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diff --git a/1402-h/1402-h.htm b/1402-h/1402-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71aac45 --- /dev/null +++ b/1402-h/1402-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4964 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Where the Blue Begins, by Christopher Morley + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1402 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + WHERE THE BLUE BEGINS + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + by Christopher Morley + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + <b>TO FELIX and TOTO</b> + </pre> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am not free— + And it may be + Life is too tight around my shins; + For, unlike you, + I can't break through + A truant where the blue begins. + + “Out of the very element + Of bondage, that here holds me pent, + I'll make my furious sonnet: + I'll turn my noose + To tightrope use + And madly dance upon it. + + “So I will take + My leash, and make + A wilder and more subtle fleeing + And I shall be + More escapading and more free + Than you have ever dreamed of being!” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER ONE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER TWO </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER THREE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER FOUR </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER FIVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER SIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER SEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER EIGHT </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER NINE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER TEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER ELEVEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER TWELVE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER THIRTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER FOURTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER FIFTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER SIXTEEN </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER SEVENTEEN </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER ONE + </h2> + <p> + Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little house in + the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine Estates. He + lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. He came of a + respectable family, who had always conducted themselves calmly and without + too much argument. They had bequeathed him just enough income to live on + cheerfully, without display but without having to do addition and + subtraction at the end of the month and then tear up the paper lest Fuji + (the butler) should see it. + </p> + <p> + It was strange, since Gissing was so pleasantly situated in life, that he + got into these curious adventures that I have to relate. I do not attempt + to explain it. + </p> + <p> + He had no responsibilities, not even a motor car, for his tastes were + surprisingly simple. If he happened to be spending an evening at the + country club, and a rainstorm came down, he did not worry about getting + home. He would sit by the fire and chuckle to see the married members + creep away one by one. He would get out his pipe and sleep that night at + the club, after telephoning Fuji not to sit up for him. When he felt like + it he used to read in bed, and even smoke in bed. When he went to town to + the theatre, he would spend the night at a hotel to avoid the fatigue of + the long ride on the 11:44 train. He chose a different hotel each time, so + that it was always an Adventure. He had a great deal of fun. + </p> + <p> + But having fun is not quite the same as being happy. Even an income of + 1000 bones a year does not answer all questions. That charming little + house among the groves and thickets seemed to him surrounded by strange + whispers and quiet voices. He was uneasy. He was restless, and did not + know why. It was his theory that discipline must be maintained in the + household, so he did not tell Fuji his feelings. Even when he was alone, + he always kept up a certain formality in the domestic routine. Fuji would + lay out his dinner jacket on the bed: he dressed, came down to the dining + room with quiet dignity, and the evening meal was served by candle-light. + As long as Fuji was at work, Gissing sat carefully in the armchair by the + hearth, smoking a cigar and pretending to read the paper. But as soon as + the butler had gone upstairs, Gissing always kicked off his dinner suit + and stiff shirt, and lay down on the hearth-rug. But he did not sleep. He + would watch the wings of flame gilding the dark throat of the chimney, and + his mind seemed drawn upward on that rush of light, up into the pure chill + air where the moon was riding among sluggish thick floes of cloud. In the + darkness he heard chiming voices, wheedling and tantalizing. One night he + was walking on his little verandah. Between rafts of silver-edged clouds + were channels of ocean-blue sky, inconceivably deep and transparent. The + air was serene, with a faint acid taste. Suddenly there shrilled a soft, + sweet, melancholy whistle, earnestly repeated. It seemed to come from the + little pond in the near-by copses. It struck him strangely. It might be + anything, he thought. He ran furiously through the field, and to the brim + of the pond. He could find nothing, all was silent. Then the whistlings + broke out again, all round him, maddeningly. This kept on, night after + night. The parson, whom he consulted, said it was only frogs; but Gissing + told the constable he thought God had something to do with it. + </p> + <p> + Then willow trees and poplars showed a pallid bronze sheen, forsythias + were as yellow as scrambled eggs, maples grew knobby with red buds. Among + the fresh bright grass came, here and there, exhilarating smells of last + year's buried bones. The little upward slit at the back of Gissing's + nostrils felt prickly. He thought that if he could bury it deep enough in + cold beef broth it would be comforting. Several times he went out to the + pantry intending to try the experiment, but every time Fuji happened to be + around. Fuji was a Japanese pug, and rather correct, so Gissing was + ashamed to do what he wanted to. He pretended he had come out to see that + the icebox pan had been emptied properly. + </p> + <p> + “I must get the plumber to put in a pukka drain-pipe to take the place of + the pan,” Gissing said to Fuji; but he knew that he had no intention of + doing so. The ice-box pan was his private test of a good servant. A cook + who forgot to empty it was too careless, he thought, to be a real success. + </p> + <p> + But certainly there was some curious elixir in the air. He went for walks, + and as soon as he was out of sight of the houses he threw down his hat and + stick and ran wildly, with great exultation, over the hills and fields. “I + really ought to turn all this energy into some sort of constructive work,” + he said to himself. No one else, he mused, seemed to enjoy life as keenly + and eagerly as he did. He wondered, too, about the other sex. Did they + feel these violent impulses to run, to shout, to leap and caper in the + sunlight? But he was a little startled, on one of his expeditions, to see + in the distance the curate rushing hotly through the underbrush, his + clerical vestments dishevelled, his tongue hanging out with excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I must go to church more often,” said Gissing. + </p> + <p> + In the golden light and pringling air he felt excitable and high-strung. + His tail curled upward until it ached. Finally he asked Mike Terrier, who + lived next door, what was wrong. + </p> + <p> + “It's spring,” Mike said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course, jolly old spring!” said Gissing, as though this was + something he had known all along, and had just forgotten for the moment. + But he didn't know. This was his first spring, for he was only ten months + old. + </p> + <p> + Outwardly he was the brisk, genial figure that the suburb knew and + esteemed. He was something of a mystery among his neighbours of the Canine + Estates, because he did not go daily to business in the city, as most of + them did; nor did he lead a life of brilliant amusement like the + Airedales, the wealthy people whose great house was near by. Mr. Poodle, + the conscientious curate, had called several times but was not able to + learn anything definite. There was a little card-index of parishioners, + which it was Mr. Poodle's duty to fill in with details of each person's + business, charitable inclinations, and what he could do to amuse a Church + Sociable. The card allotted to Gissing was marked, in Mr. Poodle's neat + script, Friendly, but vague as to definite participation in Xian + activities. Has not communicated. + </p> + <p> + But in himself, Gissing was increasingly disturbed. Even his seizures of + joy, which came as he strolled in the smooth spring air and sniffed the + wild, vigorous aroma of the woodland earth, were troublesome because he + did not know why he was so glad. Every morning it seemed to him that life + was about to exhibit some delicious crisis in which the meaning and + excellence of all things would plainly appear. He sang in the bathtub. + Daily it became more difficult to maintain that decorum which Fuji + expected. He felt that his life was being wasted. He wondered what ought + to be done about it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWO + </h2> + <p> + It was after dinner, an April evening, and Gissing slipped away from the + house for a stroll. He was afraid to stay in, because he knew that if he + did, Fuji would ask him again to fix the dishcloth rack in the kitchen. + Fuji was very short in stature, and could not reach up to the place where + the rack was screwed over the sink. Like all people whose minds are very + active, Gissing hated to attend to little details like this. It was a + weakness in his character. Fuji had asked him six times to fix the rack, + but Gissing always pretended to forget about it. To appease his methodical + butler he had written on a piece of paper FIX DISHCLOTH RACK and pinned it + on his dressing-table pincushion; but he paid no attention to the + memorandum. + </p> + <p> + He went out into a green April dusk. Down by the pond piped those repeated + treble whistlings: they still distressed him with a mysterious unriddled + summons, but Mike Terrier had told him that the secret of respectability + is to ignore whatever you don't understand. Careful observation of this + maxim had somewhat dulled the cry of that shrill queer music. It now + caused only a faint pain in his mind. Still, he walked that way because + the little meadow by the pond was agreeably soft underfoot. Also, when he + walked close beside the water the voices were silent. That is worth + noting, he said to himself. If you go directly at the heart of a mystery, + it ceases to be a mystery, and becomes only a question of drainage. (Mr. + Poodle had told him that if he had the pond and swamp drained, the + frog-song would not annoy him.) But to-night, when the keen chirruping + ceased, there was still another sound that did not cease—a faint, + appealing cry. It caused a prickling on his shoulder blades, it made him + both angry and tender. He pushed through the bushes. In a little hollow + were three small puppies, whining faintly. They were cold and draggled + with mud. Someone had left them there, evidently, to perish. They were + huddled close together; their eyes, a cloudy unspeculative blue, were only + just opened. “This is gruesome,” said Gissing, pretending to be shocked. + “Dear me, innocent pledges of sin, I dare say. Well, there is only one + thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + He picked them up carefully and carried them home. + </p> + <p> + “Quick, Fuji!” he said. “Warm some milk, some of the Grade A, and put a + little brandy in it. I'll get the spare-room bed ready.” + </p> + <p> + He rushed upstairs, wrapped the puppies in a blanket, and turned on the + electric heater to take the chill from the spare-room. The little pads of + their paws were ice-cold, and he filled the hot water bottle and held it + carefully to their twelve feet. Their pink stomachs throbbed, and at first + he feared they were dying. “They must not die!” he said fiercely. “If they + did, it would be a matter for the police, and no end of trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji came up with the milk, and looked very grave when he saw the muddy + footprints on the clean sheet. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Fuji,” said Gissing, “do you suppose they can lap, or will we have + to pour it down?” + </p> + <p> + In spite of his superior manner, Fuji was a good fellow in an emergency. + It was he who suggested the fountain-pen filler. They washed the ink out + of it, and used it to drip the hot brandy-and-milk down the puppies' + throats. Their noses, which had been icy, suddenly became very hot and + dry. Gissing feared a fever and thought their temperatures should be + taken. + </p> + <p> + “The only thermometer we have,” he said, “is the one on the porch, with + the mercury split in two. I don't suppose that would do. Have you a + clinical thermometer, Fuji?” + </p> + <p> + Fuji felt that his employer was making too much fuss over the matter. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” he said firmly. “They are quite all right. A good sleep will + revive them. They will be as fit as possible in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji went out into the garden to brush the mud from his neat white jacket. + His face was inscrutable. Gissing sat by the spare-room bed until he was + sure the puppies were sleeping correctly. He closed the door so that Fuji + would not hear him humming a lullaby. Three Blind Mice was the only + nursery song he could remember, and he sang it over and over again. + </p> + <p> + When he tiptoed downstairs, Fuji had gone to bed. Gissing went into his + study, lit a pipe, and walked up and down, thinking. By and bye he wrote + two letters. One was to a bookseller in the city, asking him to send (at + once) one copy of Dr. Holt's book on the Care and Feeding of Children, and + a well-illustrated edition of Mother Goose. The other was to Mr. Poodle, + asking him to fix a date for the christening of Mr. Gissing's three small + nephews, who had come to live with him. + </p> + <p> + “It is lucky they are all boys,” said Gissing. “I would know nothing about + bringing up girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” he added after a while, “that I shall have to raise Fuji's + wages.” + </p> + <p> + Then he went into the kitchen and fixed the dishcloth rack. + </p> + <p> + Before going to bed that night he took his usual walk around the house. + The sky was freckled with stars. It was generally his habit to make a tour + of his property toward midnight, to be sure everything was in good order. + He always looked into the ice-box, and admired the cleanliness of Fuji's + arrangements. The milk bottles were properly capped with their round + cardboard tops; the cheese was never put on the same rack with the butter; + the doors of the ice-box were carefully latched. Such observations, and + the slow twinkle of the fire in the range, deep down under the curfew + layer of coals, pleased him. In the cellar he peeped into the garbage can, + for it was always a satisfaction to assure himself that Fuji did not waste + anything that could be used. One of the laundry tub taps was dripping, + with a soft measured tinkle: he said to himself that he really must have + it attended to. All these domestic matters seemed more significant than + ever when he thought of youthful innocence sleeping upstairs in the + spare-room bed. His had been a selfish life hitherto, he feared. These + puppies were just what he needed to take him out of himself. + </p> + <p> + Busy with these thoughts, he did not notice the ironical whistling coming + from the pond. He tasted the night air with cheerful satisfaction. “At any + rate, to-morrow will be a fine day,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The next day it rained. But Gissing was too busy to think about the + weather. Every hour or so during the night he had gone into the spare room + to listen attentively to the breathing of the puppies, to pull the blanket + over them, and feel their noses. It seemed to him that they were + perspiring a little, and he was worried lest they catch cold. His morning + sleep (it had always been his comfortable habit to lie abed a trifle late) + was interrupted about seven o'clock by a lively clamour across the hall. + The puppies were awake, perfectly restored, and while they were too young + to make their wants intelligible, they plainly expected some attention. He + gave them a pair of old slippers to play with, and proceeded to his own + toilet. + </p> + <p> + As he was bathing them, after breakfast, he tried to enlist Fuji's + enthusiasm. “Did you ever see such fat rascals?” he said. “I wonder if we + ought to trim their tails? How pink their stomachs are, and how pink and + delightful between their toes! You hold these two while I dry the other. + No, not that way! Hold them so you support their spines. A puppy's back is + very delicate: you can't be too careful. We'll have to do things in a + rough-and-ready way until Dr. Holt's book comes. After that we can be + scientific.” + </p> + <p> + Fuji did not seem very keen. Presently, in spite of the rain, he was + dispatched to the village department store to choose three small cribs and + a multitude of safety pins. “Plenty of safety pins is the idea,” said + Gissing. “With enough safety pins handy, children are easy to manage.