +poem-- + + "Unbreachable the fort + Of the long-batter'd world uplifts its wall; + And strange and vain the earthly turmoil grows, + And near and real the charm of thy repose, + And night as welcome as a friend would fall!"_ + +Section 1. Thyrsis came home beaten and crushed, worn out with overwork +and worry, his heart black with rage and bitterness and despair. He met +Corydon in the park, and she listened to his story, white and terrified. +She had swallowed all her disappointment, had stayed at home with the +baby while he went with the play; and now the outcome of it all was +this! + +"What are you going to do?" she whispered; and he answered, "I don't +know. I don't know." + +She saw the terrible state he was in, and she dared not utter a single +word of her own grief. She bit her lip, and choked back her tears. "This +is my life," she thought to herself; "I must endure, endure--that is +all!" + +He could not afford even to sit and talk with her very long; there was +no time to indulge in the luxury of despair. His money was gone, and he +was in debt for some that he had borrowed. Since irregular eating had +been telling upon him again, he had been getting his meals with an +acquaintance of the family, who kept a boarding-house uptown. On the +strength of his prospects, she had trusted him for four dollars a week; +and now the play had failed, and he had to go and tell her, and listen +to new protests as to his folly in refusing to "get a position". But in +the end she bade him stay on; and so he was divided between his shame, +and the need of something to eat day by day. + +Time dragged on, and still there was no gleam of light. There were +shameful hours in these weeks--he touched the lowest point yet in his +life. This was a typical cheap boarding-house, a place where the drudges +of trade were herded; it was a home of sordidness and ugliness--to +Thyrsis its people seemed like carefully selected types of all things +that he hated in the world. There was a young broker's clerk, whose +patter was of prices, and of fortunes made without service. There was a +grey-haired bookkeeper for a giant "trust", a man who could not have had +more pride in that great engine of exploitation, or more contempt for +its victims, had he been the president and chief owner thereof. +There was a young divinity-student, who made greedy reaches for the +cake-plate, and who summed up for Thyrsis all the cant and commonness of +the church. There was a dry-goods clerk, who wore flaring ties, and who +played the role of a "masher" upon the avenue every evening. And finally +there was a red-faced Irish-man who wore large shiny cuffs and a false +diamond, and who held some political job, and was voluble in behalf of +"the organization". + +Among these people Thyrsis sat three times a day, silent and tortured, +paying a high price for each morsel of food he ate. But also he was +lonely, and craving any sort of respite; and in the course of time he +became acquainted with several of the younger men. One of the diversions +in their pitiful and narrow lives was to gather in some room and indulge +in petty gambling; sitting for hours upon hours with their faculties +alert upon the attempt to get from each other some small fraction +of that weekly stipend which kept them alive. Sometimes they played +"penny-ante", and sometimes _vingt_ _et_ _un_; once, as it chanced, they +needed another player, and they urged Thyrsis to join them. + +And so, for the first time in his life, Thyrsis learned what it meant to +lay his soul upon the lap of the goddess of chance. From eight o'clock +that evening until two the next morning, he sat in a suffocating room +full of cigarette-smoke, trying in vain to win back the dollar or two +he had lost at the outset; flushed and trembling with excitement, and +hating himself with a bitter and tormenting hatred. And so he discovered +his vice; he discovered that he had in him the soul of the gambler! And +all the rest of the winter he had to wrestle with that shame. He would +go to his dinner, tired and heartsick; and they would ask him to +play again; and he--the man who carried a message for humanity in his +heart--he would yield! Three times during that winter he fell into the +mire; on Washington's birthday he began to play in the morning, and +stopping only for meals, he played until long after midnight. +Forever afterwards he was a humbler and a gentler man because of that +experience; understanding how squalor abases one, and how swiftly and +stealthily an evil passion closes its grasp about the soul. + +Section 2. Of this shameful thing he said not a word to Corydon. But +he avoided meeting her, because of the depths of his despair. And so at +last there came a letter from her--a long and unusual one. Corydon, too, +was having her troubles, it appeared. + +"I am writing in haste," she said; "I shall mail the letter at once, +before my resolution fails me. At least a dozen times I have made up +my mind to tell you or to write you what is here, and each time I have +turned back. But now I have got to a stage where I must have your help. + +"I enclose a long letter which I wrote you years ago, before we were +married. I was looking over some old papers the other day and came upon +it. Generally when I wrote you letters that I did not send, I tore them +up; but something led me to keep this one--I had a feeling that some day +it would be interesting as a curiosity. You see, I am always persuading +myself that I can get over this trouble, and learn to laugh at it; and +I am always succeeding--but only to have it crop up in some different +form. I have told you a little of it now and then--but stop and read the +enclosed, and you will see." + +So Thyrsis read the old letter--a missive of anguish and terror, and +beginning with elaborate preludings and hesitations: + +"I implore you to be patient with me this once; and when I have gotten +through, I want you still to love me, if possible. I have been trying to +get the courage to write you something that is so mean and low, childish +and almost imbecile, that there have been moments in which my horror +of it was absolutely unspeakable; when I have imagined myself as a +soul damned, when I thought that if you knew, you would think I had +a diseased brain. I only ask you to read patiently what I am going to +write; but know that every word is a horrible effort, that it is torture +and humiliation to me to write it. I have a feeling now as though I were +psychologically dissecting something. + +"It must have been eight years ago, when I was sick in bed; in a fever +or delirium I conceived the idea that there was a coffin under my bed. +The thought took hold of me, somehow, like an octopus, and I used to +writhe under it, and get into fearful perspirations. I never went near a +bed that I didn't think of this thing with the same horror. + +"And so I seemed to have created a nervousness, a sense of dread, before +which I was absolutely helpless. I cannot tell you how hopelessly or +fearfully I suffered, or what depths of despondency and despair and +blackness I was cast into. I cannot understand how a creature could so +manufacture torments for itself. But this is not all, just for once have +mercy--and yet even now I am laughing at myself! + +"The winter I was sixteen I was much disappointed that I could not go to +college, and almost the whole winter, when I was not diverted, I would +brood over this habit. As I grew older, it would come to me in spasms, +and it seemed to my dawning sense so monstrously child-like, so insane, +that I was aghast that it had power to affect me. I can find no words to +tell you of the unspeakable horror with which I saw, in my older days, +that a thought could so torment me; the mere fact of its being able to +torment I could never forget. I know it was silly, unreasonable; and +yet every time it came to me I would be plunged into a hopelessness and +melancholy, than which I can honestly conceive nothing more fearful upon +earth. + +"Well, I continued to pursue myself with this morbidity (I would almost, +rather kill myself than write this). As I got older my terror was less, +but my melancholy greater, until I would be only half conscious of what +I was allowing myself to do. I seemed to have engendered within myself a +hob-goblin. Once--it was only last winter--I saw a nasty word written on +a fence, and it sent a shudder through me, for I knew it would follow me +and make me think of other things like it. I felt, since thoughts have +such power to terrorize me, how can I ever get away from them? + +"Oh, how I have struggled--tried to say it was not true--that I was just +as sane as other people! And this made my thirst for beauty all the more +maddening, and my melancholy all the more complete! So I have lived, at +intervals, and words cannot describe the hell that I have endured, the +more horrible because it seemed to me so unreasonable, so insane. It +occurred to me more or less this summer, though in a milder form; but +it often frightened me more than ever, as I felt how beautiful you were, +and what you would think of me, if you knew I was capable of being the +prey of such thoughts. So they were always more dreadful to me. + +"Can you possibly understand how the thought of a word could make me +shudder? The mere idea of my being capable of thinking of anything +that was not beautiful! When I longed to be only the embodiment of +beauty--and sometimes I _am_ beautiful! I look into the glass, and +I seem to have something in my face that is a promise of a glory to +come--a light, a something,--I love to imagine it. And then, that a +thought should knock me prone, and make me cringe--from the mere fact of +its lowness and meanness! + +"For the last two or three days I have again victimized myself; and when +I was not studying I was asking myself in anguish what was the matter +with me, and if there was no hope for me on earth. I dodged around and +tried to laugh it off, then I went to the piano and lost myself in the +dissatisfaction of my playing; but when I stopped, I was conscious of +a great depression, as though I were chained in a dungeon. I jumped up, +and said I could stand it no longer. I will tell Thyrsis, I said; but +no, I will die first! I added. He could not tolerate me afterwards, he +would think me only fit for the insane-asylum. Oh, why should I be so +cursed? And then, somehow, I imagined that I told you, and that you +laughed at me, that you pitied me--and that you held out your hand, and +said, 'Come, you _shall_ find beauty--poor, deluded, wretched, little +creature!' I really imagined that this had happened, and I was relieved +as with a draught of fresh air. + +"Oh, God in Heaven, to think that I could ever have been so degraded! My +head hurts, and I absolutely am dazed, to think that I have been able to +write you of something for which (though it has not been my making) I +am so ashamed and humiliated I can hardly hold my head up. I think in my +short life I have atoned for the sins of many souls." + +Section 3. Such was the old-time letter. "And now," wrote Corydon, "I +don't want you to think that if I did not send you this, it was because +I was afraid to do it, or unwilling to trust to your love. It was simply +because I felt that I could conquer these things--that it would be weak +and contemptible of me not to do so. Nor is the reason I write you now +that I have not been able to conquer them, that I am still at the mercy +of such habits. I am a grown woman, and I am not afraid of words; I tell +myself this a hundred times; and it is true--and yet there is a way in +which it is not true. The thing is so intricate--I never get to the end +of it; I rid myself of the fear of a hateful idea, but there remains the +fact that I should have been afraid; there is the fear of fear. And +then comes a flood of shame--that I should have it in me to be afraid of +fear! + +"Thyrsis, as I write to you now I see clearly how perfectly preposterous +and unreal all this is; and again there comes to me the impulse to tear +up this letter, and banish the troop of hob-goblins from my mind. But +no, this time I am determined to make a clean breast of the thing--for I +see that secrecy and solitude are what it feeds on. If I were happy and +busy with you such ideas would have no power over me. But think how it +is, with my loneliness and despair! I don't want to say anything to make +your task harder--but oh, Thyrsis, it is frightful to have nothing to +do but wait, and wait, and wait! The baby wakes me up in the night and I +lie for hours--it is at such times that these phantoms take hold of me. +Do you realize that I literally never know what it is to have more than +three or four consecutive hours of sleep? + +"No, I am not insane, I tell myself; I am not insane! It is the +circumstances of my life that cause this melancholia and misery. It has +been my life, from the very beginning--for what a hopeful and joyous +creature I would have been, had I only had a chance as a girl! I know +that; and you must tell it to me, and help me to believe it." + +Thyrsis read this with less surprise than Corydon had imagined; for she +had been wont to drop hints about her trouble from time to time. He was +shocked, however, to find what a hold it had taken upon her; the thing +sent a chill of fear to his heart. Could it be after all that she had +some taint? But he saw at once that he must not let her see any such +feeling; the least hint of it would have driven her to distraction. On +the contrary, he must minimize the trouble, must help her to laugh it +away, as she asked. + +He went to meet her in the park, and found her in an agony of distress; +she had mailed the letter, and then she had wished to recall it, and had +been struggling ever since with the idea that he would be disgusted with +her. Now, when she found that such was not the case, that he still loved +her and trusted her, she was transported with gratitude. + +"But dearest," he said, "how absurd it is to be ashamed of an idea! If +ugly things exist, don't we have to hear of them and know of them? And +so why frighten ourselves because they are in our minds?" + +"But Thyrsis," cried she, "they are so hateful!" + +"Yes," he said. "But then the more you hate them, the more they haunt +you!" + +"That's just it!" she exclaimed. + +"But what harm can they do? Can they have any effect upon your +character? You must say to yourself that all this is a consequence of +the structure of your brain-cells. What could be more futile than trying +to forget? As if the very essence of the trying was not remembering!" + +So Thyrsis went on to argue with her. He made her promise him that in +future she would tell him of all her obsessions, permitting no fear +or shame to deter her; and so thereafter he would have to listen +periodically to long accounts of her psychological agonies, and help +her to hunt out the "hob-goblins" from the tangled thickets of her mind. +They were forever settling the matter, positively and finally--but alas, +only to have something unsettle it again. So Thyrsis had to add to his +other accomplishments the equipment of a psycho-pathologist; he brushed +up his French, and read learned treatises upon the researches in the +_Salpetriere_, and the theories of the "Nancy School". + +Section 4. Another month passed by, and still there was no rift in the +clouds. Once more Corydon was forbidden to see him, and so her pain grew +day by day. At last there came another letter, voicing utter despertion. +Something must be done, she declared, she was slowly going out of her +mind. Thyrsis could have no idea of the shamefulness of her position, +the humiliations she had to face. "I tell you the thing is putting a +brand upon my soul," she wrote. "It is something I shall never get over +all my life. It is withering me up--it is destroying my self-respect, my +very decency; it is depriving me of my power to act, or even to think. +People come in, relatives or friends--even strangers to me--and peer +at me and pry into my affairs; I hear them whispering in the +parlor--'Hasn't he got a position yet?' or 'How can she have anything to +do with him?' The servants gossip about me--the woman I have for a nurse +despises me and insults me, and I have not the courage to rebuke her. +To-day I went almost wild with fury--I rushed into the bathroom and +locked the door and flung myself upon the floor. I found myself gnawing +at the rug in my rage--I mean that literally. That is what life has left +for me! + +"I tell you you must take me away, we must get out of this fiendish +city. Let us go into the wilderness as you said, and live as we can--I +would rather starve to death than face these things. Let us get into the +country, Thyrsis. You can work as a farm-hand, and earn a few dollars +a week--surely that could not be a greater strain upon us than the way +things are now." + +When Thyrsis received this, he racked his brains once more; and then he +sat down and wrote a letter to Barry Creston. He told how he had worked +over the play, and how it had gone to ruin; he told of his present +plight. He knew, he said, that Mr. Creston had been interested in the +play, and that he was a man understood the needs of the artist-life. +Would he lend two hundred dollars, which would suffice until Thyrsis +could get another work completed? + +He waited a week for a reply to this; and when it arrived he opened it +with trembling fingers. He half expected a check to fall fluttering to +the floor; but alas, there was not a single flutter. "I have read your +letter," wrote the young prince, "and I have considered the matter +carefully. I would do what you ask, were it not for my conviction that +it would not be a good thing for you. It seems to me the testimony +of all experience, that artists do their great work under the spur of +necessity. I do not believe that real art can ever be subsidized. It is +for men that you are writing; and you must find out how to make men +hear you. You may not thank me for this now, but some day you will, I +believe." + +After duly pondering which communication, Thyrsis racked his wits, and +bethought him of yet another person to try. He sat himself down and +addressed Mr. Robertson Jones. He explained that he was in this cruel +plight, owing to his having devoted so many months to "The Genius." Even +the actors had received something for the performances of the play they +had given; but the author had received nothing at all. He asked Mr. +Jones for a personal loan to help him in a great emergency; and he +promised to repay it at the earliest possible moment. To which Mr. Jones +made this reply--"Inasmuch as the failure of the play was due solely +to your own obstinacy, it seems to me that your present experiences are +affording exactly the discipline you need." + +Section 5. However, there are many ups and downs in the trade of +free-lance writer. The very day after he had received this letter, there +came, in quick succession two bursts of sunlight through the clouds of +Thyrsis' despair. The first was a letter, written in a quaint script, +from a man who explained that he was interested in a "Free People's +Theatre" in one of the cities of Germany. "You will please to accept my +congratulations," he wrote; "I had never known such a play as yours +in America to be written. I should greatly be pleased to translate the +play, so that it might be known in Germany. Our compensation would have +to be little, as you will understand; but of appreciation I think you +may receive much in the Fatherland." + +To which Thyrsis sent a cordial response, saying that he would be glad +of any remuneration, and enclosing a copy of the manuscript of "The +Genius". And then--only two days later--came the other event, a still +more notable one; a letter from the publisher who had been number +thirty-seven on the list of "The Hearer of Truth". Thyrsis had got so +discouraged about this work that he now sent it about as a matter of +routine, and without thinking of it at all. Great, therefore, was his +amazement when he opened the letter and read that this publisher was +disposed to undertake it, and would be glad to see him and talk over +terms. + +Thyrsis went, speculating on the way as to what strange manner of being +this publisher might be. The solution of the mystery he found was that +the publisher was new at the business, and had entrusted his "literary +department" to a very young man who had enthusiasms. The young man held +his position for only a month or two; but in that month or two Thyrsis +got in his "innings". + +The publisher wished to bring the book out that spring. He offered a ten +per cent royalty, and the trembling author summoned the courage to ask +for one hundred dollars advance; when he got it, he was divided between +his delight, and a sneaking regret that he had not tried for a hundred +and fifty! + +The very next day came the contracts and the money; Thyrsis marvelled +at the fact that there were people who could sign checks for a hundred +dollars, and apparently not mind it in the least. With the money he was +able to pay all his debts, and also a bill which Corydon had received +from a "specialist" who had been treating her. This was a new habit that +Corydon was developing, as a result of headaches and backaches and other +obscure miseries. These amiable "specialists" permitted one to run up a +bill with them; and so, whenever Thyrsis made a new "strike", there were +always debts to eat up the greater part of it. + +They had now another hope to lure them; new proofs to read, and in due +time, new reviews. But it would be fall before they could expect more +money from the book, and meantime there was still the problem of the +summer. So, as usual, Thyrsis was plotting and planning, groping about +him and trying one desperate scheme after another; his head was like a +busy workshop, from which came every hour new plans, new expedients, new +experiments. And meanwhile, of course, deep down in his soul there was +forming the new work, that some day would emerge and take possession of +him, driving everything else from his consciousness. + +People would repeat to him, over and over, their dreary formula--"Get +a position! Get a position!" And patiently, unwearyingly, Thyrsis would +set himself to explain to them what it was like to be inspired. It was +not perversity upon his part, it was not conceit; it was no more these +than it was laziness. It was something that was in him--something that +he had not put there himself, something that he could not take out of +himself; a thing that took possession of him, without any intention +upon his part, without any permission; a thing that required him to do +certain acts, and that tore him to pieces if he did not do them. And +how should he be blamed because he could not do as other men--because he +could not take care of himself, nor even of his wife and child? Because +he could not have any rights, because he could not possess the luxuries +of manhood and self-respect? Because, in short, he was cast out into the +gutter for every dog to snarl at and for every loafer to spurn? Could +it be that in this whole civilization, with its wealth and power, its +culture and learning, its sciences and arts and religions--there was not +to be found one single man or woman who could recognize such a state of +affairs, and realize what it meant? + +Section 6. About this time Thyrsis thought of another plan. Perhaps he +might get some one to publish the play in book form--that would bring +him a little money, and possibly also it might help him to interest +some other manager or actor. So he took the manuscript to his friend +Mr. Ardsley, who told him it would not sell, and then gave him another +lecture upon his folly in not having written the "practical" novel; and +then he took it to the publisher for whom Prof. Osborne acted as reader. +So he had another conference with that representative of authority. + +"I'll get him some day," Thyrsis had said to himself, after their last +interview; and he found that he had almost "got" him now. There was +no chance of the play's selling, said the professor, and therefore no +recommending it for publication; but it was indeed a remarkable piece of +work--one might possibly say that it was a _great_ piece of work. + +To which the author responded, "Why can't one say that surely?" + +"I'm not quite sure," said the other, "whether your violinist is a +genius, or only thinks he is." + +Thyrsis pondered this. "That's rather an important question," he said. + +"Yes," admitted the other. + +"There ought to be some way of deciding such a question definitely." + +"Yes, there ought to be." + +"But there isn't?" + +"No--I'm afraid there isn't. We know too little about genius as yet." + +"But, professor," said Thyrsis, "you are a critic--you write books of +criticism. And that's the one question a critic has to answer." + +"Yes, I know," said Prof. Osborne. + +"And yet, when you face the issue, you give up." + +"It has generally taken a long time to decide such a matter," was the +professor's reply. + +"Yes, it has," said the other; "and meantime the man is starved out." + +There was a pause. "You have never had any such experience yourself?" +asked Thyrsis. "Of inspiration, I mean." + +"No," was the answer. "I couldn't pretend to." + +"So your judgments are never from first-hand knowledge?" + +The professor hesitated. "I am dealing with you frankly---" he began. + +"I know," said Thyrsis, "and I appreciate that. You understand that it's +an important point for me to get clear. I've felt that all along about +you--I've felt it about so many others who set themselves against me. +And yet I have to bear the burden of their condemnation--" + +"I never condemned you," interposed the other. + +"Ah, but you did!" cried Thyrsis. "You told me that I knew less +about writing than anyone in your class! And you spoke as one who had +authority." + +"But you had given no indications in the class-room--" + +"I know! I know! I tried to get you to see the reason. I wanted to +create literature; and you set me down with a lot of formulas--you told +me to write about 'The Duty of the College Man to Support Athletics!'" + +"It's difficult to see," began Prof. Osborne, "how we could teach +college boys to create literature--" + +"At least," said the other, "you need not follow a method which would +make it impossible for one of them to create literature if he had it in +him." + +"Does it seem to you as bad as that?" asked the professor, a little +disturbed. + +"It truly does," said Thyrsis. + +"But what would you say we could do?" + +To which the boy replied, "You might try to get your pupils to feel one +deep emotion about life, or to think one worth-while thought; then they +might stand a chance of knowing how it feels to write." + +Section 7. Thyrsis was still reading in the papers and magazines of +philanthropists and public-spirited citizens; and he was still sitting +down to write them and explain his plight. He would beg them to believe +that he wanted nothing but a bare living; and he would send copies of +his books or articles or manuscripts, and ask these people to read +them. And about this time an unusual thing happened--one of these +philanthropists answered his letter. He wrote that he did not agree with +Thyrsis' ideas, by any means, but appreciated the power of his writing, +and was certain that he had a career before him. Whereupon Thyrsis made +haste to follow up his advantage, and wrote another letter--one of the +most intense and impassioned that he ever composed in his life. + +He told about the new book he was dreaming. For years he had read his +country's history, and lived in it and thrilled with it. Especially had +he read the Civil War; and now he was planning a book that should hold +the War, and all the meanings of the War, as a wine-cup holds the rich +flavors and aromas of the grape. A titan struggle it had been, the +birth-agony of a nation; and it was a thing to be contemplated with +amazement, that it should have produced so little in the way of art. +Half a dozen poems there were; but of novels not one above the grade of +juvenile fiction. + +What Thyrsis was planning was a new form; a series of swift visions, of +glimpses into the very heart of the nation's agony. He described some of +the scenes that were haunting him and driving him. The winter's night +in the ditches in front of Marye's Heights, when the dead and dying lay +piled in windrows, and the soul of a people sobbed in despair! The night +on the field of Gettysburg, when the young soldier lay wounded, but rapt +in his vision, seeing the hosts of the victorious future defiling upon +that hallowed ground! The ghastly scenes in Andersonville, and the +escape, and the long journey filled with perils; and the siege of +Petersburg, and the surrender; and last of all the ecstasy of the dying +man in the capital, when the grim, war-worn legions were tramping for +two days through the city. Such, wrote Thyrsis, was the book that he +wished to compose, and that was being stifled in him for the lack of two +or three hundred dollars. + +Upon the receipt of this letter the philanthropist wrote again, +suggesting that the poet come to see him and talk things over. He +sent the price of a railroad ticket to Boston; and so Thyrsis made the +acquaintance of a new world--one might almost say of a whole new system +of worlds. + +For here was the Athens of America, the hub of the universe. In Boston +they worshipped culture, they lived in literature and art and the +transcendental excellences; and by the way of showing that there was no +snobbery in them, they opened the gates of their most august mansions to +this soul-sick poet, and invited him to tea. + +Thyrsis got a strange impression among these people, who were living +upon their knees before the shrine of their own literary history. One +was treading here upon holy ground; in these very houses had dwelt +immortal writers--their earthly forms had rested in these chairs, and +their auras yet haunted the dim religious light of these drawing-rooms. +There were old people who had known them in the flesh, and could tell +anecdotes about them--to which one listened in reverent awe; at every +gathering one met people who were writing biographies and memoirs of +them, or editing their letters and journals, or writing essays +and appreciations, criticisms and commentaries and catalogs and +bibliographies. And to be worthy of the visitations of such hallowed +influences, one must guard one's mind as a temple, a place of silences +and serenities, to which no vulgar things could penetrate; one excluded +all the uproar of these days of undisciplined egotism--above all things +else one preserved an attitude of aloofness from that which presumed to +call itself "literature" in such degenerate times. + +To have become acquainted with these high standards was perhaps worth +the rent of a room and the cost of some food and clean collars. So +Thyrsis reflected when, after his week of waiting, he had his interview +with the benevolent philanthropist, who explained to him, at great +length, how charity had the effect of weakening the springs of +character, and destroying those qualities of self-reliance and +independence which were the most precious things in a man. + +Section 8. It was a curious coincidence, one that seemed almost +symbolic--that Thyrsis should have gone from the Brahmins of Boston to +the Socialists of the East Side! + +In one of the publishing-houses he visited, Thyrsis had met a young man +who gave him a Socialist magazine to read; as the magazine was published +in the next building, Thyrsis went in and met the editor. About this +time they were crowning a new king in England, and Thyrsis, who had +no use for kings, wrote a sarcastic poem which the Socialist editor +published free of charge. And so the boy discovered a new way in which +he could relieve his feelings. + +"I see what you want," he admitted, in his arguments with this editor; +"and it's the same thing as I want--every man with any sense must see +that, in the ultimate outcome, all this capital will be owned by the +public and not by private individuals. But what I object to is the +way you go at it. The industrial process is a necessary thing; it is +drilling and disciplining the workers. They are not yet fitted for the +responsibility of managing the world." + +"But," asked the editor, "what's to be the sign when they _are_ fitted?" + +"When they have been educated," Thyrsis answered. + +To which the editor responded, "Who is to educate them, if we don't?" + +That was an interesting point; and Thyrsis found little by little that +a new light was dawning upon him. He had somehow conceived of industrial +evolution as something vast and intangible and mechanical, something +that went on independent of men, and that could not be hurried or +delayed. What this editor pointed out was that the process was a +definite one, that it went on in the minds of men, and involved human +effort--of which the publishing of Socialist literature was a most +essential part. + +"You ought to hear Darrell," said the man; and a few days later he wrote +Thyrsis a note, asking him to go to a hall over on the East Side that +evening. + +Thyrsis went, and found a working-men's meeting-room, ill-lighted and +ill-ventilated, with perhaps two hundred people in it. The chairman +introduced the speaker of the evening; and so Thyrsis got his first +glimpse of Henry Darrell. + +He was something over forty years of age, slight of build; his face was +pale to the point of ghostliness, and this impression was heightened by +a jet black mustache and beard. One's first thought was that this man +was no stranger to suffering. + +He was not a good speaker, in the conventional sense, he fumbled for +words, and repeated himself--and yet from his first sentence Thyrsis +found himself listening spellbound. The voice went through him like the +toll of a bell; never in all his life had he heard a speaker who put +such a burden of anguish into his words--who gave such a sense of +gigantic issues, of age-long destinies hanging in the balance, of +world-embracing hopes and powers struggling to be born. Here was a +prophet who carried in his soul the future of the race; who in the +sudden flashes of his vision, in the swift rushes of his passionate +pleadings, evoked from the deeps of the consciousness forces that one +contemplated with terror--confronted one with martyrdoms and agonies and +despairs. + +"Revolution" was his title; he pictured modern civilization as it +presented itself to the proletarian man--a gigantic Moloch, to which +human lives were fed, a monster from whose dominion there was no +deliverance, even in the uttermost parts of the earth. He pictured +accident, disease and death, unemployment and starvation, child-labor, +prostitution, war; he was the voice of the dispossessed of the earth, +the man beneath the machine, ground up body, mind and soul in this +"world-wide mill of economic might". And he showed how this man dragged +down with him all society; how the chain that bound the slave was +fastened also to the master--so that from the poverty and oppression and +degradation of this "downmost man" came all the ulcers that festered in +the social body. He saw the great economic machine grinding on day +and night, the mighty forces rushing to their culmination. He saw the +toiling millions pressed deeper and deeper into the mire; he saw their +blind, convulsive struggles for deliverance; he saw over them the +gigantic slave-driver with his thousand-lashed whip--the capitalist +state, class-owned class-administered--backed by the capitalist church +and the capitalist press and capitalist "public sentiment". So the +hopes of the people went down in blood and reaction sat enthroned. The +nations, ridden by despotisms, and whirled into senseless wars, ran the +old course of militarism, imperialism, barbarism; and so civilization +slid back yet again into the melting-pot! + +Thyrsis had never heard such a speech as this in his life. When it +was over, he went up to the platform where Darrell sat, looking more +exhausted and pain-driven than ever; and in a few hesitating words he +told of his interest, and asked for the speaker's address, that he might +write to him. And that night he posted a letter, introducing himself as +a young writer, who felt impelled to learn more about Darrell's ideas. + +In reply came a note from the other, asking him to dine with him; and +Thyrsis answered accepting. + +Then, as chance would have it, he mentioned the circumstance to his +mother. "Darrell!" she cried. "You don't mean Henry Darrell!" + +"Yes," said Thyrsis. "Why?" + +"And you would meet that man?" + +"Why not?" he asked, perplexed. + +"Haven't you read anything about him in the papers? That monster!" + +"What do you mean?" + +"A man who deserted his wife and children, and left them to starve, and +ran away with some rich woman!" + +Thyrsis recollected vaguely some sensational headlines, about the +clergyman and college professor who had done the shocking things his +mother spoke of, and was now a social outcast, and a preacher of anarchy +and revolution. He recalled also that there had been a woman, beautiful +and richly-dressed, with Darrell at the meeting. + +The boy was not disturbed by all this, for he had long ago made up his +mind that every man had to work out his own sex-problems; in fact, his +first impulse was to admire a man who had had the courage to face the +world upon such an issue. But he was sorry he had mentioned it to his +mother, for she wept bitterly when she found that he meant to accept the +invitation. That was the culmination of her life's defeat--that her son, +who had been designed for a bishop, should be going to sit at table with +Henry Darrell and his paramour! + +Section 9. Thyrsis went to the apartment-hotel where Darrell lived, and +was introduced to the beautiful lady as Mrs. Darrell, and they went down +to the dining-room--where he noticed that everyone turned to stare at +them as they entered. It made him feel that he must be doing something +quite desperate; and yet it was not easy to imagine any wickedness of +the man opposite to him--his voice was so kind, and his smile so gentle, +and his whole aspect so appealing. He was dressed in black, and wore +a soft black bow at his throat, which made still more conspicuous +the pallor of his face; Thyrsis had never met a man he took to more +quickly--there was something about him that was like a little child, +calling for affection and sympathy. + +Yet, also, there was the mind of a thinker. He was a man of culture, in +the most vital sense of the word; he had swept the heavens of thought +with a powerful telescope--had travelled, and knew many languages, and +their literatures and arts. He had tested them all by a strong acid of +his own; so that to talk with him was to discover the feet of clay of +one's idols. + +He spoke of Dante and Angelo, who were two of his heroes; he told of +great experiences among the latter's titan frescos. He spoke of Mazzini, +whose greatness as a writer the world had yet to appreciate; he spoke +also of Wagner, whose music he valued less than his critical and +polemical work. He told of modern artists both in Germany and +Italy--revolutionary forces of whom Thyrsis had never heard at all. The +day must come, said Darrell, when Americans would discover the great +movements of contemporary thought, and realize their own provincialness. +America thought of itself as "the land of the free", and that made it +hard to teach. It was obvious enough that there had never been any +real freedom in America--only government by propertied classes. The +Revolution had been a rebellion of country gentlemen and city merchants; +as one might know from the "constitution" they had adopted--one of the +greatest barriers to human progress ever devised. And so with the Civil +War, which to Darrell was one of the deeds of the newly-risen monster of +Capitalism. + +They went upstairs again, and Thyrsis found another man seated in +the drawing-room. He was introduced by the name of Paret, and Thyrsis +recognized him as the editor of "The Beacon", a magazine of which he +had chanced upon a copy some time before. It was the first Socialist +publication he had ever seen, and it had repelled him because its editor +had printed his own picture in a conspicuous place, and also because in +his leading editorial he had dealt flippantly with an eminent reformer +and philanthropist for whom Thyrsis had a profound respect. + +But here was the editor himself--not merely his photograph: a little +man, clad in evening dress, very neat and dapper. He had a black beard, +trimmed to a point, and also a sarcastic smile, and he impressed Thyrsis +as a drawing-room edition of Mephistopheles. He lounged at ease in a +big chair, not troubling to talk; save that every now and then he would +punctuate the discussion with some droll reflection that stuck in one's +mind like a burr. + +Some one spoke of certain evangelists who were conducting a temperance +campaign among the workers in the steel-mills. Said Paret: "If I had +to live in hell, I'm sure I'd rather be drunk than sober!" And a little +later Thyrsis spoke of a novel he had been reading, which set out to +solve the problem of "capital and labor". Its solution seemed to be +for the handsome young leader of the union to marry the daughter of the +capitalist; and Paret remarked, with his dry smile, "No doubt if the +capitalists and their daughters are willing, the union-leaders will +come to the scratch." Again, Darrell was telling about the ten years' +struggle he had waged to waken the Church to the great issue of the +time; and how at last he had given up in despair. Paret remarked, "For +my part, I never try to talk economics with preachers. When you talk to +a business-man, he understands a business proposition, and you can get +somewhere; but when you talk with a preacher, and you think he's been +understanding you, you find that all the time he's been thinking what +Moses would have said about it." + +There came other guests: a German, hard-fisted, bullet-headed--editor +of an East Side labor-paper. Some one spoke of working-men losing their +votes through being unemployed and cast adrift; and Thyrsis remembered +this man's grim comment, "They lose their votes, but they don't lose +their voices!" There came a young man, fair as an Antinous, who with his +verbal battering-ram shook the institutions of society so as to frighten +even the author of "The Higher Cannibalism". There came also a poetess, +whose work he had seen in the magazines, and with her a Russian youth +who had come to study the thought of America, and was now going home, +because America had no thought. Thyrsis had a good deal of patriotism +left in him, and might have been angered by this stripling's contempt; +but the stripling spoke with such quiet assurance, and his contempt was +so boundless as to frighten one. "These people," he said--"they simply +do not know what the intellectual life means!" + +When Thyrsis went home that evening, he carried with him new ideas to +ponder; also some of Darrell's pamphlets and speeches--the product +of his ten years' struggle to make the teachings of Christ of some +authority in the Christian Church. Thyrsis sat up late, and read one of +these pamphlets, an indictment of Capitalism from the point of view of +the artist and spiritual creator. It was a magnificent piece of writing; +it came to Thyrsis like an echo out of his own life. So, before he slept +that night he had written a letter to Darrell, telling of his struggles +and his defeats. "I do not ask you to help _me_" he wrote. "I ask you to +read my work, and decide if that be worth saving. For ashamed as I am to +say it, I am at the end of my resources, and if some help does not come, +I do not know what will become of me." + +Thyrsis had now tried all varieties of the great and successful of the +earth--the publishers and editors and authors, the college professors +and clergymen, the statesmen and capitalists and philanthropists. And +now, for the first time, he tried the Socialists. He trembled when he +opened Darrell's reply. Could it be that this man would be like all the +rest? + +But no, he was different! "Dear Brother:" he wrote. "I understand +what you have told me, and I appreciate your position. Send me your +manuscripts at once; I leave to-morrow for a lecture-trip, and on my way +I will read everything, and let you hear from me on my return. In the +meantime, I should add that I am helping two Socialist publications, and +a good many individuals too, and that my resources have been absurdly +exaggerated in the public prints. I say this, that you may not +overestimate what I might possibly be able to do." + +Section 10. So Thyrsis sent a manuscript of his play, and a copy of his +first novel, and a set of proofs of "The Hearer of Truth"; and then for +a couple of weeks he waited in suspense and dread. He could not see how +a man like Henry Darrell could fail to appreciate his work; but on the +other hand, after so many disappointments and rebuffs, how could he +bring himself to believe that any one would really give him aid? + +At last came a second letter; a letter full of warm-hearted +sympathy--pointing out the faults of immaturity in his work, but also +recognizing its real merits. It closed with this all-important sentence: +"I will do what I can to help you, so come and let us talk it over." + +Thyrsis went; and as they sat in his study, Darrell put his arm about +him, and told him a little of his own career. He had begun life as a +street-waif, a newsboy and bootblack; and once when he was ill, he had +gone to a drug-store for help, and the druggist had given him a poison +by mistake, so that all his life thereafter he had more sick days than +well. He told how, at an early age, he had gone to a country college +to seek an education as a divinity-student; he had arrived, weary and +footsore, and with his last cent had bought a post-card to let his +mother know that he was safe He told how, as a clergyman and college +professor the gospel of the time had come to him; how he had preached +and labored, amid persecution and obloquy, until he had come to realize +that the Church was a dead sepulchre; and how at last he had thrown +everything to the winds, and given himself to the working-class +political movement. + +Then Thyrsis, scrupulous as ever, said, "I know nothing about Socialism. +I mean to study it; but I might not come to believe in it--how can I +tell? I would not want you to help me under any misapprehension." + +At which the other smiled gently. "I am working for the truth," he said. + +They talked about Thyrsis and his needs. Presumably, he said, he would +have money from his new book in the fall, but meantime he wanted to take +his family into the country. He could live on thirty dollars a month; it +would be a matter of some two hundred and fifty dollars. Darrell said he +would give him this; and Thyrsis sat there, powerless to thank him, his +voice trembling, and a mist of tears in his eyes. + +He went on to tell his friend of the work that he meant to do. Darrell +had said that to him the Civil War was a crime; but Thyrsis did not know +what he meant by that. "I believe in my country!" he said. "It has +tried for high things--and it will come to them! I know that it can be +thrilled and roused, and made to see the shame into which it is fallen." + +Darrell pressed his arm, and answered, with a smile, "I won't argue with +you about the War; you go ahead and write your book!" + +So Thyrsis went home to Corydon, as one who brings a reprieve to a +prisoner under sentence of death. Such a deliverance as it was to them! +And such transports of relief and gratitude as they experienced! He sang +the praises of Darrell, and of the new friends he had made at Darrell's; +also he brought an invitation for Corydon to come with him to an evening +reception the next week. They were anxious to meet her, he said; and +Corydon was anxious to go. + +But, alas, this did not work out according to expectations. Thyrsis +discovered now what his wife had meant when she wrote that suffering and +humiliation were breaking down her character. She could not bear to meet +intellectual people, to take part in the competition of their life. +For the most part these were men and women of intense personalities, +absorbed in their own ideas, keenly critical, and not very merciful to +any sort of weakness. And Corydon was morbidly aware of her own lack of +accomplishments, and acutely sensitive as to what others thought about +her. A strange figure she must have made in any one's drawing-room--with +the old dress she had fixed up, and the lace-collar she had borrowed for +the occasion, and the sad face with the large dark eyes. The talk of the +company ran to politics; and Corydon had nothing to say about politics. +She could only sit in a corner while Thyrsis talked, and suffer agonies +of humiliation. + +To make matters worse, there came a literary lion that evening; one of +the few modern writers whose books Corydon knew and loved. But when they +were introduced, he scarcely looked at her; he went on talking to an +East Side poetess whose opinions were fluent and ready. So Corydon found +herself shunted into a corner with an unknown old lady. It was one +of Corydon's peculiarities that she abhorred old ladies; and this one +questioned her about the feeding of infants and told her that she was +ill-equipped for the responsibilities of motherhood! + +On her way home she poured out her bitterness to Thyrsis. "I can see +exactly how it is," she said. "They all think you've married a pretty +face!" + +"You haven't given them much chance to think otherwise," he pleaded. + +"They don't want any chance," she exclaimed. "They've got it all +settled! You are the rising light, which is to astonish the world--and +I'm your youthful blunder. I stay at home and take care of the baby, and +they all feel sorry for you." + +"Do you want them to feel sorry for _you?_" he asked. + +To which Corydon answered, "I don't want them to know about me at all. I +want to get away, and stay by myself, and get back my self-respect." +And so it was decided that in a couple of weeks more--the first of +April--they would shake the dust of the city from their feet. They sent +for their tent and other goods, and began inquiring about a place to +camp. + +Section 11. A few days more passed; and then, one Sundav morning, +Thyrsis' mother came to him in tears, with a copy of a newspaper +"magazine-supplement" in her hand. + +"Look at this!" she cried; and Thyrsis stared. + +There was a full-page article, with many illustrations, and a headline +two inches deep--"Henry Darrell to found Free-Love Colony! Ex-college +professor and clergyman buys farm to teach his doctrines." There was +a picture of Darrell, standing upon a ladder and nailing up an +announcement of his defiance to the institution of marriage; and there +were pictures of his wife and child, and of the farm he had bought, and +a long account of the colony which he was organizing, and in which he +meant to preach and practice his ideas of "free love". + +Thyrsis was half dazed. "I don't believe it!" he cried; whereat his +mother wrung her hands. + +"Not believe it!" she exclaimed. "Why, the paper even gives the price he +paid for the place!" + +So Thyrsis took the article and went to see Henry Darrell again; and +there followed one of the most painful experiences of his life. + +He found his friend like a man blasted by a stroke of lightning. His +very physical appearance was altered; his voice shook and his eyes were +wild, and he paced the room, his whole aspect one cry of agony. + +He pointed Thyrsis to a lot of clippings that lay upon the table--the +first editorial comments upon this new pronouncement. There was one from +an evening paper, which had close upon a million circulation, and had +devoted its whole editorial page to a scathing denunciation, in which it +was declared that "Prof. Darrell's morality is that of the higher apes." + +"Think of it!" the man cried. "And the thing will go from one end of the +country to the other!" + +"But"--gasped Thyrsis, bewildered--"then it is not true?" + +"True?" cried Darrell. "True? How can you ask me?" + +"But--the colony! What is it to be?" + +"There is not going to be any colony. I never dreamed of such a thing!" + +"And haven't you bought any farm?" + +"My wife bought a farm, over a year ago--because we wanted to live in +the country!" + +"But then," gasped Thyrsis--"how dare they?" + +"They dare anything with me!" cried the other. "_Anything!