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as the puppies were bestowed on the porch, in the sunshine, for + their morning nap, he telephoned to the local paperhanger. + </p> + <p> + “I want you” (he said) “to come up as soon as you can with some nice + samples of nursery wallpaper. A lively Mother Goose pattern would do very + well.” He had already decided to change the spare room into a nursery. He + telephoned the carpenter to make a gate for the top of the stairs. He was + so busy that he did not even have time to think of his pipe, or the + morning paper. At last, just before lunch, he found a breathing space. He + sat down in the study to rest his legs, and looked for the Times. It was + not in its usual place on his reading table. At that moment the puppies + woke up, and he ran out to attend them. He would have been distressed if + he had known that Fuji had the paper in the kitchen, and was studying the + HELP WANTED columns. + </p> + <p> + A great deal of interest was aroused in the neighbourhood by the arrival + of Gissing's nephews, as he called them. Several of the ladies, who had + ignored him hitherto, called, in his absence, and left extra cards. This + implied (he supposed, though he was not closely versed in such niceties of + society) that there was a Mrs. Gissing, and he was annoyed, for he felt + certain they knew he was a bachelor. But the children were a source of + nothing but pride to him. They grew with astounding rapidity, ate their + food without coaxing, rarely cried at night, and gave him much amusement + by their naive ways. He was too occupied to be troubled with + introspection. Indeed, his well-ordered home was very different from + before. The trim lawn, in spite of his zealous efforts, was constantly + littered with toys. In sheer mischief the youngsters got into his wardrobe + and chewed off the tails of his evening dress coat. But he felt a + satisfying dignity and happiness in his new status as head of a family. + </p> + <p> + What worried him most was the fear that Fuji would complain of this sudden + addition to his duties. The butler's face was rather an enigma, + particularly at meal times, when Gissing sat at the dinner table + surrounded by the three puppies in their high chairs, with a spindrift of + milk and prune-juice spattering generously as the youngsters plied their + spoons. Fuji had arranged a series of scuppers, made of oilcloth, + underneath the chairs; but in spite of this the dining-room rug, after a + meal, looked much as the desert place must have after the feeding of the + multitude. Fuji, who was pensive, recalled the five loaves and two fishes + that produced twelve baskets of fragments. The vacuum cleaner got clogged + by a surfeit of crumbs. + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that it would be a race between heart and head. If Fuji's + heart should become entangled (that is, if the innocent charms of the + children should engage his affections before his reason convinced him that + the situation was now too arduous), there was some hope. He tried to ease + the problem also by mental suggestion. “It is really remarkable” (he said + to Fuji) “that children should give one so little trouble.” As he made + this remark, he was speeding hotly to and fro between the bathroom and the + nursery, trying to get one tucked in bed and another undressed, while the + third was lashing the tub into soapy foam. Fuji made his habitual + response, “Very good, sir.” But one fears that he detected some + insincerity, for the next day, which was Sunday, he gave notice. This + generally happens on a Sunday, because the papers publish more Help Wanted + advertisements then than on any other day. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry, sir,” he said. “But when I took this place there was nothing + said about three children.” + </p> + <p> + This was unreasonable of Fuji. It is very rare to have everything + explained beforehand. When Adam and Eve were put into the Garden of Eden, + there was nothing said about the serpent. + </p> + <p> + However, Gissing did not believe in entreating a servant to stay. He + offered to give Fuji a raise, but the butler was still determined to + leave. + </p> + <p> + “My senses are very delicate,” he said. “I really cannot stand the—well, + the aroma exhaled by those three children when they have had a warm bath.” + </p> + <p> + “What nonsense!” cried Gissing. “The smell of wet, healthy puppies? + Nothing is more agreeable. You are cold-blooded: I don't believe you are + fond of puppies. Think of their wobbly black noses. Consider how pink is + the little cleft between their toes and the main cushion of their feet. + Their ears are like silk. Inside their upper jaws are parallel black + ridges, most remarkable. I never realized before how beautifully and + carefully we are made. I am surprised that you should be so indifferent to + these things.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moisture in Fuji's eyes, but he left at the end of the week. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THREE + </h2> + <p> + A solitary little path ran across the fields not far from the house. It + lay deep among tall grasses and the withered brittle stalks of last + autumn's goldenrod, and here Gissing rambled in the green hush of + twilight, after the puppies were in bed. In less responsible days he would + have lain down on his back, with all four legs upward, and cheerily + shrugged and rolled to and fro, as the crisp ground-stubble was very + pleasing to the spine. But now he paced soberly, the smoke from his pipe + eddying just above the top of the grasses. He had much to meditate. + </p> + <p> + The dogwood tree by the house was now in flower. The blossoms, with their + four curved petals, seemed to spin like tiny white propellers in the + bright air. When he saw them fluttering Gissing had a happy sensation of + movement. The business of those tremulous petals seemed to be thrusting + his whole world forward and forward, through the viewless ocean of space. + He felt as though he were on a ship—as, indeed, we are. He had never + been down to the open sea, but he had imagined it. There, he thought, + there must be the satisfaction of a real horizon. + </p> + <p> + Horizons had been a great disappointment to him. In earlier days he had + often slipped out of the house not long after sunrise, and had marvelled + at the blue that lies upon the skyline. Here, about him, were the clear + familiar colours of the world he knew; but yonder, on the hills, were + trees and spaces of another more heavenly tint. That soft blue light, if + he could reach it, must be the beginning of what his mind required. + </p> + <p> + He envied Mr. Poodle, whose cottage was on that very hillslope that rose + so imperceptibly into sky. One morning he ran and ran, in the lifting day, + but always the blue receded. Hot and unbuttoned, he came by the curate's + house, just as the latter emerged to pick up the morning paper. + </p> + <p> + “Where does the blue begin?” Gissing panted, trying hard to keep his + tongue from sliding out so wetly. + </p> + <p> + The curate looked a trifle disturbed. He feared that something unpleasant + had happened, and that his assistance might be required before breakfast. + </p> + <p> + “It is going to be a warm day,” he said politely, and stooped for the + newspaper, as a delicate hint. + </p> + <p> + “Where does—?” began Gissing, quivering; but at that moment, looking + round, he saw that it had hoaxed him again. Far away, on his own hill the + other side of the village, shone the evasive colour. As usual, he had been + too impetuous. He had not watched it while he ran; it had circled round + behind him. He resolved to be more methodical. + </p> + <p> + The curate gave him a blank to fill in, relative to baptizing the + children, and was relieved to see him hasten away. + </p> + <p> + But all this was some time ago. As he walked the meadow path, Gissing + suddenly realized that lately he had had little opportunity for pursuing + blue horizons. Since Fuji's departure every moment, from dawn to dusk, was + occupied. In three weeks he had had three different servants, but none of + them would stay. The place was too lonely, they said, and with three + puppies the work was too hard. The washing, particularly was a horrid + problem. Inexperienced as a parent, Gissing was probably too proud: he + wanted the children always to look clean and soigne. The last cook had + advertised herself as a General Houseworker, afraid of nothing; but as + soon as she saw the week's wash in the hamper (including twenty-one grimy + rompers), she telephoned to the station for a taxi. Gissing wondered why + it was that the working classes were not willing to do one-half as much as + he, who had been reared to indolent ease. Even more, he was irritated by a + suspicion of the ice-wagon driver. He could not prove it, but he had an + idea that this uncouth fellow obtained a commission from the Airedales and + Collies, who had large mansions in the neighbourhood, for luring maids + from the smaller homes. Of course Mrs. Airedale and Mrs. Collie could + afford to pay any wages at all. So now the best he could do was to have + Mrs. Spaniel, the charwoman, come up from the village to do the washing + and ironing, two days a week. The rest of the work he undertook himself. + On a clear afternoon, when the neighbours were not looking, he would take + his own shirts and things down to the pond—putting them neatly in + the bottom of the red express-wagon, with the puppies sitting on the + linen, so no one would see. While the puppies played about and hunted for + tadpoles, he would wash his shirts himself. + </p> + <p> + His legs ached as he took his evening stroll—keeping within earshot + of the house, so as to hear any possible outcry from the nursery. He had + been on his feet all day. But he reflected that there was a real + satisfaction in his family tasks, however gruelling. Now, at last (he said + to himself), I am really a citizen, not a mere dilettante. Of course it is + arduous. No one who is not a parent realizes, for example, the + extraordinary amount of buttoning and unbuttoning necessary in rearing + children. I calculate that 50,000 buttonings are required for each one + before it reaches the age of even rudimentary independence. With the + energy so expended one might write a great novel or chisel a statue. Never + mind: these urchins must be my Works of Art. If one were writing a novel, + he could not delegate to a hired servant the composition of laborious + chapters. + </p> + <p> + So he took his responsibility gravely. This was partly due to the + christening service, perhaps, which had gone off very charmingly. It had + not been without its embarrassments. None of the neighbouring ladies would + stand as godmother, for they were secretly dubious as to the children's + origin; so he had asked good Mrs. Spaniel to act in that capacity. She, a + simple kindly creature, was much flattered, though certainly she can have + understood very little of the symbolical rite. Gissing, filling out the + form that Mr. Poodle had given him, had put down the names of an entirely + imaginary brother and sister-in-law of his, “deceased,” whom he asserted + as the parents. He had been so busy with preparations that he did not find + time, before the ceremony, to study the text of the service; and when he + and Mrs. Spaniel stood beneath the font with an armful of ribboned + infancy, he was frankly startled by the magnitude of the promises exacted + from him. He found that, on behalf of the children, he must “renounce the + devil and all his work, the vain pomp and glory of the world;” that he + must pledge himself to see that these infants would “crucify the old man + and utterly abolish the whole body of sin.” It was rather doubtful whether + they would do so, he reflected, as he felt them squirming in his arms + while Mrs. Spaniel was busy trying to keep their socks on. When the curate + exhorted him “to follow the innocency” of these little ones, it was + disconcerting to have one of them burst into a piercing yammer, and + wriggle so forcibly that it slipped quite out of its little embroidered + shift and flannel band. But the actual access to the holy basin was more + seemly, perhaps due to the children imagining they were going to find + tadpoles there. When Mr. Poodle held them up they smiled with a vague + almost bashful simplicity; and Mrs. Spaniel could not help murmuring “The + darlings!” The curate, less experienced with children, had insisted on + holding all three at once, and Gissing feared lest one of them might swarm + over the surpliced shoulder and fall splash into the font. But though they + panted a little with excitement, they did nothing to mar the solemn + instant. While Mrs. Spaniel was picking up the small socks with which the + floor was strewn, Gissing was deeply moved by the poetry of the ceremony. + He felt that something had really been accomplished toward “burying the + Old Adam.” And if Mrs. Spaniel ever grew disheartened at the wash-tubs, he + was careful to remind her of the beautiful phrase about the mystical + washing away of sin. + </p> + <p> + They had been christened Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers, three traditional + names in his family. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he was reflecting as he walked in the dusk, Mrs. Spaniel was now + his sheet anchor. Fortunately she showed signs of becoming extraordinarily + attached to the puppies. On the two days a week when she came up from the + village, it was even possible for him to get a little relaxation—to + run down to the station for tobacco, or to lie in the hammock briefly with + a book. Looking off from his airy porch, he could see the same blue + distances that had always tempted him, but he felt too passive to wonder + about them. He had given up the idea of trying to get any other servants. + If it had been possible, he would have engaged Mrs. Spaniel to sleep in + the house and be there permanently; but she had children of her own down + in the shantytown quarter of the village, and had to go back to them at + night. But certainly he made every effort to keep her contented. It was a + long steep climb up from the hollow, so he allowed her to come in a taxi + and charge it to his account. Then, on condition that she would come on + Saturdays also, to help him clean up for Sunday, he allowed her, on that + day, to bring her own children too, and all the puppies played riotously + together around the place. But this he presently discontinued, for the + clamour became so deafening that the neighbours complained. Besides, the + young Spaniels, who were a little older, got Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers + into noisy and careless habits of speech. + </p> + <p> + He was anxious that they should grow up refined, and was distressed by + little Shaggy Spaniel having brought up the Comic Section of a Sunday + paper. With childhood's instinctive taste for primitive effects, the + puppies fell in love with the coloured cartoons, and badgered him + continually for “funny papers.” + </p> + <p> + There is a great deal more to think about in raising children (he said to + himself) than is intimated in Dr. Holt's book on Care and Feeding. Even in + matters that he had always taken for granted, such as fairy tales, he + found perplexity. After supper—(he now joined the children in their + evening bread and milk, for after cooking them a hearty lunch of meat and + gravy and potatoes and peas and the endless spinach and carrots that the + doctors advise, to say nothing of the prunes, he had no energy to prepare + a special dinner for himself)—after supper it was his habit to read + to them, hoping to give their imaginations a little exercise before they + went to bed. He was startled to find that Grimm and Hans Andersen, which + he had considered as authentic classics for childhood, were full of very + strong stuff—morbid sentiment, bloodshed, horror, and all manner of + painful circumstance. Reading the tales aloud, he edited as he went along; + but he was subject to that curious weakness that afflicts some people: + reading aloud made him helplessly sleepy: after a page or so he would fall + into a doze, from which he would be awakened by the crash of a lamp or + some other furniture. The children, seized with that furious hilarity that + usually begins just about bedtime, would race madly about the house until + some breakage or a burst of tears woke him from his trance. He would + thrash them all and put them to bed howling. When they were asleep he + would be touched with tender compassion, and steal in to tuck them up, + admiring the innocence of each unconscious muzzle on its pillow. + Sometimes, in a crisis of his problems, he thought of writing to Dr. Holt + for advice; but the will-power was lacking. + </p> + <p> + It is really astonishing how children can exhaust one, he used to think. + Sometimes, after a long day, he was even too weary to correct their + grammar. “You lay down!” Groups would admonish Yelpers, who was capering + in his crib while Bunks was being lashed in with the largest size of + safety pins. And Gissing, doggedly passing from one to another, was really + too fatigued to reprove the verb, picked up from Mrs. Spaniel. + </p> + <p> + Fairy tales proving a disappointment, he had great hopes of encouraging + them in drawing. He bought innumerable coloured crayons and stacks of + scribbling paper. After supper they would all sit down around the + dining-room table and he drew pictures for them. Tongues depending with + concentrated excitement, the children would try to copy these pictures and + colour them. In spite of having three complete sets of crayons, a full + roster of colours could rarely be found at drawing time. Bunks had the + violet when Groups wanted it, and so on. But still, this was often the + happiest hour of the day. Gissing drew amazing trains, elephants, ships, + and rainbows, with the spectrum of colours correctly arranged and blended. + The children specially loved his landscapes, which were opulently tinted + and magnificent in long perspectives. He found himself always colouring + the far horizons a pale and haunting blue. + </p> + <p> + He was meditating these things when a shrill yammer recalled him to the + house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOUR + </h2> + <p> + In this warm summer weather Gissing slept on a little outdoor balcony that + opened off the nursery. The world, rolling in her majestic seaway, heeled + her gunwale slowly into the trough of space. Disked upon this bulwark, the + sun rose, and promptly Gissing woke. The poplars flittered in a cool stir. + Beyond the tadpole pond, through a notch in the landscape, he could see + the far darkness of the hills. That fringe of woods was a railing that + kept the sky from flooding over the earth. + </p> + <p> + The level sun, warily peering over the edge like a cautious marksman, + fired golden volleys unerringly at him. At once Gissing was aware and + watchful. Brief truce was over: the hopeless war with Time began anew. + </p> + <p> + This was his placid hour. Light, so early, lies timidly along the ground. + It steals gently from ridge to ridge; it is soft, unsure. That blue + dimness, receding from bole to bole, is the skirt of Night's garment, + trailing off toward some other star. As easily as it slips from tree to + tree, it glides from earth to Orion. + </p> + <p> + Light, which later will riot and revel and strike pitilessly down, still + is tender and tentative. It sweeps in rosy scythe-strokes, parallel to + earth. It gilds, where later it will burn. + </p> + <p> + Gissing lay, without stirring. The springs of the old couch were creaky, + and the slightest sound might arouse the children within. Now, until they + woke, was his peace. Purposely he had had the sleeping porch built on the + eastern side of the house. Making the sun his alarm clock, he prolonged + the slug-a-bed luxury. He had procured the darkest and most opaque of all + shades for the nursery windows, to cage as long as possible in that room + Night the silencer. At this time of the year, the song of the mosquito was + his dreaded nightingale. In spite of fine-mesh screens, always one or two + would get in. Mrs. Spaniel, he feared, left the kitchen door ajar during + the day, and these Borgias of the insect world, patiently invasive, seized + their chance. It was a rare night when a sudden scream did not come from + the nursery every hour or so. “Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” was the anguish + from one of the trio. The other two were up instantly, erect and yelping + in their cribs, small black paws on the rail, pink stomachs candidly + exposed to the winged stilleto. Lights on, and the room must be explored + for the lurking foe. Scratching themselves vigorously, the fun of the + chase assuaged the smart of those red welts. Gissing, wise by now, knew + that after a forager the mosquito always retires to the ceiling, so he + kept a stepladder in the room. Mounted on this, he would pursue the enemy + with a towel, while the children screamed with merriment. Then stomachs + must be anointed with more citronella; sheets and blankets reassembled, + and quiet gradually restored. Life, as parents know, can be supported on + very little sleep. + </p> + <p> + But how delicious to lie there, in the morning freshness, to hear the + earth stir with reviving gusto, the merriment of birds, the exuberant + clink of milk-bottles set down by the back-door, the whole complex + machinery of life begin anew! Gissing was amazed now, looking back upon + his previous existence, to see himself so busy, so active. Few people are + really lazy, he thought: what we call laziness is merely maladjustment. + For in any department of life where one is genuinely interested, he will + be zealous beyond belief. Certainly he had not dreamed, until he became + (in a manner of speaking) a parent, that he had in him such capacity for + detail. + </p> + <p> + This business of raising a family, though—had he any true aptitude + for it? or was he forcing himself to go through with it? Wasn't he, + moreover, incurring all the labours of parenthood without any of its + proper dignity and social esteem? Mrs. Chow down the street, for instance, + why did she look so sniffingly upon him when she heard the children, in + the harmless uproar of their play, cry him aloud as Daddy? Uncle, he had + intended they should call him; but that is, for beginning speech, a hard + saying, embracing both a palatal and a liquid. Whereas Da-da—the + syllables come almost unconsciously to the infant mouth. So he had + encouraged it, and even felt an irrational pride in the honourable but + unearned title. + </p> + <p> + A little word, Daddy, but one of the most potent, he was thinking. More + than a word, perhaps: a great social engine: an anchor which, cast + carelessly overboard, sinks deep and fast into the very bottom. The vessel + rides on her hawser, and where are your blue horizons then? + </p> + <p> + But come now, isn't one horizon as good as another? And do they really + remain blue when you reach them? + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously he stirred, stretching his legs deeply into the comfortable + nest of his couch. The springs twanged. Simultaneous clamours! The puppies + were awake. + </p> + <p> + They yelled to be let out from the cribs. This was the time of the morning + frolic. Gissing had learned that there is only one way to deal with the + almost inexhaustible energy of childhood. That is, not to attempt to check + it, but to encourage and draw it out. To start the day with a rush, + stimulating every possible outlet of zeal; meanwhile taking things as + calmly and quietly as possible himself, sitting often to take the weight + off his legs, and allowing the youngsters to wear themselves down. This, + after all, is Nature's own way with man; it is the wise parent's tactic + with children. Thus, by dusk, the puppies will have run themselves almost + into a stupor; and you, if you have shrewdly husbanded your strength, may + have still a little power in reserve for reading and smoking. + </p> + <p> + The before-breakfast game was conducted on regular routine. Children show + their membership in the species by their love of strict habit. + </p> + <p> + Gissing let them yell for a few moments—as long as he thought the + neighbours would endure it—while he gradually gathered strength and + resolution, shook off the cowardice of bed. Then he strode into the + nursery. As soon as they heard him raising the shades there was complete + silence. They hastened to pull the blankets over themselves, and lay + tense, faces on paws, with bright expectant upward eyes. They trembled a + little with impatience. It was all he could do to restrain himself from + patting the sleek heads, which always seemed to shine with extra polish + after a night's rolling to and fro on the flattened pillows. But sternness + was a part of the game at this moment. He solemnly unlatched and lowered + the tall sides of the cribs. + </p> + <p> + He stood in the middle of the room, with a gesture of command. “Quiet + now,” he said. “Quiet, until I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Yelpers could not help a small whine of intense emotion, which slipped out + unintended. The eyes of Groups and Bunks swivelled angrily toward their + unlucky brother. It was his failing: in crises he always emitted haphazard + sounds. But this time Gissing, with lenient forgiveness, pretended not to + have heard. + </p> + <p> + He returned to the balcony, and reentered his couch, where he lay feigning + sleep. In the nursery was a terrific stillness. + </p> + <p> + It was the rule of the game that they should lie thus, in absolute quiet, + until he uttered a huge imitation snore. Once, after a particularly + exhausting night, he had postponed the snore too long: he fell asleep. He + did not wake for an hour, and then found the tragic three also sprawled in + amazing slumber. But their pillows were wet with tears. He never succumbed + again, no matter how deeply tempted. + </p> + <p> + He snored. There were three sprawling thumps, a rush of feet, and a + tumbling squeeze through the screen door. Then they were on the couch and + upon him, with panting yelps of glee. Their hot tongues rasped busily over + his face. This was the great tickling game. Remembering his theory of + conserving energy, he lay passive while they rollicked and scrambled, + burrowing in the bedclothes, quivering imps of absurd pleasure. All that + was necessary was to give an occasional squirm, to tweak their ribs now + and then, so that they believed his heart was in the sport. Really he got + quite a little rest while they were scuffling. No one knew exactly what + was the imagined purpose of the lark—whether he was supposed to be + trying to escape from them, or they from him. Like all the best games, it + had not been carefully thought out. + </p> + <p> + “Now, children,” said Gissing presently. “Time to get dressed.” + </p> + <p> + It was amazing how fast they were growing. Already they were beginning to + take a pride in trying to dress themselves. While Gissing was in the + bathroom, enjoying his cold tub (and under the stimulus of that icy sluice + forming excellent resolutions for the day) the children were sitting on + the nursery floor eagerly studying the intricacies of their gear. By the + time he returned they would have half their garments on wrong; waist and + trousers front side to rear; right shoes on left feet; buttons hopelessly + mismated to buttonholes; shoelacings oddly zigzagged. It was far more + trouble to permit their ambitious bungling, which must be undone and + painstakingly reassembled, than to have clad them all himself, swiftly + revolving and garmenting them like dolls. But in these early hours of the + day, patience still is robust. It was his pedagogy to encourage their + innocent initiatives, so long as endurance might permit. + </p> + <p> + Best of all, he enjoyed watching them clean their teeth. It was delicious + to see them, tiptoe on their hind legs at the basin, to which their noses + just reached; mouths gaping wide as they scrubbed with very small + toothbrushes. They were so elated by squeezing out the toothpaste from the + tube that he had not the heart to refuse them this privilege, though it + was wasteful. For they always squeezed out more than necessary, and after + a moment's brushing their mouths became choked and clotted with the + pungent foam. Much of this they swallowed, for he had not been able to + teach them to rinse and gargle. Their only idea regarding any fluid in the + mouth was to swallow it; so they coughed and strangled and barked. Gissing + had a theory that this toothpaste foam most be an appetizer, for he found + that the more of it they swallowed, the better they ate their breakfast. + </p> + <p> + After breakfast he hurried them out into the garden, before the day became + too hot. As he put a new lot of prunes to soak in cold water, he could not + help reflecting how different the kitchen and pantry looked from the time + of Fuji. The ice-box pan seemed to be continually brimming over. Somehow—due, + he feared, to a laxity on Mrs. Spaniel's part—ants had got in. He + was always finding them inside the ice-box, and wondered where they came + from. He was amazed to find how negligent he was growing about pots and + pans: he began cooking a new mess of oatmeal in the double boiler without + bothering to scrape out the too adhesive remnant of the previous porridge. + He had come to the conclusion that children are tougher and more enduring + than Dr. Holt will admit; and that a little carelessness in matters of + hygiene and sterilization does not necessarily mean instant death. + </p> + <p> + Truly his once dainty menage was deteriorating. He had put away his fine + china, put away the linen napery, and laid the table with oil cloth. He + had even improved upon Fuji's invention of scuppers by a little trough + which ran all round the rim of the table, to catch any possible spillage. + He was horrified to observe how inevitably callers came at the worst + possible moment. Mr. and Mrs. Chow, for instance, drew up one afternoon in + their spick-and-span coupe with their intolerably spotless only child + sitting self-consciously beside them. Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers were just + then filling the garden with horrid clamour. They had been quarrelling, + and one had pushed the other two down the back steps. Gissing, who had + attempted to find a quiet moment to scald the ants out of the ice-box, had + just rushed forth and boxed them all. As he stood there, angry and waving + a steaming dishclout, two Chows appeared. The puppies at once set upon + little Sandy Chow, and had thoroughly mauled his starched sailor suit in + the driveway before two minutes were past. Gissing could not help + laughing, for he suspected that there had been a touch of malice in the + Chows coming just at that time. + </p> + <p> + He had given up his flower garden, too. It was all he could do to shove + the lawn-mower around, in the dusk, after the puppies were in bed. + Formerly he had found the purr of the twirling blades a soothing stimulus + to thought; but nowadays he could not even think consecutively. Perhaps, + he thought, the residence of the mind is in the legs, not in the head; for + when your legs are thoroughly weary you can't seem to think. + </p> + <p> + So he had decided that he simply must have more help in the cooking and + housework. He had instructed Mrs. Spaniel to send the washing to the + steam-laundry, and spend her three days in the kitchen instead. A huge + bundle had come back from the laundry, and he had paid the driver $15.98. + With dismay he sorted the clean, neatly folded garments. Here was the + worthy Mrs. Spaniel's list, painstakingly written out in her straggling + script:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISHING FAMILY WOSH + + 8 towls + 6 pymjarm Mr Gishing + 12 rompers + 3 blowses + 6 cribb sheets + 1 Mr. Gishing sheat + 4 wastes + 3 wosh clothes + 2 onion sutes Mr Gishing + 6 smal onion sutes + 4 pillo slipes + 3 sherts + 18 hankerchifs smal + 6 hankerchifs large + 8 colers + 3 overhauls + 10 bibbs + 2 table clothes (coca stane) + 1 table clothe (prun juce and eg) +</pre> + <p> + After contemplating this list, Gissing went to his desk and began to study + his accounts. A resolve was forming in his mind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIVE + </h2> + <p> + The summer evenings sounded a very different music from that thin + wheedling of April. It was now a soft steady vibration, the incessant + drone and throb of locust and cricket, and sometimes the sudden rasp, dry + and hard, of katydids. Gissing, in spite of his weariness, was all + fidgets. He would walk round and round the house in the dark, unable to + settle down to anything; tired, but incapable of rest. What is this + uneasiness in the mind, he asked himself? The great sonorous drumming of + the summer night was like the bruit of Time passing steadily by. Even in + the soft eddy of the leaves, lifted on a drowsy creeping air, was a sound + of discontent, of troublesome questioning. Through the trees he could see + the lighted oblongs of neighbours' windows, or hear stridulent jazz + records. Why were all others so cheerfully absorbed in the minutiae of + their lives, and he so painfully ill at ease? Sometimes, under the warm + clear darkness, the noises of field and earth swelled to a kind of soft + thunder: his quickened ears heard a thousand small outcries contributing + to the awful energy of the world—faint chimings and whistlings in + the grass, and endless flutter, rustle, and whirr. His own body, on which + hair and nails grew daily like vegetation, startled and appalled him. + Consciousness of self, that miserable ecstasy, was heavy upon him. + </p> + <p> + He envied the children, who lay upstairs sprawled under their mosquito + nettings. Immersed in living, how happily unaware of being alive! He saw, + with tenderness, how naively they looked to him as the answer and solution + of their mimic problems. But where could he find someone to be to him what + he was to them? The truth apparently was that in his inward mind he was + desperately lonely. Reading the poets by fits and starts, he suddenly + realized that in their divine pages moved something of this loneliness, + this exquisite unhappiness. But these great hearts had had the consolation + of setting down their moods in beautiful words, words that lived and + spoke. His own strange fever burned inexpressibly inside him. Was he the + only one who felt the challenge offered by the maddening fertility and + foison of the hot sun-dazzled earth? Life, he realized, was too amazing to + be frittered out in this aimless sickness of heart. There were truths and + wonders to be grasped, if he could only throw off this wistful vague + desire. He felt like a clumsy strummer seated at a dark shining grand + piano, which he knows is capable of every glory of rolling music, yet he + can only elicit a few haphazard chords. + </p> + <p> + He had his moments of arrogance, too. Ah, he was very young! This miracle + of blue unblemished sky that had baffled all others since life began—he, + he would unriddle it! He was inclined to sneer at his friends who took + these things for granted, and did not perceive the infamous insolubility + of the whole scheme. Remembering the promises made at the christening, he + took the children to church; but alas, carefully analyzing his mind, he + admitted that his attention had been chiefly occupied with keeping them + orderly, and he had gone through the service almost automatically. Only in + singing hymns did he experience a tingle of exalted feeling. But Mr. + Poodle was proud of his well-trained choir, and Gissing had a feeling that + the congregation was not supposed to do more than murmur the verses, for + fear of spoiling the effect. In his favourite hymns he had a tendency to + forget himself and let go: his vigorous tenor rang lustily. Then he + realized that the backs of people's heads looked surprised. The children + could not be kept quiet unless they stood up on the pews. Mr. Poodle + preached rather a long sermon, and Yelpers, toward twelve-thirty, remarked + in a clear tone of interested inquiry, “What time does God have dinner?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing had a painful feeling that he and Mr. Poodle did not thoroughly + understand each other. The curate, who was kindness itself, called one + evening, and they had a friendly chat. Gissing was pleased to find that + Mr. Poodle enjoyed a cigar, and after some hesitation ventured to suggest + that he still had something in the cellar. Mr. Poodle said that he didn't + care for anything, but his host could not help hearing the curate's tail + quite unconsciously thumping on the chair cushions. So he excused himself + and brought up one of his few remaining bottles of White Horse. Mr. Poodle + crossed his legs and they chatted about golf, politics, the income tax, + and some of the recent books; but when Gissing turned the talk on + religion, Mr. Poodle became diffident.. Gissing, warmed and cheered by the + vital Scotch, was perhaps too direct. + </p> + <p> + “What ought I to do to 'crucify the old man'?