_" + +"And have you no redress?" + +"Redress? What redress?" + +He went on to tell Thyrsis what had happened. He and Mrs. Darrell had +gone down to the farm to see about getting it ready, and a woman had +come, representing that she wished to write a magazine article about +"the country-homes of literary Americans". Upon this pretext she had +secured a photograph of the place, and of Darrell, and of his wife and +child. She had even attempted to secure a photograph of his wife's aged +mother, who lived with her, and who was involved in the affair because +the money belonged to her. Then the woman had gone away--and a couple of +weeks later had come this! + +"And I thought they were through with us!" Darrell whispered, with a +shudder. "I thought it was all over!" + +He sat in a chair, with his face hid in his arms. Thyrsis put his hand +upon his shoulder, and the man caught it. "Listen," he exclaimed. "You +can see this thing from the outside, you know the literary world. Do you +think that I can ever rise above this? Is there any use in trying?" + +"How do you mean?" Thyrsis asked, perplexed. + +"I mean--is it worth while for me to go on writing? Can I ever have any +influence?" + +Thyrsis was shocked at the question--as he had been at the way Darrell +took the whole thing. He knew that his friend had money enough to live +comfortably; and why should any sort of criticism matter to a man who +was economically free? + +"Brother," he said, "you have forgotten your Dante." + +"How do you mean?" asked the other. + +"_Segui il tuo corso e lascia dir le gente!_" quoted Thyrsis; and then +he added, "You don't seem to realize that these are newspapers, and +nobody really credits them." + +"Ah, but they do!" cried Darrell. "You don't know what I have been +through with! My oldest friends have cut me! Clergymen have refused to +sit at table with me! The organization that I gave ten years of my life +to founding has gone all to pieces. I have been utterly ruined--I have +been wiped out, destroyed!" + +"But, my dear man," Thyrsis argued, "you are setting out to teach a new +doctrine, one that is abhorrent to people. And how can you expect to +avoid being attacked? It seems to me that either you ought not to have +done it, or else been prepared for some of this uproar." + +"But because a man becomes a Socialist, are they to libel him in these +foul ways?" + +"I don't mean that. It's not only that you are a Socialist, but that you +have defied their marriage-laws." + +"But I haven't!" exclaimed Darrel. + +"What do you mean?" asked Thyrsis, perplexed. + +"I have defied no law--nor even any convention. I have done everything +that the world requires." + +Thyrsis stared at him, amazed. "Why, surely," he gasped, "you and--and +Mrs. Darrell--you are not _married?_" + +"Married!" exclaimed the other. "We were married here in New York, by a +regularly-ordained clergyman!" + +Thyrsis could not find words to express his dismay. "I--I had no idea of +that!" he gasped. "I thought--" + +"You see the lies!" cried the other. "Even _you_ had swallowed them!" + +It took Thyrsis some time to adjust himself to this new point of +view. He had thought of his friend as a man who had boldly defied the +convention of marriage; and instead of that he was apparently a man +cowering under the lash of the world's undeserved rage. But if so--what +an amazing and incredible thing was the mesh of slander and falsehood in +which he had been entangled! + +Section 12. Little by little Thyrsis drew from Darrell the story of his +marital experience. Before he had been of age, as a poor student, he had +boarded with a woman many years his senior, who had set out to lure him +into marrying her. "I don't believe that she ever loved me one hour," he +said. "She had made up her mind that I was a man of brilliant parts, +and that I would have worldly success. To me the thing was like an evil +dream--I couldn't realize it. And I can't tell you about it now--it was +too horrible. She was older than I, and so different--she was more like +a man. And for twenty years she held me; I had to stay--I was utterly at +her mercy!" + +The man's voice fell to a whisper, and he pressed Thyrsis' hand +convulsively; there were tears upon his cheeks. "I could not tell it all +to anyone," he said. "It makes me cry like a child to think of it. I'm +only getting over it little by little--realizing how I was tortured. +This woman had no interest in me, intellectual or spiritual; she brought +up my children to despise me. I would stay upstairs in my study, writing +sermons--that was all my life! For twenty years I waded through my own +blood!" + +Darrell paused to get control of himself, and then went on. + +"One of my parishioners was my present wife's mother. She was one of the +old-time abolitionists, and she was wealthy; and now, in her old age, +she saw the new light, and became a Socialist. This, of course, was like +gall to her family; they were powers in the state--the railroad people, +who control the legislature and run the government. And so their +newspapers denounced me, and denounced the university where I taught. + +"Then came her daughter--a young girl out of college. I was at their +home often, and we became friends. She saw how unhappy I was, and she +tried to open my wife's eyes, and to win her over to me. But, of course, +she failed in that; and then, little by little we found that we loved +each other. You know me--you know that I am not a base man, nor a +careless man; and you will believe me when I tell you that there was +nothing between us that the world could have called wrong. We knew that +we loved, and we knew that there was no hope. And that went on for eight +years; for eight years I renounced--and strove with every power of my +heart and soul to make something out of that renunciation, to transmute +it into spiritual power. And I failed--I could not do it; and in the end +I knew the reason. It was not beauty and nobility--it was madness and +horror; it was not life--it was death! The time came when I knew that +our renunciation was simply a crime against the soul. Can you see what I +mean?" + +"Yes," said Thyrsis, "I can see." + +"And see what that meant to me--the situation I faced! I was a +clergyman--and preaching a new crusade to the world. It was like being +in a cage, with bars of red-hot metal. A hundred times I would go +towards them--and a hundred times I would shrink back. But I had to +grasp them in the end." + +"I see!" whispered the other. + +"The thing was becoming a scandal anyway; the world was bound to make a +scandal of it, whether we would or no. It was a scandal that I visited +in another woman's home, it was a scandal that I spent her money in my +propaganda. The very children on the streets would taunt my children +about it. And then, my health broke down from overwork; and the mother +was going abroad, and she invited me to go with her and her daughter; +and, of course, that made it worse. So at last the old lady came to me. +'You love my daughter,' she said, 'and the world has thrown her into +your arms. You must let a divorce be arranged, and then marry my +daughter.'" + +"And you got the divorce yourself?" asked Thyrsis. + +"No," said Darrell. "There were grounds enough; but it would have meant +to attack my wife in the public prints, and I would not do it. I had to +let her charge me with desertion, and say nothing." + +"And, of course, they distorted that," said Thyrsis. + +"They distorted everything!" cried the other. "My present wife gave my +first wife all her patrimony; and I thought that was generous--I thought +it was a proof of love. But the newspapers made it that she had bought +me!" + +"And they distorted your second marriage?" asked Thyrsis. + +"They lied about it deliberately," was Darrell's reply--"Some of our +friends gave little addresses of greeting; and so the newspapers called +it a new kind of wedding--a 'Socialist wedding', which we had designed +for our new kind of unions! And now, when we buy a farm, so that we can +live quietly in the country, they turn that into a 'free love colony'!" + +Section 13. Thyrsis went away from this interview with some new problems +to ponder upon. He had seen a little of this power of the newspapers to +defile and torment a man; but he had never dreamed of anything as bad as +this. This was murderous, this was monstrous. He saw these papers now +as gigantic engines of exploitation and oppression--irresponsible, +unscrupulous, wanton--turned loose in society to crush and destroy whom +they would. + +They had taken this man Darrell and they had poured out their poisons +upon him; they had tortured him hideously, they had burned him up +as with vitriol. As a public force he was no longer a human being at +all--he was a deformity, a spectre conjured up to bring fright to the +beholder. And through it all he was utterly helpless--as much at their +mercy as an infant in the hands of savages. And what had he done? Why +had the torture been visited upon him? + +Thyrsis pictured the men who had led in this soul-hunt. They were +supposed to be enlightened Americans at the dawn of the twentieth +century; and did they truly hold to the superstition of marriage as +a religious sacrament, not to be dissolved by mortal power? Did they +really believe that a man who had once been drawn into matrimony was +obligated for life--no matter how unhappy he might be, no matter to +what indignities he might be subjected? Or, if they did recognize the +permissibility of divorce--then why this hue and cry after Darrell, who +had borne his punishment for twenty years, and had waited for eight or +ten years to test the depths of his new love? + +The question answered itself; and the answer fanned Thyrsis' soul into +a blaze of indignation. All this patter about the deserted wife, sitting +at home with her children and weeping her eyes out--all that was so much +hocus-pocus for the ears of the mob. The chiefs of this Inquisition and +their torturers and slaves wrote it with their tongues in their cheeks. +What they saw was that they had got securely strapped upon their rack +the man who had threatened their power, who had laid bare its sources +and exposed its iniquity. And they meant that if ever he came out of +their torture-chamber, it should be so mangled and crippled that never +again would he lift a finger against them! + +The gist of the "Darrell case", when you got right down to it, was +a quarrel over property; it was the snarling of wolves who had been +disturbed at their feeding. Darrell had denounced wealth and the +exploiters of wealth, and now he had married a woman of wealth; and +was he to get away with his prize? That was the meaning of all the +loud halloo--for that the hounds were unleashed and the hunting-horns +sounded. Thyrsis pictured the men who "wrote up" the Darrell story. +He had known them in the newspaper-world--the servants of the giant +publicity-machine; living and working in the roar and rush of it, in a +stifling atmosphere where the finer qualities of the soul were poisoned +and withered over night. They lived their lives, almost without +exception, by means of alcohol and coffee and tobacco; they were +scornful, disillusioned, cynical beyond all telling and all belief. +Their only god in heaven or earth or the waters under the earth was +"copy". To such men there were two possible bonds of interest in a +woman--the first being lust, and the second money. In the case of Henry +Darrell they found both these motives; and so how clear the story was to +them! + +Thyrsis thought, also, of the men who owned and managed the papers; +those who had turned loose the hunt and directed it. Rich men were they, +who had built these publicity machines for their own purposes. And +what were they in their private lives? Some of them were notoriously +dissolute; and still others hid their ways under a veil of +hypocrisy--just as in their editorials they hid their class-interests +under pretenses of principle. And how easy it would have been for +Darrell to get what he wanted without losing his reputation--if only +he had been willing to follow the example of these eminent citizens! +Thyrsis knew one man, the editor of an appallingly respectable journal, +who had invited a young girl to his wife's home and there attempted to +seduce her. He knew the proprietor of another, whose cheerful custom it +was to go about among his newly-married women-friends and suggest that, +inasmuch as he was a "superman," and their husbands were weaklings, +they should let him become in secret the father of their children. +This amateur eugenist was accustomed to maintain that the great men in +history had for the most part been bastards; and Thyrsis, knowing this +fact about him, would read editorials in his papers, in which Henry +Darrell was denounced as an enemy of the home! + +Meantime Thyrsis was reading Darrell's books and pamphlets, and coming +to realize what a mind was here being destroyed. For this man, it seemed +to him, was master of the noblest prose utterance that had been heard in +America since Emerson died. He went again to hear him speak, in another +ill-lighted and stuffy hall before less than a hundred people; and the +pain of this was more than he could bear. He went home that night with +his friend, and labored with him with all the force of his being. "You +stay here," he declared, "and put yourself at the mercy of your enemies! +You waste your faculties contending with them--even knowing about them +is enough to destroy you. And all the while you might escape from them +altogether--might do your real work, that the world knows nothing of. +No one can hinder you. And when you have written the book of your soul, +then your tormentors will be--they will be like the tormentors of Dante! +Go away! Go away to Europe, where you can be free!" + +And so before long, he stood upon a steamer-pier and waved Henry Darrell +and his wife farewell. And every now and then would come letters, +telling of long, long agonies; for Darrell had to fight for those few +rare days when ill health would permit him to think. So year by year +he labored at what Thyrsis knew, if it was ever finished, would be +America's first world-poem; and in the meantime eminent statesmen and +moralists who were alarmed at the progress of "Socialist agitation", +would continue to conjure up before the public mind the night-mare +spectre of the once-respected clergyman, who had deserted his weeping +wife and children, and run away with a rich woman to found a "free-love +colony"! + +Section 14. A couple of days after the Darrells sailed, Thyrsis set out +himself to find a home. On account of the new book, he would have to be +near a library, and so he had selected a college-town not far from +New York. He went there now, and put up for a week at a students' +boarding-house, while prosecuting his search. + +A strange experience it was to him, after the years of struggle and +contact with the world, to come back to that academic atmosphere; to +find men who were still peacefully counting up the "feminine endings" +in Shakespeare's verse, and writing elaborate theses upon the sources +of the Spenserian legends. Upon his excursions into the country some of +these young men would tramp with him--threshing out, student-fashion, +the problems of the universe; and how staggering it was to meet a +man who was about to receive a master's degree in literature--and who +regarded Arthur Hugh Clough as a "dangerous" poet, and Tennyson's "Two +Voices" as containing vital thought, and T. H. Green as the world's +leading philosopher! And this was the "education" that was dispensed +at America's most aristocratic university--for this many millions +of dollars had been contributed, and scores of magnificent buildings +erected! + +Thyrsis saw that a partial explanation lay in the fact that in +connection with the university there existed a great theological +seminary. Some of these future ministers came also to the +boarding-house, and Thyrsis listened to their shop-talk--about the +difference between "transubstantiation" and "consubstantiation", and +the status of the controversy over the St. John Gospel. He heard one man +cite arguments from Paley's "Moral Philosophy"; and another making +bold to state that he was uncertain about the verbal inspiration of the +Pentateuch! + +To Thyrsis, as he listened to these discussions, it was as if he felt +a black shadow stealing across his soul. He wondered why he should hate +these men with a personal hatred; he tried to argue with himself that +they must be well-meaning and earnest. The truth was that they seemed to +him just like the law-students, men moved by sordid and low ideals; the +only difference was that their minds were not so keen as the lawyers'. +Thyrsis was coming little by little to understand the economic causes +of things, and he perceived that this theological world represented a +stagnant place in the stream of national culture; it being a subsidized +world, maintained half by charity, vital men turned from it; it drew +to itself the feebler minds, or such as wished to live at ease, and not +inquire too closely into the difference between truth and falsehood. + +Section 15. A few miles out from the town Thyrsis found a farm with +an abundance of wild woodland, where the farmer gave him permission to +camp. And so he went back and got some lumber, and loaded his tent and +supplies on a wagon, and wrote Corydon that he would meet her the next +afternoon. With the help of the farmer's boy he labored the rest of the +day at building the platform, and putting up the tent, and getting their +belongings in order. The next day he was up at dawn, constructing tables +and stands; and later on he hired the farmer's "jagger-wagon", and drove +in for Corydon and Cedric and the trunks. + +It was a glorious spring day, of turquoise sky and glinting sunshine; +and later, when the sun was low, the woods were flushed with a glow of +scarlet and purple. It lent a glory to the scene, shedding a halo about +the commonest tasks; the unpacking of blankets and dishes, the ranging +of groceries upon shelves. They were free from all the world at +last--they were setting out upon the journey of their lives together! + +So it was with singing and laughter that they went at their work. The +baby crawled about on the tent-floor and got into everybody's way, and +crowed with delight at the novel surroundings; and later on his mother +gave him his supper and put him to bed; and then she spread a feast of +bread and butter, and fresh milk and eggs and a can of fruit, and they +sat down to the first meal they had eaten together in many a long, long +month. + +They were tired and ravenously hungry; but their happiness of soul was +keener even than any physical sensation, and they sat leaning upon their +elbows and gazing across the table, reading the wonder in each other's +eyes. + +"It has been a year since we parted!" whispered Corydon. + +"Just a year!" he said. "It seems like ten of them." + +"And do you remember, Thyrsis, how we prayed! How we prayed for this +very hour!" + +He took her hands in his. Once more they renewed their pledges of +devotion; once more the vision of their hopes unrolled before them. +"From now on," he whispered, "our life is our own! We can make it +whatever we will. Let us make it something beautiful." + +And so there they made a compact. They would speak no more of the year +that was past; it was a bad dream, and now it was gone. Let it be swept +from their thoughts, and let them go on to make the future what they +desired it to be. + + + + + + +BOOK XII + +THE TREADMILL + + + + + +_They sat in the little cabin, where she had been reading some lines +from the poem again-- + + "O easy access to the hearer's grace + When Dorian shepherds sang to Proserpine!" + +"Ah, yes!" he said. "But our lot was cast in a different time." + +She put her hand upon his. "Even so," she said; and then turned the +page, and read once more-- + + "What though the music of thy rustic flute + Kept not for long its happy, country tone; + Lost it too soon, and learnt a stormy note + Of men contention-tost, of men who groan, + Which task'd thy pipe too sore, and tired thy + throat-- + It failed, and thou wast mute! + Yet hadst thou always visions of our light!_" + +Section 1. The _mise-en-scene_ of their new adventure in domesticity +was a tent eighteen feet by twelve; but as the side-walls were low, they +could walk only in the centre, and must range their belongings at the +sides. To the left, as one entered the tent, there stood a soapbox with +a tiny oil-stove upon it; and then a stand, made out of a packing-box, +to hold their dishes, their cooking-utensils and their limited supply +of provisions. Next down the line came a trunk, and in the corner the +baby's crib--which had been outgrown by the farmer's children, and +purchased by Thyrsis for a dollar. At the rear was a folding-table, and +above it a board from which Corydon hung her clothing; along the other +wall were her canvas cot, and a little stand with some books, and a +wash-stand and another trunk. + +Some distance off in the woods stood a second tent, seven feet square, +in which Thyrsis had a cot for himself, and also a canvas-chair in which +he sat to receive the visits of his muse. They got their drinking water +from a spring near by; there was a tiny stream beside the tent which +provided their washing-water. In this stream Thyrsis hollowed out a flat +basin, in which they might set their butter-crock, and a pail of milk, +and a larger pail that held their meat. Below that was a deeper pool +from which they dipped water, and lower yet a third pool, with a board +on which Corydon might sit and wash diapers, to her heart's content and +her back's exhaustion. + +The tent had been old when Thyrsis got it, and as this was the third +season he had used it, it was dark and dun of hue. They had not noticed +this at the outset as they had put it up on a bright, sunshiny day, and +also before the trees had put out all their foliage. But now, when rain +came, they found that they had to light a lamp in order to read in the +tent; and, of course, it was on rainy days that they had to be inside. +Thyrsis did not realize the influence which this tent had upon his +wife's spirits; it was only after he saw her made physically ill +by having to live in a room with yellow wall-paper, that he came to +understand the power which her surroundings had over Corydon. + +If they'so much as touched a finger to the roof of the tent while it was +raining, a steady dripping would come through at that point. Then, as +the rains grew heavier, water took to running down the pole that stood +in the centre of the tent, and formed a pool in the middle of the floor, +so that Thyrsis had to get the axe and cut a hole there. And, of course, +there was no way to dry anything; the woods, which were low, were turned +into a swamp, and one's shoes became caked with mud, and there was no +keeping the tent-floor clean. + +In this place they had to keep an able-bodied, year-and-a-half-old baby! +There was no other place to keep him. He could not be allowed on the +damp floor, nor where he could touch the top of the tent; so Thyrsis set +up sticks at all four corners of his crib, and tied strong twine about +them, making a little pen; and therein they put the baby, and therein +he had to stay. He had his rattle and his rubber-doll and his blocks +and the rest of his gim-cracks; and after he had howled long enough +to satisfy himself that there was no deliverance from his prison, he +settled back and accepted his tragic fate. There came occasions when +Corydon was sick, and unable to move; then Thyrsis would put up +his umbrella and take Cedric to his own tent, where he would draw a +chalk-line across the floor. One-half of the forty-nine square feet of +space was his, and in it he would sit and read and study; in the other +half the baby would play. After long experience he came to realize that +at such times Papa would not pay any attention to him, and that crossing +the chalk-line involved getting one's "mungies" spanked. + +There were other troubles that fell upon them. At first, it being April, +it was cold at night; and they had no stove, and no room for a stove. +Later on the ceaseless rains brought a plague of mosquitoes; and so +Thyrsis had to rig up a triangular door and cover the entrance to the +tent with netting; and when the weather grew better, he had to get +more netting and construct a little house, in which the baby could play +outdoors. And then there had to be more spankings of "mungies", to teach +the infant that this mysterious mosquito-bar must not be walked through, +nor pulled at, nor poked with sticks, nor even eaten. + +They prayed for fair days, and a little sunshine; and it seemed as if +the weather-demons had discovered this, and were playing with them. +There would come a bright morning, and they would spread a rug in the +baby's cage, and hang out all their damp belongings to dry; and then +would come a sudden shower, and baby and rug and belongings would all +have to pile back into the tent. And then it would clear again, and +everything would go out once more; and they would prepare dinner, and be +comfortably settled to eat, when it would begin to sprinkle again. +They would move in the clothing and the baby, and when it began to rain +harder, they would move in the table and the food; and forthwith the +rain would cease. Because it was poor fun eating in a dark tent by +lamp-light, amid the odor of gas-stove and cooking, they might move out +once more--but only to repeat the same experience over again. + +For six weeks after their arrival there was not a day without rain, and +it would rain sometimes for half a week without ceasing. So everything +they owned became damp and mouldy--all their clothing, their food, the +very beds upon which they slept. One of their miseries was the lack +of place to keep things; all their odds and ends had to be stowed +away under the cots--where one might find clothing, and books, and +manuscripts, and a hammock, and an umbrella, and some shoes, and a box +of prunes, and a sack of potatoes, and half a ham. When water got in +at the sides of the tent and wet all these objects, and the bedclothing +hung over the floor and got into them, it was trying to the temper to +have to rummage there. + +Section 2. Before she left the city Corydon had taken the baby to +consult a famous "child-specialist"--at five dollars per consultation; +she had received the dreadful tidings that Cedric was threatened with +the "rickets". So she had come out to the country with one mighty +purpose in her soul. "Under-nourishment", the doctor had said; and he +had laid out a regular schedule. Six times daily the unhappy infant +was to be fed; and each time some elaborate concoction had to be got +ready--practically nothing could be eaten in a state of nature. The +first meal would consist of, say a poached egg on a piece of toast, and +the juice of an orange, with the seeds carefully excluded; the next of +some chicken broth with a cracker or two, and the pulp of prunes with +the skins removed; the next of some beef chopped up and pounded to a +pulp and broiled, together with a bit of mashed potato or some other +cooked vegetable; the next of some gruel, with cream and sugar, and some +more prunes. + +And these operations, of course, took the greater part of Corydon's day; +she would struggle at them until she was ready to drop, and when she had +to give up they would fall to Thyrsis. Some of them fell to him quite +frequently--for instance, the pounding of the meat. It had to have +all the fat and gristle carefully cut out; and there had to be a clean +board, and a clean hammer, both of which must be scraped and washed +afterwards; and whenever by any chance Corydon let the meat stay on +the fire a second too long, so that it got hard, the whole elaborate +operation had to be gone over again--was not the baby's life at stake? + +It was quite vain for him to protest as to the pains that Corydon took +to remove every tiniest fragment of the skin of a stewed prune. "Surely, +dearest," he would argue, "the internal arrangements of a baby are not +so delicate as to be torn by a tiny bit of prune-skin!" + +But to Corydon the internal arrangements of babies were mysterious +things--to be understood only by a child-specialist at five dollars per +visit. "He told me what to do," she would say; "and I am going to do +it." + +So she would prepare the concoctions, and would sit and feed them to +the baby, spoonful by spoonful; and long after the little one had been +stuffed to the bursting-point, she would hold the spoon poised in front +of its mouth, making tentative passes, and seeking by some device to +cajole the mouth into opening and admitting one last morsel of the +precious nutriment. The child had a word of its own inventing, wherewith +it denoted things that were good to eat. "Hee, gubum, gubum!" he +would exclaim; and Corydon would hold the spoon and repeat "Gubum, +gubum,"--long after the baby had begun to sputter and gasp and make +plain that it was no longer "gubum". + +Also, under the instructions of the specialist, they made an attempt to +break the child of the "hoodaloo mungie" habit. A baby should lie down +and go to sleep without handling, the authority had declared; and now +that there was all outdoors for him to cry in, they resolved that he +should be taught. So they built up the fence about the crib, and laid +the baby in for his afternoon nap, and started to go away. And the baby +gave one look of perplexity and dismay, and then began to cry. By the +time they had got out of the tent he was screaming like a creature +possessed; and Corydon and Thyrsis sat outside and stared at each other +in wonder and alarm. When she could stand it no more, they went away to +a distance; but still the uproar went on. Now and then they would creep +back and peep in at the purple and choking infant; and then steal away +again, and discuss the phenomenon, and wish that the "child-specialist" +were there to advise them. Finally, when the crying had gone on for two +hours without a moment's pause, they gave up, because they were afraid +the baby might cry itself into convulsions. And so the "hoodaloo mungie" +habit went on for some time yet. + +Under the "stuffing regime" the infant at first thrived amazingly; he +became fat and rosy, and Corydon's heart beat high with joy and pride. +But then came midsummer, and the hot season; and first of all a rash +broke out upon the precious body, and in spite of powders and ointments, +refused to go away. Later on came the "hives", with which the baby was +spotted like the top of a pepper-crust. And then, as fate willed it, +the family of a woman who did some laundry for Corydon developed the +measles; and Corydon found it out too late--and so they were in for the +first of a long program of "children's diseases". + +It was a siege that lasted for a month and more--a nightmare experience. +The child had to be kept in a dark place, under pain of losing its +eyesight; and when it was very hot in the tent, some one had to sit and +fan it. It could not sleep, but writhed and moaned, now screaming +in torment, now whimpering like a frightened cur--a sound that wrung +Thyrsis' very heart. And oh, the sight of the little body--purple, a +mass of eruptions, and with beads of perspiration upon it! Corydon's +mother came to help her through this ordeal, and would sit for hours +upon hours, rocking the wailing infant in her arms. + +Section 3. But there were ups as well as downs in this tenting +adventure. There came glorious days, when they took long tramps over the +hills; or when Thyrsis would carry the child upon his shoulder, and they +would wander about the meadows, picking daisies and clover, and making +garlands for Corydon. Once Cedric sat down upon a bumble-bee, and that +was hard upon him, and perhaps upon the bee. But for the most part the +little one was enraptured during these excursions. He was fascinated +with the flowers, and continually seeking for an opportunity to devour +some of them; while he was doing it he would wear such a roguish +smile--it was impossible not to believe that he understood the agitation +which these abnormal appetites occasioned in his parents. Corydon would +be seized with a sudden access of affection, and she would clutch him in +her arms and squeeze him, and fairly smother him with kisses. Of course +the youngster would protest wildly at this, and so not infrequently the +demonstration would end tragically. + +"I can't have any joy in my baby at all!" she would lament; and +Thyrsis would have to soothe the child, and plead with her to find more +practical ways of demonstrating her maternal devotion. + +Cedric was beginning to make determined efforts to talk now, and he had +the most original names for things. His parents would adopt these into +their own speech, which thus departed rapidly from established usage. +They had to bring themselves to realize that if they went on in that +fashion, the child would never learn to speak so that any one else could +understand him. The grandmothers were most strenuous upon this point, +and would laboriously explain to the infant that chickens and pigeons +and sparrows were not all known as "ducky-ducks"; they would plead with +it to say "bottle of milk", while its reckless parents were delighting +themselves with such perversions as "bobbu mookie-mook." + +Two or three times each week the farmer would bring their mail; and once +a week they would hire an old scare-crow of a horse, and a buggy which +might have passed for the one-horse shay in its ninety-ninth year, and +drive to a town for provisions. It was amazing what loads of provisions +a family of three could consume in the course of a week--especially when +one of them was following the "stuffing regime". There had to be a lot +of figuring done to get it for the sum of thirty dollars a month; and +this put another grievous burden upon Thyrsis. Corydon, alas, had +no talents for figuring, and was cursed with a weakness for such +superfluities as clean laundry and coffee with cream. This was one more +aspect of the difference between the Hebrew and the Greek temperament; +and sometimes the Hebrew temperament would lose its temper, and the +Greek temperament would take to tears. The situation was all the more +complicated because of their pitiful ignorance. They really did not know +what was necessity and what was luxury. For instance, Thyrsis had read +somewhere that people could live without meat; but Corydon had never +heard of such an idea, and insisted with vehemence that it was an +absurdity. + +However, there was no evading the issue of poverty; for the thirty +dollars was all they had. "The Hearer of Truth" had been out several +months now, and had not sold a thousand copies; and so it was to be +doubted if Thyrsis would ever get another dollar from that. Also, he +had heard from the translator of "The Genius", and had agreed to accept +twenty-five dollars as an "honorarium" for the production of his play in +Germany--this princely sum to be paid when the play came out during the +following winter. + +Meantime, of course, he was driving away at his new work. Domestic +duties took up most of his morning; but he would get away into the woods +in the afternoons, and in the evenings, when the family was asleep, he +would work until far after midnight. He was bringing out basketfuls of +books from the library of the university; and he lived another life in +these--sharing, in a hundred different forms, the agony of the War. He +was not writing yet; he was filling up his soul with the thing, making +it a reservoir of impressions. Some times it would seem that the +reservoir was nearly full, and he would be seized with a hunger to be +at work; he would go about possessed by it--absent-minded, restless, +nervous when he was spoken to. It was hard for a man who listened all +night to the death-groans of the thousands piled up before "Bloody +Angle", to get up in the morning and be satisfactory in the role of +"mother's assistant". + +Here, again was the torment of this matrimonial bond to a man who wished +to be an artist. He had to live two lives, when one was more than he +could attend to; he had to be always aware of another soul yearning for +him, reaching out to him and craving his attention. To be sure, Corydon +was interested in what he was doing; she even made heroic efforts to +read the books that he was reading. But she had so many duties, and so +many headaches; and when night came she was so tired! She would ask him +to tell her about his vision; and was not the thing untellable? Why +else did he have to labor day and night, like a man possessed? He would +explain this to her, and she would bid him go on and do his work and not +mind her. But when he would take her at her word, and there would follow +a week or two of indifference and preoccupation--then he would discover +that she was again unhappy. + +Section 4. This never ceased to be the case between them; but perhaps it +was intensified at this time by the fact that their sex-life had to be +suppressed. This was a problem which they had talked out between them +before they came away. Thyrsis, who was groping for the truth about +these matters, had come to the conclusion that the factor which gave +dignity and meaning to intercourse between a man and woman was the +desire, or at any rate the willingness, to create a child. Corydon was +not sure that she agreed with him in this; but so far as their own +case was concerned, it was quite clear that they could take no remotest +chance of any accident--another child would mean certain destruction for +all three of them. And so they had gone back to the "brother and sister" +arrangement with which they had begun life. This was a simple matter for +Thyrsis, who was utterly wrapped up in his book; it was not so simple +for Corydon, though neither of them realized it, nor could have been +brought to admit it. As usual, Corydon desired to be what he was, and +to feel what he felt; and so Thyrsis did not realize how another side +of her was being blighted. Hers was predominantly a love-nature; it was +intolerable to her that any one she loved should not love her in return, +and love her in the same way, and to the same extent; and now, when her +entire being went out to him, she found herself obliged to suppress her +emotions. + +Sometimes the thing would break out in spite of her. + +"Thyrsis," she would cry, "aren't you going to kiss me good-night?" + +"Didn't I kiss you, dearest?" he would answer. + +"Oh, but such a cold and perfunctory kiss!" + +And so he would come and put his arms about her; but even while she held +him thus, she would feel the life go out of his caresses, and see his +eyes with a far-off expression. She would know that his thoughts were +away upon some battle-field. + +"Tell me, Thyrsis," she would exclaim. "Do you really love me?" + +"Yes, dear," he would reply. "I love you." + +"But how _much_ do you love me?" + +And then he would be dumb. What a question to ask him! As if he had +the time and the energy to climb to those heights, to speak again that +difficult language! Had he not told her a thousand times how much he +loved her! and could she not believe it and understand it? + +"But why should it be so hard to tell me?" she would protest. + +And he would answer that to him it was a denial of love to explain or to +make promises. He was as unchangeable as the laws of nature--he could no +more be faithless to her soul than he could to his own. + +"I want you to take that for granted," he would say; "to know it as you +know that the sun will rise to-morrow morning." + +"But, Thyrsis," she would answer, when he used this metaphor, "don't +people sometimes like to go out and see the sun rise?" + +Section 5. The summer passed; and Thyrsis found to his dismay that his +relentless muse had not yet permitted him to write a word. He had not +a sufficient grasp upon his mighty subject--nor for that matter had +he freedom to get by himself and wrestle it out. He shrunk from that +death-grapple, while they were in this unsettled state. They could not +stay in tents through the winter-time; and where were they to go? + +Thyrsis was consumed with the desire to build a tiny house in these +woods. He had roamed the country over, without finding any place that +was habitable; and besides, he did not want to pay rent--he wanted a +home of his own, however humble. He had meant to build one with the +money from "The Hearer of Truth"; but now there came a statement from +the publisher, showing that there would be due him on the book a trifle +over eleven dollars! + +He tried a new plan. He wrote out a "scenario" of his projected novel, +and sent this to his publisher, to see if he could get a contract in +advance. He asked for five hundred dollars--with that he could build +the house he wanted, and live for another six months, until the book +was done. The publisher wrote him to come to the city, where, after some +parleying, he submitted a proposition; he would advance the money and +publish the book, paying ten per cent. royalty; but he must also have +the option to publish the author's future writings for ten years upon +the same basis. + +This rather staggered Thyrsis. He was business-man enough by this time +to realize that if he ever had a real success he could get fifteen or +twenty per cent. upon his future work--there were even some authors who +got twenty-five per cent. And moreover, he did not like to tie himself +to this publisher, who was of the hard and grasping type. He went home +to think it over, and in the end he wrote to Henry Darrell. He set forth +the situation, and showed how much money it might mean to him--money +which he would otherwise be able to devote to some useful purpose. It +all depended upon what Darrell could do in the emergency. + +He waited three weeks, and then came Darrell's reply, saying that he +could not possibly do what Thyrsis wished. There were so many calls upon +him--the Socialist paper was in trouble, and so on. Thereupon Thyrsis +wrote to the publisher to say that he accepted the offer and would sign +the contract; but in a couple of days he received a curt reply, to the +effect that the publisher had changed his mind, and no longer cared to +consider the arrangement. He had, as Thyrsis found afterwards, got rid +of the enthusiastic young man who had inveigled him into "The Hearer +of Truth"; and perhaps also he had been reading the ridicule which the +critics were pouring out upon that unhappy book. + +So once more Thyrsis wrote to Darrell--a letter of agonized entreaty. +He was at the most critical moment of his life; and now, at the very +culmination of his effort, to have to give up would be a calamity he +could simply not contemplate. If only he could finish the task, he would +be saved; for this was a book that would grip men and shake them--that +it should fail was simply unthinkable. He could make out with two +hundred dollars; and he besought his friend at any sacrifice to stand +by him. He asked him to cable; and when, a couple of weeks later, the +message came--"all right"--to Thyrsis it was like waking up and escaping +from the grip of some terrible dream. + +Section 6. And so began the house-building. It was high time, too--the +latter part of September, and the nights were growing chill. He sought +out a carpenter to help him, and had an interview with his friend the +farmer, who agreed to rent a bit of land, in a corner of his orchard, +by the edge of the wood. It was under the shade of a great elm-tree, +and sufficiently remote from all the world to satisfy the taste of any +literary hermit. + +For months before this he and Corydon had discussed the plans of their +future home; every square inch of it had been a subject of debate. In +its architectural style it was a compromise between Corydon's aesthetic +yearnings, and the rigid standards of economy which circumstance +imposed. It was to be eighteen feet long and sixteen feet wide--six +feet high at the sides and nine in the centre. It was to be +"weather-boarded", and roofed with paper, instead of shingles--this +being so much cheaper. Corydon heard with dismay that it would be +necessary to paint this roofing-paper black; and Thyrsis, by way of +compensation, agreed that the weather-boards should have some "natural +finish", instead of common paint. There was to be a six-foot piazza +in front, and a little platform in back, with steps descending to the +spring. + +There had been long discussions about the method of heating the mansion. +Corydon had been observing the customs of her neighbors in this typical +"small-farming" district, and declared that they had two leading +characteristics: first, they were not happy until they had had all their +own teeth extracted, and a complete set of "store-teeth" substituted; +and second, as soon as they moved into a house, they boarded over the +open fire-place and covered the boards with wall-paper. But Thyrsis, +making investigations along practical lines, found that the open +fire-place had a bad reputation as a consumer of fuel; and also, it +would take a mason to build a chimney, and the wages of masons were +high. So Corydon had to reconcile herself to a house with a stove, and a +stove-pipe that went through a hole in the wall! + +Nevertheless this house-building time was one of the happiest periods +of their lives. For here was something constructive, in which they could +both be occupied. Thyrsis would be up and at work early in the morning, +before the carpenter came; and in between the baby's various meals, +Corydon would come also, and take part in the operations. A miraculous +thing it was to see the house of their dreams coming into being, with +every feature just as they had planned it. And what a palatial structure +it was--with so much space and air! One could actually move about in it +without danger of striking one's head; coming into it from the tent, one +felt as if he were entering a cathedral! + +They were so consumed with a desire to see it finished, that Thyrsis +would stay at the work until darkness came upon him, and sometimes even +worked by moon-light, or with a lantern. And how proud they would be +when the carpenter came next morning, and found the last roof-boards +laid, or the flooring all completed! Thyrsis learned the mysteries of +window-sills and door-frames, the excitements of "weather-boarding," +and the perils of roof-painting. He realized with wonder how many +achievements of civilization the privileged classes take as a matter of +course. What a remarkable thing it was, when one came to think of it, +that a door should swing true upon its hinges, and fit exactly into +its frame, and latch with a precise and soul-satisfying snap! And that +windows should slide up and down in their frames, and stop at certain +places with a spring-catch! + +Corydon too was interested in these discoveries, and became skilled at +holding weather-boards while her husband nailed them, and at helping to +unroll and measure roofing-paper, and climbing up the ladder and holding +it in place. Even the baby became fired with the spirit of achievement, +and would get himself a hammer and a board, and plague his parents until +they started a dozen or so of nails for him--after which he would sit +and blissfully pound them into the board, and all but pound them through +the board in his enthusiasm. Before long he even learned to start them +himself; and a most diverting sight it was to see this twenty-two-months +old youngster driving nails like an infant Hercules. For the fastening +of the roofing-paper they used little circular plates of tin called +"cotterels"; and these also Cedric must learn to use. So a new phrase +was added to the vocabulary of "dam-fool talk". "Bongie cowtoos" was +the name of the operation; for a couple Of years thereafter, whenever +Corydon and Thyrsis wished to be let alone to discuss the problems of +the universe, they would get the baby a hammer and some nails and a +board, and repeat that magic formula, and the problem was solved. + +Unfortunately, however, it was not all smooth sailing in the +carpentry-business. There were mashed thumbs and sawed fingers; and +then, in an evil hour, Thyrsis came upon an advertisement which told of +a wonderful new kind of wall-paper which could be applied directly to +laths--thus enabling one to dispense with plaster. He sent for ten or +twelve dollars' worth of this material, and he and Corydon spent a whole +morning making a mixture of glue and flour-paste and water, and boiling +it in an iron preserving-kettle. But alas, the paper would not paste; +and then they had a painful time. Corydon gave up in disgust, and went +away; but Thyrsis, to whom economy was a kind of disease, would not give +up, and was angry with the other for urging him to give up. He spent +a whole day wrestling with the concoction, and gave himself a headache +with the ghastly odor. But in the end he had to dump it out, and clean +the kettle, and fasten the paper to the lathes with "bongie cowtoos". +As the strips of paper did not correspond with the studding, he found +himself driving nails into springy laths, an operation most trying +to the temper of any man of letters. One of the trials of this house +forever after was that upon the least jar a corner of the ceiling was +liable to fall loose; and then one would have to get a ladder, and climb +up into a hot region, and pound nails into a broken lath, with dust +sifting down into one's eyes, and the hammer hitting one's sore thumb, +and occasioning exclamations not at all suitable for the ears of a +two-year-old intelligence. + +Section 7. When the doors were fitted, and the windows set in, and the +piazza laid, and the steps built, they got down to the furniture, which +was also to be home-made. Thyrsis was gratified beyond telling by these +tables and dressing-stands and shelves and book-cases, which he could +build of hemlock boards in an hour or two, and which cost only thirty or +forty cents apiece. He would labor with Corydon to induce her to share +this joy; but alas, he would only succeed in losing his own joy, without +increasing hers. On many occasions he attempted such things as this; +it was only after long years that he came to realize that Corydon's +temperament was the one fixed fact in the universe with which he had to +deal. + +Two hundred and twenty-five dollars was the total cost of this +establishment when completed. And while the carpenter was putting the +finishing touches, Thyrsis was using up thirty dollars more of lumber in +constructing himself a "study" in the woods near by. Eight by ten this +cabin was to be; it was to have a door and a window, and a little piazza +in front, upon which the inhabitant might sit in fair weather. Also +Thyrsis built for it a table and a bookcase; and as he had now eighty +square feet instead of forty-nine, there was room for a cot and a chair, +and a coal-stove fourteen inches in diameter. As fate would have it, +there was some black paint left over; and to Corydon's horror it +was announced that this would be used on the study. However, Thyrsis +insisted that it was _his_ study; and besides, there was some red paint +left, with which he might decorate the window and the door-frame, and +stripe the edges of the roof and the corners. Surely that would be +festivity enough for the most exacting of Greek temperaments! + +Then came the rapturous experience of moving into these new mansions. +The joy of having shelves to put things on, and hooks to hang things +from. Of being able to take books and manuscripts out of their trunks, +and not pile them under their beds. Of carrying over their belongings, +and having everything fit into the place that had been made for it! + +Thyrsis purchased an old stove, and also a kitchen-range from a +neighbor; he sank a barrel in the spring, and walled it round with +cement; he built a stand in the kitchen, and set up a sink and a little +pump. + +This was the time of year when there were held at various places in the +country what the neighbors called "vandews". He and Corydon found it +diverting to get the scarecrow nag and the one-horse shay, and drive +to some farm-house, where one might see the history of a family for the +last fifty years spread out upon the lawn. They would stand round