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Poodle was rather embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “You must mortify the desires of the flesh,” he replied. “You must dig up + the old bone of sin that is buried in all our hearts.” + </p> + <p> + There were many more questions Gissing wanted to ask about this, but Mr. + Poodle said he really must be going, as he had a call to pay on Mr. and + Mrs. Chow. + </p> + <p> + Gissing walked down the path with him, and the curate did indeed set off + toward the Chows'. But Gissing wondered, for a little later he heard a + cheerful canticle upraised in the open fields. + </p> + <p> + He himself was far from gay. He longed to tear out this malady from his + breast. Poor dreamer, he did not know that to do so is to tear out God + Himself. “Mrs. Spaniel,” he said when the laundress next came up from the + village, “you are a widow, aren't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” she said. “Poor Spaniel was killed by a truck, two years ago + April.” Her face was puzzled, but beneath her apron Gissing could see her + tail wagging. + </p> + <p> + “Don't misunderstand me,” he said quickly. “I've got to go away on + business. I want you to bring your children and move into this house while + I'm gone. I'll make arrangements at the bank about paying all the bills. + You can give up your outside washing and devote yourself entirely to + looking after this place.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Spaniel was so much surprised that she could not speak. In her + amazement a bright bubble dripped from the end of her curly tongue. + Hastily she caught it in her apron, and apologized. + </p> + <p> + “How long will you be away, sir?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. It may be quite a long time.” + </p> + <p> + “But all your beautiful things, furniture and everything,” said Mrs. + Spaniel. “I'm afraid my children are a bit rough. They're not used to + living in a house like this—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Gissing, “you must do the best you can. There are some things + more important than furniture. It will be good for your children to get + accustomed to refined surroundings, and it'll be good for my nephews to + have someone to play with. Besides, I don't want them to grow up spoiled + mollycoddles. I think I've been fussing over them too much. If they have + good stuff in them, a little roughening won't do any permanent harm.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear me,” cried Mrs. Spaniel, “what will the neighbours think?” + </p> + <p> + “They won't,” said Gissing. “I don't doubt they'll talk, but they won't + think. Thinking is very rare. I've got to do some myself, that's one + reason why I'm going. You know, Mrs. Spaniel, God is a horizon, not + someone sitting on a throne.” Mrs. Spaniel didn't understand this—in + fact, she didn't seem to hear it. Her mind was full of the idea that she + would simply have to have a new dress, preferably black silk, for Sundays. + Gissing, very sagacious, had already foreseen this point. “Let's not have + any argument,” he continued. “I have planned everything. Here is some + money for immediate needs. I'll speak to them at the bank, and they will + give you a weekly allowance. I leave you here as caretaker. Later on I'll + send you an address and you can write me how things are going.” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Spaniel was bewildered. She came of very decent people, but + since Spaniel took to drink, and then left her with a family to support, + she had sunk in the world. She was wondering now how she could face it out + with Mrs. Chow and Mrs. Fox-Terrier and the other neighbours. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear,” she cried, “I don't know what to say, sir. Why, my boys are so + disreputable-looking, they haven't even a collar between them.” + </p> + <p> + “Get them collars and anything else they need,” said Gissing kindly. + “Don't worry, Mrs. Spaniel, it will be a fine thing for you. There will be + a little gossip, I dare say, but we'll have to chance that. Now you had + better go down to the village and make your arrangements. I'm leaving + tonight.” + </p> + <p> + Late that evening, after seeing Mrs. Spaniel and her brood safely + installed, Gissing walked to the station with his suitcase. He felt a pang + as he lifted the mosquito nettings and kissed the cool moist noses of the + sleeping trio. But he comforted himself by thinking that this was no + merely vulgar desertion. If he was to raise the family, he must earn some + money. His modest income would not suffice for this sudden increase in + expenses. Besides, he had never known what freedom meant until it was + curtailed. For the past three months he had lived in ceaseless attendance; + had even slept with one ear open for the children's cries. Now he owed it + to himself to make one great strike for peace. Wealth, he could see, was + the answer. With money, everything was attainable: books, leisure for + study, travel, prestige—in short, command over the physical details + of life. He would go in for Big Business. Already he thrilled with a sense + of power and prosperity. + </p> + <p> + The little house stood silent in the darkness as he went down the path. + The night was netted with the weaving sparkle of fireflies. He stood for a + moment, looking. Suddenly there came a frightened cry from the nursery. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy, a keeto, a keeto!” + </p> + <p> + He nearly turned to run back, but checked himself. No, Mrs. Spaniel was + now in charge. It was up to her. Besides, he had only just enough time to + catch the last train to the city. + </p> + <p> + But he sat on the cinder-speckled plush of the smoker in a mood that was + hardly revelry. “By Jove,” he said to himself, “I got away just in time. + Another month and I couldn't have done it.” + </p> + <p> + It was midnight when he saw the lights of town, panelled in gold against a + peacock sky. Acres and acres of blue darkness lay close-pressing upon the + gaudy grids of light. Here one might really look at this great miracle of + shadow and see its texture. The dulcet air drifted lazily in deep, silent + crosstown streets. “Ah,” he said, “here is where the blue begins.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIX + </h2> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “For students of the troubled heart + Cities are perfect works of art.” + </pre> + <p> + There is a city so tall that even the sky above her seems to have lifted + in a cautious remove, inconceivably far. There is a city so proud, so mad, + so beautiful and young, that even heaven has retreated, lest her placid + purity be too nearly tempted by that brave tragic spell. In the city which + is maddest of all, Gissing had come to search for sanity. In the city so + strangely beautiful that she has made even poets silent, he had come to + find a voice. In the city of glorious ostent and vanity, he had come to + look for humility and peace. + </p> + <p> + All cities are mad: but the madness is gallant. All cities are beautiful: + but the beauty is grim. Who shall tell me the truth about this one? + Tragic? Even so, because wherever ambitions, vanities, and follies are + multiplied by millionfold contact, calamity is there. Noble and beautiful? + Aye, for even folly may have the majesty of magnitude. Hasty, cruel, + shallow? Agreed, but where in this terrene orb will you find it otherwise? + I know all that can be said against her; and yet in her great library of + streets, vast and various as Shakespeare, is beauty enough for a lifetime. + O poets, why have you been so faint? Because she seems cynical and crass, + she cries with trumpet-call to the mind of the dreamer; because she is + riant and mad, she speaks to the grave sanity of the poet. + </p> + <p> + So, in a mood perhaps too consciously lofty, Gissing was meditating. It + was rather impudent of him to accuse the city of being mad, for he + himself, in his glee over freedom regained, was not conspicuously sane. He + scoured the town in high spirits, peering into shop-windows, riding on top + of busses, going to the Zoo, taking the rickety old steamer to the Statue + of Liberty, drinking afternoon tea at the Ritz, and all that sort of + thing. The first three nights in town he slept in one of the little + traffic-towers that perch on stilts up above Fifth Avenue. As a matter of + fact, it was that one near St. Patrick's Cathedral. He had ridden up the + Avenue in a taxi, intending to go to the Plaza (just for a bit of splurge + after his domestic confinement). As the cab went by, he saw the + traffic-tower, dark and empty, and thought what a pleasant place to sleep. + So he asked the driver to let him out at the Cathedral, and after being + sure that he was not observed, walked back to the little turret, climbed + up the ladder, and made himself at home. He liked it so well that he + returned there the two following nights; but he didn't sleep much, for he + could not resist the fun of startling night-hawk taxis by suddenly + flashing the red, green, and yellow lights at them, and seeing them stop + in bewilderment. But after three nights he thought it best to leave. It + would have been awkward if the police had discovered him. + </p> + <p> + It was time to settle down and begin work. He had an uncle who was head of + an important business far down-town; but Gissing, with the quixotry of + youth, was determined to make his own start in the great world of + commerce. He found a room on the top floor of a quiet brownstone house in + the West Seventies. It was not large, and he had to go down a flight for + his bath; the gas burner over the bed whistled; the dust was rather + startling after the clean country; but it was cheap, and his sense of + adventure more than compensated. Mrs. Purp, the landlady, pleased him + greatly. She was very maternal, and urged him not to bolt his meals in + armchair lunches. She put an ashtray in his room. + </p> + <p> + Gissing sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard with a picture of the Pennsylvania + Station. On it he wrote Arrived safely. Hard at work. Love to the + children. Then he went to look for a job. + </p> + <p> + His ideas about business were very vague. All he knew was that he wished + to be very wealthy and influential as soon as possible. He could have had + much sound advice from his uncle, who was a member of the Union Kennel and + quite a prominent dog-about-town. But Gissing had the secretive pride of + inexperience. Moreover, he did not quite know what to say about his + establishment in the country. That houseful of children would need some + explaining. + </p> + <p> + Those were days of brilliant heat; clear, golden, dry. The society columns + in the papers assured him that everyone was out of town; but the Avenue + seemed plentifully crowded with beautiful, superb creatures. Far down the + gentle slopes of that glimmering roadway he could see the rolling stream + of limousines, dazzles of sunlight caught on their polished flanks. A + faint blue haze of gasoline fumes hung low in the bright warm air. This is + the street where even the most passive are pricked by the strange lure of + carnal dominion. Nothing less than a job on the Avenue itself would suit + his mood, he felt. + </p> + <p> + Fortune and audacity united (as they always do) to concede his desire. He + was in the beautiful department store of Beagle and Company, one of the + most splendid of its kind, looking at some sand-coloured spats. In an + aisle near by he heard a commotion—nothing vulgar, but still an + evident stir, with repressed yelps and a genteel, horrified bustle. He + hastened to the spot, and through the crowd saw someone lying on the + floor. An extremely beautiful sales-damsel, charmingly clad in black crepe + de chien, was supporting the victim's head, vainly fanning him. Wealthy + dowagers were whining in distress. Then an ambulance clanged up to a side + door, and a stretcher was brought in. “What is it?” said Gissing to a + female at the silk-stocking counter. + </p> + <p> + “One of the floorwalkers—died of heat prostration,” she said, + looking very much upset. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Gissing. “You never know what will happen next, do + you?” He walked away, shaking his head. + </p> + <p> + He asked the elevator attendant to direct him to the offices of the firm. + On the seventh floor, down a quiet corridor behind the bedroom suites, a + rosewood fence barred his way. A secretary faced him inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see Mr. Beagle.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Beagle senior or Mr. Beagle junior?” + </p> + <p> + Youth cleaves to youth, said Gissing to himself. “Mr. Beagle junior,” he + stated firmly. + </p> + <p> + “Have you an appointment?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said. + </p> + <p> + She took his ward, disappeared, and returned. “This way, please,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle senior must be very old indeed, he thought; for junior was + distinctly grizzled. In fact (so rapidly does the mind run), Mr. Beagle + senior must be near the age of retirement. Very likely (he said to + himself) that will soon occur; there will be a general stepping-up among + members of the firm, and that will be my chance. I wonder how much they + pay a junior partner? + </p> + <p> + He almost uttered this question, as Mr. Beagle junior looked at him so + inquiringly. But he caught himself in time. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon for intruding,” said Gissing, “but I am the new + floorwalker.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind,” said Mr. Beagle junior, “but we do not need a new + floorwalker.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon again,” said Gissing, “but you are not au courant with + the affairs of the store. One has just died, right by the silk-stocking + counter. Very bad for business.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the telephone rang, and Mr. Beagle seized it. He listened, + sharply examining his caller meanwhile. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said, as he put down the receiver. “Well, sir, have + you had any experience?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly of that sort,” said Gissing; “but I think I understand the + requirements. The tone of the store—” + </p> + <p> + “I will ask you to be here at four-thirty this afternoon,” said Mr. + Beagle. “We have a particular routine in regard to candidates for that + position. You will readily perceive that it is a post of some importance. + The floorwalker is our point of social contact with patrons.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing negligently dusted his shoes with a handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not apologize,” he said kindly. “I am willing to congratulate + with you on your good fortune. It was mere hazard that I was in the store. + To-day, of course, business will be poor. But to-morrow, I think you will + find—” + </p> + <p> + “At four-thirty,” said Mr. Beagle, a little puzzled. + </p> + <p> + That day Gissing went without lunch. First he explored the whole building + from top to bottom, until he knew the location of every department, and + had the store directory firmly memorized. With almost proprietary + tenderness he studied the shining goods and trinkets; noted approvingly + the clerks who seemed to him specially prompt and obliging to customers; + scowled a little at any sign of boredom or inattention. He heard the soft + sigh of the pneumatic tubes as they received money and blew it to some + distant coffer: this money, he thought, was already partly his. That + square-cut creature whom he presently discerned following him was + undoubtedly the store detective: he smiled to think what a pleasant + anecdote this would be when he was admitted to junior partnership. Then he + went, finally, to the special Masculine Shop on the fifth floor, where he + bought a silk hat, a cutaway coat and waistcoat, and trousers of pearly + stripe. He did not forget patent leather shoes, nor white spats. He + refused—the little white linen margins which the clerk wished to + affix to the V of his waistcoat. That, he felt, was the ultra touch which + would spoil all. The just less than perfection, how perfect it is! + </p> + <p> + It was getting late. He hurried to Penn Station where he hired one of + those little dressing booths, and put on his regalia. His tweeds, in a + neat package, he checked at the parcel counter. Then he returned to the + store for the important interview. + </p> + <p> + He had expected a formal talk with the two Messrs. Beagle, perhaps + touching on such matters as duties, hours, salary, and so on. To his + surprise he was ushered by the secretary into a charming Louis XVI salon + farther down the private corridor. There were several ladies: one was + pouring tea. Mr. Beagle junior came forward. The vice-president (such was + Mr. Beagle junior's rank, Gissing had learned by the sign on his door) + still wore his business garb of the morning. Gissing immediately felt + himself to have the advantage. But what a pleasant idea, he thought, for + the members of the firm to have tea together every afternoon. He handed + his hat, gloves, and stick to the secretary. + </p> + <p> + “Very kind of you to come,” said Mr. Beagle. “Let me present you to my + wife.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Beagle, at the tea-urn, received him graciously. + </p> + <p> + “Cream or lemon?” she said. “Two lumps?” + </p> + <p> + This is really delightful, Gissing thought. Only on Fifth Avenue could + this kind of thing happen. He looked down the hostess from his superior + height, and smiled charmingly. + </p> + <p> + “Do you permit three?” he said. “A little weakness of mine.” As a matter + of fact, he hated tea so sweet; but he felt it was strategic to fix + himself in Mrs. Beagle's mind as a polished eccentric. + </p> + <p> + “You must have a meringue,” she said. “Ah, Mrs. Pomeranian has them. Mrs. + Pomeranian, let me present Mr. Gissing.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pomeranian, small and plump and tightly corseted, offered the + meringues, while Mrs. Beagle pressed upon him a plate with a small doily, + embroidered with the arms of the store, and its motto je maintiendrai—referring, + no doubt, to its prices. Mr. Beagle then introduced him to several more + ladies in rapid succession. Gissing passed along the line, bowing slightly + but with courteous interest to each. To each one he raised his eyebrows + and permitted himself a small significant smile, as though to convey that + this was a moment he had long been anticipating. How different, he + thought, was this life of enigmatic gaiety from the suburban drudgery of + recent months. If only Mrs. Spaniel could see him now! He was about to + utilize a brief pause by sipping his tea, when a white-headed patriarch + suddenly appeared beside him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gissing,” said the vice-president, “this is my father, Mr. Beagle + senior.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing, by quick work, shuffled the teacup into his left paw, and the + meringue plate into the crook of his elbow, so he was ready for the old + gentleman's salutation. Mr. Beagle senior was indeed very old: his white + hair hung over his eyes, he spoke with growling severity. Gissing's manner + to the old merchant was one of respectful reassurance: he attempted to + make an impression that would console: to impart—of course without + saying so—the thought that though the head of the firm could not + last much longer, yet he would leave his great traffic in capable care. + </p> + <p> + “Where will I find an aluminum cooking pot?” growled the elder Beagle + unexpectedly. + </p> + <p> + “In the Bargain Basement,” said Gissing promptly. + </p> + <p> + “He'll do!” cried the president. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise, on looking round, Gissing saw that all the ladies had + vanished. Beagle junior was grinning at him. + </p> + <p> + “You have the job, Mr. Gissing,” he said. “You will pardon the harmless + masquerade—we always try out a floorwalker in that way. My father + thinks that if he can handle a teacup and a meringue while being + introduced to ladies, he can manage anything on the main aisle downstairs. + Mrs. Pomeranian, our millinery buyer, said she had never seen it better + done, and she mixes with some of the swellest people in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine to six, with half an hour off for lunch,” said the senior partner, + and left the room. + </p> + <p> + Gissing calmly swallowed his tea, and ate the meringue. He would have + enjoyed another, but the capable secretary had already removed them. He + poured himself a second cup of tea. Mr. Beagle junior showed signs of + eagerness to leave, but Gissing detained him. + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” he said suavely. “There is a little matter that we have not + discussed. The question of salary.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle looked thoughtfully out of the window. + </p> + <p> + “Thirty dollars a week,” he said. + </p> + <p> + After all, Gissing thought, it will only take four weeks to pay for what I + have spent on clothes. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVEN + </h2> + <p> + There was some dramatic nerve in Gissing's nature that responded + eloquently to the floorwalking job. Never, in the history of Beagle and + Company, had there been a floorwalker who threw so much passion and zeal + into his task. The very hang of his coattails, even the erect carriage of + his back, the rubbery way in which his feet trod the aisles, showed his + sense of dignity and glamour. There seemed to be a great tradition which + enriched and upheld him. Mr. Beagle senior used to stand on the little + balcony at the rear of the main floor, transfixed with the pleasure of + seeing Gissing move among the crowded passages. Alert, watchful, urbane, + with just the ideal blend of courtesy and condescension, he raised + floorwalking to a social art. Female customers asked him the way to + departments they knew perfectly well, for the pleasure of hearing him + direct them. Business began to improve before he had been there a week. + </p> + <p> + And how he enjoyed himself! The perfection of his bearing on the floor was + no careful pose: it was due to the brimming overplus of his happiness. + Happiness is surely the best teacher of good manners: only the unhappy are + churlish in deportment. He was young, remember; and this was his first + job. His precocious experience as a paterfamilias had added to his mien + just that suggestion of unconscious gravity which is so appealing to + ladies. He looked (they thought) as though he had been touched—but + Oh so lightly!—by poetic sorrow or strange experience: to ask him + the way to the notion counter was as much of an adventure as to meet a + reigning actor at a tea. The faint cloud of melancholy that shadowed his + brow may have been only due to the fact that his new boots were pinching + painfully; but they did not know that. + </p> + <p> + So, quite unconsciously, he began to “establish” himself in his role, just + as an actor does. At first he felt his way tentatively and with tact. + Every store has its own tone and atmosphere: in a day or so he divined the + characteristic cachet of the Beagle establishment. He saw what kind of + customers were typical, and what sort of conduct they expected. And the + secret of conquest being always to give people a little more than they + expect, he pursued that course. Since they expected in a floorwalker the + mechanical and servile gentility of a hired puppet, he exhibited the easy, + offhand simplicity of a fellow club-member. With perfect naturalness he + went out of his way to assist in their shopping concerns: gave advice in + the selection of dress materials, acted as arbiter in the matching of + frocks and stockings. His taste being faultless, it often happened that + the things he recommended were not the most expensive: this again endeared + him to customers. When sales slips were brought to him by ladies who + wished to make an exchange, he affixed his O. K. with a magnificent + flourish, and with such evident pleasure, that patrons felt genuine + elation, and plunged into the tumult with new enthusiasm. It was not long + before there were always people waiting for his counsel; and husbands + would appear at the store to convey (a little irritably) some such message + as: “Mrs. Sealyham says, please choose her a scarf that will go nicely + with that brown moire dress of hers. She says you will remember the + dress.”—This popularity became even a bit perplexing, as for + instance when old Mrs. Dachshund, the store's biggest Charge Account, + insisted on his leaving his beat at a very busy time, to go up to the + tenth floor to tell her which piano he thought had the richer tone. + </p> + <p> + Of course all this was very entertaining, and an admirable opportunity for + studying his fellow-creatures; but it did not go very deep into his mind. + He lived for some time in a confused glamour and glitter; surrounded by + the fascinating specious life of the store, but drifting merely + superficially upon it. The great place, with its columns of artificial + marble and white censers of upward-shining electricity, glimmered like a + birch forest by moonlight. Silver and jewels and silks and slippers + flashed all about him. It was a marvellous education, for he soon learned + to estimate these things at their proper value; which is low, for they + have little to do with life itself. His work was tiring in the extreme—merely + having to remain upright on his hind legs for such long hours WAS an + ordeal—but it did not penetrate to the secret observant self of + which he was always aware. This was advantageous. If you have no + intellect, or only just enough to get along with, it does not much matter + what you do. But if you really have a mind—by which is meant that + rare and curious power of reason, of imagination, and of emotion; very + different from a mere fertility of conversation and intelligent curiosity—it + is better not to weary and wear it out over trifles. + </p> + <p> + So, when he left the store in the evening, no matter how his legs ached, + his head was clear and untarnished. He did not hurry away at closing time. + Places where people work are particularly fascinating after the bustle is + over. He loved to linger in the long aisles, to see the tumbled counters + being swiftly brought to order, to hear the pungent cynicisms of the weary + shopgirls. To these, by the way, he was a bit of a mystery. The punctilio + of his manner, the extreme courtliness of his remarks, embarrassed them a + little. Behind his back they spoke of him as “The Duke” and admired him + hugely; little Miss Whippet, at the stocking counter, said that he was an + English noble of long pedigree, who had been unjustly deprived of his + estates. + </p> + <p> + Down in the basement of this palatial store was a little dressing room and + lavatory for the floorwalkers, where they doffed their formal raiment and + resumed street attire. His colleagues grumbled and hastened to depart, but + Gissing made himself entirely comfortable. In his locker he kept a baby's + bathtub, which he leisurely filled with hot water at one of the basins. + Then he sat serenely and bathed his feet; although it was against the + rules he often managed to smoke a pipe while doing so. Then he hung up his + store clothes neatly, and went off refreshed into the summer evening. + </p> + <p> + A warm rosy light floods the city at that hour. At the foot of every + crosstown street is a bonfire of sunset. What a mood of secret smiling + beset him as he viewed the great territory of his enjoyment. “The freedom + of the city”—a phrase he had somewhere heard—echoed in his + mind. The freedom of the city! A magnificent saying, Electric signs, first + burning wanly in the pink air, then brightened and grew strong. “Not + light, but rather darkness visible,” in that magic hour that just holds + the balance between paling day and the spendthrift jewellery of evening. + Or, if it rained, to sit blithely on the roof of a bus, revelling in the + gust and whipping of the shower. Why had no one told him of the glory of + the city? She was pride, she was exultation, she was madness. She was what + he had obscurely craved. In every line of her gallant profile he saw + conquest, triumph, victory! Empty conquest, futile triumph, doomed victory—but + that was the essence of the drama. In thunderclaps of dumb ecstasy he saw + her whole gigantic fabric, leaning and clamouring upward with terrible + yearning. Burnt with pitiless sunlight, drenched with purple explosions of + summer storm, he saw her cleansed and pure. Where were her recreant poets + that they had never made these things plain? + </p> + <p> + And then, after the senseless day, after its happy but meaningless + triviality, the throng and mixed perfumery and silly courteous gestures, + his blessed solitude! Oh solitude, that noble peace of the mind! He loved + the throng and multitude of the day: he loved people: but sometimes he + suspected that he loved them as God does—at a judicious distance. + From his rather haphazard religious training, strange words came back to + him. “For God so loved the world...” So loved the world that—that + what? That He sent someone else... Some day he must think this out. But + you can't think things out. They think themselves, suddenly, amazingly. + The city itself is God, he cried. Was not God's ultimate promise something + about a city—The City of God? Well, but that was only symbolic + language. The city—of course that was only a symbol for the race—for + all his kind. The entire species, the whole aspiration and passion and + struggle, that was God. + </p> + <p> + On the ferries, at night, after supper, was his favourite place for + meditation. Some undeniable instinct drew him ever and again out of the + deep and shut ravines of stone, to places where he could feed on distance. + That is one of the subtleties of this straight and narrow city, that + though her ways are cliffed in, they are a long thoroughfare for the eye: + there is always a far perspective. But best of all to go down to her + environing water, where spaces are wide: the openness that keeps her sound + and free. Ships had words for him: they had crossed many horizons: + fragments of that broken blue still shone on their cutting bows. Ferries, + the most poetical things in the city, were nearly empty at night: he stood + by the rail, saw the black outline of the town slide by, saw the lower sky + gilded with her merriment, and was busy thinking. + </p> + <p> + Now about a God (he said to himself)—instinct tells me that there is + one, for when I think about Him I find that I unconsciously wag my tail a + little. But I must not reason on that basis, which is too puppyish. I like + to think that there is, somewhere in this universe, an inscrutable Being + of infinite wisdom, harmony, and charity, by Whom all my desires and needs + would be understood; in association with Whom I would find peace, + satisfaction, a lightness of heart that exceed my present understanding. + Such a Being is to me quite inconceivable; yet I feel that if I met Him, I + would instantly understand. I do not mean that I would understand Him: but + I would understand my relationship to Him, which would be perfect. Nor do + I mean that it would be always happy; merely that it would transcend + anything in the way of social significance that I now experience. But I + must not conclude that there is such a God, merely because it would be so + pleasant if there were. + </p> + <p> + Then (he continued) is it necessary to conceive that this deity is + super-canine in essence? What I am getting at is this: in everyone I have + ever known—Fuji, Mr. Poodle, Mrs. Spaniel, those maddening + delightful puppies, Mrs. Purp, Mr. Beagle, even Mrs. Chow and Mrs. + Sealyham and little Miss Whippet—I have always been aware that there + was some mysterious point of union at which our minds could converge and + entirely understand one another. No matter what our difference of breed, + of training, of experience and education, provided we could meet and + exchange ideas honestly there would be some satisfying point of mental + fusion where we would feel our solidarity in the common mystery of life. + People complain that wars are caused by and fought over trivial things. + Why, of course! For it is only in trivial matters that people differ: in + the deep realities they must necessarily be at one. Now I have a suspicion + that in this secret sense of unity God may lurk. Is that what we mean by + God, the sum total of all these instinctive understandings? But what is + the origin of this sense of kinship? Is it not the realization of our + common subjection to laws and forces greater than ourselves? Then, since + nothing can be greater than God, He must BE these superior mysteries. Yet + He cannot be greater than our minds, for our minds have imagined Him. + </p> + <p> + My mathematics is very rusty, he said to himself, but I seem to remember + something about a locus, which was a curve or a surface every point on + which satisfied some particular equation of relation among the + coordinates. It begins to look to me as though life might be a kind of + locus, whose commanding equation we call God. The points on that locus + cannot conceive of the equation, yet they are subject to it. They cannot + conceive of that equation, because of course it has no existence save as a + law of their being. It exists only for them; they, only by it. But there + it is—a perfect, potent, divine abstraction. + </p> + <p> + This carried him into a realm of disembodied thinking which his mind was + not sufficiently disciplined to summarize. It is quite plain, he said to + himself, that I must rub up my vanished mathematics. For certainly the + mathematician comes closer to God than any other, since his mind is + trained to conceive and formulate the magnificent phantoms of legality. He + smiled to think that any one should presume to become a parson without + having at least mastered analytical geometry. + </p> + <p> + The ferry had crossed and recrossed the river several times, but Gissing + had found no conclusion for these thoughts. As the boat drew toward her + slip, she passed astern of a great liner. Gissing saw the four tall + funnels loom up above the shed of the pier where she lay berthed. What was + it that made his heart so stir? The perfect rake of the funnels—just + that satisfying angle of slant—that, absurdly enough, was the + nobility of the sight. Why, then? Let's get at the heart of this, he said. + Just that little trick of the architect, useless in itself—what was + it but the touch of swagger, of bravado, of defiance—going out into + the vast, meaningless, unpitying sea with that dainty arrogance of build; + taking the trouble to mock the senseless elements, hurricane, ice, and + fog, with a 15-degree slope of masts and funnels: damn, what was the + analogy? + </p> + <p> + It was pride, it was pride! It was the same lusty impudence that he saw in + his perfect city, the city that cried out to the hearts of youth, jutted + her mocking pinnacles toward sky, her clumsy turrets verticalled on gold! + And God, the God of gales and gravity, loved His children to dare and + contradict Him, to rally Him with equations of their own. + </p> + <p> + “God, I defy you!