in the +cold and snow while the auctioneer disposed of the horses and cows and +hay and machinery, waiting until he came to the household objects upon +which they had set their eye. So they would invest in some stove-pipe, +and a couple of ghastly chromos (for the sake of the frames), and some +odds and ends of crockery, and a spade, and some old rope to make a +swing for the baby. They would get these things for five or ten cents +each, and get in addition all the excitements of the bargain-hunt. + +Once they had a real adventure--they came upon a wonderful old +"grandfather's clock", about six feet high; and Corydon exclaimed in +rapture, "Oh Thyrsis I'd be happy for the rest of my life if we could +have that clock!" On such terms it appeared to Thyrsis that the clock +might be worth making a sacrifice for, and he got up the courage to +declare that he would offer as high as five dollars for it. And so they +stood, trembling with excitement, and waiting. + +"Don't lose it, even if it's as high as six dollars!" whispered Corydon; +but alas, the first bid for the clock was twenty-five dollars. They +stood staring with dismay, until the treasure was sold to a dealer from +the city for the incredible sum of eighty-seven dollars; and then they +drove home, quite awe-stricken by this sudden intrusion from the world +of luxury outside their ken. + +Section 8. However, this disappointment did not trouble them for long; +there were too many luxuries in their own home. Not very long after it +was finished, there fell a deluge of rain; and what a delight it was to +listen to it, and know that they were safe from it! That not only did +they have a dry roof over their head--but they were able to move about, +and to reach up their hands without peril, and to sit down and read +without a lamp! They would stand by the window with their arms about +each other, watching the rain beating upon the fields, and dripping from +the elm tree, and flowing in torrents past the house; they would listen +to it pounding overhead and streaming off the roof before their faces. +They were dry, quite dry! All their belongings were dry--their shoes +were not mildewing, their books were not getting soft and shapeless, +their bed-clothing would be all right when night came! + +The down-pour lasted for three whole days, yet they enjoyed it all. It +proved to be a memorable rain to Corydon, for it brought to her a great +occasion--the beginning of her poetical career. It happened late one +night, when, as usual, the cry of "hoodaloo mungie" awakened her from +a sound slumber. The day had been a particularly hard one, and the +heaviness of exhaustion was upon her. For a moment she stared up into +the darkness, listening to the rain close above her, and trying to nerve +herself to put out her arm in the cold. She shuddered at the thought; +there came to her a perfectly definite impulse of hatred--hatred of the +child, of its noise and its demands. She had felt it before--sometimes +as a dull, cold dislike, sometimes as something passionate. Why should +she have to sacrifice herself to this insatiable creature, whom she did +not love? What did it matter to her if other women loved their children? +She had wanted life--and was this life? At that moment the cry of +"hoodaloo-mungie" symbolized for her all the sordid cares and nervous +agony of her existence. + +And suddenly, unexpectedly, a daring impulse seized her. "No!" she +thought, and set her teeth--"I'll let him cry! I'll cure him of +this--and I'll do it to-night!" So she turned and told Cedric to go to +sleep; at which, of course, the child began to scream. + +Corydon lay very still in the dark, her eyes wide and every nerve tense. +She could not feel, she could not think; it seemed as though she were +deprived of every sense except that of hearing; and in her, through her, +and around her rang a senseless din, piercing, intense, increasing in +volume every minute, and completely drowning out the beating of the +rain. + +"Can I stand it?" she thought. "Or will his lungs burst? And yet, I +must, I must--this can't go on forever!" And so she clenched her hands +and waited. But the sounds did not diminish in the slightest; ten +minutes twenty minutes must have passed, and the baby only seemed to +gain increased power with each crescendo. + +It seemed to Corydon at last as though she had always lain like this, +and as though she must for endless time. She found herself getting +used to it even; her muscles relaxed. There came to her a sense of the +ludicrous side of it. "He means to conquer me!" she thought. "Can I hold +out? If I only had something to think about, then I'd be a match for +him." And suddenly the inspiration came to her. "I'll write a poem!" + +What should it be about? The rain had been increasing in violence, and +she became conscious of the steady downpour; it fascinated her, and she +concentrated her attention upon it, and began--- + + "I am the rain, that comes in spring!" + +So, after a while, she found herself in the throes of composition; she +was eager, excited--and marvel of marvels, utterly forgetful of the +baby! She had never tried to write verses before; but it did not seem at +all difficult to her now. + +The poem was simple and optimistic--it told of the beneficent qualities +of rain, as it would appear to one whose roof did not leak. Somewhere in +the course of it there was this stanza: + + "I am the rain that comes at night, + When all in slumber is folded light-- + Save one by weary vigils worn + Who counteth the drops unto the morn." + +This seemed to her an impressive bit, and she wondered what Thyrsis +would think of it. + +There were eight stanzas altogether, and when she finished the last of +them the dawn was breaking, and it seemed hours since she had begun. +As for the baby, he was still crying. She turned and peered at him; his +eyelids drooped, and the crying came in spasms and gasps--it sounded +very feeble, and a trifle perfunctory. Obviously he could not hold out +much longer; Corydon would win, yes, she had won already. She lay still, +and thrills of happiness went through her. Was it the poem, or the +thought of her release, and the nights of quiet sleep in the future? + +When Thyrsis came in, an hour or two later, he found her huddled up in +blankets on the floor of the living-room, her cheeks bright, her hair +dishevelled. How fascinating she looked in such a guise! She was eagerly +pondering her poem; and the baby was sleeping quietly, save for a few +convulsive gasps, the last stragglers of his routed forces. + +"And oh, Thyrsis," she exclaimed, "to-morrow night he will only cry half +as long, and still less the next night. And soon he will go to sleep +quietly like any well brought-up, civilized baby. And, my dear, I +believe I'm going to be a poetess--I think that to-night I was really +inspired!" + +So he made haste to build a fire, and then came and sat and listened to +the poem. How eagerly she waited for his verdict! How she hung upon his +words! And what should a man do in such a case--should he be a husband +or a critic? Should he be an amateur or a professional? + +But even as he hesitated, the damage was done. "Oh, you don't like it!" +she cried. "You don't think it's good at all!" + +"My dear," he argued, "poetry is such a difficult thing to write. And +there are so many standards--a thing can be good, and yet not good! The +heights are so far away--" + +"But oh, how can I ever get there," wailed Corydon, "if nobody gives me +any encouragement?" + +Section 9. The time had now come for Thyrsis to put his job through. +There was no longer any excuse for hesitation or delay. The book had +come to ripeness in him; the birth-hour was at hand, and he must go and +have it out with himself. He explained these things to Corydon, sitting +beside her and holding her hands; they ascended once more to the heights +of consecration; they renewed their vows of fortitude and faith, and +then he went away. + +For weeks thereafter he would be like the ghost of a man in the house, +haggard and silent and preoccupied. All the work that he had ever done +in his life seemed but child's play in comparison. Before this he had +portrayed the struggles of men and women; but now he was to portray the +agony of a whole nation--his heart must beat with the pulse of millions +of suffering people. And the task was like a fiend that came upon him +in the night-time and laid hold of him, dragging him away to sights of +terror and madness. He was never safe from the thing for a moment--he +could never tell when it might assail him. He might be washing the +dishes, or wrestling with the refractory pump; but the vision would +come to him, and he would wander off into the forest--perhaps to sit, +crouching in the snow, trembling, and staring at the pageant in his +soul. + +He lived in the midst of battles; the smoke of powder always in his +nostrils, the crash of musketry and the thunder of cannon in his ears. +He saw the cavalry sweeping over the plains, the infantry crouching +behind intrenchments; he heard the yells of the combatants, the shrieks +of the wounded and dying; he saw the mangled bodies, and the ground +slippery with blood. New aspects of the thing kept coming to him--new +glimpses into meanings yet untold. They would come to him in great +bursts of emotion, like tempests that swept him away; and these things +he had to wrestle with and master. It meant toil, the like of which he +had never faced before, a tension of all his faculties, that would last +for hours and hours, and leave him bathed in perspiration, and utterly +exhausted. + +A scene would come to him, in some moment of insight; and he would drop +everything else, and follow it. He would go over it, at the same time +both creating and beholding it, at the same time both overwhelmed by it +and controlling it--but above all things else, remembering it! He would +be like Aladdin in the palace, stuffing his pockets with priceless +jewels; coming away so loaded down that he could hardly stagger, and +spilling them on every side. Then, scarcely pausing to rest, he would +go back after what he had lost; he would grope about, gathering diamonds +and rubies that he had all but forgotten--or perhaps coming upon new +vaults and new treasure-chests. + +So he would labor over a description, going over it and over it, not so +much working it out, as letting it work itself out and stamp itself upon +his memory. It made no difference how long the scene might be, he would +not write a word of it; it might be some battle-picture, that would fill +thirty or forty pages--he would know it all by heart, as Demosthenes or +Webster might have known an oration. And only at the end would he write +it down. + +Over some of the scenes in this new book he labored thus for two or +three weeks at a stretch; there would be literally not a moment of the +day, nor perhaps of the night, when the thing was not working in some +part of his mind. He would think about it for hours before he fell +asleep; and when he opened his eyes it would be waiting at his bedside +to pounce upon him. If he tried for even a few minutes to rest, or to +divert his mind to some other work, he would find himself ill at ease +and troubled, with a sense as of something pulling at him, calling to +him. And if anything came to interrupt him, then he would be like a +baker whose oven grows cold before the bread is half done--it would be a +sad labor making anything out of that batch of bread. + +Section 10. And this work he had to do as a married man, the father of +a family and the head of a household; living with a child who was one +incessant and irrepressible demand for attention, and a wife who was +wrestling with weakness and sickness--eating out her heart in cruel +loneliness, and cowering in the grip of fiends of melancholia and +despair! + +He had thought that when they moved into the new home, their domestic +trials would be at an end. But now the cruel winter fell upon them. They +had never known what a winter in the country was like; they came to see +why the farmer had protested against their building in such a remote +place. There were many days when they could not get to town, and some +when they could not even get to the farm-house. Also there was the pump, +which was continually freezing, and necessitating long and troublesome +operations before they could get any water. + +It was, as fate would have it, the worst winter in the oldest +inhabitant's memory. The farmer's well froze over on three occasions, +and it had never frozen before, so he declared. For such weather as this +they were altogether unprepared; they had only a wood-stove, and could +not keep a fire all night; and the cheap blankets they had bought were +made all of cotton, and gave them almost no protection. They would not +sleep with the windows down; and so, for weeks at a time, they would +go to bed with their clothing, even their overcoats on; and would pile +curtains and rugs upon these--and even so, they would waken at two or +three o'clock in the morning, shivering and chilled to the bone. + +And in this icy room they would have to get up and build a fire; and it +might be half an hour before they could get the house warm. Also, they +had no facilities for bathing; and so little by little they began to +lose their habits of decency--there were days when Corydon left her +face unwashed, and forgot to brush her hair. Everyday, it seemed, they +slipped yet further down the grade. Thyrsis would work until he was +faint and exhausted, and then he would come over, and find there was +nothing ready to eat. By the time that he and Corydon had cooked a meal, +they would both of them be ravenous, and they would sit and devour their +food like a couple of savages. Then, because they had over-eaten, they +would have to rest before they cleared things away; and like as not +Thyrsis would get to thinking about his work, and go off and leave +everything--and the dishes and the food might stay up on the table until +the next meal. There was nearly always a piled-up mass of dishes and +skillets and sauce-pans in the house--to Thyrsis these soiled dishes +were the original source of the myth of Sisyphus and his labor. + +And then there was the garbage-pail that he had forgotten to empty, and +the lamps he had neglected to fill, and the slop-pails and the other +utensils of domesticity. There were the diapers that somebody had to +wash--and outside was always the bitter, merciless cold, that drove them +in and shut them up with all this horror. The time came, as the winter +dragged on, when the house which they had built with so many sacrifices, +and into which they had moved with such eager anticipations, came to +seem to them like a cave in which a couple of wild beasts cowered for +shelter. + +Section 11. There was another great change which this cold weather +effected in their lives; it broke down the barriers they had been at +such pains to build up between them. It was all very well for them to +agree that they were "brother and sister," and that it was impossible +for them ever to think of anything else. But now came a time when night +after night the thermometer went to ten or fifteen degrees below zero; +and first Thyrsis gave more bedding to Corydon--because she was able +to suffer more than he; and he would go over to his cold hut alone, and +crawl into a cold bed, and lie there the whole night through without +a wink of sleep. But then, as the cold held on for a week or more, the +resistance of both of them was broken down--they were like two animals +which crawl into the same hole to keep each other from freezing. They +piled all their bedding upon one narrow cot; and sleeping thus, they +could be warm. Even then, they tried to keep to the resolution they had +made; but this, it seemed, was not within the power of flesh and blood; +and so, once more, the sex-factor was introduced into the complications +of their lives. + +To Thyrsis this thing was like some bird of prey that circled in the sky +just above him--its shadow filling him with a continual fear, the swish +of its wings making him cringe. He was never happy about it; there +was no time in his life when he was not in a state of inward war. His +intellect rebelled; and on the other hand, there was a part of his +nature that craved this sex-experience and welcomed it--and this part, +it seemed, was favored by all the circumstances of life. There was no +chance to settle the matter in the light of reason, to test it by any +moral or aesthetic law; blind fate decreed that one part of him should +have the shaping of his character, the determining of his needs. + +He tried to make clear to himself the basis of his distrust. Sexual +intercourse as a habit--this was the formula by which he summed it up +to himself. To be right, to win the sanction of the intellect and +the conscience, the sex-act must be the result of a supreme creative +impulse. Its purpose was the making of a new soul--and this could +never be right until those who took that responsibility had used their +reasons, and determined that circumstances were such that the new +soul might be a sound and free and happy and beautiful soul. And how +different was this from the customs which prevailed under the sanction +of the "holy bonds of matrimony"! When sexual intercourse became a +self-indulgence, like the eating of candy, or the drinking of liquor; +a thing of the body, and the body alone; a thing determined by physical +propinquity, by the sight and contact of the flesh, the dressing and +undressing in the same room! + +Then again, the means which they had to use to prevent conception--which +destroyed all spontaneity in their relationship, and dragged the thing +out into the cold light of day! And the continual fear that they might +have made another blunder! Something of this sort was always happening, +or seeming to have happened, or threatening to have happened, so that +they waited each month in suspense and dread. It was this which made the +terror of the whole matter to Thyrsis, and had so much to do with his +repugnance. They were like people drawing lots for a death-sentence; +like people who ate from dishes, one of which they knew to contain +poison. What was the tragic destiny that hung over them--the Nemesis +that gripped them, and forced them to take such a chance? + +But the barriers were down, and there was no building them up again; +Thyrsis never even tried, because of the revelation which came to him +from Corydon's side. Corydon was craving, reaching out hungrily for +something which she had not in herself, and which life did not give her +in sufficiency. She called this thing "love"; and she had no hesitations +and no limits to her demand for it. To Thyrsis this "love" was something +quite else--it was sustenance and support. To demand it was an act of +weakness, and to yield it was a kind of spiritual blood-transfusion. It +was the first law of his life-code that every soul must stand upon its +own feet and walk its own way; and to surrender that spiritual autonomy +was the one blunder for which there could be no pardon. + +But then--he would argue with himself--what folly it was to talk of such +things in their position! They not souls at all--the life of the soul +was not for them, the laws of the soul had nothing to do with them. They +were two bodies--two miserable and cold and sick and tormented bodies; +and with yet a third body, utterly helpless and dependent upon them--in +defiance of all the most high-sounding pronouncements about "the soul"! + +So Thyrsis would mock himself into subjection once more, and go on to +play his part as husband and father and head of a household of bodies. +He would play the game of "love" as Corydon wanted it played; he would +yield to her demands, he would gratify her cravings, he would force +himself to take her point of view. But then the other mood would come +upon him--the mood that he knew to be the real expression of himself. +He would begin the battle of his genius again; he would "hear the echoes +afar off, the thunder of the captains and the shouting". If one gave +one's self up to the body, and accepted the regimen and the laws of +the body, how should the soul ever come to be free? To make such a +concession was to pass upon it a sentence of life-imprisonment! + +So would come to Thyrsis again that sense of the awful tragedy that was +impending in their lives. Some day, he knew, he would break out of this +prison. Some day, he knew, he would have to be himself, and live his own +life! + +And meanwhile, how pitiful were Corydon's attempts to shape him to her +needs, and to persuade herself that she was succeeding in doing it! She +would set forth to him elaborately how much he had improved; how much +gentler and more human he was--in contrast with that blind and stupid +and egotistical and impossible person she had first known. And with +what bitterness Thyrsis would hear this--and how he had to struggle to +suppress his feeling! For he knew that those qualities which were so +hateful to her, were but the foam cast up to the surface of his soul by +the seething of his genius within. When it had ceased altogether, how +placid and still would be the pool-and what a beautiful mirror it would +make for Corydon to behold her own features in! + +Section 12. In later years they used to discuss this problem, and they +could never be sure what would have happened in their lives--what would +have been the reaction of their different temperaments--if they had been +given any fair chance to live and grow as they wanted to. But here they +were, mashed together in this stew-pot of domesticity, with all the most +unlovely aspects of things forced continually upon their attention. Each +was in some way a handicap and a torment to the other--a means which +fate used to limit and crush and destroy the other; and as ever, they +had in their hours of anguish no recourse save to sit down and reason it +out together, and absolve each other from blame. + +Thyrsis invented a phrase whereby he might make this point clear to +Corydon, and keep it in her thoughts. The phrase was "the economic +screw"; it pressed upon him, and through him it crushed her. All things +that he sought to be and could not be, all things that he would not be +and was; all that was hard and unloving in him--his irritability and +impatience, his narrowness and bitterness--in all this he showed her +that cruel force that was destroying them both. + +It was a hard role for Thyrsis, to be the judge and the jury and the +executioner of the stern will of this "economic screw". There was, for +instance, the episode of the "turkey-red table-cover", which became a +classic in their later lives. Corydon was always chafing at the +bareness of their little home; and going into the shops in the town, +and discovering things which might have made it lovely. One evil day she +went alone; and when she came back, Thyrsis, as usual, pounced upon his +mail, and came upon a letter from a magazine-editor whom he had been +trying to please with an article, and who now scolded him mercilessly +for his obstinacy and his egotism and his didacticism, and all his other +unpublishable qualities. Then came the unwrapping of the bundles, and +Corydon's guileless and joyful announcement that she had come upon +a wonderful bargain in the dry-goods store, a beautiful piece of +"turkey-red" cloth which would serve as the table-cover for which her +soul had been pining--and which she had obtained for the incredibly +small sum of thirty cents! + +Whereupon, of course, Thyrsis began to exclaim in dismay. Thirty cents +was a third of all they had to live upon for a day! And to pay it for +a fool piece of rag for which they had no earthly need! So Corydon sank +down in the middle of the floor and dissolved in floods of tears; and at +the next trip into town the "turkey-red table-cover" was returned, and +over the bare board table there were new expositions of the theory of +the "economic screw"! + +To these arguments Corydon would listen and assent. With her intellect +she was at one with him, and she strove to make this intellect supreme. +But always, deep underneath, was the other side of her being, that had +nothing to do with intellect, but was pure primitive impulse--and that +pushed and drove in her always, and carried her away the moment that +intellect loosened its brake. Corydon was ashamed of this primitive +self--she was always repudiating it, always shutting her eyes to it. +There was no way to wound her so deeply as to posit its reality and +identify it with her. + +She was always fighting to make her temperament like Thyrsis'; she +despised her own temperament utterly, and set up his qualities as her +ideal. He was self-contained and masterful; he knew what he wanted and +how to get it; he was not dependent upon anyone else, he needed no one's +approval or admiration; he could control his emotions, and destroy those +that inconvenienced him. So Corydon must be these things also; she _was_ +these things, and no one must gainsay it! And if ever she had felt or +wished or said or done anything else--that was all misunderstanding or +delusion or accident; she would repudiate it with grief and indignation, +and proclaim herself the creature of pure reason that every person ought +to be! + +But then would come something that appealed to her emotions--to her love +of beauty, her craving for joy; and there in a flash was the primitive +self again. The task of compelling Corydon to economy reminded her +husband of a toy which had been popular in his childhood days. The name +of it was "Pigs in Clover"; there were five little balls which you had +to coax into a narrow entrance, and while you were getting the last one +in, the other four were almost certain to roll out. It was a labor of +hours to get Corydon to recognize an unpleasant fact; and then--the next +day she had forgotten it. There were some things about himself and +his life that he could never get her to understand; for instance, his +preoccupation with the newspaper--that symbol of all that was hateful +in life. Just then was the beginning of the Russian revolution; and +to Thyrsis the Russian revolution was like the coming of relief to a +shipwrecked mariner. It was a personal thing to him--the overthrow of a +horror that pressed upon the life of every human being upon earth. And +so each day he hungered for the news, and when the paper came he would +pounce upon it. + +"Now dearest," he would say, "please don't disturb me. I want to read." + +"All right," she would answer; and five minutes would pass. + +Then--"Do you want potatoes for supper, Thyrsis?" + +"Yes, dear. But I'm reading now." + +"All right." And then another five minutes. + +"Thyrsis, who was Boadicea?" + +"I'm reading now, dearest." + +"Oh yes." And then another five minutes. + +"Thyrsis, do you spell choke with an a?" + +At which Thyrsis would put down the paper. "Tell me, Corydon--isn't +there something I can do so that you won't interrupt me?" + +Instantly a look of pain would sweep across her face. "Do you have to +speak to me like that, Thyrsis? If you'd only just tell me, kindly and +pleasantly--" + +"But I've told you three or four times!' + +"Thyrsis! How can you say that?" + +"But didn't I?" + +"Why, of course not!" + +And then they would have an argument. He would bring up each case and +confront her with it; and how very unloving a procedure was that--and +how exasperating was his manner as he did it! + +Section 13. Then again, Corydon would be going into town to do some +shopping; and he would ask her to bring out the afternoon paper. It +would be the day of the October massacre, for instance; and he be on +fire for the next batch of news. He would explain this to her; he would +tell her again and again--whatever else she forgot, she must remember +the afternoon paper. He would walk out to meet her, burning with +impatience; and he would ask for the paper, and see a blank look come +over her face. + +Then, of course, he would scold. He had certain phrases--"How perfectly +unspeakable! Perfectly paralyzing!" How she hated these phrases! + +"I had so many things to get!" she would exclaim. + +"But only one thing for me, Corydon!" + +"Everything is for you--just as much as for myself! All these +groceries--look at the bundles! I haven't had a single moment--" + +"But how many moments does it take to buy a newspaper?" + +"But Thyrsis--" + +"And how many times would I have to tell you? Have I got to go into town +myself, just for the sake of a newspaper?" + +"I tell you I tried my very best to remember it--" + +"But what's the matter with you? Is your mind getting weak?" + +And then like as not Corydon would burst into tears. "Oh, I think you +are a brute!" she would cry. "A perfect brute!" + +Or else, perhaps, she would grow angry, and they would rail at each +other, exchanging recriminations. + +"I think I have burdens enough in my life," he would exclaim. "I've a +right to some help from you." + +"You have no sense of proportion!" she would answer. "You are +impossible! You would drive any saint to distraction." + +"Perhaps so. But I can't drive you anywhere, and I'm sick of trying." + +"Oh, if you only weren't such a talker! You talk--talk--talk!" + +And all the while they did this, what grief was in the depths of them! +And afterwards, what ghastly wounds in Corydon's soul, that had to be +bound up and tended and healed! The pity of it; the shame of it--that +they should be able to descend to such sordidness! That their love, +which they had planned as a noble temple, should turn out an ugly hovel! + +"Oh Thyrsis!" the girl would cry. "The idea that you should think less +of my soul than of an old newspaper!" + +"But that is not so, dearest," he would answer. He would try to explain +to her how much the newspaper had meant to him, and just why his +annoyance had got the better of him. So they would rehearse the scene +over again; and like as not their irritation would sweep over them, and +before they realized it they would find themselves disputing once more. + +Thyrsis would be making a desperate attempt to bring her to a +realization of his difficulties; he would be in the midst of pouring out +some eloquence, when she would interrupt him. + +"But Thyrsis, wait a moment--you do not understand!" + +"I am speaking!" he would say. + +"But, Thyrsis--" + +"I am speaking!" He would not be interrupted. + +But then would come a time when they sat down together and talked all +this out, perceiving it as one more aspect of the disharmony of their +temperaments. It no fault of either of them, they would agree; it was +just that they were different. Thyrsis had a simile that he used--"It's +a marriage between a butterfly and a hippopotamus. You don't blame the +butterfly because it can't get down into the water and snort; and on the +other hand, when the hippopotamus tries to flap his wings and flit about +among the flowers, he doesn't make a success of it." + +There would be times when he took Corydon's point of view entirely. She +was beautiful and good; her naivete and guilelessness were the essence +of her charm and how preposterous it was to expect her to think about +newspapers, or to be familiar with the price of beefsteaks! As for +him--he was a blundering creature, dull and pragmatical; he was a great +spiny monster that she had drawn up from the ocean-depths. She would cut +off his spines, but at once they grew out again; she could do nothing +with him at all! + +But then she would protest--"It's not so bad as that, Thyrsis. You have +your work." + +"Yes, that's it," he would answer. "My work! I'm just a +thinking-machine. I'm fit for nothing else. And here I am--married!" + +He would say that, and he would mean it; he would try to act upon the +conviction. Of course Corydon's nature was a thing more lovely than his; +and, of course, it ought to have its way, to grow in freedom and joy. +But alas--there was "the economic screw"! His qualities--hateful though +they might be--were the product of stern conditions; they were the +qualities which had to dominate in their lives, if they were to survive +in the grim struggle for life. + +Section 14. It was, as always, their tragedy that they had no means of +communicating, except through suffering; they had no work, and they had +no art, and they had no religion. To Thyrsis it seemed that this last +was the supreme need of their lives; but it was quite in vain that he +tried to supply it. He had no theologies to offer, but he had a rough +working faith that served his needs. He had a way of prayer--informal +prayers, to the undiscovered gods--"Oh infinite Holiness of life, I seek +to be reminded of Thee!" He would contemplate their failures and agonies +and despairs, and floods of pity would well up in him; and then he would +come back to Corydon, seeking to make these things real to her. But this +he could never do--he could never carry her with him, he could never +find anything with her but failure and disappointment. + +This was, in part, the outrage that the creed-mongers had done to her; +with their dead formulas and their grotesque legends and their stupid +bigotries they had sullied and defaced all the symbols of religion--they +had made a noble temple into a sepulchre of dead bones. They had taken +her by force, when she was a child, and dragged her into it, and filled +her with terror and loathing. To abandon the language of metaphor, they +had sent her to a Protestant-Episcopal Sunday-school, where a vinegary +spinster had taught her the catechism and the ten commandments. And so +forever after the whole content of Christianity was a thing alien and +hateful to her. + +But also, in their disharmony was something even more fundamental. +Corydon's emotions did not come in the same way as her husband's. With +her a joy had to be a spontaneous thing; there could be no reasoning +about it, and it was not the product nor the occasion of any act +of will. In fact, if anyone were to say to Corydon, "Come, let us +experience a certain emotion"--then straightway it would become certain +that she might experience any emotion in the world, save only that one. + +Thyrsis told himself that he was to blame for this having destroyed her +spontaneity in the very beginning But how was he to have known that, +understanding as he did no temperament but his own, being powerless to +handle any tools but his own? The process of his soul's life was to tell +himself all his vices over; and so he would become filled with hatred of +himself, and would forthwith evolve into something different. But with +Corydon, this method produced, not rage and resolution, but only black +despair. The process of Corydon's soul-life was that some one else +should come to her, and tell her that she was radiant and exquisite; +and straightway she would become these things, and yet more of them; and +until such a person came to her, all her soul's life stood still. + +This was illustrated whenever there was any misunderstanding between +them, any crisis of unhappiness or fit of melancholia. It was quite +in vain at such times that Thyrsis would ask her to sweep these things +aside and forget them; it was disastrous to suggest that she put any +blame upon herself, or scold herself into a different attitude. He might +take days to make up his mind to do what he had to do--yet that fit of +misery would last until he had come and done it. He had to put his arms +about her, and make her realize that she was precious to him, that she +was necessary to him, that he loved her and appreciated her and believed +in her; so, and so only, would the current of her life begin once more +to flow. + +And why could he not do this more quickly? Why did he have to wait until +she had suffered agonies? Why did he have to be dragged to it by the +hair of his head, as it were--as a means of keeping her from going +insane from misery? Was it that he did not really love her? Mocking +voices in his soul told him that was it--but he knew it was not so. He +loved her; but he loved her in his way, and that was not her way. And +how shall one explain that strange impulse in the heart of man, that +makes it impossible for him to be content with anything that is upon the +earth--that makes him restless in the presence of beauty and love +and joy, and all those things with which he so obviously ought to be +content? + +It is so clearly irrational and unjustifiable; and yet that impulse +continues to drive him forth, as it drove him to destroy the statues +in the Athenian temples, and to burn the silken robes and the jewelled +treasures in the public-squares of Venice. One contemplates the thing +in its most unlovely aspects--in the form of Simeon Stylites upon his +pillar, devoured by worms, or of Bernard Gui, with his racks and his +thumb-screws and his "secular arm"--and it seems the very culmination of +all human madness and horror. And yet, it does not cease to come; and +he upon whom it seizes may not free himself by any power of his will, +by any cunning of his wit; and no agony of yearning and grief may be +sufficient to enable him to love a woman as a woman desires to be loved. + +Section 15. Thyrsis would work over the book until he was utterly +exhausted; and then, limp as a rag, he would come back to the world of +reality and face these complications. He needed to rest, he needed to +be soothed and comforted and sung to sleep; he needed to receive--and +instead he had to give. Sometimes he wondered vaguely if this might not +have been otherwise; he knew nothing about women--but surely there might +have been, somewhere in the world, some woman who would have understood, +and would have asked nothing from him. But he dwelt on that thought but +seldom, for it seemed a kind of treason; he was not married to any such +hypothetical woman--he was married to Corydon, and it was Corydon he had +to save from the wolves. + +So, time after time, he would come back to her, and take the cup of her +pain in his trembling hands, and put it to his lips and drain it to the +dregs. He would sit with her, and hear the tale of her struggles, he +would fan the sparks of his exhausted emotions into flame, so that she +might warm herself by the glow. And when the burden became too great for +him, when the black floods of anguish and despair which she poured out +upon him threatened to engulf him altogether--then he would tramp away +into the forest, or out upon the snow-encrusted hills, and call up +the demons of his soul once more, and proclaim himself unconquered and +unconquerable. He would spread his wings to the glory of his vision; he +would feel again the surge and sweep of it, he would sing aloud with the +power of it, and pledge himself anew to live for it--if need be even to +die for it. + +The world was trying to crush it in him; the world hated it and feared +it, and was bound that it should not live; and Thyrsis had sworn to +save it--and so the issue was joined. He would hearten himself for the +struggle--he would fling himself into the thick of it, again and again; +he would summon up that thing which he called his Genius, that fountain +of endless force that boiled up within him. Whatever strength they +brought against him, he could match it; he might be knocked down, +trampled upon, left for dead upon the field, but he could rise and renew +the conflict! He would talk to himself, he would call aloud to himself, +he would repeat to himself formulas of exhortation, cries of defiance, +proclamations of resolve. He would summon his enemies before him, +sometimes in hosts, sometimes as individuals--all those who ever in +his life had mocked and taunted him, scolded him and threatened him. He +would shake his clenched fists at them; they might as well understand +it--they could never conquer him, not all the power they could bring +would suffice! He would call upon posterity also; he would summon +his friends and lovers of the future, to give him comfort in his sore +distress. Was it not for them that he was laboring--that they might some +day feed their souls upon his faith? + +Thyrsis would think of the "Song of Roland", recalling that heroic +figure and his three days' labor: when he had read that poem, his +heart had seemed to throb with pain every time that Roland lifted his +sword-arm. He would think of the old blind "Samson Agonistes"; he would +think of the Greeks at Thermopylae, of the siege of Haarlem. History was +full of such tales of the agonies that men had endured for the sake of +their faith; and why should he expect exemption, why should he shrink +from the fiery test? + +Section 16. So he lived and fought two battles, one within and +one without; and little by little these two became merged in his +imagination. He had conceived a figure which should embody the War; and +that figure had come to be himself. + +The War of which he was writing had come upon a people unsuspecting and +unprepared; they had not sought it nor desired it, they did not love +it, they did not understand it. But the nation must be preserved; and so +they set out to forge themselves into a sword. They had wealth, and they +poured it out lavishly; and they had enthusiasm--whole armies of young +men came forward. They were uniformed and armed and drilled and one +after another they marched out, with banners waving, and drums rolling, +and hearts beating high with hope; and one after another they met +the enemy, and were swallowed up in carnage and destruction, and came +reeling back in defeat and despair. It happened so often that the whole +land moaned with the horror of it--there was Bull Run and then again +Bull Run, and there was the long Peninsula Campaign--an entire year +of futility and failure; and there was the ghastly slaughter of +Fredericksburg, and the blind confusion of Chancellorsville, and the +bitter, disappointment of Antietam. + +Thyrsis wished to portray all this from the point of view of the +humble private, who got none of the glory, and expected none, but only +suffering and toil; whose lot it was to march and countermarch, to delve +and sweat in the trenches, to be stifled by the heat and drenched by the +rain and frozen by the cold; to wade through seas of blood and anguish, +to be wounded and captured and imprisoned, to be lured by victory and +blasted by defeat. And into it all he was pouring the distillation of +his own experiences. For there was not much of it that he had not +known in his own person. Surely he had known what it was to be cold +and hungry; surely he had known what it was to be lured by victory +and blasted by defeat. He had watched by the death-bed of his dearest +dreams, he had listened to the moaning of multitudes of imprisoned +hopes. He had known what it was to set before him a purpose, and to +cling to it in spite of obloquy and hatred; he had known what it was +to suffer until his forehead throbbed, and all things reeled and swam +before his eyes. He had known also what it was to sacrifice for the sake +of the future, and to see others, who thought of no one but themselves, +preying upon him, and upon the community, and living in luxury and +enjoying power. + +Little by little, as he studied this War, Thyrsis had come upon a +strange and sinister fact about it. Roughly speaking, the population of +the country might have been divided into two classes. There were those +to whom the Union was precious, and who gave their labor and their lives +for it; they starved and fought and agonized for it, and came home, +worn, often crippled, and always poor. On the other hand there were some +who had cared nothing for the Union, but were finding their chance to +grow rich and to establish themselves in the places of power. They were +selling shoddy blankets and paper shoes to the government; they were +speculating in cotton and gold and food. There were a few exceptions +to this, of course; but for the most part, when one came to study the +gigantic fortunes which were corrupting the nation, he discovered that +it was just here they had begun. + +So this was the curious and ironic fact; the nation had been saved--but +only to be handed over to the money-changers! And these now possessed it +and dominated it; and a new generation had come forward, which knew not +how these things had come to be--which knew only the money-changers and +their power. And who was there to tell them of the War, and all that the +War had meant? Who was there to make that titan agony real to them, to +point them to the high destinies of the Republic? + +Along with his war-books, Thyrsis was reading his daily newspaper, which +came to him freighted with the cynicism of the hour. It was when the +revelations of corruption in business and political affairs were at +their flood; high and low, in towns and cities, in states and in the +nation itself, one saw that the government of the country had been +bought. Everywhere throughout the land Mammon sat upon the throne, and +men cringed before him--there was only persecution and mockery for those +who believed in the things for which America stood to all the world. + +And this new Lord, who had purchased the people, and held them in +bond, was extracting a toll of suffering and privation, of accident and +disease and death, that was worse than the agony of many wars. The whole +land was groaning and sweating beneath the burden of it; and Thyrsis, +who shared the pain, and knew the meaning of it, was sick with the +responsibility it put upon him, yearning for a thousand voices with +which he might cry the truth aloud. + +Some one must bring America face to face with its soul again; and who +was there to do it--who was there that was even trying? Thyrsis had +seen the statues of St. Gaudens, and he knew there was one man who had +dreamed the dream of his country. But who was there to put it into song, +or into story, that the young might read? Like the newspapers and the +churches, the authors had sold out; they were writing for matinee-girls, +and for the Pullman-car book-trade; and meantime the civilization of +America was sliding down into the pit! + +So here again was War! Here again were pain and sickness, hunger and +cold, solitude and despair, to be endured and defied; death itself to +be faced--madness even, and soul-decay! Armies of men had gone out, had +laid themselves down and filled up the ditches with their bodies, to +make a bridge for Freedom to pass on. And the ditches were not yet +full--another life was needed! + +Nor must he think himself too good for the sacrifice; there had been +greater men than he, no doubt, burned up in the Wilderness, and blown +to pieces by the cannon at "Bloody Angle"; there had been dreamers of +mighty dreams among them--and they were dead, and all their dreams were +dead. And neither must he love his own too dearly; there had been women +who had suffered and died in that War, and babes who had perished by +tens of thousands; and they, too, had been born with agony, had been +loved and yearned for, and wept and prayed for. + +So, out of the dead past, were voices calling to Thyrsis; he heard them +in the night--time as one mighty symphony of grief. They had died for +nothing, unless the Republic should be saved, unless their dream of +freedom and justice could be made real. And for what was the poet but +that? So that the new generations might know what their fathers had +done--that the youth of America might be roused and thrilled once more! +Surely it could not be that the land was all sunk in selfishness and +unfaith--that there were no longer any generous souls who could be +stirred by a trumpet-call, and led forth to strike a new blow for the +great hope of Humanity! + +Section 17. The long winter dragged by, and the fury of it seemed to +increase; they were as if besieged by demons of cold and storm. There +came another blizzard, and the snows drifted down to their hollow by the +edge of the woods, so that it was two days before they could get out, +even to the farm-house. And there was no place for them to walk--a path +from their house to Thyrsis' study was a labor of half a day to dig. +Also Corydon caught a cold, which ran in due course through the little +family, and added to their misery and discomfort. + +The snow seemed to be symbolical, walling them in from all the world. +"There is no help", it seemed to say to them; whatever strength they got +they must wring out of their own hearts. Here in this place, it +seemed to Thyrsis, he learned the real meaning of Winter; he saw it as +primitive man had seen it, a cruel and merciless assailant, a fiend that +came ravening, dealing destruction and death. He thought of the ode by +Thomas Campbell-- + + "Archangel! Power of desolation! + Fast descending as thou art, + Say, hath mortal invocation + Spells to touch thy stony heart?" + +Surely no Runic Odin, who "howled his war-song to the gale", no Lapland +savage who cowered in his hut, ever panted for the respite of the +spring-time more than these two lovers in their tiny cottage. + +It was evident that Corydon was going down-hill under the strain. She +became more and more nervous and wretched, her headaches and her fits +of exhaustion were more frequent. Then, too, her old mental trouble, the +habit of "thinking things", was plaguing her again--She would come to +Thyrsis with long accounts of her psychological entanglements, and he +would patiently unravel the skein. Or sometimes, if he was very tired, +he might give some signs of a desire to escape the ordeal; and then he +would see a look of terror stealing into Corydon's eyes. So these things +were real after all--they were real even to Thyrsis! + +One morning he opened his eyes, and looked from his study-window, to +find that another heavy snow had fallen; and when he had dressed and +gone over to the house, he found Corydon in bed. She complained of +a headache, and had had chills during the night, and was now quite +evidently feverish. He was alarmed, and after he had made her as +comfortable as he could, he dressed the baby and took him upon his +shoulder, and made his way with difficulty to the farm-house. He left +the baby there, and with a horse and sleigh set out for town. The horse +had to walk all the way, and several times the sleigh was upset in the +drifts, so that it was two hours before he reached his destination. As +the doctor was out upon his rounds, he had to wait a couple of hours +more--and then only to learn that the man could not possibly attempt the +trip. He had several patients who were dangerously ill, and he had to be +on hand. + +He sent Thyrsis to another doctor, but this one said exactly the same; +and so the boy spent the day wandering about the town. The thought of +Corydon's lying there alone, helpless and suffering, made him wild; +but everywhere he met with the same response--the cold weather had +apparently brought an epidemic of disease, and there was no doctor in +the place who could spare three or four hours to make the long journey +in the snow. + +So there was nothing for him to do but go back. The farmer's wife +offered to take care of the baby over night, and he went down to the +cottage alone where he found Corydon much worse. He sat and held her +hand, a terror clutching at his heart; and all night long he sat and +tended her--he filled hot water bottles when she was chilled, and got +ice when she was hot, and made cool lemonade, and prepared tidbits and +tempted her to eat. He would whisper to her and soothe her; and later, +when she fell into a doze, he sat nodding in his chair and shivering +with cold, but afraid to touch the fire for fear of disturbing her. + +Then, towards dawn, she wakened; and Thyrsis was almost beside himself +with anguish and fear--for she was delirious, and did not know where she +was, or what she was doing. She kept talking as if to the baby--in their +baby-talk. Thyrsis would listen, until he would choke up with tears. + +He left her, and went up to the farm, and got the horse and sleigh +again, and drove to another town. It made no difference what doctor +he got--to Thyrsis all doctors were alike, the keepers of the keys of +health. After several hours' pursuit he found that this man also was +busy. All he could say was that he would try to get out that night. + +So Thyrsis went back again, to find his wife with flushed face, and +beads of perspiration upon her forehead; now sitting up and babbling +aimlessly, now sinking back exhausted. He sat once more through a night +of torment, holding her hot hands in his, and praying in vain for the +coming of the doctor. + +It was afternoon of the next day before the man finally came, and +brought some relief to Thyrsis' soul, and perhaps also to Corydon's +body. He took her temperature and listened to her breathing, and +pronounced it a severe attack of grippe, with a touch of bronchitis; and +he laid out an assortment of capsules and liquids, and promised to come +again if Thyrsis sent for him. + +And so the boy set out in the double role of trained nurse and mother's +assistant. He gave Corydon her medicines, and brought fresh water for +her, and smoothed her pillows and talked to her, and prepared some +delicacies for her when she wished to eat; also he dressed and bathed +the baby, and cooked his complex meals and fed them to him; he put +on his rubbers and his leggings and his mittens, and the overcoat and +peaked hood (which Corydon had devised for him out of eighty cents' +worth of woolly red cloth), and turned him out to "bongie cowtoos" +in the snow. Likewise he got his own meals and washed the dishes, and +tended the fires and emptied the ashes and filled the lamps and swept +the floors; and in the interim between these various duties he fought +new battles within himself, and got new side-lights upon Chickamauga and +"Bloody Angle". + +Section 18. It was two weeks before this siege was lifted, and Corydon +was able to take up her burdens once more. It was then March, and the +snow had given place to cold sleety rains, and the fields and the ground +about their home were miniature swamps full of mud. Thyrsis would tramp +through this to the hill-tops where the storm-winds howled, and there +vow defiance to his foes, and come home to pour new hope and courage and +resolution into a bottomless pit. + +He was finishing his vision of the field of Gettysburg--the three-days' +grapple between two titan armies, that meant to him three weeks of +soul-terrifying toil. Men had said that Gettysburg meant the turning Of +the tide, that victory was certain; and yet there had followed Sherman's +long campaign, and all the horror of the Wilderness fighting, and Mine +Run and Cold Harbor and the ghastly siege of Petersburg. And now +Thyrsis had to fight his way through this. He saw the figure that he had +dreamed, and that possessed him; a soldier who was the rage of the War +incarnate, the awakened frenzy of the nation. He was a man lifted above +pain and cold and hunger; he was gaunt and wild of aspect, restless and +impatient, driving, driving to the end. He went about the duties of the +camp like one in a dream; he marched like an automaton--for hours, or +for days, as need might be--his thoughts flying on to those moments that +alone were real to him, to the charge and the fury of the conflict, the +blows that were the only things that counted. He lived amid sights and +sounds of horror, with groans and weeping in his ears, with a mist +of blood and cannon-smoke before his eyes; he drove on, grim and +implacable, the very ground about him rocking and quivering in a +delirium of torment. He was the War! + +Meantime Corydon was growing paler, and more wretched than ever. For +her, too, this winter was symbolized as a battle-ground. To him it was +a field in which armies clashed, and the issue was uncertain; but to +her it was a field of inevitable defeat, strewn with the corpses of +her hopes. For hours she would lie upon her couch in the night-watches, +silent, alone, staring out of the window at the wide waste of snow in +the pitiless moonlight. + +Thyrsis would have preferred to sleep in his own study, as he worked so +late at night; but Corydon begged him not to do this, she would rather +be wakened, she said. + +So, on one occasion, he came over at about two o'clock in the morning, +and found her sleeping, as he thought, and crawled into his own cot. +He was just dozing off to sleep, when he heard what he thought was a +stifled sob. + +He listened; he thought that she was crying in her sleep. But then, as +the sound grew clearer, he sat up. The moonlight was shining in upon +her, and Thyrsis caught a bright glint of steel. Swift as a flash the +meaning of that swept over him. He had provided her with a revolver, +that she might feel safe when she was left alone; and now he bounded out +of bed and sprang across the room, and found her with the weapon pointed +at her head. + +He struck it away; and Corydon, with a terrified cry, clutched at him +and collapsed in his arms. + +"Oh Thyrsis!" she wailed. "Save me! Save me!" + +"What is it?" he gasped. + +"I couldn't do it!" she cried, choking. "I couldn't! I tried--I tried so +hard!" + +"Sweetheart", he whispered, in terror. + +"Don't let me do it!" she sobbed. "Oh, Thyrsis, you must save me!" + +He pressed her to his bosom, shuddering with dread, and trying to soothe +her hysterical outburst. So, little by little, he dragged the story from +her. For three days she had been making up her mind to shoot herself, +and she had chosen that night for the time. + +"I've been sitting here for an hour," she whispered--"with the revolver +in my hand. And I couldn't get up the courage to pull the trigger." + +He clasped her, white with horror. + +"I heard you coming," she went on. "I lay and pretended to sleep. Then I +tried again--but I can't, I can't! I'm a coward!" + +"Corydon!" he cried. + +"There was only one thing that stopped me. You would have got on without +me--" + +"Don't say that, dearest!" + +"You would--I know it! I'm only in your way. But oh, my baby! I loved +him so, and I couldn't bear to leave him!" + +She clung to him convulsively. "Oh, Thyrsis," she panted, "think what it +meant to me to leave him. He'd have been without a mother all his life! +And something might have happened to you, and he'd have had no one to +love him at all!" + +"Why did you want to do it?" he cried. + +"Oh Thyrsis, I've suffered so! I'm weary--I'm worn out--I'm sick of the +fight. I can't stand it any more--and what can I do?" + +"My poor, poor girl," he whispered, and pressed her to his heart in a +paroxysm of grief. "Oh, my Corydon! My Corydon!" + +The horror of the thing overwhelmed him; he began to weep himself--his +frame was shaken with tearless, agonizing sobs. What could he do for +her, how could he help her? + +But already he had helped her; it was not often that she saw him +weeping, it was not often she found that she could do something for +_him_. "Thyrsis, do you really _want_ me?" she whispered. "Do you truly +love me that much?" + +"I love you, I love you!" he sobbed. + +And she replied, "Then I'll stay. I'll bear anything, if you need me--if +I can be of any use at all." + +Section 19. So their tears were mingled; so once more, being +sufficiently plowed up with agony, they might behold the deeps of each +other's souls. Being at their last gasp, and driven to desperation, they +would make the convulsive effort, and break the crust of dullness and +commonplace, and reveal again the mighty forces hidden in their depths. +At such hours he beheld Corydon as she was, the flaming spirit, the +archangel prisoned in the flesh. If only he could have found the key to +those deep chambers, so that he could have had access to them always! + +But alas, they knew only one path that led to them, and that through the +valley of despair. From despair it led to anguished struggle, and from +struggle to defiance, to rage and denunciation--and thence to visions +and invocations, raptures and enthralments. So this night, for instance, +behold Corydon, first holding her husband's hands, and shuddering with +awe, and pledging her faith all over again; and then, later on, when the +dawn was breaking, sitting in the cold moonlight with a blanket flung +about her, her wild hair tossing, and in her hand the revolver with +which she had meant to destroy herself. Behold her, making sport of her +own life-drama--turning into wildest phantasy her domestic ignominies, +her inhibitions and her helpmate's blunderings; evoking the hosts of +the future as to a festival, rehearsing the tragedy of her soul with all +posterity as her audience. When once these mad steeds of her fancy were +turned loose, one could never tell where their course would be; and +strange indeed were the adventures that came to him who rode with her! + +There seemed to be no limit to the powers of this subliminal woman +within Corydon. Her cheeks would kindle, her eyes would blaze, and +eloquence would pour from her--the language of great poetry, fervid and +passionate, with swift flashes of insight and illumination, tumultuous +invocations and bursts of prophecy. Thyrsis would listen and marvel. +What a mind she had--sharp, like a rapier, swift as the lightning-flash! +The powers of penetration and understanding, and above all the sheer +splendors of language--the blazes of metaphor, the explosions of +coruscating wit! What a tragic actress she might have made--how she +would have shaken men's souls, and set them to shuddering with terror! +What an opera-singer she could have been, with that rich vibrant voice, +and the mien of a disinherited goddess! + +It was out of such hours that the faith of their lives was made; and it +was out of them also that Thyrsis formed his idea of woman. To him woman +was an equal; and this he not only said with his lips, he lived it in +his feelings. The time came when he went out into the world, and learned +to understand the world's idea, that woman meant vanity and pettiness +and frivolity; but Thyrsis let all this pass, knowing the woman-soul. +Somewhere underneath, not yet understood and mastered, was pent this +mighty force that in the end would revolutionize all human ideas and +institutions. Here was faith, here was vision, here was the power of all +powers; and how was it to be delivered and made conscious, and brought +into the service of life? + +Most women liked Thyrsis, because they divined in some vague way this +attitude; and some men hated him for the same reason. These men, Thyrsis +observed, were the slave-drivers; they held that woman was the weaker +vessel, and for this they had their own motives. There were women, +too, who liked to be ruled; but Thyrsis never argued with them--it was +enough, he judged, to treat any slave as a free man, or any servant as a +gentleman, and sooner or later they would divine what he meant, and the +spirit of revolt would begin to flicker. + + + + + + +BOOK XIII + +THE MASTERS OF THE SNARE + + + + + +_They stood upon the porch of the little cabin, listening to the silence +of the night. + +"How far away it all seems!" she said-- + + "How many a dingle on the loved hill-side + Hath since our day put by + The coronals of that forgotten time!" + +"It makes one feel old," he said--"like the coming of the night!" + +"The night!" she repeated, and went on-- + + "I feel her finger light + Laid pausefully upon life's headlong train;-- + The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew, + The heart less bounding at emotion new, + And hope once crush'd less quick to spring again!"_ + +Section 1. Throughout this long winter of discontent came to them one +ray of hope from the outside world. "The Genius" was given in the +little town in Germany, and Thyrsis' correspondent sent the twenty-five +dollars, and wrote that it had made a great impression, and that more +performances were to be expected. Then, after an interval, Thyrsis was +surprised to receive from his clipping-bureau some items to the effect +that his play was to be produced in one of the leading theatres in +Berlin. He wrote to his correspondent for an explanation, and learned +to his dismay that his play had been "pirated"; it was, of course, not +copyright in Germany, and so he had no redress, and must content himself +with what his friend referred to as "the renowns which will be brought +to you by these performances". + +The play came out, in the early spring, and apparently made a +considerable sensation. Thyrsis read long reviews from the German +papers, and there were accounts of it in several American papers. So +people began to ask who this unknown poet might be. The publishers of +"The Hearer of Truth" were moved to venture new advertisements of the +book--whereby they sold perhaps a hundred copies more; and Thyrsis was +moved to pay some badly--needed money to have more copies of the play +made, so that he might try to interest some other manager. He carried +on a long correspondence with a newly-organized "stage society", +which thought a great deal about trying the play at a matinee, but did +nothing. + +Also, Thyrsis received a letter from one of the country's popular +novelists, who had heard of the play abroad, and asked to read it. +When he had read it and told what an interesting piece of work it was, +Thyrsis sat down and wrote the great man about his plight, and asked +for help; which led to correspondence, and to the passing round of the +manuscript among a group of literary people. One of these was Haddon +Channing, the critic and essayist, who was interested enough to write +Thyrsis several long letters, and to read the rest of his productions, +and later on to call to see him. Which, visit proved a curious +experience for the family. + +He arrived one day towards spring, when it chanced that Corydon was in +town visiting the dentist. Thyrsis had just finished his dinner when he +saw two people coming through the orchard, and he leaped up in haste +to put the soiled dishes away, and make the place as presentable as +possible. Mr. and Mrs. Channing had come in their car (they lived +in Philadelphia), and were followed by an escort of the farmer's +children--since an automobile was a rare phenomenon in that +neighborhood. The entrance to the peach-orchard proved not wide enough +for the machine, so they had to get out and walk; and this they found +annoying, because the ground was wet and soft. All of which seemed to +emphasize the incongruity of their presence. + +Haddon Channing might have been described as a dilettante radical. He +employed a highly-wrought and artificial style, which scintillated with +brilliant epigram; one had a feeling that it rather atoned for the evils +in human life, that they became the occasion of so much cleverness in +Channing's books. Perhaps that was the reason why most people did not +object to the vagueness of his ideas, when it came to any constructive +suggestion. In fact he rather made a point of such vagueness--when +you tried to do anything about a social evil, that was politics, and +politics were vulgar. One could never pin Channing down, but his idea +seemed to be that in the end all men would become free and independent +spirits, able to make their own epigrams; after which there would be no +more evil in the world. + +And here he was in the flesh. It seemed to Thyrsis as if he must have +made a study of his own books, and then proceeded to fit his person +and his clothing, his accent and his manner, to make a proper setting +thereto. He was tall and lean, immaculate and refined; he spoke +with airy and fastidious grace, pouring out one continuous stream of +cleverness--any hour of his conversation was equivalent to a volume of +his works at a dollar and a quarter net. + +Also, there was Mrs. Channing, gracious and exquisite, looking as if she +had stepped out of one of Rossetti's poems. She was a poetess herself; +writing about Acteon, and Antinoues, and other remote subjects. Thyrsis +assumed that there must be something in these poems, for they were given +two or three pages in the thirty-five-cent magazines; but he himself had +never discovered any reason why he should read one through. + +Section 2. They seated themselves upon his six-foot piazza; and Thyrsis, +who had very little sense of personality, and was altogether wrapped up +in ideas, was soon in the midst of a free and easy discussion with them. +It seemed ages since he had had an opportunity to exchange opinions with +anyone except Corydon. With these people he roamed over the fields +of literature; and as they found nothing to agree about anywhere, the +conversation did not flag. + +A strange experience it must have been to them, to come to a lonely +shanty in the woods, and encounter a haggard boy, in a cotton-shirt and +a pair of frayed trousers, who was all oblivious of their elegance, +and unawed by their reputation, and who behaved like a bull in the +china-shop of their orderly opinions. Mrs. Channing, it seemed, was +completing her life-work, a volume which was to revolutionize current +criticism, and lead the world back to artistic health; to her, modern +civilization was a vast abortion, and in Greek culture was to be sought +the fountain-head of health. She sang the praises of Athenian literature +and art and life; there was sanity and clarity, there was balance and +serenity! And to compare it with the jangled confusion and the frantic +strife of modern times! + +To which Thyrsis answered, "We'd best let modern times alone. For here +you've all facts and no generalization; and in the case of the Greeks +you've all generalization and no facts." + +And so they went at it, hot and heavy. Mrs. Channing, her Greek serenity +somewhat ruffled, insisted that she had studied the facts for herself. +The other proceeded to probe into her equipment, and found that she knew +Homer and Sophocles, but did not know Aristophanes so well, and did not +know the Greek epigrams at all. Thyrsis maintained that the dominant +note in the Greek heritage was one of bewilderment and despair; in +support of which alarming opinion he carried the discussion from the +dreams of Greek literature to the realities of Greek life. Did Mrs. +Channing know how the Greeks had persecuted all their great thinkers? + +Did she know anything about the cruelties of their slave-code? + +"Have you ever studied Greek politics?" he asked. "Do you realize, for +instance, that it was the custom of statesmen and generals who were +defeated by their political rivals, to go over to the enemy and lead an +expedition against their homes?" + +"Isn't that putting it rather strongly?" asked Mrs. Channing. + +"I don't think so," he answered. "Didn't the conquerors of both Salamis +and Platasa afterwards sell out to the Persian king? And then you talk +about the noble ideal of woman which the Greeks developed! Don't you +know that it was nothing but a literary tradition?" + +"I had never understood that," said Mrs. Channing. + +To which the other answered: "It was handed down from imaginary Homeric +days. The Greek lady of the Periclean age was a domestic prisoner and +drudge." + +Section 3. Then, late in the afternoon, came Corydon; and this part of +the adventure must have seemed stranger yet to the Channings. Corydon +wore a shirt-waist and a ten-cent straw hat, trimmed with some white +mosquito-netting, and an old blue skirt which she had worn before her +marriage, and had enlarged little by little during the period of her +pregnancy, and had taken in again after the baby was born. Also she was +pale and sad-looking, much startled by the sight of the automobile, +and the sudden apparition of elegance. She got rid of her armfuls of +groceries and bundles, and seated herself in an inconspicuous place, +and sat listening while the argument went on. For a full hour she never +uttered a word; only once during the controversy over the "Greek lady", +Mrs. Channing turned to her and asked, "Don't you agree with me?" But +Corydon could only answer, "I don't know, I have not read much history." +And who was there to tell the visitor that this strange, wide-eyed girl +knew more about the tragedies and terrors of the Greek temperament than +she with all her culture and her college-degrees could have learned in +many life-times? + +The two stayed to supper, and Corydon and Thyrsis set out the meal +upon the rustic outdoor table; they apologized for their domestic +inadequacies, but Mrs. Channing declared that she "adored picknicking". +The evening was spent in more discussion; and finally it was decided +that the visitors should stay over night at the hotel in town, and come +out again in the morning. + +Thyrsis concluded, as he thought the matter over, that the two must have +been fascinated by this domestic situation, and curious to look deeper +into it. Perhaps they saw "material" in it; or perhaps it was that +Haddon Channing was really impressed by Thyrsis' powers, and sought to +understand his problems and help him. Whatever may have been the motive +for it, when they came the next morning, the critic took Thyrsis for a +walk in the woods and proceeded to discuss his affairs. And meanwhile +his wife had set herself to the task of probing the innermost corners of +Corydon's soul. + +The burden of Channing's discourse was Thyrsis' impatience and lack of +balance, his fanaticism and his too great opinion of his own work. "My +dear fellow," he said, "you are the most friendless human being I have +ever encountered upon earth. How can you expect to interest men if you +don't get out into the world and learn what they are doing?" + +"That means to get a position, I suppose?" said Thyrsis. + +"No, not necessarily--" began the other. + +"But I haven't money to live in the city otherwise." + +That was too definite for Channing, and he went off on another tack. He +had been reading "The Higher Cannibalism", and he could not forgive it. +A boy of Thyrsis' age had no right to be seething with such bitterness; +there must be some fundamental and terrible cause. He was destroying +himself, he was eating out his heart in this isolation; he was so +wrapped up in his own miseries, his own wrongs--in all the concerns of +his own exaggerated ego! + +They were seated beside a little streamlet in the woods. "What you +need is something to get you out of yourself," the critic was +saying--"something to restore your sanity and balance. It'll come to you +some day. Perhaps it'll be a love-affair--you'll meet some woman who'll +carry you away. I know the sort you need--they grow in the West--the +great brooding type of woman-soul, that would fold you in her arms and +give you a little peace." + +Thyrsis was silent for a space. "You forget," he said, in a low voice, +"that I am already married." + +The other shrugged his shoulders. "Such things have happened, even so," +he said. + +Thyrsis had taken his part in the conversation before this, defending +himself and setting forth his point of view. But now he fell silent. The +words had cut him to the quick. It seemed to him an insult and a bitter +humiliation; here, at his home, almost in the presence of his wife! What +was the man's idea, anyway? + +And suddenly he turned upon Channing with the question, "You think that +I've married a doll?" + +The other was staggered for a moment. "I don't know what you've +married," he replied. + +"No," said Thyrsis. "Then how can you advise me in such a matter?" + +"I see that you're not happy--" the other began. + +"Yes," said the boy. "But I don't want any more women." + +There was a pause, while Thyrsis sat pondering, Should he try to explain +to this man? But he shook his head. No, it would be useless to try. "She +is not in your class," he said. + +"How do you mean?" asked the other. + +"She has none of your culture, none of your social graces. She can't +write, and she can't sing--she can't do anything that your wife does." + +"I'm afraid," said Channing, in a low voice, "you don't take my remarks +in the right spirit." + +"Even suppose that she were not what you call a 'great woman-soul'," +persisted Thyrsis--"at least she has starved and suffered for me; and +wouldn't common loyalty bind me to her?" + +"I have tried to do something very difficult," said the other, after a +silence. "I have tried to talk to you frankly. It is the most thankless +task in the world to tell a man his own faults." + +"I know," said Thyrsis. "And that's all right--I'm perfectly willing. I +don't mind knowing my faults." + +"It is evident that you have resented it," declared the other. + +Thyrsis answered with a laugh, "Don't you admit of replies to your +criticisms? Suppose I'm pointing out some of your faults--your faults as +a critic?" + +Channing said that he did not object to that. + +"Very well, then," said Thyrsis. "I simply tell you that you have missed +the point of my trouble. There's nothing the matter with me but poverty +and lack of opportunity; and there's nothing else the matter with my +wife. We're doing our best, and it's the simple fact that we've endured +and dared more than anybody we've ever met. And that's all there is to +it." + +It was evident that Channing was deeply hurt. He turned the conversation +to other matters, and pretty soon they got up and strolled on. When they +came near to the house, he went off to see his chauffeur, and Thyrsis +stood watching him, and pondering over the episode. + +It was the same thing that had happened to him in the city; it was the +thing that would be happening to him all the time. He saw that however +wretched he might be with Corydon, he would always take her part against +the world. Whatever her faults might be, they were not such as the world +could judge. Rather would he make it the test of a person's character, +that they should understand and appreciate her, in spite of her lack +of that superficial thing called culture--the ability to rattle off +opinions about any subject under the sun. + +So it was that loyalty to Corydon held him fast. So her temperament was +his law, and her needs were his standards; and day by day he must become +more like her, and less like himself! + +Section 4. He returned to the house, entering by the rear door. The baby +was lying in the room asleep, and out upon the piazza, he could hear +Corydon and Mrs. Channing. Corydon was speaking, in her intense voice. + +"The trouble with me," she was saying, "is that I have no confidence! +Other women are sure of themselves--they are self-contained, serene, +satisfied." + +"But why shouldn't you be that way?" Thus Mrs. Channing. + +"I aim too high," said Corydon. "I want too much. I defeat myself." + +"Yes," said the other, "but why--" + +"It's been the circumstances of all my life! I've been +defeated--thwarted--repressed! Everything drives me back into myself. +There is nothing I can _do_--I can only endure and suffer and wait. So +all the influences in my life are negative-- + + 'I was sick with the Nay of life-- + With my lonely soul's refrain!'" + +"What is that you are quoting?" asked Mrs. Channing. + +"It's from a poem I wrote," said Corydon. + +"Oh, you write poetry?" + +"I couldn't say that," was the reply. "I have no technique--I never +studied anything about it." + +"But you try sometimes?" + +"I find it helps me," said Corydon--"once in a great while I find lines +in my mind; and I put them together, so that I can say them over, and +remind myself of things." + +"I see," said Mrs. Channing. "Tell me the poem you quoted." + +"I--I don't believe you'd think much of it," said Corydon, hesitating. +"I never expected anybody-- + +"I'd be interested to hear it," declared her visitor. + +So Corydon recited in a low voice a couple of stanzas which had come to +her in the lonely midnight hours. Thyrsis listened with interest--he had +never heard them before: + + "What matters the tired heart, + What matters the weary brain? + What matters the cruel smart + Of the burden borne again? + + I was sick with the Nay of life-- + With my lonely soul's refrain; + But the essence of love is strife, + And the meaning of life is pain." + +There was a pause. "Do you--do you think that is worth while at all?" +asked Corydon. + +"It is evidently sincere," replied Mrs. Channing. "I think you ought to +study and practice." + +"I can't make much effort at it--" + +But the other went on: "What concerns me is the attitude to life it +shows. It is terrible that a young girl should feel that way. You must +not let yourself get into such a state!" + +"But how can I help it?" + +"You must have something that occupies your mind! That is what you need, +truly it is! You've got to stop thinking about yourself--you've got to +get outside yourself, somehow!" + +Thyrsis caught his breath. He could tell from the tone of the speaker's +voice that she was laboring with Corydon, putting forth all her energies +to impress her. He was tempted to step forward and cry out, "No, no! +That's not the way! That won't work!" + +But instead, he stood rooted to the spot, while Mrs. Channing went +on--"This unhappiness comes from the fact that you are so self-centred. +You must get some constructive work, my dear, if it's only training your +baby. You must realize that you are not the only person who has troubles +in the world. Why, I know a poor washerwoman, who was left a widow with +four children to care for--" + +And then suddenly Thyrsis heard a voice cry out in anguish, "Oh, oh! +stop!" He heard his wife spring up from her chair. + +"What's the matter?" asked Mrs. Channing. + +"I can't listen to you any more!" cried Corydon. "You don't know what +you're saying!--You don't understand me at all!" + +There was a pause. "I'm sorry you feel that," said Mrs. Channing. + +"I had no right to talk to you!" exclaimed the other. "There's no one +can understand! I have to fight alone!" + +At this point Thyrsis went into the kitchen, and made some noise that +they would hear. Then he called, "Are you there, dearest?" + +"Yes," said Corydon; and he went out upon the piazza. He saw her +standing, white and tense. + +"Are you still talking?" he said, with forced carelessness. + +And as Mrs. Channing answered "Yes," Corydon said, quickly, "Excuse me a +moment," and went into the house. + +So the poet sat and talked with his guest about the state of the weather +and the condition of the roads; until at last her husband arrived, +saying that it was time they were starting. Corydon did not appear +again, and so finally Thyrsis accompanied them out to their car, and saw +them start off. They promised to come again, but he knew they would not +keep that promise. + +Section 5. He went back to the house, and after some search he found +Corydon down in the woods, whither she had fled to have out her agony. + +"Has that woman gone?" she panted, when he came near. + +"Yes, dear," he said. "She's gone." + +"Oh!" cried Corydon. "How dared she! How dared she!" + +"Get up, sweetheart," said Thyrsis. "The ground is wet." + +"She's gone off in her automobile!" exclaimed the girl, passionately. +"She spent last night at a hotel that charged twelve dollars a day, +and then she told me about her washerwoman! Now she's gone back to her +beautiful home, with servants and a governess and a piano and everything +else she wants! And she talked to me about 'occupation'! What _right_ +had she to come here and trample on my face?" + +"But why did you let her, dearest?" + +"How could I _help_ myself? I had no idea--" + +"But how did you get started?" + +"I've nobody to confide in--nobody!" cried Corydon. "And she wanted +to know about me--she led me on. I thought she sympathized with me--I +thought she understood!" + +"She's a woman of the world, my dear." + +"She was just pulling me to pieces! She wanted to see how I worked! +Don't you see what she was looking for, Thyrsis--she thought I was +_material!_" + +"She only writes about the Greeks," said Thyrsis, with a smile. + +"I'm a horrible example! I'm neurasthenic and self-centred--I'm the +modern woman! She read me a long lecture like that! I ought to get +busy!" + +"Dearest!" he pleaded, trying to soothe her. + +"Busy"! repeated Corydon, laughing hysterically. "Busy! I wash and dress +and amuse a baby! I get six meals a day for him, I get three meals for +us, and clean up everything. And the rest of the day I'm so exhausted I +can hardly stand up, and a good part of the time I'm sick besides. And +then, if I think about my troubles, it's because I've nothing to do!" + +"My dear," Thyrsis replied, "you should not have put yourself at her +mercy." + +"How I hate her!" cried Corydon. "How I _hate_ her!" + +"You must learn to protect yourself from such people, Corydon." + +"I won't meet them at all! I'm not able to face them--I've none of their +weapons, none of their training. I don't want to know about them, or +their kind of life! They have no souls!" + +"It isn't easy for them to understand," said Thyrsis. "They have never +been poor--" + +"That woman talks about the Greek love of beauty! What sacrifice has she +ever made for beauty--what agony has she ever dared for it? And yet +she can prattle about it--the phrases roll from her! She's been +educated--polished--finished! She's been taught just what to say! And I +haven't been taught, and so she despises me!" + +"It's deeper than that, my dear," he said. "You have something in you +that she would hate instinctively." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I've told you before, dearest. It's genius, I think. + +"Genius! But what use is it to me, if it is? It only unfits me for life. +It eats me up, it destroys me!" + +"Some day," he said, "you will find a way to express it. It will come, +never fear.--But now, dear, be sensible. The ground is wet, and if you +sit there, you will surely be laid up with rheumatism." + +He lifted her up; but she was not to be diverted. Suddenly she turned, +and caught him by the arms. "Thyrsis!" she cried. "Tell me! Do you blame +me as she does? Do you think I'm weak and incompetent?" + +Whatever answer he might have been inclined to make, he saw in her +wild eyes that only one answer was to be thought of. "Certainly not, my +dear!" he said, quickly. "How could you ask me such a question?" + +"Oh, tell me! tell me!" she exclaimed. And so he had to go on, and +sing the song of their love to her, and pour out balm upon her wounded +spirit. + +But afterwards he went alone; and then it was not so simple. Little +demons of doubt came and tormented him. Might it not be that there was +something in the point of view of the Channings? He took Corydon at her +own estimate--at the face value of her emotions; but might it not +be that he was deluding himself, that he was a victim of his own +infatuation? + +He would ponder this; he tried to have it out with himself for once. +What did he really think about it? What would he have told Corydon if he +had told her the bald truth? But such doubts could not stay with him for +long. They brought shame to him. He was like a man travelling across the +plains, who comes upon the woman he loves, being tortured by a band of +Apaches; and who is caught and bound fast, to watch the proceedings. +Would such a man spend his time asking whether the woman was weak and +incompetent? No--his energies would be given to getting his arms loose, +and finding out where the guns were. He would set her free, and give +her a chance; and then it would be time enough to measure her powers and +pass judgment upon her. + +Section 6. It was a long time before the family got over that +visitation. Corydon burned all Channing's books and she wrote a long and +indignant letter to Mrs. Channing, and then burned the letter. Thyrsis +never told her about his conversation with the husband, for he knew she +would never get over that insult. For himself, he concluded that +the Channings were lucky in having got into a quarrel with them, as +otherwise he would surely have compelled them to lend him some money. + +In truth, the advent of some fairy-godmother or Lady Bountiful was badly +needed just then. They had struggled desperately to keep within the +thirty-dollar limit, but it could no longer be done. Illnesses were +expensive luxuries; and there was the typwriting of the book--some +twenty dollars so far; also, there were many things that happened when +one was running a household--a tooth-ache, or a telegram, or a hot-water +bottle that got a hole in it, or a horse that ran away and broke a +shaft. Little by little the bills they had been obliged to run up at the +grocer's and the butcher's and the doctor's had been getting beyond +the limits of their monthly check; and to cap the climax, there came a +letter from Henry Darrell, saying that the next two checks would be the +last he could possibly send. + +So Thyrsis set to work once more at the shell of that tough old oyster, +the world. He made out a "scenario" of the rest of his new book, and +sent it with the part he had already done to his friend Mr. Ardsley. +Then for three weeks he waited in dread suspense; until at last came a +letter asking him to call and talk over his proposition. + +Mr. Ardsley had been reading all Thyrsis' manuscripts, nor had he failed +to note the triumph of "The Genius" abroad. It became at once apparent +to Thyrsis that the new book had scored with him; it was a book that +could hardly fail, he said--if only it were finished as it had been +begun. Thyrsis made it clear that he intended to finish it; no man +could gaze into his wild eyes, and hear him talk of it in breathless +excitement, without realizing that he would die, if need be, rather than +fail. + +So then the author went in to have a talk with the head of the firm. +He spread out the treasures of his soul before this merchant, and +the merchant sat and appraised them with a cold and critical eye. But +Thyrsis, too, had learned something about trade by this time, and was +watching the merchant; he made a desperate effort and summoned up the +courage to state his demands--he wanted five hundred dollars advance, in +installments, and he wanted fifteen per cent. royalty upon the book. To +his wonder and amazement the merchant never turned a hair at this; and +before they parted company, the incredible bargain had been made, and +waited only the signing of the contracts! + +Thyrsis went out from the building like a blind man who had suddenly +received his sight. It seemed to him at that moment as if the last +problem of his life had been solved. He sent off a telegram to Corydon +to tell her of the victory, and a letter to Darrell, saying that he need +send no more money--that the path was clear before his feet at last! + +Section 7. This marked a new stage in the family's financial progress; +and as usual it was signalized by a grand debauch in bill-paying. Also +there was a real table-cover for Corydon, and a vase in which she +might put spring-flowers; there were new dresses for the baby, and more +important yet, a new addition to the house. This was to be a sort of +lean-to at the rear, sixteen feet wide and eight feet deep, and divided +into two apartments, one of which was to be the kitchen, and the other +an extra bed-room. For they were going to keep a servant! + +This was a new decision, to which they had come after much hesitation +and discussion. It would be a frightful expense--including the cost +of the extra food it would add over thirty dollars a month to their +expenses; but it was the only way they could see the least hope of +freedom, of any respite from household drudgery. It had been just a year +now since they had set out upon their adventure in domesticity; and in +that time Corydon figured that she had prepared two thousand meals for +the baby. She had fed each one of them, spoonful by spoonful, into +his mouth; and also she had washed two thousand spoons and dishes, and +brushed off two thousand tables, and swept two thousand floors. And with +every day of such drudgery the heights of music and literature seemed +further away and more unattainable. + +Thyrsis had seen something of servants in earlier days--he had memories +of strange figures that during intervals of prosperity had flitted +through his mother's home. There had been the frail, anaemic Swedish +woman, who lived on tea and sugar, and afterwards had gone away and +borne nine children, more frail and anaemic than herself; there had been +the stout personage with the Irish brogue who had dropped the Christmas +turkey out of the window and had not taken the trouble to go down after +it; there had been the little old negress who had gone insane, and +hurled the salt-box at his mother's head. But Thyrsis was hoping that +they might avoid such troubles themselves; he had an idea that +by watching at Castle Garden they might lay hold upon some young +peasant-girl from Germany, who would be untouched by any of the +corruptions of civilization. "A sort of Dorothea", he suggested to +Corydon; and they agreed that they would search diligently and find such +a "_treffliches Maedchen_", who would be trusting and affectionate, and +would talk in German with the baby. + +So now he spent several days hunting in strange places; and at last, in +a dingy East-side employment-office, he came upon his _Schatz_. She was +buxom and hearty, and fairly oozed good-nature at every pore; she had +only been a week in the country, and was evidently naive enough for +any purpose whatever. She had no golden hair like Dorothea, but was +swarthy--her German was complicated with a Hungarian accent, and with +strange words that one had not come upon in Goethe and Freitag, and +could not find in any dictionary. + +Thyrsis helped to gather up her various bags and bundles, and +transported her out to the country. On the train he set to work to gain +her confidence, and was forthwith entertained with the tale of all her +heart-troubles. Back in the Hungarian village she had fallen in love +with the son of a rich farmer, quite in Hermann and Dorothea fashion; +but alas, in this case there had been no "_gute verstandige Mutter_" and +no "_wuerdiger Pfarrer_"--instead there had been a hateful step-mother, +and so the "_treffliches Maedchen_" had had to come away. + +They reached the little cottage at last; and then what a house-cleaning +there was, what scrubbing of floors; and brushing out the cobwebs, and +scouring of lamp-chimneys and scraping of kettles and sauce-pans! And +what a relief it was for Corydon and Thyrsis to be able to go off for +a walk together, without first having to carry the baby up to the +farm-house! And how very poetical it was to come back and discover +Dorothea with the baby in her lap, feeding it a supper of _butter-brod_ +with a slice of raw bacon! + +As time went on, alas, it came more and more to seem that the +Dorothea idyl had not been meant to be taken as a work of realism. The +"_treffliches_ _Maedchen_" was perhaps _too_ kind-hearted; her emotions +were too voluminous for so small a house, her personality seemed to +spread all over it. She would sing Hungarian love-ditties at her work; +and somehow calling these "folksongs" did not help matters. Also, alas, +she distributed about the house strange odors--of raw onions, boiled +cabbage and perspiration. So, after three weeks, poor Dorothea had to be +sent away--weeping copiously, and bewildered over this cruel misfortune. +Corydon and Thyrsis went back again to washing their own dishes; being +glad to pay the price for quietness and privacy, and vowing that they +would never again try, to "keep a servant". + +Section 8. The spring-time had come; not so much the spring-time of +poets and song-birds, as the spring-time of cold rains and wind. But +still, little by little, the sun was getting the better of his enemies; +and so with infinite caution they reduced the quantity of the baby's +apparel, and got him and his "bongie cowtoos" out upon the piazza. + +Meantime Thyrsis was over at his own place, wrestling with the book +again. He had told himself that it would be easy, now that he was free +from the money-terror. But alas, it was not easy, and nothing could make +it easy. If he had more energy, it only meant that his vision reached +farther, and set him a harder task. Never in his life did he write a +book, the last quarter of which was not to him a nightmare labor. He +would be staggering, half blind with exhaustion--like a runner at the +end of a long race, with a rival close at his heels. + +Also, as usual, his stomach was beginning to weaken under the strain. +He would come over sometimes, late in the afternoon, and lay his head +in Corydon's lap, almost sobbing from weariness; and yet, after he had +eaten a little and helped her with the hardest of her tasks, he would go +away again, and work half through the night. There was nothing else he +could do--there was no escaping from the thing; if he lay down to rest, +or went for a walk, it would be only to think about it the whole time. +He would feel that he was not getting enough exercise, and he would +drive himself to some bodily tasks; but there was never anything that he +could do, that he did not have the book eating away at his mind in the +meantime. It was one of the calamities of his life that there was no way +for him to play; all he could do was to take a stroll with Corydon, or +to tramp over the country by himself. + +He finished the book in May; and he knew that it was good. He sent it +off to Mr. Ardsley, and Mr. Ardsley, too, declared himself satisfied, +and sent the balance of the money. So Thyrsis sank back to get his +breath, and to put back some flesh upon his skeleton. He was wont to say +when he was writing, one could measure his progress upon a scales; every +five thousand words he finished cost him a Shylock's price. + +This summer was, upon the whole, the happiest time they had yet known. +The book was scheduled to appear early in September; and they had money +enough to last them meantime, with careful economy. Their little home +was beautiful; they planted some sweet peas and roses, and Thyrsis even +began to dig at a vegetable-garden. Also, it was strawberry-time, and +cherry-time was near; nor did they overlook the fact that they lived +in close proximity to a peach-orchard. These, perhaps, were prosaic +considerations, and not of the sort which Thyrsis had been accustomed to +associate with spring-time. But this he hardly realized--so rapidly was +the discipline of domesticity bringing his haughty spirit to terms! + +He built a rustic seat in the woods, where they might sit and read; he +built a table beside the house, where the dishes might be washed under +the blue sky; and he perfected an elaborate set of ditches and dykes, so +that the rain-storms would not sweep away their milk and butter in the +stream. He talked of building a pen for chickens--and might have done +so, only he discovered that the perverse creatures would not lay except +at the time when eggs were cheap and one did not care so much about +them. He even figured on the cost of a cow, and the possibility of +learning to milk it; and was so much enthralled by these bucolic +occupations that he wrote a magazine-article to acquaint his struggling +brother and sister poets with the fact that they, too, might escape to +the country and live in a home-made house! + +With the article there went a picture of the house, and also one of +the baby, who had been waxing enormous, and now constituted a fine +advertisement. The winter had seemed to agree with him, and the summer +agreed with him even better. Thyrsis would smile now and then, thinking +of his ideas of martyrdom; it was made evident that one member of the +family was not minded for anything of the sort. The parents might +become so much absorbed in their soul-problems that they forgot the +dinner-hour; but one could have set his watch by the appetite of the +baby. Nature had provided him, among other protections, with a truly +phenomenal pair of lungs; and whenever life took a course that was not +satisfactory to him, he would roar his face to a terrifying purple. + +He was one overwhelming and incessant outcry for adventure. He would +toddle all day about the place, getting his "mungies" into all sorts of +messes. He was hard to fit into so small a place, and there were times +when his parents were tempted to wish that some phenomenon a trifle less +portentous had fallen to their lot. But for the most part he was a great +hope--a sort of visible atonement for their sufferings. He at least +was an achievement; he was something they had done. And he could not be +undone, nor doubted--he put all skepticism to flight. In his vicinity +there was no room for pessimistic philosophies, for _Weltschmerz_ or +_Karma_. + +Thyrsis would sit now and then and watch him at play, and think thoughts +that went deep into the meaning of things. Here was, in its very living +presence, that blind will-to-be which had seized them and flung them +together. And it seemed to Thyrsis that somehow Nature, with her strange +secret chemistry, had reproduced all the elements they had brought to +that union. This child was immense, volcanic, as their impulse had been; +he was intense, highly-strung, and exacting--and these qualities too +they had furnished. Curious also it was to observe how Nature, having +accomplished her purpose, now flung aside her concealments and devices. +From now on they existed to minister to this new life-phenomenon, to +keep it happy and prosperous and she cared not how plain this might +become to them--she feared not to taunt and humiliate them. And they +accepted her sentence meekly, they no longer tried to oppose her. Her +will was become an axiom which they never disputed, which they never +even discussed. No matter what might happen to them in future, the Child +must go on! + +Section 9. Thyrsis utilized this summer of leisure to begin a course of +reading in Socialism--a subject which had been stretching out its arms +to him ever since he had made the acquaintance of Henry Darrell. He had +held away from it on purpose, not wishing to complicate his mind with +too many problems. But now he had finished with history, and was free to +come back to the world of the present. + +There were the pamphlets that Darrell had given him, and there was +Paret's magazine. Strange to say, the latter's reckless jesting with the +philanthropists and reformers no longer offended Thyrsis--he had been +travelling fast along the road of disillusionment. Also, there was a +Socialist paper in New York--"The Worker"; and more important still, +there was the "Appeal to Reason". Thyrsis came upon a chance reference +to this paper, which was published in a little town in Kansas, and he +was astonished to learn that it claimed a circulation of two hundred +thousand copies a week. He became a subscriber, and after that the +process of his "conversion" was rapid. + +The Appeal was an "agitation-paper". Its business was to show that side +of the capitalist process which other publications tried to conceal, or +at any rate to gild and dress up and make presentable. Each week came +four closely-printed newspaper-pages, picturing horrors in mills and +mines, telling of oppression and injustice, of unemployment and misery, +accident, disease and death. There would be accounts of political +corruption--of the buying of legislatures and courts, of the rule of +"machines" of graft in city and state and nation. There would be tales +of the manners and morals of the idle rich, set against others of the +sufferings of the poor. And week by week, as he read and pondered, +Thyrsis began to realize the absurd inadequacy of the placid statement +which he had made to his first Socialist acquaintance--that the solution +of such problems was to be left to "evolution". It became only too clear +to him that here was another war--the class-war; and that it was being +fought by the masters with every weapon that cunning and greed could lay +hands upon or contrive. In that struggle Thyrsis saw clearly that his +place was in the ranks of the disinherited and dispossessed. + +This was not a difficult decision; for in the first place he was one of +the disinherited and dispossessed himself; and in the next place, even +before the "economic screw" had penetrated his consciousness, he had +been a rebel in his sympathies and tastes. Jesus, Isaiah, Milton, +Shelley--such men as these had been the friends of his soul; and he had +sought in vain for their spirit in modern society--he had thought that +it was dead, and that he, and a few other lonely dreamers in garrets, +were the only ones who knew or cared about it. But now he came upon the +amazing discovery that this spirit, driven from legislative-halls and +courts of justice, from churches and schools and editorial sanctums, had +flamed into life in the hearts of the working class, and was represented +in a political party which numbered some thirty millions of adherents +and cast some seven million votes! + +Beginning nearly a century ago, these workmgmen had taken the spirit of +Jesus and Isaiah and Milton and Shelley, and had worked out a scientific +basis for it, and a method whereby it could be made to count in +the world of affairs. They had analyzed all the evils of modern +society--poverty and luxury, social and political corruption, +prostitution, crime and war; they had not only discovered the causes of +them, but had laid down with mathematical precision the remedies, and +had gone on to carry the remedies into effect. In every civilized land +upon the globe they were at work as a political party of protest; they +were holding conventions and adopting programs; they had an enormous +literature, they were publishing newspapers and magazines, many of them +having circulations of hundreds of thousands of copies. + +The strangest thing of all was this. Thyrsis was an educated man--or was +supposed to be. He had spent five years in schools, and nine years in +colleges and universities; he had given the scholars of the world full +opportunity to guide him to whatever was of importance. Also, he had +been an omnivorous reader upon his own impulse; and here he was, at the +end of it all--practically ignorant that this enormous movement existed! + +In economic classes in college there had, of course, been some mention +of Socialism; but this had been of the utopian variety, the dreams of +Plato and St. Simon and Fourier. There had been some account of the +innumerable communities which had sprung up in America--with careful +explanation, however, that they had all proven failures. Also one heard +vaguely of Marx and Lassalle, two violent men, whose ideas were still +popular among the ignorant masses of Europe, but could be of no concern +to the fortunate inhabitants of a free Republic. + +And then, after this, to come upon some piece of writing--such as, for +instance, the "Communist Manifesto"! To read this mile-stone in the +progress of civilization, this marvellous exposition of the development +of human societies, and of the forces which drive and control them; and +to realize that two lonely students, who had cast in their lot with +the exploited toilers, had been able to predict the whole course of +political and industrial evolution for sixty years, and to foresee +and expound with precision the ultimate outcome of the whole +process--matters of which the orthodox economists were still as ignorant +as babes unborn! + +Or to discover the writings of such a man as Karl Kautsky, the +intellectual leader of the modern movement in Germany; such books as +"The Social Revolution", and "The Road to Power"--in which one seemed to +see a giant of the mind, standing in a death-duel with those forces of +night and destruction that still made of the fair earth a hell! With +what accuracy he was able to measure the strength of these powers of +evil, to anticipate their every move, to plan the exact parry with which +to meet them! To Thyrsis he seemed like some general commanding an army +in battle, with the hopes of future ages hanging upon his skill. But +this was a general who fought, not with sword and fire, but with ideas; +a conqueror in the cause of "right reason and the will of God". He wrote +simply, as a scientist; and yet one could feel the passion behind +the quiet words--the hourly shock of the incessant conflict, the grim +persistence which pressed on in the face of obloquy and persecution, the +courage which had been tested through generations of anguish and toil. + +Thyrsis' mind rushed through these things like prairie-fire; and all the +time that he read, his wonder grew upon him. How _could_ he have been +kept ignorant of them? He was quick to pounce upon the essential fact, +that this was no accident; it was something that must have been planned +and brought about deliberately. He had thought that he was being +educated, when in reality he was being held back and fenced off from +truth. It was a world-wide conspiracy--it was that very class-war which +the established order was waging upon these men and their ideas! + +Section 10. It was not difficult for any one to understand the ideas, +if he really wished to. They began with the fact of "surplus value". One +man employed another man for the sake of the wealth he could be made to +produce, over what he was paid as wages. That seemed obvious enough; +and yet, what consequences came from following it up! Throughout human +history men had been setting other men to work; whether they were called +slaves, or serfs, or laborers, or servants, the motive-power which had +set them to work had been the desire for "surplus value". And as the +process went on, those who appropriated the profits combined for +mutual protection; and so out of the study of "surplus value" came the +discovery of the "class-struggle". Human history was the tale of the +arising of some dominating class, and of the struggle of some subject +class for a larger share of what it produced. Human governments were +devices by which the master-class preserved its power; and whatever may +have been the original purposes of arts and religions, in the end they +had always been seized by the master-class, and used as aids in the same +struggle. + +One came to the culmination of the process in modern capitalist society. +Here was a class entrenched in power, owning the sources of wealth, the +huge machines whereby it was produced, and the railroads whereby it was +distributed, and above all, the financial resources upon which the other +processes depended. One saw this class holding itself in power by means +of the policeman's club and the militiaman's rifle, by machine-gun and +battle-ship; one saw that, whether by bribery or by outright force, it +had seized all the powers of government, of legislatures and executives +and courts. One saw that in the same way it had seized upon the +sources of ideas; it controlled the newspapers and the churches and the +colleges, that it might shape the thoughts of men and keep them content. +It set up in places of authority men whose views were agreeable to +it--who believed in the beneficence of its rule and the permanence of +its system; who would pour out ridicule and contempt upon those who +suggested that any other system might be conceivable. And so the +class-war was waged, not merely in the world of industry and politics, +but also, in the intellectual world. + +And step by step, as the processes of capitalism culminated, this war +increased in bitterness and intensity. For, of course, as capital +heaped up and its control became concentrated, the ratio of exploitation +increased. The great mass of labor was unorganized and helpless; whereas +the masters had combined and fixed their prices; and so day by day the +cost of living increased, and misery and discontent increased with it. +As capital expanded, and new machines of production were added, there +were more and more goods to sell, and more and more difficulty in +finding markets; and so came overproduction and unemployment, panics +and crises; so came wars for foreign markets--with new opportunities +of plunder for the exploiters and new hardships and new taxes for the +producers. And so was fulfilled the prophecy of Marx and Engels; under +the pressure of bitter necessity the proletariat was organizing and +disciplining itself, training its own leaders and thinkers forming +itself into a world-wide political party, whose destiny it was to +conquer the powers of government in every land, and use them to turn out +the exploiters, and to put an end to the rule of privilege. + +This change was what the Socialists meant by the "revolution"--the +transfer of the ownership of the means of production; and it was about +that issue that the class-war was waged. Nothing else but that counted; +without that all reform was futility, and all benevolence was mockery, +and all knowledge was ignorance. So long as the means of producing +necessities were owned by a few, and used for the advantage of a few, +just so long must there be want in the midst of plenty, and darkness +over all the earth. Whatever evil one went out into the world to combat, +he came to realize that he could do nothing against it, because it was +bound up with the capitalist system, was in fact itself that system. +If little children were shut up in sweat-shops, if women were sold into +brothels, it was not for any fault of theirs, it was not the work of any +devil--it was simply because of the "surplus value". they represented. +If weaker nations were conquered and "civilized", that, too, was for +"surplus value". And these epidemics of "graft" that broke out upon the +body politic--they were not accidental or sporadic things, and they were +not to be remedied by putting any number of men in jail; they were to +be understood as the system whereby an industrial oligarchy had rendered +impotent a political democracy, and had fenced it out from the fields of +privilege. + +And so also was it with the dullness and sterility that prevailed in the +intellectual world. The master-class did not want ideas--it only wanted +to be let alone; and so it put in the seats of authority men who +were blind to the blazing beacon-fires of the future. It would be no +exaggeration to say that the intellectual and cultural system of the +civilized world was conducted, whether deliberately or instinctively, +for the purpose of keeping the truth about exploitation from becoming +clear to the people. + +The master-class owned the newspapers and ran them. It had built and +endowed the churches, and taught the clergy to feed out of its hand. In +the same way it had founded the colleges, and named the trustees, who +in turn named the presidents and professors. The ordinary mortal took +it for granted that because venerable bishops and dignified editors and +learned college-professors were all in agreement as to a certain truth, +there must be some inherent probability in that truth; and never once +perceived how the cards were stacked and the dice loaded--how those +clergymen and editors and professors had all been selected because they +believed that truth to be true, and believed the contrary falsehood to +be false! + +And how smoothly and automatically the system worked! How these +dignitaries stood together, and held up each other's hands, maintaining +the august tradition, the atmosphere of authority and power! The bishops +praising the editors, and the editors praising the professors, and the +professors praising the bishops! And when the circle was completed, +what _lese_ _majeste_ it seemed for an ordinary mortal to oppose their +conclusions! + +The bishops, one perceived, were "orthodox"--that is to say they were +concerned with barren formulas; and they were "spiritual"--they were +concerned with imaginary future states of bliss. The editors were "safe" +and "conservative"--that is to say, their souls were dead and their +eyes were sealed and their god was property. And when it came to the +selecting of the college professors, of the men who were to guide and +instruct the forthcoming generations--what precautions would be taken +then! What consultations and investigations, what testimonials and +interviews and examinations! For after all, in these new days, it could +be no easy matter to find men whose minds were sterilized, who could +face without blenching all the horrors of the capitalist regime! Who +could see courts and congresses bought and sold; who could see children +ground up in mills and factories, and women driven by the lash of want +to sell their bodies; who could see the surplus of the world's wealth +squandered in riot and debauchery, and the nations armed and drilled and +sent out to slaughter each other in the quest for more. Who could know +that all these things existed, and yet remain in their cloistered halls +and pursue the placid ways of scholarship; who could teach history which +regarded them as inevitable; who could care for literature that had been +made for the amusement of slave-drivers, and art which existed for the +sake of art, and not for the sake of humanity; who could know everything +that was useless, and teach everything that was uninteresting, and could +be dead at once to the warnings of the past, and to all that was vital +and important in the present. + +Section 11. Not since he had discovered the master-key of Evolution had +Thyrsis come upon any set of ideas that meant so much to him. It was not +that these were new to him--they were the stuff out of which his whole +life had been made; but here they were ordered and systematized--he had +a handle by which to take hold of them. The name of this handle was "the +economic interpretation of history". And its import was that ideas +did not come by hazard, or out of the air, but were products of social +conditions; and that when one knew by what method the wealth of any +community was produced, and by what class its "surplus value" was +appropriated--then and then only could one understand the arts and +customs, the sciences and religions, which that community would evolve. + +In the light of this great principle Thyrsis had to revise all his +previous knowledge; he had to cast out tons of rubbish from the chambers +of his mind, and start his thinking life all over again. Just as, +in early days, he had exchanged miracles and folk-tales for facts of +natural science; so now he saw political institutions and social codes, +literary and artistic canons, and ethical and philosophical systems, no +longer as things valid and excellent, having relationship to truth--but +simply as intrenchments and fortifications in the class-war, as devices +which some men had used to deceive and plunder some other men. What a +light it threw upon philosophy, for instance, to perceive it, not as +a search for truth, but as a search for justification upon the part +of ruling classes, and for a basis of attack upon the part of +subject-classes! + +So, for instance, on the one side one found Rousseau, and on the other +Herbert Spencer. Thyrsis had read Spencer, and had cordially disliked +him for his dogmatism and his callousness; but now he read Kropotkin's +"Mutual Aid as a Factor in Evolution", and came to a realization of how +the whole science of biology had been distorted to suit the convenience +of the British ruling-classes. _Laissez-faire_ and the Manchester school +had taught him that "each for himself and the devil take the hindmost" +was the universal law of life; and he had accepted it, because there +seemed nothing else that he could do. But now, in a sudden flash, he +came to see that the law of life was exactly the opposite; everywhere +throughout nature that which survived was not ruthless egotism, but +co-operative intelligence. The solitary and predatory animals were now +almost entirely extinct; and even before the advent of man with his +social brain, it had been the herbivorous and gregarious animals which +had become most numerous. When it came to man, was it not perfectly +obvious that the races which had made civilization were those which had +developed the nobler virtues, such as honor and loyalty and patriotism? +And now it was proposed to trample them into the mire of "business"; to +abandon the race to a glorified debauch of greed! And this travesty +of science was taught in ten thousand schools and colleges throughout +America--and all because certain British gentlemen had wished to work +their cotton-operatives fourteen hours a day, and certain others had +wished to keep land which their ancestors had seized in the days of +William the Conqueror! Shortly after this Thyrsis came upon Edmond +Kelly's great work, "Government, or Human Evolution"; and so he realized +that Herbert Spencer's social philosophy had at last been cleared out of +the pathway of humanity. And this was a great relief to him--it was one +more back-breaking task that he did not have to contemplate! + +Section 12. Then one of his Socialist friends sent him Thorstein +Veblen's "Theory of the Leisure Class"; a book which he read in a +continuous ebullition of glee. Truly it was a delicious thing to find a +man who could employ the lingo of the ultra-sophisticated sociologist, +and use it in a demonstration of the most revolutionary propositions. +The drollery of this was all the more enjoyable because Thyrsis +could never be sure that the author himself intended it--whether his +sesquipedalian irony might not be a pure product of nature, untouched by +any human art. + +Veblen's book might have been called a study of the ultimate destiny +of "surplus value"; an economic interpretation of the social arts and +graces, of "fashions" and "fads". Where men competed for the fruit of +each other's labor, the possession of wealth was the sign of excellence. +This excellence men wished to demonstrate to others; and step by step, +as the methods of production and exploitation changed, one might trace +the change in the methods of this demonstration. The savage chief began +with nose-rings and anklets, and the trophies of his fights; then, as +he grew richer, he would employ courtiers and concubines, and shine by +vicarious splendor. He would give banquets and build palaces--the end +being always "the conspicuous consumption of goods". + +Later on came those stages when he no longer had to gain his wealth by +physical prowess; when cunning took the place of force, and he ruled by +laws and religions and moral codes, and handed down his power through +long lines of descendants. Then ostentation became a highly specialized +and conventionalized thing--its criterion changing gradually to +"conspicuous waste of time". Those characteristics were cultivated which +served to advertise to the world that their possessor had never had to +earn wealth, nor to do anything for himself; the aristocrat became a +special type of being, with small feet and hands and a feeble body, with +special ways of walking and talking, of dressing and eating and +playing. He developed a separate religion, a separate language, separate +literatures and arts, separate vices and virtues. And fantastic and +preposterous as some of these might seem, they were real things, they +were the means whereby the leisure-class individual took part in the +competition of his own world, and secured his own prestige and the +survival of his line. Some philosopher had said that virtue is a product +like vinegar; and it was a pleasant thing to discover that French heels +and "picture-hats" and course-dinners were products also. + +Thyrsis would read passages of this book aloud to Corydon, and they +would chuckle over it together; but the reading of it did not bring +Corydon the same unalloyed delight. In the leisure-class _regime_, the +woman is a cherished possession--for it is through her that the ability +to waste both time and goods can best be shown. So came Veblen's grim +and ironic exposition of the leisure-class woman, an exposition which +Corydon found almost too painful to be read. For Corydon's ancestors, as +far back as documents could trace, had been members of that class. They +had left her the frail and beautiful body, conspicuously useless +and dependent; they had left her all the leisure-class impulses and +cravings, all the leisure-class impotences and futilities to contend +with. They had taught her nothing about cooking, nothing about sewing, +nothing about babies, nothing about money; they had taught her only the +leisure-class dream of "love in a cottage"--and she had run away with a +poor poet to try it out! + +The depth of these instincts in Corydon was amusingly illustrated by the +fact that she always woke up dull and discouraged, and was seldom really +herself until afternoon; and that along about ten o'clock at night, when +for the sake of her health she should have been going to bed, she would +be laughing, talking, singing, ablaze with interest and excitement. +Thyrsis would point this out to her, and please himself by picturing the +role which she should have been filling--wearing an empire gown and +a rope or two of rubies, and presiding in an opera-box or a _salon_. +Corydon would repudiate all this with indignation; but all the same +she never escaped from the phrases of Veblen--she remained his +"leisure-class wife" from that day forth. Not so very long afterwards +they came upon Ibsen's "Hedda Gabler"; and Thyrsis shuddered to observe +that of all the heroines in the world's literature, that was the one +which most appealed to her. Nor did he fail to observe the working of +the thing in himself; the subtle and deeply-buried instinct which made +him prefer to be wretched with a "leisure-class wife" rather than to be +contented with a plebeian one! + + + + + + +BOOK XIV + +THE PRICE OF RANSOM + + + + + +_The faint grey of dawn was stealing across the lake; and still the +spell was upon them. + + "There thou art gone, and me thou leavest here + Sole in these fields! yet will I not despair." + +So she whispered; and he answered her-- + + "He loved his mates; but yet he could not keep, + Here with the shepherds and the silly sheep. + Some life of men unblest + He knew, which made him droop, and filled his head. + He went; his piping took a troubled sound + Of storms that rage outside our happy ground._" + +Section 1. In the course of that summer there befell Corydon an +adventure; Thyrsis had gone off one day for a walk, and when he came +back she told him about it--how a young lady had stopped at the house to +ask for a drink of water, and had sat upon the piazza to rest, and +had talked with her. Now Corydon was in a state of excitement over a +discovery. + +Whenever Thyrsis met a stranger, it was necessary for him to go through +elaborate intellectual processes, to find the person out by an exchange +of ideas. And if by any chance the person was insincere, and used ideas +as a blind and a cover, then Thyrsis might never find him out at all. +In other words, he took people at the face-value of their cultural +equipment; and only after long and tragic blunderings could he by any +chance get deeper. But with his wife it happened quite otherwise; this +case was the first which he witnessed, but the same thing happened +many times afterwards. With her there would be a strange flash of +recognition; it was a sort of intuition, perhaps a psychic thing--who +could tell? By some unknown process in soul-chemistry, she would divine +things about a person that he might have been a life-time in finding +out. + +It might be a burst of passionate interest, or on the other hand, of +repugnance and fear. And long years of practice taught Thyrsis that this +instinct of hers was never to be disregarded. Not once in all her life +did he know her to give her affection to a base person; and if ever +he disregarded her antipathies, he did it to his cost. Once they were +sitting in a restaurant, and a man was brought up to be introduced by +a friend; he was a person of not unpleasant aspect, courteous and +apparently a gentleman, and yet Corydon flushed, and could scarcely keep +her seat at the table, and would not give the man her hand. Years after +Thyrsis came upon the discovery about this man, that he made a practice +of unnatural vices. + +He came home now to find Corydon flushed with excitement. "She has such +a beautiful soul!" she exclaimed. "I never met anyone like her. And we +just took to each other; she told me all about herself, and we are going +to be friends." + +"Who is she?" asked Thyrsis. + +"She's visiting Mr. Harding, the clergyman at Bellevue," was the answer. + +Bellevue was a town in the valley, on the other side from the +university; it had a Presbyterian church, whose young pastor Thyrsis had +met once or twice in his tramps about the country. This Miss Gordon, it +seemed, was the niece of an elderly relative, his housekeeper; she +was studying trained nursing, and afterwards intended to go out as a +missionary to Africa. + +"She's so anxious to meet you," Corydon went on. "She's coming up to see +me to-morrow, and she's going to bring Mr. Harding. You won't mind, will +you, Thyrsis?" + +"I guess I can stand it if he can," said Thyrsis, grimly. + +"You mustn't say anything to hurt their feelings," said Corydon, +quickly. "She's terribly orthodox, you know; and she takes it so +seriously. I was surprised--I had never thought that I could stand +anybody like that." + +Thyrsis merely grunted. + +"I guess ideas don't matter so much after all," said Corydon. "It's a +deep nature that I care about. But just fancy--she was pained because +the baby hadn't been baptized!" + +"You ought to have hid the dreadful truth," said he. + +"I couldn't hide things from her," laughed Corydon, "But she says I can +make a Socialist out of her, and she'll make a Christian out of me!" + +His reply was, "Wait until she discovers the sensuous temperament!" + +But Corydon answered that Delia Gordon had a sensuous temperament also. +"She seemed to me like a Joan of Arc. Just think of her going away from +all her family, to a station on the Congo River! She told me all about +it--how wretched the people are, and what the women suffer. She woke +up in the middle of the night, and a voice told her to go--told her the +name of the place. And she'd never heard it before, and hadn't had the +least idea of going away!" + +Thyrsis was unmoved by this miracle. "I suppose," he said, "you'll be +hearing voices yourself, and going with her. Tell me, is she pretty?" + +"You wouldn't call her pretty," said Corydon, after a little thought. +"She's just--just dear. Oh, Thyrsis, I simply fell in love with her!" + +"You certainly chose an odd kind of an affinity," he said. "A +Presbyterian missionary!" + +"It's worse than that," confessed Corydon. "She's a Seventh-day +Adventist." + +"Good God! And what may that be?" + +"Why, she keeps Saturday instead of Sunday. She calls it the Sabbath. +And she thinks that 'evolution' is wicked, and she believes in some kind +of a hell! She's not just sure what kind, apparently." + +"You watch out," said he, "or the first thing you know she'll be +baptizing the baby behind your back." + +"Would that do any good?" asked Corydon, guilelessly. + +He laughed as he answered, "It would, from her point of view." + +To which she replied, "Well, if we didn't know it and the baby didn't, I +guess it wouldn't do any harm." + +"And it might save him from some kind of a hell!" added Thyrsis. + +Section 2. Miss Gordon came the next morning, Mr. Harding with her; and +the four sat out under the trees and talked. She was a girl some three +years older than Corydon, but much more mature; she was short, but +athletic in build, and with a bright personality. Thyrsis could see at +once those fine qualities of idealism and fervor which had attracted +Corydon; and to his surprise he found that, in addition to her religious +virtues, the Lord had generously added a sense of humor. So Delia Gordon +was really a person with whom one could have a good time. + +The Lord had not been quite so generous with the Rev. Mr. Harding, +apparently. Mr. Harding was about thirty years of age, tall and +finely-built, with a slight, fair moustache, and a rather girlish +complexion. He was evidently of a sentimental inclination, very +sensitive, and a lovable person; but the sense of humor Thyrsis judged +was underdeveloped. He was inclined towards social-reform, and had a +club for working-boys in his town, of which he was very proud; he asked +Thyrsis to come and give a literary talk to these boys, and Thyrsis +replied that his views of things were hardly orthodox. When the +clergyman asked for elucidation, Thyrsis added, with a smile, "I don't +believe that Jonah ever swallowed the whale". Whereupon Mr. Harding +proceeded with all gravity to correct his misapprehension of this +legend. + +The fires of friendship, thus suddenly lighted between the two girls, +continued to burn. Delia Gordon came nearly every day to see Corydon, +and once or twice Corydon went down to the town and had lunch with her. +They told each other all the innermost secrets of their hearts, and in +the evening Corydon would retail these to Thyrsis, who was thus put +in the way to acquire that knowledge of human nature so essential to a +novelist. Delia had never been in love, it seemed--her only passion was +for savage tribes along the Congo; but Mr. Harding had been involved +in a heart-tragedy some time ago, and was supposed to be still +inconsolable. Incredible as it might seem, he was apparently not in love +with Delia. + +Also, needless to say, the pair did not fail to thresh out problems +of theology. Delia made in due course the dreadful discovery of the +sensuous temperament; and also she probed to the depths the frightful +ocean of unorthodoxy that was hid beneath the placid surface of Corydon. +But strange to say, this did not repel her, nor make any difference in +their friendship. Thyrsis took that for the sign of a liberal attitude, +but Corydon corrected him with a shrewd observation--"She's so sure of +her own truth she can't believe in the reality of any other. She _knows_ +I'll come to Jesus with her some day!" + +It was a wonderful thing to Thyrsis to see his wife's happiness just +then; she was like a flower which has been wilting, and suddenly +receives a generous shower of rain. It was just what he had prayed for; +having seen all along that her wretchedness was owing to her being shut +up alone with him. So now he did his best to repress his own opinions, +and to let the two friends work out their problem undisturbed. + +"Oh, Thyrsis," Corydon exclaimed to him, one night, "if I could only +have her with me, I'd be happy always!" + +"Then why don't you get her to stay with you?" asked Thyrsis, quickly. + +"Ah, but she wouldn't think of it," said Corydon. "She doesn't really +care about anything in the world but her Congo savages!" + +"We might try," said he. "When does she complete her course?" + +"Not until the end of the year." + +"Well, we can do a lot of arguing in that time. And when the book is +out, we'll have money enough, so that we can offer to pay her. She might +become a sort of 'mother's helper.'" + +Section 3. So Thyrsis began a struggle with Jesus and the Congo savages, +for the possession of Delia's soul. He set to work to interest her in +his work; he gave her his first novel, which contained no theology at +all; and also "The Hearer of Truth"--the social radicalism of which +he was pleased to see did not alarm her. And then he gave her the +war-novel, and saw with joy how she was thrilled over that. He laid +himself out to make his purpose and his vision clear to her; and then, +one afternoon, when Corydon had a headache and was taking a nap, he led +her off to a quiet place in the woods, and set before her all the bitter +tragedy of their lives. + +He pictured the work he had to do, and the loneliness to which this +consigned Corydon; he told her of the horrors they had so far endured, +and what effect these had had upon his wife. He showed her what her +power was--how she could make life possible for both of them. For she +had that magic key which Thyrsis himself did not possess, she could +unlock the treasure-chambers of Corydon's soul. + +But alas, Thyrsis soon perceived that his efforts had been in vain. +Delia was stirred by his eloquence, but the only effect was to move her +to an equally eloquent account of the sufferings of the natives of the +Congo basin. It was important that he should get his books written; but +how much more important it was that some help should be carried to these +unhappy wretches! They never saw any books, they were altogether beyond +his reach; and who was to take the light to them? She told him harrowing +tales of sick women, beaten and tortured and burned with fire to drive +the devils out of them. + +Thyrsis met this by attempting to broaden the girl's social +consciousness. He showed her how the waves of intelligence, beginning at +the top, spread to the lowest strata of society--changing the character +of all human activities, and affecting the humblest life. He showed her +the capitalist system, and explained how it worked; how it reached to +the savage in the remotest corner of the earth, and seized him and made +him over according to its will. It was true, for instance--and not in +any poetic sense, but literally and demonstrably true--that the fate +of the Congo native was determined in Wall Street, and in the financial +centres of London and Paris and Brussels and Berlin. The essential thing +about the natives was that they represented rubber and ivory. And Delia +might go there, and try to teach them and help them, but she would +find that there were forces engaged in beating them down and destroying +them--forces in comparison with which she was as helpless as a child. It +was true of the Congo blacks, as it was true of the people of the slums, +of the proletariat of the whole earth, that there was no way to help +them save to overthrow the system which made of them, not human beings, +but commodities, to be purchased and passed through the profit-mill, and +then flung into the scrap-heap. + +But Thyrsis found to his pain that it was impossible to make these +considerations of any real import to Delia. She understood them, she +assented to them; but that did not make them count. Her impulses came +from another part of her being. Her savages were naked and hungry and +ignorant and miserable; and they needed to be fed and clothed, and more +important yet, to be baptized and saved. She was all the more impelled +to her task by the fact that all the forces of civilization were arrayed +against her. The fires of martyrdom were blazing in her soul. She meant +to throw herself over a precipice--and the higher the precipice, and +the more jagged the rocks beneath, the greater was the thrill which the +prospect brought her. + +Section 4. They went back to the house; as Delia had arranged to +spend the night with them, and as Corydon's headache was better, the +controversy was continued far into the evening. Thyrsis took no part +in it, he listened while Corydon pleaded for herself, and pictured her +loneliness and despair. + +Delia put her arms about her. "Don't you see, dear," she argued--"all +that is because you are without a faith! You cast out Jesus, and deny +him; and so how can _I_ help you? If you believed what I do, you would +not be lonely, even if you were in the heart of Africa." + +"But how can I believe what isn't _true?_" cried Corydon; and so the +skeletons of theology came forth and rattled their bones once more. + +A couple of hours must have passed, while Thyrsis said nothing, but +listened to Delia and watched her, probing deeply into the agonies and +futilities of life. He had given up all hope of persuading her to stay +with them; he thought only of the tragedy, that this noble spirit should +be tangled up and blundering about in the mazes of a grotesque dogma. +And the time came when he could endure it no more; something rose up +within him, something tremendous and terrible, and he laid hold of Delia +Gordon's soul to wrestle with it, as never before had he wrestled with +any human soul except Corydon's. + +The truth of the matter was that Thyrsis loved the religious people; +it was among them that he had been brought up, and their ways were +his ways. This was a fact that came to him rarely now, for he was +hard-driven and bitter; but it was true that when he sneered at the +church and taunted it, he was like a parent who whips a child he loves. +Perhaps Paret had spoken truly in one of his cruel jests--that when a +man has been brought up religious, he can never really get over it, he +can never really be free. + +So now Thyrsis spoke to Delia as one who was himself of the faith of +Jesus; he cried out to her that what she wanted was what he wanted, that +all her attitudes and ways of working were his. And here were monstrous +evils alive upon the earth--here were all the forces of hell unleashed, +and ranging like savage beasts destroying the lives of men and women! +And those who truly cared, those who had the conscience and the faith of +the world in their keeping--they were wasting their time in disputations +about barren formulas, questions which had no relationship to human +life! Questions of the meaning of old Hebrew texts that had often no +meaning at all, and of folk-tales and fairy-stories out of the nursery +of the race--the problem of whether Jonah had swallowed the whale, or +the whale had swallowed Jonah--the problem of whether it was on Friday +or Saturday that the Lord had finished the earth. Because of such things +as this, they drove all thinking men from their ranks, they degraded and +made ridiculous the very name of faith! As he went on, the agony of +this swept over Thyrsis--until it seemed to him as if he had the whole +Christian Church before him, and was pleading with it in the voice +of Jesus. Here was a new crucifixion--a crucifixion of civilization! +Thyrsis cried out in the words, "Oh ye of little faith!" Truly, was it +not the supreme act of infidelity, to make the spirit of religion, which +was one with the impulse of all life--the force that made the flower +bloom and oak-tree tower and the infant cry for its food--to make it +dependent upon Hebrew texts and Assyrian folk-tales! Delia preached to +him about "faith"; but what was her faith in comparison with his, which +was a faith in all life--which trusted the soul of man, and reason as +part of the soul of man, a thing which God had put in man to be used, +and not to be feared and outraged. + +Then came Delia. She would not admit that her faith depended upon texts +and legends; it was a faith in the living God. She was not afraid of +reason--she did not outrage it-- + +"But you do, you do!" cried Thyrsis. "Your whole attitude is an outrage +to it! You never speak of 'science' except as an evil thing. You told +Corydon that 'evolution' was wicked!" + +"I don't see how evolution can help my faith"--began the other. + +"That's just it!" cried Thyrsis again. "That is exactly what I mean! +You do not pay homage to truth, you do not seek it for its own sake! +You require that it should fit into certain formulas that you have set +up--in other words that it should not interfere with your texts and your +legends! And what is the result of that--you have paralyzed all your +activities, you have condemned your intellectual life to sterility! For +we live in an age of science, we cannot solve our problems except by +means of it; the forces of evil are using it, and you are not using it, +and so you are like a child in their hands! Not one of the social +wrongs but could be put an end to--child-labor, poverty and disease, +prostitution and drunkenness, crime and war! But you don't know how, and +you can't find out how--simply because you have thrown away the sharp +tools of the intellect, and filled your mind with formulas that mean +nothing! How can you understand modern problems, when you know +nothing about economics? You have rejected 'evolution'--so how can you +comprehend the evolution of society? How can you know that civilization +at this hour is going down into the abyss--dragging you and your +churches and your Congo savages with it? I who do understand these +things--I have to go out and fight alone, while you are shut up in your +churches, mumbling your spells and incantations, and poring over your +Hebrew texts! And think of what I must suffer, knowing as I do that +the spirit that animates you--the fervor and devotion, the 'hunger and +thirst after righteousness'--would banish horror from the earth forever, +if only it could be guided by intelligence!" + +Section 5. All this, of course, was effort utterly wasted. Thyrsis +poured out his pleadings and exhortations, his longing and his pain; +and when he had finished, the girl was exactly where she had been +before--just as distrustful of "science", and just as blindly bent upon +getting away to her savages and binding up their wounds and baptizing +them. And so at last he gave up in despair, and left Delia to go to bed, +and went out and sat alone in the moonlight. + +Afterwards, though it was long after midnight, Corydon came out and +joined him. He saw that she was flushed and trembling with excitement. + +"Thyrsis!" she whispered. "That was a marvellous thing!" + +He pressed her hand. + +"And all thrown away!" she cried. + +"You realized that, did you?" he asked. + +"I realized many things. Why you set so much store by ideas, for +instance! I see that you are right--one has to think straight!" + +"It's like a steam-engine," said Thyrsis. "It doesn't matter how +much power you get up, or how fast you make the wheels go--unless the +switches are set right, you don't reach your destination." + +"You only land in the ditch!" added Corydon. "And that's just the way I +felt to-night--she'd take your argument every time, and dump it into a +ditch. And she'd see it there, and not care." + +"She doesn't care about facts at all, Corydon. And notice this +also--she doesn't care about succeeding. That's the thing you must get +straight--her religion is a religion of failure! It comes back to that +criticism of Nietzsche's--it's a slave-morality. The world belongs to +the devil; and the idea of taking it away from the devil seems to +be presumptuous. Even if it could be done, the attempt would be +'unspiritual'; for the 'world' is something corrupt--something that +ought not to be saved. So you see, she's perfectly willing for the +Belgians to have the rubber." + +"'Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's'!" quoted Corydon. + +"Yes, and let Caesar spend them on Cleo de Merode. What she wants is +to save the _souls_ of her savages--to baptize them, and to perish +gloriously at the work, and then be transported to some future life +that is worth while. So you see what the immortality-mongers do with our +morality!" + +"Ah!" cried Corydon, swiftly. "But that need not be so!" + +"But it _is_ so!" he answered. + +"No, no!" she protested. "You must not say that! That is giving up--and +I felt such a different mood in you to-night! I wanted to tell you--we +must do something about it, Thyrsis! It made me ashamed of my own life. +Here I am, failing miserably--and all that work crying out to be done! I +don't think I ever had such a sense of your power before--the things +you might do, if only you could get free, if only I didn't stand in your +way! Oh, can't we cast the old mistakes behind us, and go out into the +world and preach that message?" + +"But, my dear," said Thyrsis, "that wouldn't appeal to you always. Your +temperament--" + +"Never mind my temperament!" she cried. "I am sick of it, ashamed of it; +I want the world to hear that trumpet-call! I want you to break your +way into the churches--to make them listen to you, and realize their +blasphemy of life!" + +She caught hold of him and clung to him; he could feel, like an electric +shock, the thrill of her excitement. He marvelled at the effect his +words had produced upon her--realizing all the more keenly, in contrast +with Delia, what a power of _mind_ he had here to deal with. "Dearest," +he said, "I must put these things into my books. You must stand by me +and help me to put them into my books!" + +Section 6. Delia Gordon went away to take up her work in the city; but +for many months thereafter that missionary impulse stayed with them. +They would find themselves seized with the longing to throw aside +everything else, and to go out and preach Socialism with the living +voice. They were still immersed in its literature; they read Bellamy's +"Looking Backward", and Blatchford's "Merrie England", and Kropotkin's +"Appeal to the Young". They read another book about England that moved +them even more--a volume of sketches called "The People of the Abyss", +by a young writer who was then just forging to the front--Jack London. +He was the most vital among the younger writers of the time, and Thyrsis +watched his career with eager interest. There was also not a little of +wistful hunger in his attitude--he had visions of being the next to be +caught up and transported to those far-off heights of popularity and +power. + +Also, they were kept in a state of excitement by the Socialist papers +and magazines that came to them. There was a great strike that summer, +and they followed the progress of it, reading accounts of the distress +of the people. Every now and then the pain of these things would prove +more than Thyrsis could bear, and he would blaze out in some fiery +protest, which, of course, the Socialist papers published gladly. So +little by little Thyrsis was coming to be known in "the movement". Some +of his friends among the editors and publishers made strenuous protests +against this course, but little dreaming how deeply the new faith had +impressed him. + +In truth it was all that Thyrsis could do to hold himself in; it seemed +to him that he no longer cared about anything save this fight of the +working-class for justice. He was frightened by the prospect, when +he stopped to realize it; for he could not write anything but what he +believed, and one could not live by writing about Socialism. He thought +of his war-book, for instance. It was but two or three months since he +had finished it, and it was his one hope for success and freedom; and +yet already he had outgrown it utterly. He realized that if he had had +to go back and do it over, he could not; he could never believe in any +war again, never be interested in any war again. Wars were struggles +among ruling-classes, and whoever won them, the people always lost. +Thyrsis was now girding up his loins for a war upon war. + +So there were times when it seemed that a literary career would no +longer be possible to him; that he would have to cast his lot altogether +with the people, and find his work as an agitator of the Revolution. One +day a marvellous plan flashed over him, and he came to Corydon with it, +and for nearly a week they threshed it over, tingling with excitement. +They would sell their home, and raise what money they could, and get +themselves a travelling van and a team of horses and go out upon the +road on a Socialist campaign! + +It was a perfectly feasible thing, Thyrsis declared: they would carry a +supply of literature, and would get a commission upon subscriptions to +Socialist papers. He pictured them drawing up on the main street of +some country town, and ringing a dinner-bell to gather the people, and +beginning a Socialist meeting. He would make a speech, and Corydon would +sell pamphlets and books; they had animated discussions as to whether +she might not learn to make a speech also. At least, he argued, she +might sing Socialist songs! + +Thyrsis was forever evolving plans of this sort; plans for doing +something concrete, for coming into contact with the world of every +day. The pursuit of literature was something so cold and aloof, so +comfortable and conventional; one never pressed the hand of a person in +distress, one never saw the light of hope and inspiration kindling in +another's eyes. So he would dream of running a publishing-house or a +magazine, of founding a library or staging a play, of starting a colony +or a new religion. And then, after he had made himself drunk upon the +imagining, he would take himself back to his real job. For that summer +his only indiscretions were to buy several thousand copies of the +"Appeal to Reason", and hire the old horse and buggy, and distribute +them over some thirty square miles of country; also to help to organize +a club for the study of Socialism at the university; and finally, +when he was in the city, to make a fiery speech at a meeting of some +"Christian Socialists." Because of this the newspaper reporters dug +out the accounts of his earlier adventures, and "wrote him up" with +malicious bantering. And this, alas--as the publisher pointed out--was a +poor sort of preparation for the launching of the war-novel. + +Needless to add, the two did not fail to wrestle with those individuals +whom they met. Thyrsis got a collection of pamphlets, judiciously +selected, and gave them to the butcher and the grocer, the store-clerks +and the hack-drivers in the town. But a college-town was a poor place +for Socialist propaganda, as he realized with sinking heart; its +population was made up of masters and servants, and there was even +more snobbery among the servants than among the masters. The main +architectural features of the place were fraternity-houses and +"eating-clubs", where the sons of the idle rich disported themselves; +once or twice Thyrsis passed through the town after midnight, and saw +these young fellows reeling home, singing and screaming in various +stages of intoxication. Then he would think of little children shut +up in cotton-mills and coal-mines, of women dying in pottery-works and +lead-factories; and on his way home he would compose a screed for the +"Appeal to Reason". + +Section 7. Another victim of their fervor was the Rev. Mr. Harding, +who stopped in to see them several times upon his tramps. Thyrsis +would never have dreamed of troubling Mr. Harding, but Corydon found +"something in him", and would go at him hammer and tongs whenever he +appeared. It must have been a novel experience for the clergyman; it +seemed to fascinate him, for he came again and again, and soon quite a +friendship sprang up between the two. She would tell Thyrsis about it +at great length, and so, of course, he had to change his ideas about Mr. +Harding. + +"Don't you see how fine and sensitive he is?" she would plead. + +"No doubt, my dear," said Thyrsis. "But don't you think he's maybe just +a bit timid?" + +"Timid," she replied. "But then think of his training! And think what +you are!" + +"Yes, I suppose I'm pretty bad," he admitted. + +This discussion took place after he and Mr. Harding had had an argument, +in which Thyrsis had remarked casually that modern civilization was +"crucifying Jesus all over again." And when Mr. Harding asked for +enlightenment, Thyrsis answered, "My dear man, we crucify him according +to the constitution. We teach the profession of crucifying him. We +invest our capital in the business of crucifying him. We build churches +and crucify him in his own name!" + +After which explosion Corydon said, "You let me attend to Mr. Harding. I +understand him, and how he feels about things." + +"All right, my dear," assented Thyrsis. "When I see him coming, I'll +disappear." + +But that would not do either, it appeared, for Mr. Harding was a +conventional person, and it was necessary that he should feel he was +calling on the head of the family. + +"Then," said Thyrsis, "I'm supposed to sit by and serve as a chaperon?" + +"You're to answer questions when I ask you to," replied Corydon. + +Through Mr. Harding they made other acquaintances in Bellevue. There +was a Mrs. Jennings, the wife of the young principal of the High School; +they were simple and kindly people, who became fond of Corydon, and +would beg her to visit them. The girl was craving for companionship, and +she would plead with Thyrsis to accompany her, and subject himself +to the agonies of "ping-pong" and croquet; and once or twice he +submitted--and so one might have beheld them, at a lawn-party, hotly +pressed by half a dozen disputants, in a debate concerning the nature of +American institutions, and the future of religion and the home! + +Thyrsis seldom took human relationships seriously enough to get +excited in such arguments; but Corydon, with her intense and personal +temperament, made an eager and uncomfortable propagandist. How could +anyone fail to see what was so plain to her? And so she would bring +books and pamphlets, and lend them about. There was a young man named +Harry Stuart, a fine, handsome fellow, who taught drawing at the +High School. In him, also, Cordon discovered possibilities; and she +repudiated indignantly the idea that his soulful eyes and waving brown +hair had anything to do with it. Harry Stuart was a guileless and +enthusiastic member of the State militia; but in spite of this sinister +fact, Corydon went at him. She soon had her victim burning the midnight +oil over Kautsky and Hyndman; and behold, before the autumn had passed, +the ill-fated drawing-teacher had resigned from the State militia, and +was doing cartoons for the "Appeal to Reason"! + +Section 8. Corydon's excitement over these questions was all the greater +because she was just then making the discovery of the relationship of +Socialism to the problems of her own sex. Some one sent her a copy of +Charlotte Gilman's "Women and Economics"; she read it at a sitting, and +brought it to Thyrsis, who thus came to understand the scientific basis +of yet another article of his faith. He went on to other books--to +Lester Ward's "Sociology", and to Bebel's "Woman", and to the works of +Havelock Ellis. So he realized that women had not always been clinging +vines and frail flowers and other uncomfortable things; and the hope +that they might some day be interested in other matters than fashion +and sentiment and the pursuit of the male, was