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER EIGHT + </h2> + <p> + Time is a flowing river. Happy those who allow themselves to be carried, + unresisting, with the current. They float through easy days. They live, + unquestioning, in the moment. + </p> + <p> + But Gissing was acutely conscious of Time. Though not subtle enough to + analyze the matter acutely, he had a troublesome feeling about it. He kept + checking off a series of Nows. “Now I am having my bath,” he would say to + himself in the morning. “Now I am dressing. Now I am on the way to the + store. Now I am in the jewellery aisle, being polite to customers. Now I + am having lunch.” After a period in which time ran by unnoticed, he would + suddenly realize a fresh Now, and feel uneasy at the knowledge that it + would shortly dissolve into another one. He tried, vainly, to swim + up-stream against the smooth impalpable fatal current. He tried to dam up + Time, to deepen the stream so that he could bathe in it carelessly. Time, + he said, is life; and life is God; time, then, is little bits of God. + Those who waste their time in vulgarity or folly are the true atheists. + </p> + <p> + One of the things that struck him about the city was its heedlessness of + Time. On every side he saw people spending it without adequate return. + Perhaps he was young and doctrinaire: but he devised this theory for + himself—all time is wasted that does not give you some awareness of + beauty or wonder. In other words, “the days that make us happy make us + wise,” he said to himself, quoting Masefield's line. On that principle, he + asked, how much time is wasted in this city? Well, here are some six + million people. To simplify the problem (which is permitted to every + philosopher) let us (he said) assume that 2,350,000 of those people have + spent a day that could be called, on the whole, happy: a day in which they + have had glimpses of reality; a day in which they feel satisfaction. (That + was, he felt, a generous allowance. ) Very well, then, that leaves + 3,650,000 people whose day has been unfruitful: spent in uncongenial work, + or in sorrow, suffering, and talking nonsense. This city, then, in one + day, has wasted 10,000 years, or 100 centuries. One hundred centuries + squandered in a day! It made him feel quite ill, and he tore up the scrap + of paper on which he had been figuring. + </p> + <p> + This was a new, disconcerting way to think of the subject. We are + accustomed to consider Time only as it applies to ourselves, forgetting + that it is working upon everyone else simultaneously. Why, he thought with + a sudden shock, if only 36,500 people in this city have had a thoroughly + spendthrift and useless day, that means a net loss of a century! If the + War, he said to himself, lasted over 1,500 days and involved more than + 10,000,000 men, how many aeons—He used to think about these things + during quiet evenings in the top-floor room at Mrs. Purp's. Occasionally + he went home at night still wearing his store clothes, because it pleased + good Mrs. Purp so much. She felt that it added glamour to her house to + have him do so, and always called her husband, a frightened silent + creature with no collar and a humble air, up from the basement to admire. + Mr. Purp's time, Gissing suspected, was irretrievably wasted—a good + deal of it, to judge by his dusty appearance, in rolling around in ashcans + or in the company of the neighbourhood bootlegger; but then, he reflected, + in a charitable seizure, you must not judge other people's time-spendings + by a calculus of your own. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps he himself was growing a little miserly in this matter. Indulging + in the rare, the sovereign luxury of thinking, he had suddenly become + aware of time's precious fluency, and wondered why everyone else didn't + think about it as passionately as he did. In the privacy of his room, + weary after the day afoot, he took off his cutaway coat and trousers and + enjoyed his old habit of stretching out on the floor for a good rest. + There he would lie, not asleep, but in a bliss of passive meditation. He + even grudged Mrs. Purp the little chats she loved—she made a point + of coming up with clean towels when she knew he was in his room, because + she cherished hearing him talk. When he heard her knock, he had to + scramble hastily to his feet, get on his clothes, and pretend he had been + sitting calmly in the rocking chair. It would never do to let her find him + sprawled on the floor. She had an almost painful respect for him. Once, + when prospective lodgers were bargaining for rooms, and he happened to be + wearing his Beagle and Company attire, she had asked him to do her the + favour of walking down the stairs, so that the visitors might be impressed + by the gentility of the establishment. + </p> + <p> + Of course he loved to waste time—but in his own way. He gloated on + the irresponsible vacancy of those evening hours, when there was nothing + to be done. He lay very still, hardly even thinking, just feeling life go + by. Through the open window came the lights and noises of the street. + Already his domestic life seemed dim and far away. The shrill appeals of + the puppies, their appalling innocent comments on existence, came but + faintly to memory. Here, where life beat so much more thickly and closely, + was the place to be. Though he had solved nothing, yet he seemed closer to + the heart of the mystery. Entranced, he felt time flowing on toward him, + endless in sweep and fulness. There is only one success, he said to + himself—to be able to spend your life in your own way, and not to + give others absurd maddening claims upon it. Youth, youth is the only + wealth, for youth has Time in its purse! + </p> + <p> + In the store, however, philosophy was laid aside. A kind of intoxication + possessed him. Never before had old Mr. Beagle (watching delightedly from + the mezzanine balcony) seen such a floorwalker. Gissing moved to and fro + exulting in the great tide of shopping. He knew all the best customers by + name and had learned their peculiarities. If a shower came up and Mrs. + Mastiff was just leaving, he hastened to give her his arm as far as her + limousine, boosting her in so expeditiously that not a drop of wetness + fell upon her. He took care to find out the special plat du jour of the + store's lunch room, and seized occasion to whisper to Mrs. Dachshund, + whose weakness was food, that the filet of sole was very nice to-day. Mrs. + Pomeranian learned that giving Gissing a hint about some new Parisian + importations was more effective than a half page ad. in the Sunday papers. + Within a few hours, by a judicious word here and there, he would have a + score of ladies hastening to the millinery salon. A pearl necklace of + great value, which Mr. Beagle had rebuked the jewellery buyer for getting, + because it seemed more appropriate for a dealer in precious stones than + for a department store, was disposed of almost at once. Gissing casually + told Mrs. Mastiff that he had heard Mrs. Sealyham intended to buy it. As + for Mrs. Dachshund, who had had a habit of lunching at Delmonico's, she + now was to be seen taking tiffin at Beagle's almost daily. There were many + husbands who would have been glad to shoot him at sight on the first of + the month, had they known who was the real cause of their woe. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, Gissing had raised floorwalking to a new level. He was more prime + minister than a mere patroller of aisles. With sparkling eye, with + unending curiosity, tact, and attention, he moved quietly among the + throng. He realized that shopping is the female paradise; that spending + money she has not earned is the only real fun an elderly and wealthy lady + can have; and if to this primitive shopping passion can be added the + delights of social amenity—flattery, courtesy, good-humoured + flirtation—the snare is complete. + </p> + <p> + But all this is not accomplished without rousing the jealousy of rivals. + Among the other floorwalkers, and particularly in the gorgeously uniformed + attendant at the front door (who was outraged by Gissing's habit of + escorting special customers to their motors) moved anger, envy, and + sneers. Gissing, completely absorbed in the fascination of his work, was + unaware of this hostility, as he was equally unaware of the amazed + satisfaction of his employer. He went his way with naive and unconscious + pleasure. It did not take long for his enemies to find a fulcrum for their + chagrin. One evening, after closing, when he sat in the dressing room, + with his feet in the usual tub of hot water, placidly reviewing the day's + excitements and smoking his pipe, the superintendent burst in. + </p> + <p> + “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don't you know smoking's forbidden? What do you want + to do, get our fire insurance cancelled? Get out of here! You're fired!” + </p> + <p> + It did not occur to Gissing to question or protest. He had known perfectly + well that smoking was not allowed. But he was like the stage hand behind + the scenes who concluded it was all right to light a cigarette because the + sign only said SMOKING FORBIDDEN, instead of SMOKING STRICTLY FORBIDDEN. + He had not troubled his mind about it, one way or about it, one way or + another. + </p> + <p> + He had drawn his salary that evening, and his first thought was, Well, at + any rate I've earned enough to pay for the clothes. He had been there + exactly four weeks. Quite calmly, he lifted his feet out of the tub and + began to towel them daintily. The meticulous way he dried between his toes + was infuriating to the superintendent. + </p> + <p> + “Have you any children?” Gissing asked, mildly. + </p> + <p> + “What's that to you?” snapped the other. + </p> + <p> + “I'll sell you this bathtub for a quarter. Take it home to them. They + probably need it.” + </p> + <p> + “You get out of here!” cried the angry official. + </p> + <p> + “You'd be surprised,” said Gissing, “how children thrive when they're + bathed regularly. Believe me, I know.” + </p> + <p> + He packed his formal clothes in a neat bundle, left the bathtub behind, + surrendered his locker key, and walked toward the employees' door, + escorted by his bristling superior. As they passed through the empty + aisles, scene of his brief triumph, he could not help gazing a little + sadly. True merchant to the last, a thought struck him. He scribbled a + note on the back of a sales slip and left it at Miss Whippet's post by the + stocking counter. It said:— + </p> + <p> + MISS WHIPPET: Show Mrs. Sealyham some of the bisque sports hose, Scotch + wool, size 9. She's coming to-morrow. Don't let her get size 8 1/2. They + shrink. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + At the door he paused, relit his pipe leisurely, raised his hat to the + superintendent, and strolled away. + </p> + <p> + In spite of this nonchalance, the situation was serious. His money was at + a low ebb. All his regular income was diverted to the support of the large + household in the country. He was too proud to appeal to his wealthy uncle. + He hated also to think of Mrs. Purp's mortification if she learned that + her star boarder was out of work. By a curious irony, when he got home he + found a letter from Mrs. Spaniel:— + </p> + <p> + MR. GISHING, dere friend, the pupeys are well, no insecks, and eat with + nives and forx Groups is the fattest but Yelpers is the lowdest they send + wags and lix and glad to here Daddy is doing so well in buisness with + respects from + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MRS. SPANIEL. +</pre> + <p> + He did not let Mrs. Purp know of the change in his condition, and every + morning left his lodging at the usual time. By some curious attraction he + felt drawn to that downtown region where his kinsman's office was. This + part of the city he had not properly explored. + </p> + <p> + It was a world wholly different from Fifth Avenue. There was none of that + sense of space and luxury he had known on the wide slopes of Murray Hill. + He wandered under terrific buildings, in a breezy shadow where javelins of + colourless sunlight pierced through thin slits, hot brilliance fell in + fans and cascades over the uneven terrace of roofs. Here was where + husbands worked to keep Fifth Avenue going: he wondered vaguely whether + Mrs. Sealyham had bought those stockings? One day he saw his uncle + hurrying along Wall Street with an intent face. Gissing skipped into a + doorway, fearing to be recognized. He knew that the old fellow would + insist on taking him to lunch at the Pedigree Club, would talk endlessly, + and ask family questions. But he was on the scent of matters that talk + could not pursue. + </p> + <p> + He perceived a sense of pressure, of prodigious poetry and beauty and + amazement. This was a strange jungle of life. Tall coasts of windows stood + up into the pure brilliant sky: against their feet beat a dark surf of + slums. In one foreign street, too deeply trenched for sunlight, oranges + were the only gold. The water, reaching round in two arms, came close: + there was a note of husky summons in the whistles of passing craft. Almost + everywhere, sharp above many smells of oils and spices, the whiff of + coffee tingled his busy nose. Above one huge precipice stood a gilded + statue—a boy with wings, burning in the noon. Brilliance flamed + between the vanes of his pinions: the intangible thrust of that pouring + light seemed about to hover him off into blue air. + </p> + <p> + The world of working husbands was more tender than that of shopping wives: + even in all their business, they had left space and quietness for the + dead. Sunken among the crags he found two graveyards. They were cups of + placid brightness. Here, looking upward, it was like being drowned on the + floor of an ocean of light. Husbands had built their offices half-way to + the sky rather than disturb these. Perhaps they appreciate rest all the + more, Gissing thought, because they get so little of it? Somehow he could + not quite imagine a graveyard left at peace in the shopping district. It + would be bad for trade, perhaps? Even the churches on the Avenue, he had + noticed, were huddled up and hemmed in so tightly by the other buildings + that they had scarcely room to kneel. If I ever become a parson, he said + (this was a fantastic dream of his), I will insist that all churches must + have a girdle of green about them, to set them apart from the world. + </p> + <p> + The two little brown churches among the cliffs had been gifted with a + dignity far beyond the dream of their builders. Their pointing spires were + relieved against the enormous facades of business. What other altars ever + had such a reredos? Above the strepitant racket of the streets, he heard + the harsh chimes of Trinity at noonday—strong jags of clangour + hurled against the great sounding-boards of buildings; drifting and dying + away down side alleys. There was no soft music of appeal in the bronze + volleying: it was the hoarse monitory voice of rebuke. So spoke the church + of old, he thought: not asking, not appealing, but imperatively, sternly, + as one born to command. He thought with new respect of Mr. Sealyham, Mr. + Mastiff, Mr. Dachshund, all the others who were powers in these fantastic + flumes of stone. They were more than merely husbands of charge accounts—they + were poets. They sat at lunch on the tops of their amazing edifices, and + looked off at the blue. + </p> + <p> + Day after day went by, but with a serene fatalism Gissing did nothing + about hunting a job. He was willing to wait until the last dollar was + broken: in the meantime he was content. You never know the soul of a city, + he said, until you are down on your luck. Now, he felt, he had been here + long enough to understand her. She did not give her secrets to the world + of Fifth Avenue. Down here, where the deep crevice of Broadway opened out + into greenness, what was the first thing he saw? Out across the harbour, + turned toward open sea—Liberty! Liberty Enlightening the World, he + had heard, was her full name. Some had mocked her, he had also heard. + Well, what was the gist of her enlightenment? Why this, surely: that + Liberty could never be more than a statue: never a reality. Only a fool + would expect complete liberty. He himself, with all his latitude, was not + free. If he were, he would cook his meals in his room, and save money—but + Mrs. Purp was strict on that point. She had spoken scathingly of two young + females she ejected for just that reason. Nor was Mrs. Purp free—she + was ridden by the Gas Company. So it went. + </p> + <p> + It struck him, now he was down to about three dollars, that a generous + gesture toward Fortune might be valuable. When you are nearly out of + money, he reasoned, to toss coins to the gods—i. e., to buy + something quite unnecessary—may be propitiatory. It may start + something moving in your direction. It is the touch of bravado that God + relishes. In a sudden mood of tenderness, he bought two dollars' worth of + toys and had them sent to the children. He smiled to think how they would + frolic over the jumping rabbit. He sent Mrs. Spaniel a postcard of the + Aquarium. + </p> + <p> + There is a good deal more to this business than I had realized, he said, + as he walked uptown through the East Side slums that hot night. The + audacity, the vitality, the magnificence, are plain enough. But I seem to + see squalor too, horror and pitiful dearth. I believe God is farther off + than I thought. Look here: if the more you know, the less you know about + God, doesn't that mean that God is really enjoyed only by the completely + simple—by faith, never by reason? + </p> + <p> + He gave twenty-five cents to a beggar, and said angrily: “I am not + interested in a God who is known only by faith.” + </p> + <p> + When he got uptown he was very tired and hungry. In spite of all Mrs. + Purp's rules, he smuggled in an egg, a box of biscuits, a small packet of + tea and sugar, and a tin of condensed milk. He emptied the milk into his + shaving mug, and used the tin to boil water in, holding it over the gas + jet. He was getting on finely when a sudden knock on the door made him + jump. He spilled the hot water on his leg, and uttered a wild yell. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Purp burst in, but she was so excited that she did not notice the egg + seeping into the clean counterpane. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Gissing,” she exclaimed, “I've been waiting all evening for you + to come in. Purp and I wondered if you'd seen this in the paper to-night? + Purp noticed it in the ads., but we couldn't understand what it meant.” + </p> + <p> + She held out a page of classified advertising, in which he read with + amazement: + </p> + <p> + PERSONAL + </p> + <p> + If MR. GISSING, late floorwalker at Beagle and Company, will communicate + with Mr. Beagle Senior, he will hear matters greatly to his advantage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER NINE + </h2> + <p> + There had been great excitement in the private offices of Beagle and + Company after Gissing's sudden disappearance. Old Mr. Beagle was furious, + and hotly scolded his son. In spite of his advanced age, Beagle senior was + still an autocrat and insisted on regulating the details of the great + business he had built up. “You numbskull!” he shouted to Beagle junior, + “that fellow was worth any dozen others in the place, and you let him be + fired by a mongrel superintendent.