not a vain fantasy and a +Utopian dream, but was rooted in the vital facts of life. + +Throughout nature, it appeared, the female was often the equal of the +male; and even in human history there had been periods when woman had +held her own with man--when the bearing of children had not been a cause +of degradation. Such had been the case with our racial ancestors, the +Germans; as one found them in Tacitus, their women were strong and free, +speaking with the men in the council-halls, and even going into battle +if the need was great. It was only when they came under the Roman +influence, and met slavery and its consequent luxury, that the Teutonic +woman had started upon the downward path. Christianity also had had a +great deal to do with it; or rather the dogmas which a Roman fanatic had +imposed upon the message of Jesus. + +It was interesting to note how one might trace the enslavement of woman, +step by step with the enslavement of labor; the two things went hand in +hand, and stood or fell together. So long as life was primitive, woman +filled an economic function, and held her own with her mate. But with +slavery and exploitation, the heaping up of wealth and the advent of +the leisure-class _regime_, one saw the woman becoming definitely the +appendage of the man, a household ornament and a piece of property; +securing her survival, not by useful labor, but by sexual charm, and +so becoming specialized as a sex-creature. For generations and ages +the male had selected and bred in her those qualities which were most +stimulating to his own desires, which increased in him the sense of his +own dominance; and for generations and ages he taught the doctrine that +the proper sphere of woman was the home. If he happened to be a German +emperor, he summed it up in the sneer of "Kuche, Kinder, Kirche". So the +woman became frail and impotent physically, and won her success by the +only method that was open to her--by finding some male whom she could +ensnare. + +Such had been the conditions. But now, in the present century, had +come machinery, and the development of woman's labor; and also had come +intelligence, and woman's discovery of her chains. So there was the +suffrage movement and the Socialist movement. After the overthrow of the +competitive wage-system and of the leisure-class tradition, woman would +no longer sell her sex-functions, whether in marriage or prostitution; +and so the sex might cease to survive by its vices, and to infect the +whole race with its intellectual and moral impotence. So would be set +free the enormous force that was locked up in the soul of woman; and +human life would be transformed by the impulse of emotions that were +fundamental and primal. So Thyrsis perceived the two great causes in +which the progress of humanity was bound up--the emancipation of labor +and the emancipation of woman; to educate and agitate and organize for +which became the one service that was worth while in life. + +Section 9. The nights were beginning to grow chilly, and they realized +that autumn was at hand, and faced the prospect of another winter in +that lonely cabin. Paret, who had come down to visit them, had given it +a name--"the soap-box in a marsh." Thyrsis saw clearly that he could +not settle down to hard work while they were shut up there. Corydon's +headaches and prostrations seemed to be growing worse, and she could +simply not get through the winter without some help. As the book was +ready, they had some money in prospect, and their idea was that they +would buy a farm with a good house. So they might keep a horse and a cow +and some chickens; and there might be some outdoor work for Thyrsis to +do, instead of trudging aimlessly over the country. + +They utilized their spare time by getting the old horse and buggy, and +inspecting and discussing all the farms within five miles of them; an +occupation which put a great strain upon their diverse temperaments. +Thyrsis would be thinking of such matters as roads and fruit-trees +and barns--and above all of prices; while Corydon would be concerned +with--alas, Corydon never dared to formulate her vision, even to +herself. She had vague memories of dilettante country-places with great +open fire-places, and exposed beams, and a broad staircase, and a deep +piazza, and above all, a view of the sunset. Whenever she came upon any +vague suggestion of these luxuries, her heart would leap up--and would +then be crushed by some reference to ten or fifteen thousand dollars. + +Corydon was a poor sort of person to take an inspection-trip. She would +gaze about and say, "There might be a piazza here"; and then she would +look across the fields and add, "There'd be a good view if it weren't +for those woods"--and wave the woods away with the gesture of a duchess. +So, of course, the observant farmer would add a thousand dollars to the +asking-price of his property. + +On the other hand, when Thyrsis with his remorseless thoroughness +would insist on getting out and inspecting some dilapidated and +forlorn-looking place--then what agonies would come! Corydon would +pass through the rooms, suffering all the horrors which she might have +suffered in years of occupancy of them. And there was no use pleading +with her to be reserved in her attitude--she took houses in the same +way that she took people, either loving them or hating them. So, from an +afternoon's driving-trip, she would come home in a state of exhaustion +and despair; and Thyrsis would have to pledge himself upon oath not to +think of this or that horrible place for a single instant again. + +There were times when Thyrsis, too, in spite of his lack of intuition, +felt the atmosphere of evil which hung about some of these old farms. +Having lived for a year and a half in the neighborhood, and been favored +with the gossip of the washerwoman, and of the farmer's wife, and of +the girl who came to clean house now and then, they had come to know the +affairs of their neighbors--they had got a cross-section of an American +small-farming community. It was in amusing accord with Thyrsis' social +theories that the only two decent families in the neighborhood inhabited +farms of over a hundred acres. There were several farms of fifty or +sixty acres occupied by tenants, who were engaged, in plundering them +as fast as they could; and then a host of little places, of from one to +twenty acres, on which families were struggling pitifully to keep alive. +And with scarcely a single exception, these homes of poverty were also +homes of degradation. Across the way from Thyrsis was an idiot man; upon +the next place lived an old man who was a hopeless drunkard, and had one +son insane, and another tubercular; and then down in the meadows below +the woods lived the Hodges--a name of direful portent. The father would +work as a laborer in town for a day or two, and buy vinegar and make +himself half insane, and then come home and beat his wife and children. +There were eleven of these latter, and a new one came each year; the +eldest were thieves, and the youngest might be seen in midwinter, +playing half-naked before the house. The Hodges were known to all the +neighbors for miles about, and the amount of energy which each farmer +expended in fighting them would have maintained the whole family in +comfort for their lives. + +Thyrsis had travelled enough about the New England and Middle Atlantic +states to know that these conditions were typical of the small-farming +industry in all the remoter parts. The people with enterprise had moved +West, and those who stayed behind divided and mortgaged their farms, +and sunk lower and lower into misery and degradation. This was one more +aspect of that noble system of _laissez faire_; this was the independent +small-farmer, whose happiness was the theme of all orthodox economists! +He was, according to the newspaper editorials, the backbone of American +civilization; and once every two years, in November, he might be counted +upon to hitch up his buggy and drive to town, and pocket his two-dollar +bill, and roll up a glorious majority for the Grand Old Party of +Protection and Prosperity. + +Section 10. The date of publication of the book had come at last. It was +being generously advertised, under the imprint of a leading house; and +Thyrsis' heart warmed to see the advertisements. This at last, he felt, +was success; and then the reviews began to come in, and his heart warmed +still more. Here was a new note in current fiction, said the critics; +here were power and passion, a broad sweep and a genuine poetic impulse. +American history had never been treated like this before, American +ideals had never been voiced like this before. And these, Thyrsis noted, +were the opinions of the representative reviews--not those of obscure +provincial newspapers. Victory, it seemed, had come to him at last! + +He came up to the metropolis on the strength of these triumphs; for +he had observed that when one had a new book coming out was the +psychological moment to attack the magazine-editors. One was a +personality then, and could command attention. It was the height of +a presidential campaign, and the Socialists were making an impression +which was astonishing every one. The idea had occurred to Thyrsis that +some magazine might judge it worth while to tell its readers about this +new and picturesque movement. + +To his great delight the editor of "Macintyre's Monthly" looked with +favor upon the suggestion, and asked to see an article at once. So +Thyrsis shut himself up in a hotel-room and wrote it over night. It +proved to be so full of "ginger" that the editorial staff of Macintyre's +was delighted, and made suggestions as to another article; at which +point Thyrsis made a desperate effort and summoned up his courage, and +insinuated politely that his stuff was worth five cents a word. The +editor-in-chief replied promptly that that seemed to him proper. + +Two hundred dollars for an article! Here indeed was fame! The author +went home, and thought out another one, and after a week came up to the +city with it. + +In this new article Thyrsis cited a presidential candidate before the +bar of public opinion, and propounded troublesome questions to him. Here +was the capital of the country, heaping itself up at compound interest, +and demanding dividends; here were the people, scraping and struggling +to furnish the necessary profits. Would they always be able to furnish +enough; and what would happen when they could no longer furnish them? +Here were franchises obtained by bribery, and capitalized for hundreds +of millions of dollars; and these millions, too, were heaping up +automatically. Were they to draw their interest and dividends forever? +Here were the machines of production, increasing by leaps and bounds, +and the product increasing still faster, and all counting upon foreign +markets. What would happen when Japan had its own machines, and India +had its own machines, and China had its own machines? Again, the +processes of production were being perfected, and displacing men; here +were panics and crises, displacing--yet more men. Already, in England, +a good fourth of the population had been displaced; and what were these +displaced populations to do? They had finished making over the earth for +the capitalists; and now that the work was done, there seemed to be no +longer any place on the earth for them! + +Such were the problems of our time, according to Thyrsis; and why did +the statesmen of the time have nothing to say about them? When this +article had been read and discussed, young "Billy" Macintyre himself +sent for Thyrsis. This was the "real thing", said he, with his genial +_bonhomie_; the five hundred thousand subscribers of Macintyre's +must surely have these mirth-provoking meditations. Also, the editors +themselves needed badly to be stirred up by such live ideas; therefore +would Thyrsis come to dinner next Friday evening, and, as "Billy" +phrased it, "throw a little Socialism at them"? + +Section 11. So Thyrsis moved one step higher yet up the ladder of +success. The younger Macintyre occupied half a block of mansion up on +Riverside Drive--just across the street from the town-house of Barry +Creston's father. Thyrsis found himself in an entrance-hall where +wonderful pictures loomed vaguely in a dim, religious light; and +a silent footman took his cap, and then escorted him by a soft, +plush-covered stairway to the apartments of "Billy", who was being +helped into a dress-suit by his valet. Thyrsis, alas, had no dress-suit, +and no valet to help him into it, but he sat on the edge of a big +leather chair and proceeded to "throw a little Socialism" at his host. +Then they went down stairs, and there were Morris and Hemingway, of the +editorial staff, and "Buddie" Comings, most popular of novelists, and +"Bob" Desmond, most famous of illustrators. And a little later on came +Macintyre the elder, who had also been judged to stand in need of some +Socialism. + +Macintyre the elder was white-haired and rosy-cheeked. He had begun life +as an emigrant-boy, running errands for a book-shop. In course of time +he had become a partner, and then had started a cheap magazine for the +printing of advertisements. From this had come the reprinting of cheap +books for premiums; until now, after forty years, Macintyre's was one of +the leading publishing-concerns of the country. Recently the important +discovery had been made that the printing of half-inch advertisements +headed "FITS" and "OBESITY" prevented the securing of full-page +advertisements about automobiles. The former kind was therefore being +diverted to the religious papers of the country, whose subscribers were +now getting the "blood of the lamb" diluted with twenty-five per cent. +alcohol and one and three-fourths per cent. opium. But such facts were +not allowed to interfere with the optimistic philosophy of "Macintyre's +Monthly". + +The elder Macintyre seemed to Thyrsis the most naive and lovable old +soul he had encountered in many a year. When he espied Thyrsis, he +waited for no preliminaries, but went up to him as he stood by the +fire-place, and put an arm about him, and led him off to a seat by the +window. "I want to talk to you," said he. + +"My boy," he went on, "I read that article of yours." + +"Which one?" asked Thyrsis. + +"The last one. And you know, Billy's got to stop putting things like +that in the magazine!" + +"What!" cried Thyrsis, alarmed. + +"I won't have it! He must not print that article!" + +"But he's accepted it!" + +"I know. But he should have consulted me." + +"But--but I wrote it at his order. And he promised to pay me--" + +"Oh, that's all right," said the old gentleman, with a genial smile. +"We'll pay for it, of course." + +There was a moment's pause, while Thyrsis caught his breath. + +"My boy," continued the other, "that's a terrible article!" + +"Um," said the author--"possibly." + +"Why do you write such things?" + +"But isn't it true, sir?" + +Mr. Macintyre pondered. "You know," he said, "I think you are a very +clever fellow, and you know a lot; much more than I do, I've no doubt. +But what I don't understand is, why don't you put it into a book?" + +"Into a book?" echoed Thyrsis, perplexed. + +"Yes," explained the other--"then it won't hurt anybody but yourself. +Why should you try to get it into my magazine, and scare away my +half-million subscribers?" + +Section 12. They went in to dinner, which was served upon silver-plate, +by the light of softly-shaded candles; and while the velvet-footed +waiters caused their food to appear and disappear by magic, Thyrsis +fulfilled his mission and "threw Socialism" at the company. + +The company had its guns loaded, and they went at it hot and heavy. +The editors wanted to know about "the home" under Socialism; to which +Thyrsis made retort by picturing "the home" under capitalism. They +wanted to know about liberty and individuality under Socialism; and so +Thyrsis discussed the liberty and individuality of the hundred thousand +wage-slaves of the Steel Trust. They sought to tangle him in discussions +as to the desirability of competition, and the impossibility of escaping +it; but Thyrsis would bring them back again and again to the central +fact of exploitation, which was the one fact that counted. They insisted +upon knowing how this, that, and the other thing would be done in the +Cooperative Commonwealth; to which Thyrsis answered, "Do you ask for a +map of heaven before you join the Church?" + +It was "Billy" Macintyre who brought up a somewhat delicate question; +how would such an institution as "Macintyre's Monthly" be run under +Socialism? Thyrsis replied by quoting Kautsky's formula: "Communism in +material production, Anarchism in intellectual". He showed how the state +might print and bind and distribute, while men in "free associations" +might edit and publish. But one could not get very far in this +exposition, because of the excitement of the elder Macintyre. For the +old gentleman was like a small boy who is being robbed of his marbles; +if there had been a mob outside his publishing-house, he could not +have been more agitated. He took occasion to state, with the utmost +solemnity, that he disapproved of such discussions; and "Billy", who sat +between him and Thyrsis, had to interfere now and then and soothe the +"pater" down. + +Mr. Macintyre's views on the subject of capitalism were simple and easy +to understand. There could be nothing really wrong with a system which +had brought so many great and good men into control of the country's +affairs. Mr. Macintyre knew this, because he had played golf with them +all and gone yachting with them all. And this was a perfectly genuine +conviction; if there had been the slightest touch of sham in it, the +old gentleman would have been more cautious in the examples he chose. +He would name man after man who was among the most notorious of the +country's "malefactors of great wealth"--men whose financial crimes had +been proven beyond any possibility of doubting. He would name them in +a voice overflowing with affection and admiration, as benefactors of +humanity upon a cosmic scale; and of course that would end the argument +in a gale of laughter. When the elder Macintyre entered the discussion, +all the rest of the company moved forthwith to Thyrsis' side, and there +were six Socialists confronting one business-man. And this was a very +puzzling and alarming thing to the old gentleman--his son and his +magazine were getting away from him, and he did not know what to make of +the phenomenon! + +Section 13. Thyrsis judged that the tidings must have got about that +there was a new "lion" in town; for a couple of days after this he was +called up by Comings, most popular of novelists, who asked him to have +luncheon at the "Thistle" club. And when Thyrsis went, Comings explained +that Mrs. Parmley Fatten had read his book, and was anxious to meet him, +and requested that he be brought round to tea. The other was tactless +enough to let it transpire that he knew nothing about Mrs. Patton; but +Comings was too tactful to show his surprise. Mrs. Patton, he explained, +was socially prominent--was looked upon as the leader of a set that +went in for intellectual things. She was interested in social reform and +woman's suffrage, and was worth helping along; and besides that, she was +a charming woman--Thyrsis would surely find the adventure worth while. +Then suddenly, while he was listening, it flashed over Thyrsis that +he _had_ heard of Mrs. Patton before; the lady was in mourning for her +brother, and Corydon had recently handed him a "society" item, which +told of some unique and striking "mourning-hosiery" which she was +introducing from Paris. + +Thyrsis in former days might have been shy of this phenomenon; but at +present he was a collecting economist on the look-out for specimens, and +so he said he would go. He met Comings again at five o'clock, and they +strolled out Fifth Avenue together to Mrs. Patton's brown-stone palace. +Thyrsis observed that his friend had been considerate enough to omit his +afternoon change of costume, and for this he was grateful. + +Mrs. Patton was still in mourning, a filmy and diaphanous kind of +mourning, beautiful enough to placate the angel Azrael himself. A filmy +and diaphanous creature was Mrs. Patton also--one could never have +dreamed of so exquisite a black butterfly. She was very sweet and +sympathetic, and told Thyrsis how much she had liked his book--so that +Thyrsis concluded she was not half so bad as he had expected. After all, +she might not have been to blame for the hosiery story--it might even +have been a lie. He reflected that the yellow journals no doubt lied as +freely about young leaders of intellectual sets in "society" as they did +about starving authors. + +Mrs. Patton wanted to know about Socialism, and sighed because it seemed +so far away. She made several remarks that showed real intelligence--and +this was startling to Thyrsis, who would as soon have expected +intelligence from a real butterfly. He got a strange impression of a +personality struggling to get into contact with life from behind a wall +some ten million dollars high. Mrs. Patton had three young children, +and her husband was one of the "Standard Oil crowd"; she complained to +Thyrsis that "Parmy"--so she referred to the gentleman--was always in +terror over her vagaries. + +It was a new discovery to the author that the very rich might live under +the shadow of fear, quite as much as the very poor. Their wealth made +them a target for newspaper satire, so that they dared not depart from +convention in the slightest detail. Mrs. Patton told how once she had +ventured to romp for a few minutes with some children on the grounds +of the "Casino", and the next day all the world had read that she was +introducing "tag" as a diversion for the Newport colony. + +There came other callers, both women and men; Percy Ambler, man of +fashion and dilettante poet; and with him little Murray Symington, who +wrote the literary chat for "Knickerbocker's Weekly", and was therefore +a power to be propitiated. There came Blanchard, the young and +progressive publisher of the "Beau Monde", a weekly whose circulation +rivalled that of "Macintyre's". There came also young Macklin, Mrs. +Patton's nephew, with his monocle and his killing drawl. Macklin came by +these honestly, having been brought up in England; but Thyrsis did not +know that--he only heard the young gentleman's passing reference to his +yacht, and to his passion for the poetry of Stephane Mallarme; and so he +had it in for Macklin. Thyrsis had got involved in a serious discussion +with Mrs. Patton and Symington, and was in the act of saying that the +social problem could not be much longer left unsolved; and then he +chanced to turn, and discovered young Macklin, surveying him with +elaborate superciliousness, and asking with his British drawl, "Aw--I +beg pawdon--but what do you mean by the social problem?" And Thyrsis, +with a quick glance at him, answered, "I mean you." So Macklin subsided; +and Thyrsis learned afterwards that his remark was going the rounds, +being considered to be a _mot_. It appeared the next week in the columns +of a paper devoted to "society" gossip; and many a literary reputation +had been made by a lesser triumph than that. + +Thyrsis got new light upon the making of reputations, when he looked +into the next issue of "Knickerbocker's Weekly". There he found that +Murray Symington had devoted no less than three paragraphs to his +personality and his book. It was all "sprightly"--that was Murray's +tone--but also it was cordial; and it referred to Thyrsis' earlier +novel, "The Hearer of Truth", as "that brilliant piece of work". Thyrsis +read this with consternation--recalling that when the book had come +out, not two years ago, "Knickerbocker's Weekly" had referred to it as +a "preposterous concoction". Could it be true that an author's work was +"preposterous" while he was starving in a garret, and became "brilliant" +when he was found in the drawing-room of Mrs. "Parmy" Patton? + +Section 14. Thyrsis went on to penetrate yet deeper into these +mysteries; there came a call from Murray Symington, to say that Mrs. +Jesse Dyckman wanted him to dinner. Jesse Dyckman he recognized as the +name of one of the most popular contributors to the magazines--his short +stories of Fifth Avenue life were the delight of the readers of the +"Beau Monde". + +"But I can't go to dinner-parties with women!" protested Thyrsis. "I +don't dress!" + +Murray took that message; but in a few minutes he called up again. "She +says she doesn't care whether you dress or not." + +"But then, I don't _eat!_" protested Thyrsis, who had recently +discovered Horace Fletcher. + +"I know _that_ won't count," said the other, laughing. "She doesn't want +you to eat--she wants you to talk." + +Mrs. Jesse Dyckman inhabited an apartment in a "studio-building" not +far from Central Park; and here was more luxury and charm--a dining-room +done in dark red, with furniture of some black wood, and candles and +silver and cut glass, quite after the fashion of the Macintyres. Thyrsis +was admitted by a French maid-servant; and there was Mrs. Dyckman, +resplendent in white shoulders and a necklace of pearls; and there was +Dyckman himself, even more prosperous and contented-looking than his +pictures, and even more brilliant and cynical than his tales. Also there +was his sister, Mrs. Partridge, the writer of musical comedies; and a +Miss Taylor, who filled the odd corners of the magazines with verses, +which Corydon had once described as "cheap cheer-up stuff". + +So here was the cream of the "literary world"; and Thyrsis, as he +watched and listened to it, was working out the formula of magazine +success. Mrs. Dyckman sat next to him, displaying her shoulders and her +culture; it seemed to him that she must have spent all her spare time +picking up phrases about the books and pictures and plays and music +of the hour, so as to be ready for possible mention of them at her +dinner-parties. She had opinions on tap about everything; opinions +just enough "advanced" to be striking and original, and yet not too far +"advanced" for good form. Jesse Dyckman's short stories were the sort +in which you read how the hero handled his cigarette, and were told that +the heroine was clad in "dimity _en princesse"_. You learned the names +of the latest fashionable drinks, and the technicalities of automobiles, +and met with references to far-off and intricate standards of social +excellence. + +To Thyrsis it appeared that he could see before him the whole career +of such a man. He had trained himself by years of apprenticeship in +snobbery; he had studied the fashions not only in costume and manners, +but also in books and opinions. He had been educated in a "fraternity", +and had chosen a wife who had been educated in a "sorority"; they had +set up in this apartment, with silver service and three French servants, +and proceeded to give dinners, and cultivate people who "counted." And +so had come the pleasant berth with the "Beau Monde"; one or two stories +every month, and one thousand dollars for each story--as one might read +in all newspaper accounts of the "earnings of authors". + +The "Beau Monde" might have been described as a magazine for the +standardizing of the newly-rich. A group of these existed in every town +in the country, and had their "society" in every little city. They would +come to New York and put up at expensive hotels, and get their education +in theatres and opera-houses and "lobster-palaces"; in addition they had +this weekly messenger of good form. In its advertising-columns one read +of the latest things in cigarettes and highballs and haberdashery and +candies and autos; and in its reading-matter one found the leisure-class +world, and the leisure-class idea of all other worlds. Young Blanchard +himself was in the most "exclusive" society; and if one stayed close +to him, one might worm his way past the warders. Among the regular +contributors to the "Beau Monde" and to "Macintyre's", there were a +dozen men who had risen by this method; and some of them had been real +writers at the outset--had started with a fund of vigor, at least. But +now they spent their evenings at dinner-parties, and their days lounging +about in two or three expensive cafes, reading the afternoon papers, +exchanging gossip, and acquiring the necessary stock of cynicism for +their next picture of leisure-class life. + +It was what might have been described as the "court method" of literary +achievement. The centre of it was the young prince who held the +purse-strings; and the court was a coterie of bookish men of fashion and +rich women whose husbands were occupied in the stock-market. They set +the tone and dispensed the favors; one who stood in their good graces +would be practically immune to criticism, no matter how seedy his work +might come to be. Nobody liked to "roast" a man with whom he had played +golf at a week-end party; and who could be so impolite as to slight the +work of a lady-poetess whom he had taken in to dinner? + +Section 15. Thyrsis studied these people, and measured himself against +them. He was not blinded by any vanity; he knew that it would not have +taken him a week to turn out a short story which would have had the +requisite qualities for Macintyre's--which would have been clever +and entertaining, would have had genuine sentiment, and as large +a proportion of sincerity as the magazine admitted. He could have +suggested that he thought it was worth five hundred dollars, and "Billy" +Macintyre would have nodded and sent him a check. And then he could have +moved up to town, and got a frock-coat, and paid another call upon Mrs. +"Parmy" Patton. Then his friend Comings would have put him up for the +"Thistle", he would have got to know the men who made literary opinion, +and so his career would have been secure. + +Nor need he have made any apparent break with his convictions. In +"society" one met all sorts of eccentrics--"babus" and "yogis", +Christian Scientists, spiritualists and theosophists, Fletcherites, +vegetarians and "raw-fooders". And there would be ample room for his +fad--it was quite "English" to be touched with Socialism. All that one +had to do was to be entertaining in one's presentation of it, and to +confine one's self to its literary aspects--not setting forth plans for +the expropriation of the house of Macintyre! + +Thyrsis had one grievous handicap, of course. He would have had to keep +his wife and child in the background; for Corydon, alas, would not +have scored as a giver of dinner-parties. From a woman like Mrs. Jesse +Dyckman, skilled in intellectual fence, and merciless to her inferiors, +Corydon would have turned tail and fled. Thyrsis was able to sit by and +let Mrs. Dyckman wave the plumes of her wit and spread the tail-feathers +of her culture before his astonished eyes, and at the same time +occupy his mind with studying her, and working out her "economic +interpretation". But Corydon took life too intensely, and people too +personally for that. + +But she would have let him go, if he had told her that it was best. +So why should he not do it--why should he turn his back upon this +opportunity, and return to the "soap-box in a marsh" to wrestle with +loneliness and want? The fact of the matter was that the thing which +seemed so easy to his intellect, was impossible to his character. +Thyrsis could not have anything to do with these people without +hypocrisy; merely to sit and talk pleasantly with them was to lie. They +were to him the enemy, the thing he was in life to fight. And he hated +all that they stood for in the world--he hated their ideas and their +institutions, their virtues as well as their vices. + +He had been down into the bottom-most pit of hell, and the sights that +he had seen there had withered him up. How could he derive enjoyment +from silks and jewels, from rich foods and fine wines, when he heard in +his ears the cries of agony of the millions he had left behind him in +that seething abyss? And should he trample upon their faces, as so many +others had trampled? Should he make a ladder of their murdered hopes, to +climb out to fame and fortune? Not he! + +It seemed to him sometimes, as he thought about it, that he alone, of +all men living, had power to voice the despair of these tortured souls. +Others had been down into that pit, and had come out alive; but who was +there among them that was an _artist;_ that could forge his hatred into +a weapon, sharp enough and stout enough to be driven through the tough +hide of the world of culture? To be an artist meant to have spent +years and decades in toil and study, in disciplining and drilling one's +powers; and who was there that had descended into the social inferno, +and had come back with strength enough to accomplish that labor? + +So it seemed to him that he was the bearer of a gospel, that he had to +teach the world something it could otherwise not know. He had tried out +upon his own person, and upon the persons of his loved ones, the effects +of poverty and destitution, of cold and hunger, of solitude and sickness +and despair. And so he knew, of his own knowledge, the meaning of the +degradation that he saw in modern society--of suicide and insanity, of +drunkenness and vice and crime, of physical and mental and moral decay. +He knew, and none could dispute him! Therefore he must nerve himself for +the struggle; he must deliver that message, and pound home that truth. +He must keep on and on--in defiance of authority, in the face of all the +obloquy and ridicule that the prostitute powers of civilization could +heap upon him. He must live for that work, and die for it--to make real +to the thinking world the infamies and the horrors of the capitalist +_regime_. + + + + + + +BOOK XV + +THE CAPTIVE FAINTS + + + + + _"Too quick despairer, wherefore wilt thou go? + Soon will the high Midsummer pomps come on." + +"Do you remember how you used to tell me that?" she whispered. +"Hoping--always hoping!" + +"And always young!" he added. + +"How did I keep so?" she said, with wonder in her voice; and he read-- + + "Thou nearest the immortal chants--of old!-- + Putting his sickle to the perilous grain + In the hot corn-field of the Phrygian king, + For thee the Lityerses-song again + Young Daphnis with his silver voice doth sing!" + +Then a smile of mischief crossed her face, and she asked, "Which +Daphnis?"_ + +Section 1. Thyrsis came back to his home in the country, divided +between satisfaction over the four hundred dollars worth of booty he had +captured, and a great uneasiness concerning his novel. It had had with +the critics all the success that he could have asked, but unfortunately +it did not seem to be selling. Already it had been out three weeks, +and the sales had been only a thousand copies. The publisher confessed +himself disappointed, but said that it was too early to be certain; they +must allow time for the book to make its way, for the opinions of the +reviews to take effect. + +And so, for week after week, Thyrsis watched and hoped against hope--the +old, heart-sickening experience. In the end he came to realize that +he had achieved that most cruel of all literary ironies, the _succes_ +_d'estime_. The critics agreed that he had written a most unusual book; +but then, the critics did not really count--they had no way of making +their verdict effective. What determined success or failure was the +department-store public. It would take a whim for a certain novel; and +when a novel had once begun to sell, it would be advertised and pushed +to the front, and everything else would give way before it, quite +regardless of what the critic's had said. A book-review appeared only +once, but an advertisement might appear a score of times, and be +read all over the country. So the public would have pounded into its +consciousness the statement that "Hearts Aflame", by Dorothy Dimple, was +a masterpiece of character-drawing, full of thrilling incident and +alive with pulsing passion. The department-store public, which was +not intelligent enough to distinguish between a criticism and an +advertisement, would accept all these opinions at their face-value. And +that was success; even the critics bowed to it in the end--as you might +note by the change in their tone when they came to review the next work +by this "popular" novelist. + +So Thyrsis faced the ghastly truth that another year and a half of +toiling and waiting had gone for nothing--the heights of opportunity +were almost as far away as ever. He had to summon up his courage and +nerve himself for yet another climb; and Corydon would have to face the +prospect of another winter in the "soap-box in a marsh". + +It was now November, and Thyrsis had written nothing but Socialist +manifestoes for six months. He was restless and chafing again; but +living in distress as they were, he could not get his thoughts together +at all. He must have been a trying person to live in the house with at +such a time. "You ask me to take love for granted," said Corydon to him +once; "but how can I, when your every expression is contradictory to +love?" + +How could he explain to her his trouble? Here again was the pressure of +that dreadful "economic screw", that was crushing their love, and all +beauty and joy and hope in their hearts. They might fight against it +with all the power of their beings; they might fall down upon their +knees together, and pledge themselves with anguish in their voices and +tears in their eyes; but still the remorseless pressure would go on, day +and night, week after week, without a moment's respite. + +There was this little house, for instance. It was all that Thyrsis +wanted, and all that he would ever have wanted; and yet he could not be +happy in it, because Corydon was not happy in it. He must be plotting +and planning and worrying, straining every nerve to get to another +house; he might not even think of any other possibility--that would be +treason to her. So always it seemed--he had to turn his face a way that +he did not wish to travel, he had to go on against every instinct of +his own nature. His love for Corydon was such that he would be ashamed +whenever his own instincts showed themselves. But then he would go +alone, and try to do his work, and then discover the havoc this had +wrought in his own being. + +Just now the tension had reached the breaking point; the craving for +solitude and peace was eating him up. + +"What is it that you want?" asked Corydon, one day. + +"I want to be where I don't have to see anybody," he cried. "I want to +rough it in a tent, as I did once before." + +"But it's too late to go to the Adirondacks, Thyrsis!" + +"I know that," he said. "But there are other places." + +He had heard of one in Virginia--in that very Wilderness of which he +had written so eloquently, but had never seen. "Isn't there some one who +could come and stay with you?" he pleaded. + +"I don't know," replied Corydon. But the next day, as fate would have +it, there came a letter from Delia Gordon, saying that she had finished +a certain stage of her study-course, and was tired out and in fear of +break-down. So an invitation was sent and accepted, and Thyrsis secured +the respite which he craved. + +And so behold him as a hermit once more, settled in a deserted cabin not +far from the battle-field of Spotsylvania. He had got rid of the vermin +in the cabin by burning sulphur, and had stocked his establishment with +a canvas-cot and a camp-stool and a lamp and an oil-can, and the usual +supply of beans and bacon and rice and corn-meal and prunes. Also he had +built himself a rustic table, and unpacked a trunkful of blankets and +dishes and writing-pads and books. So once more his life was his own, +and a thing of delight to him. + +He had promised himself to live off the country, as he had before; but +the principal game here was the wild turkey, and the wild turkey proved +itself a shy and elusive bird. It was not occupied with meditations +concerning literary masterpieces; and so it had a great advantage over +Thyrsis, who would forget that he had a gun with him after the first +half-hour of a "hunt". + +Section 2. It had now become clear to Thyrsis that he had nothing more +to expect from his novel; it had sold less than two thousand copies, +which meant that it had not earned the money which had already been +advanced to him. But all that was now ancient history--the entrenchments +and graveyards of the Wilderness battlefield were not more forgotten and +overgrown with new life than was the war-book in Thyrsis' mind. He had +had enough of being a national chronicler which the nation did not want; +he had come down to the realities of the hour, to the blazing protest of +the new Revolution. + +For ten years now Thyrsis had been playing at the game of professional +authorship; he had studied the literary world both high and low, and had +seen enough to convince him that it was an impossible thing to produce +art in such a society. The modern world did not know what art was, it +was incapable of forming such a concept. That which it called "art" was +fraud and parasitism--its very heart was diseased. + +For the essence of art was unselfishness; it was an emotion which +overflowed, and which sought to communicate itself to others from an +impulse of pure joy. It was of necessity a social thing; the supreme +art-products of the race had been, like the Greek tragedy and the Gothic +cathedral, a result of the labor of a whole community. And what could +the modern man, a solitary and predatory wolf in the wilderness of +_laissez_ _faire_--what could he conceive of such a state of soul? What +would happen to a man who gave himself up to such a state of soul, in a +community where the wolf-law and the wolf-customs prevailed? + +A grim purpose had been forming itself in Thyrsis' mind. He would +suppress the artist in himself for the present--he would do it, cost +whatever agony it might. He would turn propagandist for a while; instead +of scattering his precious seed in barren soil, he would set to work +to make the soil ready. There was seething in his mind a work of +revolutionary criticism, which would sweep into the rubbish-heap the +idols of the leisure-class world. + +It was his idea to go back to first principles; to study the bases of +modern society, and show how its customs and institutions came to be, +and interpret its art as a product of these. He would show what the +modern artist was, and how he got his living, and how this moulded his +work. He would take the previous art-periods of history and study +them, showing by what stages the artist had evolved, and so gaining +a stand-point from which to prophesy what he would come to be in the +future. Only once had an attempt ever been made to apply to questions +of art the methods of science--in Nordau's "Degeneration". But then +Nordau's had been pseudo-science--three-quarters impertinence and +conceit. The world still waited to understand its art-products in the +light of scientific Socialism. + +Such was the task which Thyrsis was planning. It would mean years of +study, and how he was to get the means to do it, he could not guess. +But he had his mind made up to do it, though it might be the last of his +labors, though everything else in his life might end in shipwreck. He +went about all day, possessed with the idea; it would be a colossal +work, an epoch-making work--it would be the culmination of his efforts +and the vindication of his claims. It would save the men who came after +him; and to save the men who came after him had now become the formula +of his life. + +Section 3. Thyrsis would come back from a sojourn such as this with all +his impulses of affection and sympathy renewed; he would have had time +to miss Corydon, and to realize how closely he was bound to her. He +would be eager to tell her all his adventures, and the wonderful plans +which he had formed. + +But this time it was Corydon who had adventures to narrate. He realized +as soon as he saw her that she had something upon her mind; and at the +first occasion she led him off to his own study, and shut the door. He +got a fire going, and she sat opposite him and gazed at him. + +"Thyrsis," she said, "I hardly know how to begin." + +It was all very formal and mysterious. "What is it, dear?" he asked. + +"It's something terrible," she whispered. "I'm afraid you're going to be +angry." + +"What is it?" he repeated, more anxiously. + +"I was angry myself, at first," she said; "but I've got over it now. And +I want you please to be reasonable." + +"Go on, dear." + +"Thyrsis," she whispered, after a pause, "it's Harry." + +"Harry?" + +"Harry Stuart, you know." + +"Oh," said he. He had all but forgotten the young drawing-teacher, whom +he had left doing Socialist cartoons. + +"Well?" he inquired. + +"You see, Thyrsis, I always liked him very much. And he's been coming up +here--quite a good deal. I didn't see why he shouldn't come--Delia liked +him too, and she was with us most of the time. Was it wrong of me to let +him come?" + +"I don't know," said he. "Tell me." + +"Perhaps it's silly of me," Corydon continued, hesitatingly--"but I'm +always imagining things about people. And he seemed to me to have such +possibilities. He has--how shall I say it--" + +"I recall your saying he had soulful eyes," put in Thyrsis. + +"You'll make fun of it all, of course," said Corydon. "But it's really +very tragic. You see, he's never met a woman like me before." + +"I can believe that, my dear." + +"I mean--a woman that has any real ideas. He would ask me questions by +the hour; and we talked about everything. So, of course, we talked about +love; and he--he asked if I was happy." + +"I see," said Thyrsis, grimly. "Of course you said that you were +miserable." + +"I didn't say much. I told him that your work was hard, and that my +courage wasn't always equal to my task. Anyone can see that I have +suffered." + +"Yes, dear," said Thyrsis, "of course. Go on." + +"Well, one day--it was last Friday--he came up with a carriage to take +us driving. And Delia had a headache, and wanted to rest, and so Harry +and I went alone. I--I guess I shouldn't have gone, but I didn't realize +it. It was a beautiful afternoon, and we both had a good time--in fact, +I don't know when I have been so contentedly happy. We stopped to gather +wild flowers, and once we sat by a little stream; and of course, we +talked and talked, and before I realized it, twilight was falling, and +we were a long way from home." + +"Go on," said Thyrsis, as she hesitated. + +"We started out. I recollected later, though I didn't seem to notice +it at the time--that Harry's voice seemed to grow husky, and he spoke +indistinctly. He had let the horse have the reins, and his arm was +on the back of my seat. I hadn't noticed it; but then--then--fancy my +horror--" + +"Well?" + +"It happened--all of a sudden." Corydon stammered, her cheeks turning +scarlet. "I felt his arm clasp me; and I turned and stared, and his face +was close to mine, and his eyes were fairly shining." + +There was a pause. "What did you do?" asked the other. + +"I just looked at him calmly, and said, 'Oh, how _could_ you?' And at +that he took his arm away quickly, and sat up stiff and straight, with +a terribly hurt expression. 'Forgive me,' he said. 'I was mad.' And we +neither of us spoke a word all the way home. And when we came to the +house, I jumped out of the carriage without saying good-night." + +Corydon sat staring at her husband, with her wide-open, anxious eyes. +"And was that all?" he asked. + +"To-day I had a letter from him. He said he was going away, over the +Christmas holidays. He said that he was very much ashamed of himself, +and he hoped that I would be able to forgive him. And that's all." + +They sat for a while in silence. "You won't be too angry?" asked +Corydon, anxiously. + +"I'm not angry at all," he said. "But naturally it's disturbing. I don't +like to have such things happen to you." + +"It's strange, you know," said Corydon, "but I haven't seemed to stay +very indignant. He was so hurt, you know--and I can realize how unhappy +he's been. Curiously enough, I've even found myself thinking that I'd +like to see him again. And that puzzled me. I felt that I ought to +be quite outraged. That he should imagine he could hug me--like any +shop-girl!" + +They spent many hours discussing this adventure; in fact it was a week +or two before they had disposed of it entirely. Thyrsis was hoping +that the experience might be utilized to persuade Corydon to modify her +utopian attitude towards young men with soulful eyes and waving brown +hair. He was at some pains to set forth to her the psychology of the +male creature--insisting that he knew more about this than she did, and +that his remarks applied to drawing-teachers as well as to all other +arts and professions. + +The main question, of course, was as to their attitude towards Harry +Stuart when he returned. Corydon, it became clear, had forgiven him; the +phraseology of his letter was touching, and he was now invested in the +glamor of penitence. She insisted that the episode might be overlooked, +and that their friendship could go on as before. But Thyrsis argued +vigorously that their relationship could never be the same again, and +declared that they ought not to meet. + +"But then," Corydon protested, "he'll be at the Jennings! And I can't +snub him!" + +"What does Delia think about it?" he asked. + +"Dear me!" Corydon exclaimed. "I haven't told Delia a word of it!" + +"Haven't told her! But why not?" + +"Because she'd be horrified. She'd never speak to Harry Stuart again!" + +"But then you want _me_ to speak to him! And even to be cordial to him! +You want to go ahead and carry on a sentimental flirtation with him--" + +"Oh, Thyrsis!" she protested. + +"But that's what it would come to. And how much peace of mind do you +suppose I'd have, while I knew that was going on?" + +At which Corydon sighed pathetically. "I'm a fine sort of emancipated +woman!" she said. "Don't you see you're playing the role of the +conventional jealous husband?" + +But as she thought over the matter in the privacy of her own mind she +was filled with perplexity, and wondered at herself. She found herself +actually longing to see Harry Stuart. She asked herself, "Can it really +be I, Corydon, who am capable of being interested in any other man +besides my husband?" She could not bring herself to face the fact that +it was true. + +Section 4. Thyrsis went away, and took to wandering about the country, +wrestling with his new book. After the fashion of every work that came +to possess him, it seemed to possess him as no other work had ever done +before. His mind was in a turmoil with it, his thoughts racing from one +part to another; he would stop in the midst of pumping a bucket of water +or bringing in a supply of wood, to jot down some notes that came to +him. Each day he realized more fully the nature of the task. Seated +alone at night in his tiny cabin, his spirit would cry out in terror at +the burden that had been heaped upon it. + +He had decided upon the title of the book--"Art and Money: an Essay in +the Economic Interpretation of Literature". And then, late one night, as +he was pondering it, there had flashed over him the form into which he +should cast the work; he would make it, not only an exposition of his +philosophy, but the story of his life, the cry of his soul. There had +come to him an introductory statement; it was a smashing thing--a thing +that would arrest and stun! Disraeli had said that a critic was a man +who had failed as a creative writer; and Thyrsis would take that taunt +and make it into his battle-cry. "I who write this," he would say--"I +am a failure; I am a murdered artist! I sit by the corpse of my dead +dreams, I dip my pen into the heart's blood of my strangled vision!" So +he would indict the forces that had murdered him, and through the rest +of the book he would pursue them--he would track them to their lair and +corner them, and slay them with a sharp sword. + +Meantime Delia Gordon had gone back to her studies, and Corydon had +settled down to her lonely task. She washed and dressed and fed the +baby, and satisfied what she could of his insatiable demands for play. +Thyrsis would come and help to get the meals and wash the dishes; but +even then he was poor company--he was either tired out, or lost in +thought, and his nerves were in such a state that he could not bear to +be criticized. It was getting to be harder for him to endure the strain +of hearing complaints; and so Corydon shrunk more and more into herself, +and took to pouring out her soul in long letters and journals. + +"Is it possible," she wrote to Delia, "that to some people life is a +continuous expiation--an expiation of submerged hereditary sins, as +well as of conscious ones? A great deal of the time life seems to me a +hopeless puzzle; I am so utterly unfitted for the roles I labor to play. +Is it that I am too low for my environment? Or can it be that I am too +high? Surely there must some day be other things that women can do in +the world besides training children. I try to love my task, but I have +no talent for it, and it is a frightful strain upon me. After one hour +of blocks and choo-choo cars, I am perfectly prostrated. I have been +cheated out of the joys of motherhood, that is the truth--the spring was +poisoned for me at the very beginning. + +"You must not mind my lamentations, dear Delia," she wrote in another +letter. "You can't imagine how lonely my life is--no, for it is +different when you are here. Oh, I am so weary! so weary! It didn't use +to be like this. Every moment of leisure I had I would run and try to +study; I would read something--I was always eager and hungry. But now +I am dull--I do not follow my inspirations. If only Thyrsis and I might +sometimes read together! I love to be read to, but he cannot bear it--he +reads three times as fast to himself, he says. He will do it if I am +sick; but even then it makes him nervous, and I cannot help but know +that, however he tries to hide it. It is one of our troubles, but we +know each other's states of mind intuitively. + +"Oh, Delia, was there ever a tragedy in the world like that of our love? +(Almost everything in our lives is pain, and so we are coming to stand +for pain to each other!) I ask myself sometimes if any two people who +love could stand what we have to stand. Sometimes I think they could, +if their love was different; but then that thought breaks my heart! Why +cannot our love be different, I ask! + +"I had one of my frightful fits of unhappiness to-day. It was +nothing--it was my fault, I guess. I am very sensitive. But I think it +is a tendency of Thyrsis' temperament to try instinctively to overcome +mine. Apparently the only thing that will conquer him is seeing me +suffer; then he will give way--he will promise anything I want, blame +himself for his rigidity, scourge himself for his blindness, do anything +at all I ask. So I tell myself, everything will be different now; the +last problem is solved! I see how good and kind he is, how noble his +impulses are; he has never failed me in the big things of life. + +"I suppose Mr. Harding writes you about us. He was up here this +afternoon. He was very gentle and kind to me; he talked about his +religion. Did you tell him much about me? It is a singular thing, how he +seems to understand without being told. I realized to-day that whenever +we talk about my life, we take everything for granted. Also, it seems +strange that he does not blame me; generally people who are conventional +think that I am selfish, that I ought to be loving my baby, instead of +struggling with my pitiful soul. + +"I wrote a little stanza the other night, dear Delia. Doesn't it seem +strange, that when I am at the last gasp with agony, I should find +myself thinking of lines of poetry? I called it 'Life'; you will say +that it is too sombre-- + +"'A lonely journey in a night of storm, Lighted by flashes of inconstant +faith, Goaded by multitudes of vague desires, And mocked by phantoms of +remote delight!'" + +Section 5. Just at this time Corydon found herself the victim of +backaches and fits of exhaustion, for which there was no cause to be +discovered. Each attack meant that Thyrsis would have to drop his work, +and come and be housekeeper and nurse; he would have to repress every +slightest sign of the impatience, which, was burning him up--knowing +that if he gave vent to it, he would drive Corydon half-wild with +suffering. After two or three such crises, he made up his mind that it +was impossible for him to go on, until there was some one to help her in +these emergencies. + +As a result of their farm-hunting expeditions, they had in mind a place +which was a compromise between their different requirements. It had a +good barn and plenty of fruit, and at the same time a view, and a +house with comfortable rooms, and wall-paper that was not altogether +unendurable. It was offered for four thousand dollars, of which nearly +three-quarters might remain upon mortgage; so they had agreed that their +future happiness would depend upon the war-book's bringing them in a +thousand dollars. Since this hope had failed, he had applied to Darrell, +and to Paret, but neither of them had the money to spare. It now fell +out, that just as he was at the point of desperation, he received a +letter from the clergyman who had married them, Dr. Hamilton. This +worthy man had been reading Thyrsis' manuscripts and following his +career; and he now wrote to tell how greatly he had been impressed by +the new novel. Whereupon the author was seized by a sudden resolve, and +packed up a hand-satchel and set out for the city, with all the forces +of his being nerved for an assault upon this ill-fated clergyman. + +Dr. Hamilton sat in his little office, looking pale and worn, his face +deeply seamed with lines of care. As the poet thought of it in later +years, he realized that this man's function in life was to be a +clearing-house for human misery--the wrecks of the competitive system in +all classes and grades of society came to him to pour out their troubles +and beg for help. It was not so very long afterwards that he went to +pieces from overwork and nervous strain; and Thyrsis wondered with a +guilty feeling how much his own assault had contributed to this result. +Assuredly it could not happen often that a clergyman had to listen to a +more harrowing tale than this "murdered artist" had to tell. + +The doctor heard it out, and then began to argue: like the +philanthropist in Boston, he was greatly troubled by the fear of +"weakening the springs of character". Being an "advanced" clergyman, he +was familiar with the pat phrases of evolutionary science--his mind was +a queer jumble of the philosophy of Herbert Spencer and that of Thomas +a Kempis. But Thyrsis just now was in a mood which might have moved even +Spencer himself; he was almost frantic because of Corydon, whom he had +left half-ill at home. He was not pleading for himself, he said--he +could always get along; but oh, the horror of having to kill his wife +for the sake of his books! To have to sit by day by day and watch her +dying! He told about that night when Corydon had tried to kill herself; +and now another winter was upon them, and he knew that unless something +were done, the spring-time would not find her alive. + +The suicide story turned the balance with the clergyman; Herbert Spencer +was put back upon the shelf, and Thomas a Kempis ruled the day. Dr. +Hamilton said that he would see one of his rich parishioners, and +persuade him to take a second mortgage on the farm. And so Thyrsis went +back, a messenger of wondrous tidings. + +A few days later came the check. The deed had been got ready; and +Thyrsis drove to the farm, and carried off the farmer and his wife to +the nearest notary-public. The old man pleaded to stay in his home until +the new year, but Thyrsis was obdurate, allowing him only a week in +which to get himself and his belongings to another place. And meantime +he and Corydon were packing up. They drove to another "vandew", and +purchased more odds and ends of household stuff; and Thyrsis had his +little study loaded upon a wagon, and taken to the new place. + +A wonderful adventure was this moving! To enter a real house, with two +stories, and two pairs of stairs, and eight rooms, and a cellar, and +regular plastered walls, and no end of closets and shelves and such-like +domestic luxuries! To be able to set apart a whole room in which the +baby might spread himself with his toys and marbles and dolls and +picture-books--and without any one's having to stumble over them, and +break their owner's heart! To have a real parlor, with a stove to sit +by, and a table for a lamp, and shelves for books; and yet another room +to eat in, and another to cook in! To be able to have a woman come to +wash the dishes without making a bosom friend of her, and having +her hear all the conversation! To be able to walk through fields and +orchards and woodland, and know that they belonged to one's self, +and would some day shed their coat of snow and blossom into new life! +Thyrsis wished that he could have the book out of his mind for a month, +so that he might be properly thrilled by this experience. + +It was at the Christmas season, and therefore an appropriate times for +celebrating. He went down into the "wood-lot"--their own "wood-lot"--and +cut a spruce tree, and set it up in the dining-room; they hung thereon +all the contrivances which the associated grandparents had sent down to +commemorate an occasion which was not only Christmas and house-warming, +but the baby's third birthday as well. Because of the triple +conjunction, they invested in a fat goose, to be roasted in the new +kitchen-range; and besides this there were some spare-ribs and home-made +sausages with which a neighbor had tempted them. It was a regular +storybook Christmas, with a snow-storm raging outside, and the wind +howling down the chimney, and an odor of molasses-taffy pervading the +house. + +Section 6. After which festivities Thyrsis bid farewell to his family +once more, and went away to wrestle with his angel. Weeks of failure and +struggle it cost him before he could get back what he had lost--before +he could recall those phrases that had once blazed white-hot in his +brain, and could see again the whole gigantic form and figure of +his undertaking. Many an hour he spent pacing his little eight-foot +piazza--four steps and a half each way, back and forth; many a night +he would sit before his little fourteen-inch stove, so lost in his +meditations that the stove would lose its red-hot glow, and the icy +gale which raged outside and rattled the door would steal in through the +cracks and set him to shivering. + +Other times he would trudge through the snow and mud to the town, +spending the day in the library, and then bringing out an armful of +books to last him through the night. Thyrsis had read pretty thoroughly +the literature of the six languages he knew; but now--this was the +appalling nature of his task--he had to go back and read it over again. +He did not realize, until he got actually at the work, what an utter +overturning there would be in all his ideas. How strange it was to +return and read the "classics" of one's youth! What oceans of futility +one discovered, what mountains of pretense--and with what forests of +scholarship grown over them! It seemed to Thyrsis that everywhere he +turned the search-light of his new truth, the structure of his +opinions would topple like a house of cards. Truly, here was a +_"Goetzendaemmerung"_, an _"Umwertung aller Werthe"!_ + +The worst of it was that he had to read, not only literature, but also +history--often his own kind of history, that had not yet been written. +If he wished to know the Shakespearean dramas as a product of the +aristocratic and imperialist ideal in the glory and intoxication of its +youth, he had to study, not only Shakespeare's poetry, but the cultural +and social life of the Elizabethan people. And he could not take any +man's word for the truth; he had to know for himself. The thing that +would avail him in this battle was not eloquence and fervor, not the +flashes of his irony and the white-hot shafts of his scorn. What he must +have were facts, and more facts--and then again facts! + +The facts were there, to be had for the gathering. Thyrsis again could +only compare himself to Aladdin in his palace. Could it be believed that +so many ideas had been left for one man to discover? It seemed to him, +that the kingdoms of literature lay at his mercy; he was like a magician +who has discovered a new spell, which places his rivals in his power. He +knew that this book, if he could ever finish it, would alter the aspect +of literary criticism, as a blow changes the pattern in a kaleidoscope. + +Thyrsis had failed many times before, but this time he felt that success +was in his hands; he knew the bookworld now, he was master of the game. +This would set them to thinking, this would stir them up! He had got +under the armor of his enemy at last, and he could feel him wince and +writhe at each thrust that he drove home. So he wrought at his task, in +a state of tense excitement, living always in imagination in the midst +of the battle, following stroke with stroke and driving a rout before +him.--So he would be for weeks; and then would come the reaction, when +he fell back exhausted, and realized that his victory was mere phantasy, +that nothing of it really counted until he had completed his labor. And +that would take two years! Two years! + +Section 7. From visions such as this Thyrsis came back to wrestle with +all the problems of a household; with pumps that froze and drains +that clogged, with stoves that went out and ashes that spilled, with +milk-boys that were late and kitchen-maids that were snow-bound. He +would leave his work at one or two o'clock in the morning, and make his +way through the snow and the storm to the house, and crawl into bed, and +then take his chances of being awakened by the baby, or by some spell of +agony with Corydon. + +He might not sleep alone; that supreme symbol of domesticity Corydon +could not give up, and he soon ceased to ask for it. It seemed such a +little thing to yield; and yet it meant so much to him! The room where +he slept came to seem to him a chamber of terror, a place to which he +went "like the galley-slave at night, scourged to his dungeon". It was +a place where a crime was enacted; where the vital forces of his being +were squandered, and the body and soul of him were wrung and squeezed +dry like a sponge. This was marriage--it was the essence of marriage; it +was the slavery into which he had delivered himself, the duty to which +he was bound. And in how many millions of homes was this same thing +going on--this licensed preying of one personality upon another? And +the nightmare thing was upheld and buttressed by all the forces of +society--priests were saying blessings over it and moralists were +singing the praises of it--"the holy bonds of matrimony", it was called! + +It was all the worse to Thyrsis because there was that in him which +welcomed this animal intimacy. So he saw that day by day their lives +were slipping to a lower plane; day by day they were discovering new +weaknesses and developing new vices in themselves. Corydon was now +a good part of the time in pain of some sort; and the doctors had +accustomed her to stave off these crises with various kinds of drugs, +so that she had a set of shelves crowded with pills and powders and +bottles. She had learned to rely upon them in emergencies, to plead for +them when she was helpless; and so Thyrsis saw her declining into an +inferno. He would argue with her and plead with her and fight with her; +he would spend days trying to open her eyes to the peril, to show her +that it was better to suffer pain than to resort to these treacherous +aids. + +Section 8. They still had their hours of enthusiasm, of course, their +illuminations and their resolutions. During the summer, while browsing +among the English magazines in the library, Thyrsis had stumbled upon an +astonishing article dealing with the subject of health. He read it in a +state of great excitement, and then took it home and read it to Corydon. +It told of the achievements of a gentleman by the name of Horace +Fletcher, who had once possessed robust health, and lost it through +careless living, and had then restored it by a new system of eating. To +Thyrsis this came as one of the great discoveries of his life. For years +every instinct of his nature had been whispering to him that his ways of +eating were vicious; but he had been ignorant and helpless--and with all +the world that he knew in opposition to him. As he read the article, he +recalled a talk he had had with his "family doctor", way back before his +marriage, when he had first begun to notice symptoms of stomach-trouble. +He had suggested timidly that there might be something wrong with his +diet, and that if the doctor would tell him exactly what he ought to +eat, and how much and how often, he would be glad to adopt the regimen. +But the doctor had only laughed and answered, "Nonsense, boy--don't +you get to thinking about your food!" And so Thyrsis had gone away, to +follow the old plan of eating what he liked. Health, it would seem, must +be a spontaneous and accidental thing, it could not be a deliberate and +reasoned thing. + +But now he and Corydon became smitten with a passion of shame for all +their stupidity and their gluttony; they invested in Fletcher's books, +and set out upon this new adventure. They would help themselves to a +very small saucerful of food; and they would take of this a very small +spoonful--and chew--and chew--and chew. Mr. Fletcher said that half an +hour a day was enough for the eating of the food one needed; but they, +apparently, could have chewed for hours, and still been hungry. +They labored religiously to stop as soon as they could pretend to be +satisfied; the result of which was that Thyrsis lost fourteen pounds in +as many days--and it was many a long year before he got those fourteen +pounds back! He became still more "spiritual" in his aspect; until +finally he and Corydon set out for a walk one day, and coming up a hill +to their home they gave out altogether, and first Thyrsis had to crawl +up the hill and get something to eat, and then take something down to +Corydon! + +However, in spite of all their blunders, this new idea was of genuine +benefit to them; at least it put them upon the right track--it taught +them the relationship between diet and disease. They saw the two as +cause and consequence--they watched the food they ate affecting their +bodies as one might watch a match affecting a thermometer. They were +no longer victims of the idea that health must be a spontaneous and +accidental thing--they were set definitely to thinking about it, as +something that could be achieved by will and intelligence. + +But the right knowledge lay far in the future; and meantime they were +groping in ignorance, and disease was still a mysterious visitation that +came upon them out of the night. "Thus saith the Lord, About midnight +will I go out into the midst of Egypt; and all the firstborn in the land +of Egypt shall die. And there shall be a great cry throughout all the +land of Egypt, such as there hath been none like it, nor shall be like +it any more." + +Their own firstborn had low been on the _regime_ of the "child +specialist" for a year and a half. He was big and fat and rosy, and +according to all the standards they knew, a picture of health. He was +the pride of his parents' hearts--the one success they had achieved, +and to which they could turn their eyes. He was a frightful burden to +them--the most noisy and irrepressible of children. But they struggled +and worried along with him, and were proud of him--and even, in a stormy +sort of way, were happy with him. But now a calamity fell upon him, +bringing them the most terrible distress they had yet had to face in +their lives. + +Section 9. It was all the worse because they laid the blame upon +themselves. They were accustomed to attribute sickness to this or that +trivial cause--if Corydon caught a cold, it was because she had sat in +a draught, and if Thyrsis was laid up with tonsilitis, it was because he +had gone out for kindling-wood without his hat. It had been their wont +to bundle the child up and turn him out to play; and one very cold day +he had stood a long time under the woodshed, and had got chilled. So +that night his head was hot, and he was fretful; and in the morning he +would not eat, and apparently had a fever. They sent off in haste for +the doctor; and the doctor came and examined him, and shook his head and +looked very grave. It was pneumonia, he said, and a serious case. + +So Corydon and Thyrsis had to put all things else aside, and gird +themselves for a siege. There were medicines to be administered every +hour, and minute precautions to be taken to keep the patient from +the slightest chill; he must be in a warm room, and yet with some +ventilation. All these things they attended to, and then they would sit +and gaze at the sufferer, dumb with grief and fear. Through the night +Thyrsis sat by the bedside, while Cedric babbled and raved in delirium; +and no suffering that he had ever experienced was equal to this. + +How he loved this baby, how passionately, how cruelly! How he clung to +him, blindly and desperately--the thought of losing him simply tore his +heart to pieces! He would hold the hot hands, he would touch the little +body; how he loved that body, that was so beautiful and soft and white! +How many times he had bathed it and dressed it and hugged it to him! He +would sit and listen to the fevered prattle, full of childish phrases +which brought before him the childish soul--the wonderful, lovable +thing, so merry and eager, so full of mischief and curiosity; with +strange impulses of tenderness, and flashes of intelligence that +thrilled one, and opened long vistas to the imagination. He was all +they had, this baby--he was all they had saved out of the ruin of their +lives, out of the shipwreck of their love. What sacrifices they had made +for him--what agonies he represented! And now, the idea that they might +never see him, nor touch him, nor hear his voice again! + +Also would come agonies of remorse. Thyrsis would face the blunder +they had made--it might have been avoided so easily, and now it was +irrevocable! His whole body would shake with silent sobbing. Ah, this +curse of their lives, this hideous shame--that they had not even been +able to take proper care of their child! This wrong, too, the world +meant to inflict upon them--this supreme vengeance, this cruel +punishment! + +Section 10. The doctor came next morning, and found the patient worse. +This was the crisis, he said; if the little one lived through the +night--And there he paused, seeing the agony in the eyes of the mother +and father. They would do all they could, he said; they must hope for +the best. + +So the siege went on. Thyrsis sat through the night again--and Corydon, +who could not rest either, would come into the room every little while, +and listen and watch. They would hold each other's hand for hours, dumb +with suffering; ghostly presences seemed to haunt the sick-chamber +and set them to trembling. Thyrsis found himself thinking of that most +terrible of all ballads, "The Erl-King". How he had shuddered once, +hearing it sung!-- + +"Dem Vater grauset's, er reitet geschwind!" + +All through the night he seemed to hear the hammer-strokes of the +horse's hoofs echoing through his soul. + +The child lived through the night, but the crisis was not yet over. +The fever held on; the issue of life and death seemed to hang upon the +flutter of an eyelid. There was one more night to be sat through and +Thyrsis, whose restless intellect must needs be dealing with all issues, +had by then fought his way through this terror also. They must get +control of themselves at all hazards, he said; they must face the facts. +If so the child should die-- + +He tried to say something of the sort to Corydon, seeking to steady her. +But Corydon became almost frantic at his words. "You must not say such a +thing, you must not think such a thing!" she cried. + +Corydon had been reading about "new thought", and she insisted that +would be "holding the idea" of death over the child. "The thing for us +to do," she said, "is to make up our minds--he must live, we must _know_ +that he will live!"--It was no time to argue about metaphysics, but +Thyrsis found this proposition a source of great perplexity. How could a +man make himself know what he did not know? + +The crisis passed, and the child lived. But the illness continued for a +couple of weeks--and how pitiful it was to see their baby, that had been +so big and rosy, and was now pale and thin and weak! And when at last +he got up and went outdoors again, he caught a cold, and there was a +relapse, and another siege of the dread disease; the doctor had not +warned them sufficiently, it seemed. So there was a week or two more of +watching and worrying; and then they had to face the fact that little +Cedric would be delicate for a long while--would need to be guarded with +care all through the spring. + +Thyrsis blamed himself for all that had happened; the weight of it +rested upon him forever afterwards, as if it were some crime he had +committed. Sometimes when he was overwrought and overdriven, he would +lie awake in the small hours of the morning, and this spectre would +come and sit by him. He had made a martyr of the child he loved, he had +sacrificed it to what he called his art; and how had he dared to do it? + +It was hard to think of a more cruel question to put to a man. Himself, +no doubt, he might scourge and drive and wreck; but this child--what +were the child's rights? Thyrsis would try to weigh them against the +claims of posterity. What his own work might be, he knew; and to what +extent should he sacrifice it to the unknown possibilities of his +son? Some sacrifice there had to be--such was the stern decree of the +"economic screw." + +So Thyrsis once more was a field of warring motives; once more he faced +the curse of his life--that he could not be as other men, he could not +have other men's virtues. It was the latest aspect, and the most +tragic, of that impulse in him which had made him fight so hard against +marriage; which had made him quote to Corydon the lines of the outlaw's +song-- + + "The fiend whose lantern lights the mead + Were better mate than I!" + + + + + + +BOOK XVI + +THE BREAK FOR FREEDOM + + + + + +_The scarlet flush of morning was in the sky; and they stood upon the +hill again, and watched the color spreading. + +"We must go," she was saying. "But it was worthwhile to come." + +"It was all worth-while," he said--"all!" + +And she smiled, and quoted some lines from the poem-- + + "Thou too, O Thyrsis, on like quest wast bound; + Thou wanderedst with me for a little hour! + Men gave thee nothing; but this happy quest, + If men esteem'd thee feeble, gave thee power, + If men procured thee trouble, gave thee rest!"_ + +Section 1. This illness of the baby's had been a fearful drain upon +their strength; and Thyrsis perceived that they had now got to a point +where they could no longer stand alone. There must be a servant in the +house, to help Corydon, and do for the baby what had to be done. It was +a hard decision for him to face, for his money was almost gone, and the +book loomed larger than ever. But there was no escaping the necessity. + +They would get a married couple, they decided--the man could pay for +himself by working the farm. So they put an advertisement in a city +paper, and perused the scores of mis-spelled replies. After due +correspondence, and much consultation, they decided upon Patrick and +Mary Flanagan; and Thyrsis hired a two-seated carriage and drove in to +meet them at the depot. + +It was all very funny; years afterwards, when the clouds of tragedy were +dispersed, they were able to laugh over the situation. Thyrsis had been +used to servants in boyhood, but that was before he had acquired any +ideas as to universal brotherhood and the rights of man. Now he hated +all the symbols and symptoms of mastership; he shrunk from any sort of +clash with unlovely personalities--he would be courteous and deprecating +to the very tramp who came to his door to beg. And here were Patrick and +Mary, very Irish, enormously stout, and devotedly Roman Catholic, having +spent all their lives as caretakers of "gentlemen's country-places". +They had most precise ideas as to what gentlemen's country-places +should be, and how they should be equipped, and how the gentlemen of the +country-places should treat their servants. And needless to say, they +found nothing in this new situation which met with their approval. There +were signs of humiliating poverty everywhere, and the farm-outfit was +inadequate. As to the master and mistress, they must have been puzzling +phenomena for Patrick and Mary to make up their minds about--possessing +so many of the attributes of the lady and gentleman, and yet being +lacking in so many others! + +Patrick was a precise and particular person; he wanted his work laid out +just so, and then he would do it without interference. As for Mary--he +stood in awe of Mary himself, and so he accepted the idea that Corydon +and Thyrsis should stand in awe of her too. Mary it was who announced +that their dietary was inadequate; she took no stock at all in Fletcher +and Chittenden--she knew that working-people must have meat at least +four times a week. Also Mary maintained that their room was not large +enough for so stout a couple. Also she arranged it that Corydon and +Thyrsis should get the dinner on Sundays--the Roman Catholic church +being five miles away, and the hour of mass being late, and the horse +very old and slow. + +For two months Corydon and Thyrsis struggled along under the dark and +terrible shadow of the disapproval of the Flanagan family. Then one day +there came a violent crisis between Corydon and Mary--occasioned by a +discussion of the effect of an excess of grease upon the digestibility +of potato-starch. Corydon fled in tears to her husband, who started for +the kitchen forthwith, meaning to dispose of the Flanagans; when, to his +vast astonishment, Corydon experienced one of her surges of energy, +and thrust him to one side, and striding out upon the field of combat, +proceeded to deliver herself of her pent-up sentiments. It was a +discourse in the grandest style of tragedy, and Mary Flanagan was quite +dumbfounded--apparently this was a "lady" after all! So the Flanagan +family packed its belongings and departed in a chastened frame of mind; +and Corydon turned to her spouse, her eyes still flashing, and remarked, +"If only I had talked to her that way from the beginning!" + +Section 2. Then once more there was answering of advertisements, and +another couple was spewed forth from the maw of the metropolis--"Henery +and Bessie Dobbs", as they subscribed themselves. "Henery" proved to +be the adult stage of the East Side "gamin"; lean and cynical, full +of slang and humor and the odor of cigarettes. He was fresh from a +"ticket-chopper's" job in the subway, and he knew no more about farming +than Thyrsis did; but he put up a clever "bluff", and was so prompt with +his wits that it was hard to find fault with him successfully. As for +his wife, she had come out of a paper-box factory, and was as skilled +at housekeeping as her husband was at agriculture; she was frail and +consumptive, and told Corydon the story of her pitiful life, with +the result that she was able to impose upon her even more than her +predecessor had done. + +"Henery" was slow at pitching hay and loading stone, but when the season +came, he developed a genius for peddling fruit; he was always hungry for +any sort of chance to bargain, and was forever coming upon things which +Thyrsis ought to buy. Very quickly the neighborhood discovered this +propensity of his, and there was a constant stream of farmers who came +to offer second-hand buggies, and wind-broken horses, and dried-up cows, +and patent hay-rakes and churns and corn-shellers at reduced values; all +of which rather tended to reveal to Thyrsis the unlovely aspects of his +neighbors, and to weaken his faith in the perfectibility of the race. + +Among Henery's discoveries was a pair of aged and emaciated mules. He +became eloquent as to how he could fatten up these mules and what crops +he could raise in the spring. So Thyrsis bought the mules, and also a +supply of feed; but the fattening process failed to take effect-for the +reason, as Thyrsis finally discovered, that the mules were in need of +new teeth. When the plowing season began, Henery at first expended a +vast amount of energy in beating the creatures with a stick, but finally +he put his inventive genius to work, and devised a way to drive them +without beating. It was some time before Thyrsis noted the change; when +he made inquiries, he learned to his consternation that the ingenious +Henery had fixed up the stick with a pin in the end! + +At any time of the day one might stand upon the piazza of the house +and gaze out across the corn-field, and see a long procession marching +through the furrow. First there came the mules, and then came the plow, +and then came Henery; and after Henery followed the dog, and after the +dog followed the baby, and after the baby followed a train of chickens, +foraging for worms. Little Cedric was apparently content to trot back +and forth in the field for hours; which to his much-occupied parents +seemed a delightful solution of a problem. But it happened one day when +they had a visit from Mr. Harding, that Thyrsis and the clergyman came +round the side of the house, and discovered the child engaged in trying +to drag a heavy arm-chair through a door that was too small for it. +He was wrestling like a young titan, purple in the face with rage; and +shouting, in a perfect reproduction of Henery's voice and accent, "Come +round here, God damn you, come round here!" + +There were many such drawbacks to be balanced against the joys of "life +on a farm". Thyrsis reflected with a bitter smile that his experiences +and Corydon's had been calculated to destroy their illusions as to +several kinds of romance. They had tried "Grub Street", and the poet's +garret, and the cultivating of literature upon a little oatmeal; they +had not found that a joyful adventure. They had tried the gypsy style of +existence; they had gone back "to the bosom of nature"--and had found it +a cold and stony bosom. They had tried out "love in a cottage", and the +story-writer's dream of domestic raptures. And now they were chasing +another will o' the wisp--that of "amateur farming"! When Thyrsis had +purchased half the old junk in the township, and had seen the mules go +lame, and the cows break into the pear-orchard and "founder" themselves; +when he had expended two hundred dollars' worth of money and two +thousand dollars' worth of energy to raise one hundred dollars' worth of +vegetables and fruit, he framed for himself the conclusion that a farm +is an excellent place for a literary man, provided that he can be kept +from farming it. + +Section 3. As the result of such extravagances, when they had got as +far as the month of February, Thyrsis' bank-account had sunk to almost +nothing. However, he had been getting ready for this emergency; he had +prepared a _scenario_ of his new book, setting forth the ideas it would +contain and the form which it would take. This he sent to his publisher, +with a letter saying that he wanted the same contract and the same +advance as before. + +And again he waited in breathless suspense. He knew that he had here +a work of vital import, one that would be certain to make a sensation, +even if it did not sell like a novel. It was, to be sure, a radical +book--perhaps the most radical ever published in America; but on the +other hand, it dealt with questions of literature and philosophy, +where occasionally even respectable and conservative reviews permitted +themselves to dally with ideas. Thyrsis was hoping that the publisher +might see prestige and publicity in the adventure, and decide to take a +chance; when this proved to be the case, he sank back with a vast sigh +of relief. He had now money enough to last until midsummer, and by that +time the book would be more than half done--and also the farm would be +paying. + +But alas, it seemed with them that strokes of calamity always followed +upon strokes of good fortune. At this time Corydon's ailments became +acute, and her nervous crises were no longer to be borne. There were +anxious consultations on the subject, and finally it was decided that +she should consult another "specialist". This was an uncle of Mr. +Harding's, a man of most unusual character, the clergyman declared; the +latter was going to the city, and would be glad to introduce Corydon. + +So, a couple of days later came to Thyrsis a letter, conveying the +tidings that she was discovered to be suffering from an abdominal tumor, +and should undergo an immediate operation. It would cost a hundred +dollars, and the hospital expenses would be at least as much; which +meant that, with the bill-paying that had already taken place, their +money would all be gone at the outset! + +But Thyrsis did not waste any time in lamenting the inevitable. He was +rather glad of the tidings, on the whole--at least there was a definite +cause for Corydon's suffering, and a prospect of an end to it. Both of +them had still their touching faith in doctors and surgeons, as speaking +with final and godlike authority upon matters beyond the comprehension +of the ordinary mind. The operation would not be dangerous, Corydon +wrote, and it would make a new woman of her. + +"If I could only have Delia Gordon with me," she added, "then my +happiness would be complete. Only think of it, she left for Africa last +week! I know she would have waited, if she'd known about this. + +"However, I shall make out. Mr. Harding is going to be in town for +more than a week--he is attending a conference of some sort, and he has +promised to come and see me in the hospital. I think he likes to do such +things--he has the queerest professional air about it, so that you feel +you are being sympathized with for the glory of God. But really he is +very beautiful and good, and I think you have never appreciated him. I +am happy to-day, almost exhilarated; I feel as if I were about to escape +from a dungeon." + +Section 4. Such was the mood in which she went to her strange +experience. She liked the hospital-room, tiny, but immaculately clean; +she liked the nurses, who seemed to her to be altogether superior and +exemplary beings--moving with such silence and assurance about their +various tasks. She slept soundly, and in the morning they combed and +plaited her hair and prepared her for the ceremony. There came a bunch +of roses to her room, with a card from Mr. Harding; and these were +exquisite, and made her happy, so that, when the doctor arrived, she +went almost gaily to the operating-room. + +Everything there aroused her curiosity; the pure white walls and +ceiling, shining with matchless cleanness, the glittering instruments +arranged carefully on glass tables, the attentive and pleasant-faced +nurses, standing also in pure white, and the doctor in his vestments, +smiling reassuringly. In the centre of the room was a large glass table, +long enough for a reclining body, and through the sky-light the sun +poured a pleasing radiance over all. "How beautiful!" exclaimed Corydon; +and the nurses exchanged glances, and the old doctor failed to hide an +expression of surprise. + +"I wish all my patients felt like that," said he. "Now climb up on the +table." + +Corydon promptly did so, and another doctor who was to administer the +anaesthetic came to her side. "Take a very deep breath, please," he +said, as he placed over her mouth a white, cone-shaped thing that had a +rather suffocating odor. Corydon was obedience itself, and breathed. + +In a moment her body seemed to be falling from her. "Oh, I don't like +it!" she gasped. + +"Breathe deeply, and count as far as you can," came a voice from far +above her. + +"Stop!" whispered Corydon. "Oh, I don't want--I want to come back!" + +Then she began to count--or rather some strange voice, not hers, seemed +to count for her; as the first numbness passed, farther and farther away +she seemed to dissolve, to become a disembodied consciousness poised in +a misty ether. And at that moment--so she told Thyrsis afterwards--the +face of Mr. Harding seemed to appear just above her, and to look at +her with a pained and startled expression. It was a beautiful face, she +thought; and she knew that everything she felt was being immediately +registered in Mr. Harding's mind. They were two affinitized beings, +suspended in the centre of a cosmos; "their soul intelligences were all +that had been left of the sentient world after some cataclysm. + +"I always knew that about us," thought Corydon, and she realized that +the face before her understood, even though at the moment it, too, was +dissolving. "I wonder why"--she mused--"why--" And then the little spark +went out. + +Two hours later the doctor was bending over her, anxiously scrutinizing +her passive face. "Nurse, bring me some ice-water," he was saying. "She +takes her time coming to." And sharply he struck her cheek and forehead +with his finger-tips; but she showed no sign. + +Deep down in some mysterious inner chamber, beneath the calm face, +there was being enacted a grim spirit-drama. Corydon's soul was making +a monstrous effort to return to its habitation; Corydon felt herself +hanging, a tortured speck of being, in a dark and illimitable void. +"This may be Hell," she thought. "I have neither hands nor feet, and +I cannot fight; but I can _will_ to get back!" This effort cost her +inexpressible agony. + +A strange incessant throbbing was going on in the black pit over which +she seemed suspended. It had a kind of rhythm--metallic, and yet with +a human resonance. It began way down somewhere, and proceeded with +maddening accuracy to ascend through the semi-tones of a gigantic scale. +Each beat was agony to her; it ascended to a certain pitch in merciless +crescendo, then fell to the bottom again, and began anew its swift, +maddeningly accurate ascent. Each time it ascended a little higher, and +always straining her endurance to the uttermost, and bringing a more +vivid realization of agony. "Will you stop here," it seemed to pulsate. +"No, no, I will go on," willed Corydon. "You shall not keep me, I must +escape, I must _get out_." But it kept up incessantly, ruthlessly, its +strange, formless, soundless din, until the spirit writhed in its grasp. + +Finally it seemed to Corydon that she was getting nearer--nearer +to something, she knew not what. The blackness about her seemed to +condense, and she found herself in what was apparently the middle of a +lake, and some dark bodies with arms were trying to drag her down. "No, +no," she willed to these forms, "you _shall_ not. I do not belong here, +I belong up--up!" And by a violent effort she escaped--into sensations +yet more agonizing, more acute. The vibrations were getting faster and +faster, whirling her along, stretching her consciousness to pieces. +"Will it never end?" she thought. "Have mercy!" But after an eternity +of such repetition, she found a bright light staring at her, and a +frightful sense of heaviness, like mountains piled upon her. Also, +eating her up from head to foot, was a strange, unusual pain; yes, it +must be pain, though she had never felt anything like it before. She +moaned; and there came a spasm of nausea, that seemed to tear her +asunder. + +The doctor was standing by her. "She gave me quite a fright," he was +saying. "There, that's it, nurse. She'll be sleeping sweetly in +a minute." The nurse hurried forward, and Corydon felt a stinging +sensation in her side, and then a delightful numbness crept over her. +"Oh, thank you, doctor," she whispered. + +Section 5. The next week held for Corydon continuous suffering, which +she bore with a rebellious defiance--feeling that she had been betrayed +in some way. "If you had only told me," she wailed, to the doctor. "I +would rather have stayed as I was before!" For answer he would pat her +cheek and tell her to go to sleep. + +The days dragged on. Every afternoon her mother came and read to her for +several hours; and in the afternoons Mr. Harding would come, and sit by +her bedside in his kind way and talk to her. Sometimes he only stayed +a few minutes, but often he would spend an hour or so, trying to dispel +the clouds of gloom and despondency that were hanging over her. Corydon +told him of her vision in the operating-room, and strange to say he +declared that he had known it all; also he said that he had helped her +to fight her way back to life. + +He seemed to understand her every need, and from his sympathy gave her +all the comfort he could. But he little realized all that it meant to +her--how deeply it stirred her gratitude and her liking for him. During +the day she would find herself counting the hours until the time he +had named; and when the expected knock would come, and his tall figure +appear at the door, her heart would give a sudden jump and send the +blood rushing to her head. Her lips would tremble slightly as she held +out her hand to him; and as he sat and looked at her, she would become +uncomfortably conscious of the beating of her heart; in fact at times it +would almost suffocate her, and her cheeks would become as fire. + +She wondered if he noticed it. But he seemed concerned only for her +welfare, and anxiously inquired how she felt. She was not doing well, +it seemed, and the doctor was greatly troubled; her temperature had not +become normal since the operation, and they could not account for it, as +she was suffering no more than the usual amount of pain. To Corydon this +was a matter of no importance; she was willing to lie there all day, if +only the hour of Mr. Harding's visit would come more quickly. She was +beginning to be alarmed because she had such difficulty in controlling +her excitement. + +The magic hour would strike, and the door of hope open, and there +upon the threshold he would appear, in all his superb manhood. Corydon +thought she had never before met a man who gave her such an impression +of vitality. He was splendid; he was like a young Viking, who brought +into the room with him the pure air of the Northern mountains. When +he looked at her, his eyes assumed a wonderful expression, a "golden" +expression, as Corydon described it to herself. And day after day she +clothed this Viking in more lustrous garments, woven from the threads +of her imagination, her innermost desires and her dreams. And always at +sight of him, her heart beat faster, her head became hotter; until the +bed she lay upon became a bed of burning coals. She realized at last +what had happened to her, that she loved--yes, that she loved! But she +must not let her Viking see it; that would be unpardonable, it would +damn her forever in his sight. And so she struggled with her secret. At +night she slept in fitful starts, and in the morning she lay pale and +sombre. But when he came she was all brilliancy and animation. + +Section 6. Each night the doctor would look anxiously at his +thermometer; it was a source of great worry to him and to Corydon's +parents that the fever did not abate. Also, needless to say, the news +worried Thyrsis; all the more, because it meant a long stay in the +hospital, and more of their money gone. At last he came up to town to +see about it; and Corydon thought to herself, "This is very wrong of me. +It is Thyrsis I ought to be interested in, it is his sympathy I ought to +be craving." + +She brought the image of Thyrsis before her; it seemed vague and unreal. +She found that she remembered mostly the unattractive aspects of +him. And this brought a pang to her. "He is good and noble," she told +herself; she forced herself to think of generous things that he had +done. + +He came; and then she felt still more ashamed. He had been working very +hard, and was pale and haggard; it was becoming to him to be that way. +Recollections came back to her in floods; yes, he was truly good and +noble! + +He sat by her bedside, and she told him about the operation, and poured +out the hunger of her soul to him. He stayed all the morning with her, +and he came again and spent the afternoon with her. He read to her and +kissed her and soothed her--his influence was very calming, she found. +After he had gone for the night, Corydon lay thinking, "I still love +him!" + +How strange it was that she could love two men at once! It was surely +very wrong! She would never have dreamed that she, Corydon, could do +such a thing. She thought of Harry Stuart, and of the unacknowledged +thrill of excitement which his presence had brought to her. "And +now here it is again," she mused--"only this time it is worse! What +_can_--be the matter with me?" + +Then she wondered, "Do I really love Mr. Harding? Haven't I got over +it now?" But the least thinking of him sufficed to set her heart to +thumping again; and so she shrunk from that train of thought. She wanted +to love her husband. + +He came again the next morning, and Corydon found that she was very +happy in his presence. Her fever was slightly lower, and she thought, "I +will get well quickly now." + +But alas, she had reckoned in this without Thyrsis! To sit in the +hospital all day was a cruel strain upon him; the more so as he had been +entirely unprepared for it. Corydon had assured him that the operation +would be nothing, and that she would not need him; and so he had just +finished a harrowing piece of labor on the book. Now to stay all day and +witness her struggle, to satisfy her craving for sympathy and to meet +and wrestle with her despair--it was like having the last drops of his +soul-energy squeezed out of him. He did not know what was troubling +Corydon, but the _rapport_ between them was so close, that he knew she +was in some distress of mind. + +He stood the ordeal as long as he could, and then he had to beg for +respite. Cedric was down on the farm, with no one but the servants +to care for him; so he would go back, and see that everything was all +right, and after he had rested up for two or three days, he would come +again. Corydon smiled faintly and assented--for that morning she had +received a note from Mr. Harding, saying that he would be in town the +next day, and would call. + +So Thyrsis went away, and Corydon lay and thought the problem over +again. "Yes, I love my husband; but it's such an effort for him to love +me! And why should that be? I don't believe it would be such an effort +for Mr. Harding to love me!" + +So again she was seized by the thought of the young clergyman. And she +was astonished at the difference in her feelings--the flood of emotion +that swept over her. Her heart began to beat fast and her cheeks once +more to burn. He was coming up to the city on purpose, this time; it +must be that he wanted to see her very much! + +That night was an especially hard one for her; she felt as though the +frail shell that held her were breaking, as though her endurance were +failing altogether. The fever had risen, and her bed had seemed like +the burning arms of Moloch. Once she imagined that the room was stifling +her, and in a sudden frenzy of impatience she struggled upon one elbow +and flung her pillow across the room. In that instant she had noticed a +new and sharp pain in her side; it did not leave her, though at the time +she thought little about it. + +She was all absorbed in the coming of Mr. Harding; by the time morning +had come she had made up her mind that her one hope of deliverance was +in confession. She must tell him, she must make known to him her love; +and he would forgive her, and then her heart would not beat so violently +at sight of him, her fever would abate and she might rest. + +But when he sat there, talking to her, and looking so beautiful and +so strange, she trembled, and made half a dozen vain efforts to begin. +Finally she asked, "Have you ever read that poem of Heine's--'Ein +Juengling liebt ein Maedchen, Die hat einen Andern erwaehlt?'" + +"Oh, yes," he answered; then they were silent again. Finally Corydon +nerved herself to yet another effort. "Mr. Harding," she said, "will you +come a little nearer, please. I have something very important to say to +you." And then, waveringly and brokenly, now in agonized abashment, now +rushing ahead as she felt his encouragement and sympathy, she gave him +the whole story of her suffering and its cause. When she came to the +words "because I love you", she closed her eyes and her spirit sank back +with a great gasp of relief. + +When she opened them again, his head was bowed in his hands and he did +not move. "Mr. Harding," she whispered, "Mr. Harding, you forgive me, do +you not? You do not hate me?" + +He roused himself with an effort. "Dear child," said he, and as +he looked at her she thought she had never seen a face so sad, so +exquisite--"it is I who ask forgiveness." + +He rose and came to her bedside, and took her hand in both of his. "It +would not be right for me to say to you what you have said to me. We +must not speak of this any more. You will promise me this, and then you +will rest, and to-morrow you will be better. Soon you will be well; and +how glad your husband will be--and all of us." + +With that he pressed her hand firmly, and left the room; and Corydon +turned her face to the wall, and whispered happily to herself, "Yes, he +loves me, he loves me! And now I shall rest!" + +Section 7. For a while she slept the sleep of exhaustion, nor did there +fall across her dreams the shadow of the angel of fate who was even +then placing his mark upon her forehead. Toward morning she was awakened +suddenly with the sharp pain in her side; but it abated presently, and +Corydon thought blissfully of the afternoon before. He would come again +to her, she would see him that very day; and so what did pain matter? +She was really happy at last. But as the day advanced, she became +uneasy; her fever had not diminished, and the pain was becoming more +persistent. + +The nurse was anxious, too. Her mother came and regarded her in alarm. +But she was thinking of Mr. Harding. He was coming; he might arrive at +any moment. + +There was a knock upon the door. Corydon's pulse fluttered, and she +whispered, "Here he is!" She could scarcely speak the words, "Come in". +But when the door opened, she saw that it was the doctor. Her heart +sank, and she closed her eyes with a moan of pain. Could it be that he +was not coming? Could it be that she had been mistaken--that he did not +love her after all? She must see him--she must! She could not endure +this suspense; she could not endure these interruptions by other people. + +The doctor came and sat by her. "I must see what is the matter here," he +said. "Why do you not get well, Corydon?" + +He questioned her carefully and looked grave. "I must have a +consultation at once," he said. + +Corydon's hand caught at his sleeve. "No, no!" she whispered. + +"Don't be afraid," said the doctor. "It won't hurt." + +"It isn't that," said Corydon. She all but added, "I must see Mr. +Harding!" + +She was wheeled into the operating-room, but this time there was no +interest in her eyes as she regarded the smooth table and the shining +instruments. As they lifted her upon it, she shuddered. "Oh I cannot, I +cannot!" she wailed. + +"There, there," said the doctor. "Be brave. We wish simply to see what +the matter is. It won't take long." + +And they put the cone to her mouth. Corydon struggled and gasped, but it +was no use, she was in the clutches of the fiend again; only this time +there was no ecstasy, and no vision of Mr. Harding. Instead there +was instant and sickening suffocation. Again she descended into the +uttermost depths of the inferno; and it seemed as though this time the +brave will was not equal to the battle before it. + +The surgeons made their examination, and they discovered more diseased +tissue, and a slowly spreading infection. So there was nothing for it +but to operate again--they held a quick consultation, and then +went ahead. And afterwards they labored and sweated, and by dint of +persistent effort, and every device at their command, they fanned into +life once more the faint spark in the ashen-grey form that lay +before them. But it was a feeble flame they got; as Corydon's eyelids +fluttered, the only sign of recognition that came from her lips was a +moan, and from her eyes a look of dazed stupidity. But there was hope +for her life, the doctors said; and they sent a telegram which Thyrsis +got three days later, when he had fought his way to the town through +five miles of heavy snow-drifts. + +Meantime the grim fight for life was going on. In the morning Corydon +opened her eyes to a burning torture, the racked and twisted nerves +quivering in rebellion. It did not come in twinges of pain, it was a +slow, deadening, persistent agony, that pervaded every inch of her +body. She wondered how she could bear it, how she could live. And yet, +strangely, inexplicably, she wanted to live. She did not know why--she +had been outraged, she had been deserted by all, she was but a feeble +atom of determination in the centre of a hostile universe. And yet she +would pit her will against them all, God, man, and devil; they should +not conquer her, she would win out. + +So she would clench her teeth together and fight. For hours she would +stare at the wall, the blank, unresponsive, formless wall before her; +and then, when the shadows of the evening fell, and they saw she was +fainting from exhaustion, they would come with the needle of oblivion, +and the dauntless soul would die for the night, and return in the +morning to its pitiless task. + +Section 8. Thyrsis received a couple of letters at the same time as the +telegram, and he took the next train for the city. It is said that a +drowning man sees before him in a few moments the panorama of his whole +life; but to Thyrsis were given three hours in which to recall the +events of his love for Corydon. He had every reason to believe that he +would find her dying; and such pangs of suffering as came to him he had +never known before. He was in a crowded car, and he would not shed a +tear; but he sat, crouched in a heap and staring before him, fairly +quivering with pent-up and concentrated grief. God, how he loved her! +What a spirit of pure flame she was--what a creature from another sky! +What martyrdom she had dared for him, and how cruelly she had +been punished for her daring! And now, this was the end; she was +dying--perhaps dead! How was he to live without her--in the bare and +barren future that he saw stretching out before him? + +Flashes of memory would come to him, waves of torment roll over him. +He would recall her gestures, the curves of her face, the tones of her +voice, the songs that she had sung; and then would come a choking in his +throat, and he would clench his hands, as a runner in the last moments +of a desperate race. He thought of her as he had seen her last. He had +gone away, careless and unthinking--how blind he had been! The things +that he had not said to her, and that he might have said so easily! The +love he had not uttered, the pardons he had not procured! The yearnings +and consecrations that had remained unspoken all through their lives--ah +God, what a tragedy of impotence and failure their lives had been! + +Then before his soul came troops of memories, each one a fiend with a +whip of fire; the words of anger that he had spoken, the acts of cruelty +that he had done! The times when he had made her weep, and had not +comforted her! Oh, what a fool he had been--what a blind and wanton +fool! And now--if he were to find her dead, and never be able to tell +her of his shame and sorrow--he knew that he would carry the memories +with him all his days, they would be like blazing scars upon his soul. + +She was still alive, however; and so he took a deep breath, and went at +his task. There was no question now of what he could bear to do, but of +what he must do; she must be saved, and who could do it but himself? +Who else could take her hands and whisper to her, and fill her with new +courage and hope; who else could bid her to live--to live; could rouse +the fainting spirit, and bid it rise up and set forth upon the agonizing +journey? + +So out of the very abyss they came together. But when at last the fight +was won, when the doctors an-nounced that she was out of danger, Thyrsis +was fairly reeling with exhaustion. When he left her in the afternoon, +he would go to his hotel-room and lie down, utterly prostrated; he would +lie awake the whole night through, wrestling with the demons of horror +that he had brought with him from her bedside. + +So he realized that he was on the verge of collapse, and that cost what +it would, he must get away. Corydon's mother was with her, and when she +was strong enough to be moved, she would be taken back to the farm. He +mentioned this to Corydon, and she replied that she would be satisfied. +There would be Mr. Harding also, she said; Mr. Harding wrote that he +would come up to the city, and do what he could to help her in her dire +distress. + +Section 9. There came from the higher regions a pass upon a steamer to +Florida; and so Thyrsis sailed away. With a determined effort he took +all his cares, and locked them back in a far chamber of his mind. He +would not think about Corydon, nor about what he would do for money when +he came home; more important yet, he would clear the book out of his +thoughts--he would not permit it to gnaw at him all day and all night. + +And by these resolves he stood grimly. He walked the deck for hours +every day; he watched the foaming green waters, and the gulls wheeling +in the sky, and the sun setting over the sea, and the new moon showering +its fire upon the waves. Gradually the air grew warm, and ice and snow +became as an evil dream. A land of magic it seemed to which Thyrsis +came--the beauty of it enfolded him like a clasp of love. He saw +pine-forests, and swamps with alligators in them, and live oaks draped +with trailing grey moss. The clumps of palmettos fascinated him--he had +seen pictures of such trees in the tropics, and would hardly have been +astonished to see a herd of elephants in their shadows. + +He found a beach, snow-white and hard, upon which he walked for +uncounted miles. He gathered strange shells and crabs, and watched the +turkey-buzzards on the shore, and the slow procession of the pelicans, +sailing past above the tops of the breakers. He saw the black fins of +the grampuses cutting the water, and thought that they were sharks. +He stood for hours at a time up to his waist in the surf, casting for +sea-bass; he got few fish, but joy and excitement he got in abundance. + +Then, back upon the hammocks--to walk upon the hard shell roads, and see +orange and lemon-groves, and gardens filled with roses and magnolias, +and orchards of mulberry and fig-trees. Truly this must have been the +land which the poet had described-- + + "Where every prospect pleases, + And only man is vile." + +Thyrsis stayed in a humble boarding-house, but nearby was one of the +famous winter-resorts of the Florida East Coast, and he was free to go +there, and wander about the lobbies and piazzas of the palatial hotels, +and watch the idle rich at their diversions. A strange society they +were--it seemed as if the scum of the civilization of forty-five states +had been blown into this bit of back-water. Here were society women, +jaded with dissipation; stock-brokers and financiers, fleeing from +the strain of the "Street"; here were parasites of every species, who, +having nothing to do at home--or perhaps not even having any home--had +come to this land of warmth to prolong their orgies. They raced over +the roads and beaches in autos, and over the water in swift motor-boats; +they dressed themselves half a dozen times a day, they fed themselves +upon rich and costly foods, they gambled and gossiped and drank and +wantoned their time away. As he watched them it was all that Thyrsis +could do to keep himself from beginning another manifesto for the +"Appeal to Reason". Oh, if only the toilers of the nation could be +brought here, and shown what became of the wealth they produced! + +As if to complete his study of winter-resort manners and morals, Thyrsis +encountered a college acquaintance whose father had become enormously +rich through a mining speculation, and was here with a party of friends +in a private-train. So he was whirled off in one of half a dozen +automobiles, and rode for a hundred miles or so to an inland lake, and +sat down to an _al fresco_ luncheon of such delicacies as _pate de fois +gras_ and jellied grouse and champagne. Afterwards the young people +wandered about and amused themselves, and the elders played "bridge", in +the face of all the raptures of this wonderland of nature. + +A strange and sombre figure Thyrsis must have seemed to these people, +with his brooding air and his worn clothing; he rode home in an auto +with half a dozen youths and maidens, and while they flashed by lakes +and rivers that gleamed in the golden moon-light, and by orchards and +gardens from which the mingled scents of millions of blossoms were +wafted to them, these voung people jested together and laughed and sang. + +And Thyrsis lay back and watched them and studied them. Their music was +what is called "rag-time"--they had apparently found nothing better to +do with their lives than to learn hundreds of verses and melodies, +of which the subject-matter was the whims and moods of the half-tamed +African race--their vanities and their barbarous impulses, and above all +their hot and lustful passions. Song after song they poured forth, the +substance of which was summed up in one line that Thyrsis happened to +carry away with him-- + + "Ah lubs you, mah honey, yes, Ah do!" + +It seemed to him such a curious and striking commentary upon the stage +which leisure-class culture had reached, in the course of its reversion +to savagery. + +Section 10. Thyesis came home after three weeks, browned and refreshed, +and ready to take up the struggle again. He came with the cup of his +love and sympathy overflowing; eager to see Corydon, and to tell her his +adventures, and to share with her his store of new hope. + +He found her reclining on the piazza of the farm-house. The April buds +were bursting upon the trees, and the odor of spring was in the air; +also, the flush of health was stealing back into Corydon's cheeks. How +beautiful she looked, and how soft and gentle was her caress, and what +wistfulness and tenderness were in the smile with which she greeted him! + +There was the baby also, tumultuous and excited. Thyrsis took him upon +his knee, and while he fondled him and played with him, he told Corydon +about his trip. But in a short while it became evident to him that she +had something on her mind; and finally she sent the baby away to play, +and began, "There is something I have to tell you." + +"Yes, dear?" he said. + +"It is something very, very important." + +"Yes?" he repeated. + +"I--I don't know just how to begin," said Corydon. "I hope you are not +going to be angry." + +"I can't imagine myself being angry just now," he replied; and then, +struck by a sense of familiarity in this introduction, he asked, with a +smile, "You haven't been seeing Harry Stuart, have you?" + +Corydon frowned at the words. "Don't speak of that!" she said, quickly. +"I am not joking." + +He saw that she was agitated, and so he fell silent. + +"I hesitated a long time about telling you," she went on. "But you must +know. I am sure it's right to tell you." + +"By all means, dearest," he answered. + +"It's a long story," she said. "I must go back to my first operation." +And then she began, and told him how she had found herself thinking of +Mr. Harding, and of the strange vision she had had; she told of all her +fevered excitements, and of her confession to him. When she finished she +was trembling all over, and her face and throat were flushed. + +Thyrsis sat for a while in silence, looking very grave. "I see," he +said. + +"You--you are not angry with me?" she asked. + +"No, I'm not angry," he replied. "But tell me, what has been going on +since?" + +"Well," said Corydon, "Mr. Harding has been coming here to see me. He +saw I needed help, and he couldn't refuse it. It was--it was his duty to +come." + +"Yes," said the other. "Go on." + +"Well, I think he had an idea that the whole thing was a product of my +sickness; and when I was well again, it would all be over." + +"And is it, Corydon?" + +She sat staring in front of her; her voice sank to a whisper. "No," she +said. "It--it isn't." + +"And does he know that?" asked Thyrsis. + +"He knows everything," she replied. "I don't need to tell him things." + +"But have you talked about it with him?" + +"A little," she said. "That is, you see, I had to explain to him--to +apologize for what I had done in the hospital. I wanted him to know that +I wouldn't have said anything to him, if I hadn't been so very ill." + +"I see," said Thyrsis. + +"And I want you to understand," added Corydon, quickly-"you must not +blame him. For he's the soul of honor, Thyrsis; and he can't help how he +feels about me-any more than I can help it. You must know that, dear!" + +"Yes, I know that." + +"He's been so good and so noble about it. He thinks so much of you, +Thyrsis--he wouldn't do you wrong, not by a single word. He said that to +me---over and over again. He's frightened, you know, that either of us +might do wrong. He's so sensitive-I think he takes things more seriously +than anybody we've ever known." + +"I understand," said Thyrsis; and then, after a pause, he inquired, "But +what's to come of it?" + +"How do you mean?" she asked. + +"What are you going to do?" + +"Why, I don't know that there's anything to do, Thyrsis. What would +there be?" + +"But are you going on being in love with him forever?" + +"I--I don't see how I can tell, Thyrsis. Would it do any harm?" + +"It might grow on you," he said, with a slight smile. "It sometimes +does." + +"Mr. Harding said we ought never to speak of it again," said she. "And +I guess he's right about that. He said that our lives would always be +richer, because we had discovered each other's souls; that it would help +us to grow into a nobler life." + +"I see," said Thyrsis. "But it's a trifle disconcerting at first. I'll +need a little time to get used to it." + +"Mr. Harding is very anxious to know you better," remarked Corydon. "But +you see, he's afraid of you, Thyrsis. You are so direct--you get to the +point too quickly for him." + +"Um--yes," said he. "I can imagine that." + +"And he thinks you distrust him," she went on--"just because he's +orthodox. But he's really not half as backward as you think. His faith +means a great deal to him. I only wish I had such a faith in my own +life." + +To which Thyrsis responded, "God knows, my dear, I wish you had." + +Section 11. The young clergyman came to call the next afternoon, and the +three sat upon the lawn and talked. They talked about Florida, and then +about Socialism--as was inevitable, after Thyrsis had described the +population of the East Coast hotels. But he felt constrained and +troubled--he did not know just how a man should conduct himself with his +wife's lover; and so in the end he excused himself and strolled off. + +He came back as Mr. Harding was leaving; and it seemed to him that the +other's face wore a look of pain and distress. Also, at supper he noted +that Corydon was ill at ease. + +"Something has gone wrong with your program?" he inquired. + +To which Corydon answered, "Mr. Harding thinks he ought not to come any +more." + +"Not come any more?" + +"He says I don't need him now. And he thinks--he thinks it isn't right. +He's afraid to come." + +And so a week passed, and the young clergyman was not seen again. +Thyrsis noticed that his wife was silent a great deal; and that when she +did talk, she talked about Mr. Harding. His heart ached to see her as +she was, so pitifully weak and appealing. She was scarcely able to walk +alone yet; and she complained also that her mind had been weakened +by the frightful ordeal she had undergone. It exhausted her to do +any thinking at all; and she seemed to have forgotten nearly all she +knew--there were whole subjects upon which her mind appeared to be a +blank. + +So he gave up trying to think about his book, and went about all day +pondering this new problem. It was one of the laws of the marriage state +that he must suffer whenever she suffered. It was never permitted to +him to question the reality of any of her emotions; if they were real +to her, they were real in the only sense that counted; and he must take +them with the entire tragic seriousness that she took them, he must +regard them as inevitable and fatal. For himself, he could change or +suppress emotions--that ability was the most characteristic fact about +him; but Corydon could not do it, and so he was not permitted to do +it. That would be to manifest the "cold" and "stern" self, which was to +Corydon an object of abhorrence and fear. + +So now he went about all day, brooding over this trouble. He would come +to Corydon and see her gazing across the valley with a melancholy look +upon her features; he would see her, with her sweet face as if suffused +with unshed tears. And what was he to do about it? Was he to rebuke +her--however gently--and urge her to suppress this yearning? To do that +would be to plunge her into abysses of grief. Or was he to come to her, +and utter his own love to her, and draw her to him again? He knew that +he could do that--he was conceited enough to believe that with his +eloquence and his power of soul, he could have wiped Mr. Harding clean +out of her thoughts in a few days. But then, when he had done it, +he would have to go back to the task of revolutionizing the world's +critical standards; and what would become of Corydon after that? What +she needed, he told himself, was a love that was not a will o' the wisp +and a fraud, but a love that was real and unceasing; she needed the love +of a man, and not of an artist! + +Here were two young people who were in love with each other; and +according to the specifications of the moral code, they had their minds +made up to sublime renunciation. But then, Thyrsis had a moral code of +his own, and in it renunciation was not the only law of life. + +It was only when he thought of losing Corydon, that he realized to +the full how much he loved her. Then all their consecrations and their +pledges would come back to him; he would hold her as the greatest human +soul that he had ever met. But it was a strange paradox, that precisely +the depth of his love for her made him willing to think of losing her. +He loved her for herself, and not for anything she gave him; he wanted +her to be happy, he wanted her to grow and achieve, and in order to see +her do this he would make any sacrifice in the world. In how many hours +of insight had it become clear to him that he himself could never make +her happy--that he was not the man to be her husband! Now it seemed +as if the time had come for him to prove that he meant what he had +said--that he was willing to stand by his vision and to act upon it. + +So after one day of especial unhappiness, he made up his mind to a +desperate resolve; and at night, when all the household was asleep, he +went over to his lonely study and sat down with a pen in his hand, and +summoned the spirit of Mr. Harding before him. + +"I have concluded to write you a letter," he began. "You will find it +a startling and unusual one. I can only beg you to believe that I have +written it after much hesitation, and that it represents most earnest +and prayerful thought upon my part. + +"Since my return, I have become aware of the situation which has +developed between yourself and my wife. Her welfare is dearer to me than +anything else in the world; and after thinking it over, I concluded that +her welfare required that I should explain to you the relationship +which exists between us. It seems unlikely that you could know about it +otherwise, for it is a very unusual relationship. + +"I suppose there is no need for me to tell you that Corydon is not +happy. She never has been happy as my wife, and I fear that she +never will be. She is by nature warm-hearted, craving affection and +companionship. I, on the other hand, am by nature impersonal and +self-absorbed--I am compelled by the exigencies of my work to be +abstracted and indifferent to things about me. I perceived this before +our marriage, but not clearly enough to save her; it has been her +misfortune that I have loved her so dearly that I have been driven to +attempt the impossible. I am continuually deceiving myself into the +belief that I am succeeding--and I am continually deceiving Corydon +in the same way. It has been our habit to talk things out between us +frankly; but this is a truth from which we have shrunk instinctively. +I have always seen it as the seed of what must grow to be a bitter +tragedy. + +"The possibility that Corydon might come to love some other man was one +that I had not thought of--it was very stupid of me, no doubt. But +now it has happened; and I have worked over the problem with all the +faculties I possess. A man who was worthy of Corydon's love would +be very apt, under the circumstances, to feel that he must crush +his impulses towards her. But when we were married, it was with the +agreement that our marriage should be binding upon us only so long as it +was for the highest spiritual welfare of both; and by that agreement it +is necessary that we should stand at all times. My purpose in writing to +you is to let you know that I have no claim upon Corydon which prohibits +her from continuing her acquaintance with you; and that if in the course +of time it should become clear that Corydon would be happier as your +wife than as mine, I should regard it as my duty to step aside. Having +said this, I feel that I have done my part. I leave the matter in your +hands, with the fullest confidence in your sincerity and good faith." + +Thyrsis wrote this letter, and read it a couple of times. Then he +decided to sleep over it; and the next morning he wakened, and read +it again--with a shock of surprise. He found it a startling letter. It +opened up vistas to his spirit; vistas of loneliness and grief--and then +again, vistas of freedom and triumph. If he were to mail it, it would be +irrevocable; and it would probably mean that he would lose Corydon. +And _could_ he make up his mind to lose her? His swift thoughts flew to +their parting; there were tears in his eyes--his love came back to him, +as it had when he thought she was dying. But then again, there came a +thrill of exultation; the captive lion within him smelt the air of the +jungle, and rattled his chains and roared. + +Throughout breakfast he was absent-minded and ill at ease; he bid +Corydon a farewell which puzzled her by its tenderness, and then started +to walk to Bellevue with the letter. Half way in, he stopped. No, +he could not do it--it was a piece of madness; but then he started +again--he _must_ do it. He found himself pacing up and down before the +post office, where for nearly an hour he struggled to screw his courage +to the sticking-point. Once he started away, having made up his mind +that he would take another day to think the matter over; but after he +had walked half a mile or so, he changed his mind and strode back, and +dropped the letter in the box. + +And then a pang smote him. It was done! All the way as he walked home he +had to fight with an impulse to go back, and persuade the postmaster to +return the letter to him! + +Section 12. Thyrsis figured that the fatal document would reach Mr. +Harding that afternoon; and the next morning in his anxiety he walked a +mile or two to meet the mail-carrier on his way. Sure enough, there was +a reply from the clergyman. He tore it open and read it swiftly: + +"I received your letter, and I hasten to answer. I cannot tell you the +distress of mind which it has caused me. There has been a most dreadful +misundertanding, and I can only hope that it has not gone too far to be +corrected. I beg you to believe me that there has been nothing between +your wife and myself that could justify the inference you have drawn. +Your wife was in terrible distress of spirit, and I visited her and +tried to comfort her--such is my duty as a clergyman, as I conceive +it. I did nothing but what a clergyman should properly do, and you have +totally misunderstood me, and also your wife, who is the most innocent +and gentle and trusting of souls. She is utterly devoted to you, and the +idea that the help I have tried to give her should be the occasion of +any misunderstanding between you is dreadful for me to contemplate. + +"I must implore you to believe this, and dismiss these cruel suspicions +from your mind. If I were to be the cause of breaking up your home, and +wrecking Corydon's life, it would be more than I could bear. I have a +most profound belief in the sanctity of the institution of marriage, and +not for anything in the world would I have been led to do, or even to +contemplate in my own thoughts, anything which would trespass upon its +obligations. I repeat to you with all the earnestness of which I am +capable that your idea is without basis, and I beg you to banish it from +your mind. You may rely upon it that I will not see your wife again, +under any circumstances imaginable." + +Thyrsis read this, and then stared before him with knitted brows. "Why, +what's the matter with the man?" he said to himself. And then he read +the letter over again, weighing its every phrase. "Did he think my +letter was sarcasm?" he wondered. "Did he think I was angry?" + +He went to his study and got the rough draft of his own letter, and +reread and pondered it. No, he concluded, it was not possible that Mr. +Harding had thought he was angry. "He's trying to dodge!" he exclaimed. +"He can't bring himself to face the thing!" + +But then again, he wondered. Could it be that the man was right; could +it be that Corydon had misunderstood him and his attitude? Or had he +perhaps experienced a reaction, and was now trying to deny his feelings? + +For several hours Thyrsis pondered the problem; and then he went and sat +by her, as she was reading on the piazza. "You haven't heard anything +more from Mr. Harding, have you?" he asked. + +"Nothing," said Corydon. + +"What do you suppose he intends to do?" + +"I--I don't know," she said. "I don't think he means to come back." + +"But why not, dear?" + +"He's afraid to trust himself, Thyrsis." + +"You think he really cares for you, then?" + +"Yes, dear." + +"But, how can you be sure?" he asked. + +At which Corydon smiled. "A woman has ways of knowing about such +things," she said. + +"I wish you'd tell me about it," said he. + +But after a little thought, she shook her head. "Maybe some day, but not +now. It wouldn't be fair to him. It isn't going any further, and that's +enough for you to know." + +"He must be unhappy, isn't he?" said Thyrsis, artfully. + +"Yes," she answered, "he's unhappy, I'm sure. He takes things very +seriously." + +Thyrsis paused a moment. "Did he tell you that he loved you?" he asked. + +"No," said Corydon. "He--he wouldn't have permitted himself to do that. +That would have been wrong." + +"But then--what did he do?" + +"He looked at me," she said. + +"When he went off the other day--did he know how you still felt?" + +"Yes, Thyrsis; why do you ask?" + +"I thought you might have been deceiving yourself."' + +At which she smiled and replied, "I wouldn't have bothered to tell you +in that case." + +Section 13. So Thyrsis strolled away, and after duly considering the +matter, he sat himself down to compose another letter to the young +clergyman. + +"My dear Mr. Harding: + +"I read your note with a great deal of perplexity. It is evident to me +that I have not made the situation clear to you; you probably do not +find it easy to realize the frankness which Corydon and I maintain in +our relationship. I must tell you at the outset that she has narrated +to me what has passed between you, and so I am not dealing with 'cruel +suspicions', but with facts. Can I not persuade you to do the same? + +"It is difficult for me to be sure just what is in your mind. But for +one thing, let me make certain that you are not trying to read anything +between the lines of what I write you. Please understand I am not angry, +or jealous, or suspicious; also, I am not unhappy--at least not so +unhappy but that I can stand it. I have stood a good deal of unhappiness +in my life, and Corydon has also. + +"You tell me about your attitude towards my wife. Of course it may be +that as you come to look back upon what has passed between you, it seems +to you that your feeling for her was not deep and permanent, and that +you would prefer not to continue your acquaintance with her. That would +be your right--you have not pledged yourself in any way. All that I +desire is, that in considering the state of your feelings, you should +deal with them, and not with any duty which you may imagine you owe +to _me_. I have no claim in the matter, and any that I might have, I +forego. + +"The crux of the whole difficulty I imagine must lie in what you say +about your 'profound belief in the sanctity of the institution of +marriage'. That is, of course, a large question to attempt to discuss +in a letter. I can only say that I once had such a belief, and that as +a result of my studies I have it no longer. I see the institution of +marriage as a product of a certain phase of the economic development of +the race, which phase is rapidly passing, if it be not already past. And +the institution to me seems to share in the evils of the economic phase; +indeed I am accustomed, when invited to discuss the institution of +marriage, to insist upon discussing what actually exists--which is the +institution of marriage-plus-prostitution. + +"Our economic system affords to certain small classes of men--to +capitalists, to merchants, to lawyers, to clergymen--opportunities of +comfort and dignity and knowledge and health and virtue. But to certain +other classes, and far larger classes-to miners, to steel-workers, +to garment-makers--it deals out misery and squalor and ignorance and +disease and vice. And in the case of women it does exactly the same; to +some it gives a sheltered home, with comfort and beauty and peace; while +to others it gives a life of loneliness and sterility, and to others +a life of domestic slavery, and to yet others only the horrors of the +brothel. And when you come to investigate, you find that the difference +is everywhere one of economic advantage. The merchant, the lawyer, the +clergyman, has education and privilege, he can wait and make his terms; +but the miner, the steel-worker, the sweat-shop-toiler, has to sell his +labor for what will keep him alive that day. And in the same way with +women--some can acquire accomplishments, virtues, charms; and when it +comes to giving their love, they can secure the life-contract which +we call marriage. But the daughter of the slums has no opportunity +to acquire such accomplishments and virtues and charms, and often she +cannot hold out for such a bargain--she sells her love for the food and +shelter that she needs to keep her alive. + +"This will seem radical doctrine to you, I suppose; I have noticed that +you take our institutions at their face-value, and do not ask how much +in them may be sham. But it seems to me there is no need to go into that +matter here, for no trespass upon the marriage obligation is proposed. +The conventions undoubtedly give me the right to be outraged because my +wife is in love with another man; I can denounce him, and humiliate +her. But if I am willing to forego this right, if I do not care to play +Othello to her Desdemona, what then? Who can claim to be injured by my +renunciation? + +"Of course I know it is said that marriages are made in Heaven, and +that what God hath joined together, no man may put asunder. But it is +difficult for me to imagine that an intelligent man would take this +attitude at the present day. If I were dead, you would surely recognize +that Corydon might remarry; you would recognize it, I presume, if I were +hopelessly insane, or degenerate. What if I were in the habit of getting +drunk and maltreating her--would you claim that she was condemned to +suffer this for life? Or suppose that I were found to be physically +impotent? And can you not recognize the fact that there might be +impotence of an intellectual and spiritual sort, which could leave a +woman quite as unhappy, and make her life quite as barren and futile? + +"Let us suppose, for the sake of the argument, that I have stated +correctly the facts between Corydon and myself; that there exists +between us a fundamental difference in temperament, which makes it +certain that, however much we might respect and admire, and even love +each other, we could never either of us be happy as man and wife; and +suppose that Corydon were to meet some other man, with whom she could +live harmoniously; and that she loved him sincerely, and he loved her; +and that I were to recognize this, and be willing that she should leave +me--do you mean that you would maintain that such a course was wrong? +And if it were, with whom would the blame be? With her, because she did +not condemn herself to a lifetime of failure? Or with me, because I did +not desire her to do this--because I did not wish to waste my life-force +in trying to content a discontented woman? + +"I might add that I have said nothing to Corydon about having written to +you; she has no idea that I have thought of such a thing, and she would +be horrified at the suggestion. I have taken the responsibility of doing +it, realizing that there was no other way in which you could be made +acquainted with the true situation. There is much more that I could say +about all this, but it seems a waste of time to write it. Can we not +meet sometime, and get at each other's point of view? I am going to +be in town the day after to-morrow, and unless I hear from you to the +contrary, I will drop in to see you some time in the morning." + +Section 14. Thyrsis read this letter over two or three times; and then, +resisting the impulse to elaborate his exposition of the economic bases +of the marriage institution, he took it in to town and mailed it. He +waited eagerly for a reply the next day; but no reply came. + +The morning after that, he walked down to town as he had agreed to, and +called at Mr. Harding's home. The door was opened by his housekeeper, +Delia Gordon's aunt. "Is Mr. Harding in?" asked Thyrsis. + +"He's gone up to the city," was the reply. + +"To the city," said Thyrsis. "When did he go?" + +"He left this morning." + +"And when will he be back?" + +"I don't know. He left rather suddenly, and he didn't say." + +"I see," said Thyrsis. "Tell him I called, please." + +And so he went home and mailed another note to Mr. Harding, asking him +to make an appointment for a meeting; after which he waited for three or +four days--but still there came no reply. + +"Have you heard anything more from Mr. Harding?" he asked of Corydon, +finally. + +"No, dear," she answered. "I don't expect to hear." But he saw that she +was nervous and _distrait_; and he knew by her unwonted interest in the +mail that she was all the time hoping to get some word from him. + +When it came to handling any affair with Corydon, Thyrsis was a poor +diplomatist. He would tell himself that this or that should be kept from +her for the present; but the secrecy always irked him--his impulse was +to talk things out with her, to go hand in hand with her to face the +facts of their life. So now, in this case; one afternoon he settled her +comfortably in a hammock, and sat beside her and took her hand. + +"Corydon," he said, "I've something I want to tell you. I've been having +a correspondence with Mr. Harding." + +She started, and stared at him wildly. "What do you mean?" she gasped. + +"I wrote him two letters," said he. + +"What about?" + +"I wanted to explain about us," he said; and then he told her what he +had put in the first letter, and read Mr. Harding's reply, which he had +in his pocket. + +"What do you make of it?" he asked. + +"Tell me what your answer was!" cried Corydon, quickly; and so he began +to outline his second letter. + +But she did not let him get very far. "You wrote him that way about +marriage!" she exclaimed. + +"Yes, dear," said he. + +"But, Thyrsis! He'll be perfectly horrified!" + +"You think so?" + +"Why, Thyrsis! Don't you understand? He's a clergyman!" + +"I know; but it's the truth---" + +"You don't know anything about people at all!" she cried. "Can't you +realize? He doesn't reason about things like you; you can't appeal to +him in that way!" + +"Well, what was I to do---" + +"We'll never see him again!" exclaimed Corydon, in despair. + +"That won't be any worse than it was before, will it?" + +"Tell me," she rushed on, in her agitation. "Did you tell him that I had +no idea what you were doing?" + +"Of course I told him that." + +"But did you make it perfectly clear to him?" + +"I tried to, dear." + +"Tell me what you said! Tell me the rest of the letter." + +And so he recited it, as well as he could, while she listened, +breathless with dismay. "How could you!" she cried. + +Then she read over Mr. Harding's letter once more. "You see," she said; +"he was simply dazed. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know what to +think." + +"He'll get over it in time. He had to know, somehow." + +"But _why_ did he have to know? Why couldn't things have stayed as they +were?" + +"But my dear, you are in love with the man, aren't you?" + +"But I don't want to marry him, Thyrsis! I don't--I don't love him +enough." + +"You might have come to it in the course of time," he replied. + +"Don't you see that he'd have to give up being a clergyman?" she +exclaimed. + +"That's been done before," he said. + +"But--see it from his point of view! Think of the scandal!" + +"I don't think much about scandals," Thyrsis answered. "That part could +be arranged." + +"But do the laws give people divorces in that way?" + +"Our divorce laws are relics of feudalism," he answered. "One does not +take them seriously." + +"But how can you get around them, Thyrsis?" + +"You simply have to admit whatever offense they require." + +"But Thyrsis! Think how that would seem to Mr. Harding!" + +"My dear," he answered, "if I knew that a divorce was necessary to your +happiness, I would take upon myself whatever disgrace was necessary." + +Corydon sat gazing at him. "Is it so easy to give me up?" she asked. + +"It wasn't easy at all, my dear," he answered. "It was a fight that I +fought out." + +"But you decided that you could do it!" she exclaimed; and that, he +found, was the aspect of the matter that stayed with her in the end. It +seemed a poor sort of compliment he had paid her; and how could he make +real to her the pangs the decision had cost him? He expected her to take +that for granted--in all these years, had he not been able to convince +her of his love? + +It was the old story between them, he reflected; he was always being +called upon to express his feelings, and always reluctant to attempt it. +Just now she wanted him to enter upon an eloquent exposition of how he +had suffered and hesitated before he mailed the letter; and she would +hang upon his words, and drink them in greedily--and of course, the more +convincing he made them, the more she would love _him_. + +She could never leave him, she insisted--the idea of giving him up was +madness. She had not meant any such thing by falling in love with Mr. +Harding. Why must he be so elemental, so brutally direct? He was like +some clumsy animal, blundering about in the garden where she kept her +sentimental plants. He frightened her, as he had frightened Mr. Harding. +She stood appalled at this thing which he had done; the truth being that +his action had sprung from a certain deep conviction in him, which he +never found courage to utter to her. + +Section 15. Thyrsis pledged his word that he would write no more to Mr. +Harding; and so they settled down to wait for a reply. But a couple more +days passed, and still there came nothing. + +Corydon was restless and impatient. "What _can_ he be doing?" she +exclaimed. Finally it chanced that Thyrsis had to go to Bellevue upon +some errand; and so the two drove into town together, and came upon the +solution of the mystery. + +On the street they met Mr. Jennings, the high-school principal. + +"Good-morning," said he. "A fine day." And then, "Have you heard the +news about Harding?" + +"What news?" asked Thyrsis. + +"He's gone away." + +"Gone away!" + +"He's resigned his pastorate." + +Thyrsis stared at the man, dazed; he felt Corydon beside him give a +start. "Resigned his pastorate!" she echoed. + +"Yes," said the other, "just so." + +"But why?" + +"We none of us know. We're at our wits' end." + +"But--how did you hear it?" + +"I'm one of the trustees of the church, and his letter was read last +night." + +Thyrsis could not find a word to utter. He sat staring at the man in +bewilderment. + +"What did he say?" cried Corydon, at last. + +"He said that for some time he had been dissatisfied with his work, and +felt the need of more study and reflection. It quite took our breath +away, for nobody'd had the least idea that anything was wrong." + +"But what's he going to do?" + +"Apparently he's going abroad," was the answer--"at least he ordered +his mail to be forwarded to an address in Switzerland. And that's all we +know." + +Then, after a few remarks about the spiritual ferment in the churches, +the worthy high-school principal went on his way, and left Corydon +and Thyrsis in the middle of the street. For a minute or two they sat +staring before them as if in a trance; and then suddenly from Thyrsis' +lips there burst a peal of wild laughter. "By the Lord God, he ran away +from it!" he cried; and he seized Corydon by the arm and cried again, +"He ran away from it!" + +"Thyrsis!" exclaimed the other. "Don't laugh about it!" + +"Don't laugh!" he gasped; and again the convulsion of hilarity swept +over him. + +But Corydon turned upon him swiftly. "No!" she cried. "Stop! It's no +joke!" + +She was staring at him, her eyes wide with consternation and dismay. +"Think!" she exclaimed. "He's given up his career!" + +"Yes," he said, "so it seems." + +"It's awful!" she cried. "Oh, how _could_ he!" + +He saw the way the news affected her, and he made an effort to control +himself. "The man simply couldn't face it," he said. "He didn't dare to +trust himself. He ran." + +"But Thyrsis!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe it! He's given up his +whole life-work!" + +"He's fled like Joseph," said Thyrsis--"leaving his cloak in the hands +of the temptress!" + +And then, the strain proving too much for him, he began to laugh again. +Becoming aware of the stares of some people on the street, he started up +the horse, and drove on into the country, where he could be alone, and +could give unrestrained expression to the emotions that possessed him. + +He imagined the dismay and perplexity of the unhappy clergyman, with +his belief in the sacred institution of marriage--and with the vision +of Corydon pursuing him all day, and haunting his dreams at night. He +imagined him trying to face the interview with the husband--with the +terrible, conventionless husband, whose arguments could not be answered. +"He simply couldn't face me! He went the very morning I was coming!" + +So he would laugh again; he would laugh until he was so weak that he had +to lie back in his seat. "I can't believe that it's true!" he exclaimed. +"My dear, I think it's the funniest thing that ever happened since the +world began!" + +"But Thyrsis!" she protested. "Think what we've done to him! The man's +life is wrecked!" + +"Nonsense!" said he. "It's the best thing that could have happened to +him. He might have gone on preaching sermons all his life--but now +he's got some ideas to work out. He'll have time to read books, and to +think." + +"But he must be suffering so!" exclaimed Corydon, who could not forget +her love, even in the presence of his ribaldry. + +"He needs to suffer," Thyrsis replied. "He may meet some of the radicals +over there, and come back with a new point of view." + +But Corydon shook her head. "You don't know him," she said. "He couldn't +possibly change. I don't think I'll ever hear from him again." + +Thyrsis looked at her and saw that there were tears in her eyes. He put +his hand upon hers. "We'll have to worry through for a while longer, +dear," he said. "Never mind--we'll manage to make out somehow!" + +Section 16. They drove home; and all through supper they talked about +this breathless event. Afterwards they sat in the twilight, upon the +porch, and threshed it out in its every aspect. + +"Corydon," said he, "I don't believe you really loved him as much as you +thought. Did you?" + +She stared before her without answering. + +"Would you have loved him for long?" he persisted. + +She pondered over this. "I don't think one could love a man always," she +answered, "unless he had a mind." + +At which he pondered in turn. "Then it was too bad to drive him away!" + +"That's just it," said she. "That's what I couldn't make clear to you." + +"But still, we had to find out." + +"_You_ may have," she said. "I didn't." + +Thyrsis looked, and saw that she was smiling through her tears. He took +her hand in his. "We'll see each other through, dear," he said. "We'll +have to wait until the world grows up." + +He felt an answering pressure of her hand. "Thyrsis," she said, "you +must promise me that you will never do anything dreadful like that +again. You must understand me; I might think that I was in love, but +it would never be real--truly it wouldn't. No man could ever mean to me +what you mean--I know that! And I couldn't give you up--you must never +let yourself think of such a thing! I couldn't give you up!" + +So there came to Thyrsis one of those bursts of tenderness that she knew +so well. He put his arms about her and kissed her with fervor; but even +while he spoke with her, and gave her the love she desired, there was +something in him that sank back and moaned with despair. So the captive +sinks and moans when he finds that his break for freedom has led only to +the tightening of his chains. + +_They stood for the last time before the cabin, bidding farewell to the +little glen and all its memories._ + +"There are lines in the poem for everything," she said. "Even for that!" +And she quoted-- + + "He hearkens not! light comer, he is flown!" + +He laughed. "I can do better yet," he said-- + + "Alack, for Corydon no rival now!" + +There was a pause. "That was five years," she mused. "And there were +five more!" + +"It will mean another book," he said. "To tell about the new work; and +how Thyrsis became a social lion; and how, like Icarus, he flew too +high and melted his wings. And then, 'The Exploiters,' the book of his +vengeance! And then Corydon---" + +"Yes, do not forget Corydon," she said. + +"How he watched her dying before his eyes, and how he prayed for months +for courage to kill her, and could not, but ran away. And then---" + +"It will make a long story." + +"Yes--a long story. 'Love's Deliverance,' let us call it." + +"They will smile at that. It sounds like Reno, Nevada." + +"'Love's Deliverance,' even so," he said. "To tell how Thyrsis went out +into the wilderness and found himself; and of the new love that came to +Corydon." + +"It will be a Bible for lovers," said she. + +"Yes," he replied, and smiled-"with a book of Chronicles, and a book of +Proverbs, and a book of Psalms, and a book of Revelations--" + +"And several books of Epistles," she interposed. + +"The tablets in the temple are cracked," he said, "and the fortresses of +privilege are crumbling. When the Revolution is here--when there are no +longer priests nor judges nor class-taboos--then out of the hunger of +our own hearts we shall have to shape our sex-ideals, and organize our +new aristocracies." + +"They will call it a book of 'free love'," said she. + +To which he answered, gravely: _"Let us redeem our great words from base +uses. Let that no longer call itself Love, which knows that it is not +free!"_ + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Love's Pilgrimage, by Upton Sinclair + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOVE'S PILGRIMAGE *** + +***** This file should be named 5694.txt or 5694.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/9/5694/ + +Produced by Charles Franks, Charles Aldarondo, and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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