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Papa,” protested the vice-president, “the superintendent had to obey + the rules. You know how strict the underwriters are about smoking. Of + course he should have warned Gissing, instead of discharging him.” + </p> + <p> + “Rules!” interrupted old Beagle fiercely—“Rules don't apply in a + case like this. I tell you that fellow has a genius for storekeeping. + Haven't I watched him on the floor? I've never seen one like him. What's + the good of your newfangled methods, your card indexes and overhead + charts, when you haven't even got a record of his address?” + </p> + <p> + Growling and showing his teeth, the head of the firm plodded stiffly + downstairs and discharged the superintendent himself. Already he saw signs + of disorganization in the main aisle. Miss Whippet was tearful: customers + were waiting impatiently to have exchange slips O. K.'d: Mrs. Dachshund + was turning over some jewelled lorgnettes, but it was plain that she was + only “looking,” and had no intention to purchase. + </p> + <p> + So when, after many vain inquiries, the advertisement reached its target, + the old gentleman welcomed Gissing with genuine emotion. He received him + into his private office, locked the door, and produced a decanter. + Evidently beneath his irritable moods he had sensibilities of his own. + </p> + <p> + “I have given my life to trade,” he said, “and I have grown weary of + watching the half-hearted simpletons who imagine they can rise to the top + by thinking more about themselves than they do about the business. You, + Mr. Gissing, have won my heart. You see storekeeping as I do—a fine + art, an absorbing passion, a beautiful, thrilling sport. It is an art as + lovely and subtle as the theatre, with the same skill in wooing and + charming the public.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing bowed, and drank Mr. Beagle's health, to cover his astonishment. + The aged merchant fixed him with a glittering eye. + </p> + <p> + “I can see that storekeeping is your genius in life. I can see that you + are naturally consecrated to it. My son is a good steady fellow, but he + lacks the divine gift. I am getting old. We need new fire, new brains, in + the conduct of this business. I ask you to forgive the unlucky blunder we + made lately, and devote yourself to us.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was very much embarrassed. He wanted to say that if he was going + to consecrate himself to floorwalking, he would relish a raise in salary; + but old Beagle was so tremulous and kept blowing his nose so loudly that + Gissing doubted if he could make himself heard. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to take a position as General Manager,” said Mr. Beagle, “with + a salary of ten thousand a year.” + </p> + <p> + He rose and threw open a mahogany door that led out of his own sanctum. + “Here is your office,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The bewildered Gissing looked about the room—the mahogany + flat-topped desk with a great sheet of plate glass shining greenly at its + thick edges; an inkwell, pens and pencils, a little glass bowl full of + bright paper-clips; one of those rocking blotters that are so tempting; a + water cooler which just then uttered a seductive gulping bubble; an + electric fan, gently humming; wooden trays for letters and memoranda; on + one wall a great chart of names, lettered Organization of Personnel; a + nice domestic-looking hat-and-coat stand; a soft green rug—Ah, how + alluring it all was! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Beagle pointed to the outer door of the room, which had a frosted + pane. Through the glass the astounded floorwalker could read the words + </p> + <p> + REGANAM LARENEG GNISSIG.RM + </p> + <p> + What a delightful little room to meditate in. From the broad windows he + could see the whole shining tideway of Fifth Avenue, passing lazily in the + warm sunlight. He turned to Mr. Beagle, greatly moved. + </p> + <p> + The next day an advertisement appeared in the leading papers, to this + effect:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ________________________ + BEAGLE AND COMPANY + take pleasure in announcing to + their patrons and friends that + MR. GISSING + has been admitted to the firm in + the status of General Manager + Je Maintiendrai + __________________________ +</pre> + <p> + Mrs. Purp's excitement at this is easier imagined than described. Her only + fear was that now she would lose her best lodger. She made Purp go out and + buy a new shirt and a collar; she told Gissing, rather pathetically, that + she intended to have the whole house repapered in the fall. The big double + suite downstairs, which could be used as bedroom and sitting-room, she + suggested as a comfortable change. But Gissing preferred to remain where + he was. He had grown fond of the top floor. + </p> + <p> + Certainly there was an exhilaration in his new importance and prosperity. + The store buzzed with the news. At his request, Miss Whippet was promoted + to the seventh floor to be his secretary. It was delightful to make his + morning tour of inspection through the vast building. Mr. Hound, the store + detective, loved to tell his cronies how suspiciously he had followed “The + Duke” that first day. As Gissing moved through the busy departments he saw + eyes following him, tails wagging. Customers were more flattered than ever + by his courteous attentions. One day he even held a little luncheon party + in the restaurant, at which Mrs. Dachshund, Mrs. Mastiff, and Mrs. + Sealyham were his guests. He invited their husbands, but the latter were + too busy to come. It would have been more prudent of them to attend. That + afternoon Mrs. Dachshund, carried away by enthusiasm, bought a platinum + wrist-watch. Mrs. Mastiff bought a diamond dog-collar. Mrs. Sealyham, + whose husband was temporarily embarrassed in Wall Street, contented + herself with a Sheraton chifforobe. + </p> + <p> + But it began to be evident that his delightful little office was not going + to be a shrine for quiet meditation. His vanity had been pleased by the + large advertisement about him, but he suddenly realized the poison that + lies in printer's ink. Almost overnight, it seemed, he had been added to + ten thousand mailing lists. Little Miss Whippet, although she was fast at + typewriting, was hard put to it to keep up with his correspondence. She + quivered eagerly over her machine, her small paws flying. New pink ribbons + gleamed through her translucent summery georgette blouse. They were her + flag of exultation at her surprising rise in life. She felt it was + immensely important to get all these letters answered promptly. + </p> + <p> + And so did Gissing. In his new zeal, and in his innocent satisfaction at + having entered the inner circle of Big Business, he insisted on answering + everything. He did not realize that dictating letters is the quaint + diversion of business men, and that most of them mean nothing. It is + simply the easiest way of assuring yourself that you are busy. + </p> + <p> + This job was no sinecure. Old Mr. Beagle had so much affectionate + confidence in Gissing that he referred almost everything to him for + decision. Mr. Beagle junior, perhaps a little annoyed at the floorwalker's + meteoric translation, spent the summer afternoons at golf. The infinite + details of a great business crowded upon him. Inexperienced, he had not + learned the ways in which seasoned “executives” protect themselves against + useless intrusion. His telephone buzzed like a hornet. Not five minutes + went by without callers or interruptions of some sort. + </p> + <p> + Most amazing of all, he found, was the miscellaneous passion for palaver + displayed by Big Business. Immediately he was invited to join innumerable + clubs, societies, merchants' associations. Every day would arrive letters, + on heavily embossed paper—“The Sales Managers Club will hold a + round-table discussion on Friday at one o'clock. We would greatly + appreciate it if you would be with us and say a few words.”—“Will + you be our guest at the monthly dinner of the Fifth Avenue Guild, and give + us any preachment that is on your mind?”—“The Merchandising Uplift + Group of Murray Hill will meet at the Commodore for an informal lunch. It + has been suggested that you contribute to the discussion on Underwriting + Overhead.”—“The Executives Association plans a clambake and barbecue + at the Barking Rock Country Club. Around the bonfire a few impromptu + remarks on Business Cycles will be called for. May we count on you?”—“Will + you address the Convention of Knitted Bodygarment Buyers, on whatever + topic is nearest your heart?”—“Will you write for Bunion and + Callous, the trade organ of the Floorwalkers' Union, a thousand-word + review of your career?”—“Will you broadcast a twenty-minute talk on + Department Store Ethics, at the radio station in Newark? 250,000 radio + fans will be listening in.” New to the strange and high-spirited world of + “executives,” it was natural that Gissing did not realize that the net + importance of this kind of thing was absolute zero. It did strike him as + odd, perhaps, that merchants did not dare to go on a junket or plan a + congenial dinner without pretending to themselves that it had some + business significance. But, having been so amazingly lifted into this + atmosphere of great affairs, he felt it was his duty to the store to play + the game according to the established rules. He was borne along on a + roaring spate of conferences, telephone calls, appointments, Rotarian + lunches, Chamber of Commerce dinners, picnics to talk tariff, + house-parties to discuss demurrage, tennis tournaments to settle the + sales-tax, golf foursomes to regulate price-maintenance. Of all these + matters he knew nothing whatever; and he also saw that as far as the + business of Beagle and Company was concerned it would be better not to + waste his time on such side-issues. The way he could really be of service + was in the store itself, tactfully lubricating that complicated engine of + goods and personalities. But he learned to utter, when called upon, a few + suave generalities, barbed with a rollicking story. This made him always + welcome. He was of a studious disposition, and liked to examine this queer + territory of life with an unprejudiced eye. After all, his inward secret + purpose had nothing to do with the success or failure of retail trade. He + was still seeking a horizon that would stay blue when he reached it. + </p> + <p> + More and more he was interested to perceive how transparent the mummery of + business was. He was interested to note how persistently men fled from + success, how carefully most of them avoided the obvious principles of + utility, honesty, prudence, and courtesy, which are inevitably rewarded. + These sagacious, humorous fellows who were amusing themselves with + twaddling trade apothegms and ridiculous banqueteering solemnities, surely + they were aware that this had no bearing upon their own jobs? He suspected + that it was all a feverish anodyne to still some inward unease. Since they + must (not being fools) be aware that these antics were mere subtraction of + time from their business, the obvious conclusion was, they were not happy + with business. There was some strange wistfulness in the conduct of Big + Business Dogs, he thought. Under the pretence of transacting affairs, they + were really trying to discover something that had eluded them. + </p> + <p> + The same thing, strangely enough, seemed to be going on in a sphere of + which he knew nothing, the world of art. He gathered from the papers that + writers, painters, musicians, were holding shindies almost every night, at + which delightful rebels, too busy to occupy themselves with actual + creation, talked charmingly about their plans. Poets were reading poems + incessantly, forgetting to write any. Much of the newspaper comment on + literature made him shudder, for though this was a province quite strange + to him, he had sound instincts. He discerned fatal ignorance and absurdity + between the pompous lines. Yet, in its own way, it seemed a bold and + honest ignorance. Were these, too, like the wistful executives, seeking + where the blue begins? + </p> + <p> + But what was this strange agitation that forbade his fellow-creatures from + enjoying the one thing that makes achievement possible—Solitude? He + himself, so happy to be left alone—was no one else like that? And + yet this very solitude that he craved and revelled in was, by a sublime + paradox, haunted by mysterious loneliness. He felt sometimes as though his + heart had been broken off from some great whole, to which it yearned to be + reunited. It felt like a bone that had been buried, which God would some + day dig up. Sometimes, in his caninomorphic conception of deity, he felt + near him the thunder of those mighty paws. In rare moments of silence he + gazed from his office window upon the sun-gilded, tempting city. Her + madness was upon him—her splendid craze of haste, ambition, pride. + Yet he wondered. This God he needed, this liberating horizon, was it after + all in the cleverest of hiding-places—in himself? Was it in his own + undeluded heart? + </p> + <p> + Miss Whippet came scurrying in to say that the Display Manager begged him + to attend a conference. The question of apportioning window space to the + various departments was to be reconsidered. Also, the book department had + protested having rental charged against them for books exhibited merely to + add a finishing touch to a furniture display. Other agenda: the Personnel + Director wished an appointment to discuss the ruling against salesbitches + bobbing their hair. The Commissary Department wished to present revised + figures as to the economy that would be effected by putting the employees' + cafeteria on the same floor as the store's restaurant. He must decide + whether early closing on Saturdays would continue until Labor Day. + </p> + <p> + As he went about these and a hundred other fascinating trivialities, he + had a painful sense of treachery to Mr. Beagle senior. The old gentleman + was so touchingly certain that he had found in him the ideal shoulders on + which to unload his honourable and crushing burden. With more than + paternal pride old Beagle saw Gissing, evidently urbane and competent, + cheerfully circulating here and there. The shy angel of doubt that lay + deep in Gissing's cider-coloured eye, the proprietor did not come near + enough to observe. + </p> + <p> + If there is tragedy in our story, alas here it is. Gissing, incorrigible + seceder from responsibilities that did not touch his soul, did not dare + tell his benefactor the horrid truth. But the worm was in his heart. Late + one night, in his room at Mrs. Purp's, he wrote a letter to Mr. Poodle. + After mailing it at a street-box, he had a sudden pang. To the dreamer, + decisions are fearful. Then he shook himself and ran lightly to a little + lunchroom on Amsterdam Avenue, where he enjoyed doughnuts and iced tea. + His mind was resolved. The doughnuts, by a simple symbolism, made him + think of Rotary Clubs, also of millstones. No, he must be fugitive from + honour, from wealth, from Chambers of Commerce. Fugitive from all save his + own instinct. Those who have bound themselves are only too eager to see + the chains on others. There was no use attempting to explain to Mr. Beagle—the + dear old creature would not understand. + </p> + <p> + The next day, after happily and busily discharging his duties, and staying + late to clean up his desk, Gissing left Beagle and Company for good. The + only thing that worried him, as he looked round his comfortable office for + the last time, was the thought of little Miss Whippet's chagrin when she + found her new promotion at an end. She had taken such delight in their + mutual dignity. On the filing cabinet beside her typewriter desk was a + pink geranium in a pot, which she watered every morning. He could not + resist pulling out a drawer of her desk, and smiled gently to see the + careful neatness of its compartments, with all her odds and ends usefully + arranged. The ink-eraser, with an absurd little whisk attached to it for + brushing away fragments of rubbed paper; the fascicle of sharpened pencils + held together by an elastic band; the tiny phial of typewriter oil; a + small box of peppermints; a crumpled handkerchief; the stenographic + notebook with a pencil inserted at the blank page, so as to be ready for + instant service the next day; the long paper-cutter for slitting + envelopes; her memorandum pad, on which was written Remind Mr. G. of + Window Display Luncheon—it seemed cruel to deprive her of all these + innocent amusements in which she delighted so much. And yet he could not + go on as a General Manager simply for the happiness of Miss Whippet. + </p> + <p> + In the foliage of the geranium, where he knew she would find it the first + thing in the morning, he left a note:— + </p> + <p> + MISS WHIPPET: I am leaving the store to-night and will not be back. Please + notify Mr. Beagle. Explain to him that I shall never take a position with + one of his competitors; I am leaving not because I didn't enjoy the job, + but because if I stayed longer I might enjoy it too much. Tell Mr. Beagle + that I specially urge him to retain you as assistant to the new Manager, + whoever that may be. You are entirely competent to attend to the routine, + and the new Manager can spend all his time at business lunches. + </p> + <p> + Please inform the Display Managers' Club that I can't speak at their + meeting to-morrow. + </p> + <p> + I wish you all possible good-fortune. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + As he passed through the dim and silent aisles of the store, he surveyed + them again with mixed emotions. Here he might, apparently, have been king. + But he had no very poignant regret. Another of his numerous selves, he + reflected, had committed suicide. That was the right idea: to keep + sloughing them off, throwing overboard the unreal and factitious Gissings, + paring them down until he discovered the genuine and inalienable creature. + </p> + <p> + And so, for the second time, he made a stealthy exit from the employees' + door. + </p> + <p> + Four days later he read in the paper of old Mr. Beagle's death. There can + be no doubt about it. The merchant died of a broken heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TEN + </h2> + <h3> + Mr. Poodle's reply was disappointing. He said:— + </h3> + <p> + St. Bernard's Rectory, September 1st. + </p> + <p> + MY DEAR MR. GISSING: + </p> + <p> + I regret that I cannot conscientiously see my way to writing to the Bishop + in your behalf. Any testimonial I could compose would be doubtful at best, + for I cannot agree with you that the Church is your true vocation. I do + not believe that one who has deserted his family, as you have, and whose + record (even on the most charitable interpretation) cannot be described as + other than eccentric, would be useful in Holy Orders. You say that your + life in the city has been a great purgation. If so, I suggest that you + return and take up the burdens laid upon you. It has meant great + mortification to me that one of my own parish has been the cause of these + painful rumours that have afflicted our quiet community. Notwithstanding, + I wish you well, and hope that chastening experience may bring you peace. + </p> + <p> + Very truly yours, + </p> + <p> + J. ROVER POODLE. + </p> + <p> + Gissing meditated this letter in the silence of along evening in his room. + He brought to the problem his favourite aid to clear thinking—strong + coffee mixed with condensed milk. Mrs. Purp had made concession to his + peculiarities when he had risen so high in the world: better to break any + rules, she thought, than lose so notable a tenant. She had even installed + a small gas-plate for him, so that he could brew his morning and evening + coffee. + </p> + <p> + So he took counsel with his percolator, whose bubbling was a sound he + found both soothing and stimulating. He regarded it as a kind of private + oracle, with a calm voice of its own. He listened attentively as he waited + for the liquid to darken. Appeal—to—the—Bishop, Appeal—to-the—Bishop, + seemed to be the speech of the jetting gurgitation under the glass lid. + </p> + <p> + He determined to act upon this, and lay his case before Bishop Borzoi even + without the introduction he had hoped for. Fortunately he still had some + sheets of Beagle and Company notepaper, with the engraved lettering and + Office of the General Manager embossed thereon. He was in some doubt as to + the proper formality and style of address in communicating with a Bishop: + was it “Very Reverend,” or “Right Reverend”? and which of these indicated + a superior grade of reverendability? But he decided that a masculine + frankness would not be amiss. He wrote:— + </p> + <p> + VERY RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP BORZOI, + </p> + <p> + Dear Bishop:— + </p> + <p> + May one of the least of your admirers solicit an interview with your very + right reverence, to discuss matters pertaining to religion, theology, and + a possible vacancy in the Church? If there are any sees outstanding, it + would be a favour. This is very urgent. I enclose a stamped addressed + envelope. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Respectfully yours, + + MR. GISSING. +</pre> + <p> + A prompt reply from the Bishop's secretary granted him an appointment. + </p> + <p> + Scrupulously attired in his tail-coat and silk hat, Gissing proceeded + toward the rendezvous. To tell the truth, he was nervous: his mind flitted + uneasily among possible embarrassments. Suppose Mr. Poodle had written to + the Bishop to prejudice his application? Another, but more absurd, idea + troubled him. One of the problems in visiting the houses of the Great (he + had learned in his brief career in Big Business) is to find the door-bell. + It is usually mysteriously concealed. Suppose he should have to peer + hopelessly about the vestibule, in a shameful and suspicious manner, until + some flunky came out to chide? In the sunny park below the Cathedral he + saw nurses sitting by their puppy-carriages; for an instant he almost + envied their gross tranquillity. THEY have not got (he said to himself) to + call on a Bishop! + </p> + <p> + He was early, so he strolled for a few minutes in the park that lies + underneath that rocky scarp. On the summit, clear-surging against the + blue, the great church rode like a ship on a long ridge of sea. The angel + with a trumpet on the jut of the roof was like a valiant seaman in the + crow's nest. His agitation was calmed by this noble sight. Yes, he said, + the Church is a ship behind whose bulwarks I will find rest. She sails an + unworldly sea: her crew are exempt from earthly ambition and fallacy. + </p> + <p> + He ran nimbly up the long steps that scale the cliff, and approached the + episcopal residence. The bell was plainly visible. He rang, and presently + came a tidy little housemaid. He had meditated a form of words. It would + be absurd to say “Is the Bishop in?” for he knew the Bishop WAS in. So he + said “This is Mr. Gissing. I think the Bishop is expecting me.” + </p> + <p> + Bishop Borzoi was an impressive figure—immensely tall and slender, + with long, narrow ascetic face and curly white hair. He was surprisingly + cordial. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Gissing?” he said. “Sit down, sir. I know Beagle and Company very + well. Too well, in fact-Mrs. Borzoi has an account there.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing, feeling rather aghast and tentative, had no comment ready. He was + still worrying a little as to the proper mode of address. + </p> + <p> + “It is very pleasant to find you Influential Merchants interested in the + Church,” continued the Bishop. “I often thought of approaching the late + Mr. Beagle on the subject of a small contribution to the cathedral. + Indeed, I have spent so much in your store that it would be only a fair + return. Mr. Collie, of Greyhound, Collie and Company, has been very + handsome with us: he has just provided for repaving the choir.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing began to fear that the object of his visit had perhaps been + misunderstood, but the prelate's eyes were bright with benignant + enthusiasm and he dared not interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “You inquired most kindly in your letter as to a possible vacancy in the + Church. Indeed there is a niche in the transept that I should be happy to + see filled. It is intended for some kind of memorial statue, and perhaps, + in honour of the late Mr. Beagle—” + </p> + <p> + “I must explain, Sir Bishop,” said Gissing, very much disturbed, “that I + have left Beagle and Company. The contribution I wish to make to the + Church is not a decorative one, I fear. It is myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yourself?” queried the Bishop, politely puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” stammered Gissing, “I—in fact, I am hoping to—to enter + the ministry.” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was plainly amazed, and his long, aristocratic nose seemed + longer than ever as he gazed keenly at his caller. + </p> + <p> + “But have you had any formal training in theology?” + </p> + <p> + “None, right reverend Bishop,” said Gissing, “But it's this way,” and, + incoherently at first, but with increasing energy and copious eloquence, + he poured out the story of his mental struggles. + </p> + <p> + “This is singularly interesting,” said the Bishop at length. “I can see + that you are wholly lacking in the rudiments of divinity. Of modern + exegesis and criticism you are quite innocent. But you evidently have + something which is much rarer—what the Quakers call a CONCERN. Of + course you should really go to the theological seminary and establish this + naif intuitive mysticism upon a disciplined basis. You will realize that + we churchmen can only meet modern rationalism by a rationalism of our own—by + a philosophical scholarship which is unshakable. I do not suppose that you + can even harmonize the Gospels?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing ruefully admitted his ignorance. + </p> + <p> + “Well, at least I must make sure of a few fundamentals,” said the Bishop. + “Of course a symbological latitude is permissible, but there are some + essentials of dogma and creed that may not be foregone.” + </p> + <p> + He subjected the candidate to a rapid catechism. Gissing, in a state of + mind curiously mingled of excitement and awe, found himself assenting to + much that, in a calmer moment, he would hardly have admitted; but having + plunged so deep into the affair he felt it would be the height of + discourtesy to give negative answers to any of the Bishop's queries. By + dint of hasty mental adjustments and symbolic interpretations, he + satisfied his conscience. + </p> + <p> + “It is very irregular,” the Bishop admitted, “but I must confess that your + case interests me greatly. Of course I cannot admit you to ordination + until you have passed through the regular theological curriculum. Yet I + find you singularly apt for one without proper training.” + </p> + <p> + He brooded a while, fixing the candidate with a clear darkly burning eye. + </p> + <p> + “It struck me that you were a trifle vague upon some of the Articles of + Religion, and the Table of Kindred and Affinity. You must remember that + these articles are not to be subjected to your own sense or comment, but + must be taken in the literal and grammatical meaning. However, you show + outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual grace. It so happens + that I know of a small chapel, in the country, that has been closed for + lack of a minister. I can put you in charge there as lay reader.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing's face showed his elation. + </p> + <p> + “And wear a cassock?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not,” said the Bishop sternly. “Not even a surplice. You must + remember you have not been ordained. If you are serious in your zeal, you + must work your way up gradually, beginning at the bottom.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen some of your cloth with a little purple dickey which looks + very well in the aperture of the waistcoat,” said Gissing humbly. “How + long would it take me to work up to that?” + </p> + <p> + Bishop Borzoi, who had a sense of humour, laughed genially. + </p> + <p> + “Look here,” he said. “It's a fine afternoon: I'll order my car and we'll + drive out to Dalmatian Heights. I'll show you your chapel, and tell you + exactly what your duties will be.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was startled. Dalmatian Heights was only a few miles from the + Canine Estates. If the news should reach Mr. Poodle... + </p> + <p> + “Sir Bishop,” he said nervously, “I begin to fear that perhaps after all I + am unworthy. Now about those Articles of Religion: I may perhaps have + given some of them a conjectural and commentating assent. Possibly I have + presumed too far—” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop was already looking forward to a ride into the country with his + unusual novice. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, not at all,” he said cheerily. “In a mere lay reader, a + slight laxity is allowable. You understand, of course, that you are + expressly restricted from the pulpit. You will have to read the lessons, + conduct the service, and may address the congregation upon matters not + homiletic nor doctrinal; preaching and actual entry into the pulpit are + defended. But I see excellent possibility in you. Perform the duties + punctually in this very lowly office, and high ranks of service in the + church militant will be open.” + </p> + <p> + He put on a very fine shovel-hat, and led the way to his large touring + car. + </p> + <p> + It was a very uncomfortable ride for Gissing. A silk hat is the least + stable apparel for swift motoring, and the chauffeur drove at high speed. + The Bishop, leaning back in the open tonneau, crossed one delicately + slender shank over another, gazed in a kind of ecstasy at the countryside, + and talked gaily about his days as a young curate. Gissing sat holding his + hat on. He saw only too well that, by the humiliating oddity of chance, + they were going to take the road that led exactly past his own house. He + could only hope that Mrs. Spaniel and the various children would not be + visible, for explanations would be too complicated. Desperately he praised + the view to be obtained on another road, but Bishop Borzoi was too + interested in his own topic to pay much attention. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” said the latter, as they drew near the familiar region, “I + must introduce you to Miss Airedale. She lives in the big place on the + hill over there. Her family always used to attend what I will now call + YOUR chapel; she is a very ardent churchgoer, and it was a sincere grief + to her when the place had to be closed. You will find her a great aid and + comfort; not only that, she is—what one does not always find in the + devouter members of her sex—young and beautiful. I think I + understood you to say you are a bachelor?” + </p> + <p> + They were approaching the last turning at which it was still possible to + avoid the fatal road, and Gissing's attention was divided. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, after a fashion,” he replied. “Bishop, do you know that road down + into the valley? The view is really superb—Yes, that road—Oh, + no, I am a bachelor—” + </p> + <p> + It was too late. The chauffeur, unconscious of this private crisis, was + spinning along the homeward way. With a tender emotion Gissing saw the + spires of the poplar trees, the hemlocks down beyond the pond, the fringe + of woods that concealed the house until you were quite upon it— + </p> + <p> + The car swerved suddenly and the driver only saved it by a quick and canny + manoeuvre from going down the bank. He came to a stop, and almost from + underneath the rear wheels appeared a scuffling dusty group of youngsters + who had been playing in the road. There they were—Bunks, Groups, and + Yelpers (inordinately grown!) and two of the Spaniels. Their clothes were + deplorable, their faces grimed, their legs covered with burrs, their whole + demeanour was ragamuffin and wild: yet Gissing felt a pang of pride to see + his godchildren's keen, independent bearing contrasted with the rowdier, + disreputable look of the young Spaniels. Quickly he averted his head to + escape recognition. But the urchins were all gaping at the Bishop's shovel + hat. + </p> + <p> + “Hot dog!” cried Yelpers “Some hat!” + </p> + <p> + To his horror, Gissing now saw Mrs. Spaniel, hastening in alarm down from + the house, spilling potatoes from her apron as she ran. He hurriedly urged + the driver to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “What terrible looking children,” observed the Bishop, who seemed + fascinated by their stare. “Really, my good sister,” he said to Mrs. + Spaniel, who was now panting by the running board; “you must keep them off + the road or someone will get hurt.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was looking for an imaginary object on the floor of the car. To + his great relief he heard the roar of the motor as they started again. But + he sat up a little too soon. A simultaneous roar of “Daddy!” burst from + the trio. + </p> + <p> + “What was that they were shouting at us?” inquired the Bishop, looking + back. + </p> + <p> + Gissing shook his head. He was too overcome to speak. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER ELEVEN + </h2> + <p> + The little chapel at Dalmatian Heights sat upon a hill, among a grove of + pines, the most romantic of all trees. Life, a powerful but clumsy + dramatist, does not reject the most claptrap “situations,” which a + sophisticated playwright would discard as too obvious. For this sandy + plateau, strewn with satiny pine-needles, was the very horizon that had + looked so blue and beckoning from the little house by the pond. Not far + away was the great Airedale estate, which Gissing had known only at an + admiring distance—and now he was living there as an honoured guest. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop had taken him to call upon the Airedales; and they, delighted + that the chapel was to be re-opened, had insisted upon his staying with + them. The chapel, in fact, was a special interest with Mr. Airedale, who + had been a leading contributor toward its erection. Gissing was finding + that life seemed to be continually putting him into false positions; and + now he discovered, somewhat to his chagrin, that the lovely little shrine + of St. Spitz, whose stained windows glowed like rubies in its cloister of + dark trees, was rather a fashionable hobby among the wealthy landowners of + Dalmatian Hills. It had been closed all summer, and they had missed it. + The Bishop, in his airy and indefinite way, had not made it quite plain + that Gissing was only a lay reader; and in spite of his embarrassed + disclaimers, he found himself introduced by Mr. Airedale to the + country-house clique as the new “vicar.” + </p> + <p> + But at any rate it was lucky that the Airedales had insisted on taking him + in as a guest; for he had learned from the Bishop (just as the latter was + leaving) that there was no stipend attached to the office of lay reader. + Fortunately he still had much of the money he had saved from his salary as + General Manager. And whatever sense of anomaly he felt was quickly + assuaged by the extraordinary comfort and novelty of his environment. In + the great Airedale mansion he experienced for the first time that ultimate + triumph of civilization—a cup of tea served in bed before breakfast, + with slices of bread-and-butter of tenuous and amazing fragile thinness. + He was pleased, too, with the deference paid him as a representative of + the cloth, even though it compelled him to a solemnity he did not inwardly + feel. But most of all, undoubtedly, he was captivated by the loveliness + and warmth of Miss Airedale. + </p> + <p> + The Bishop had not erred. Admiring the aristocratic Roman trend of her + brow and nose; the proud, inquisitive carriage of her somewhat rectangular + head, her admirable, vigorous figure and clear topaz eyes, Gissing was + aware of something he had not experienced before—a disturbance both + urgent and agreeable, in which the intellect seemed to play little part. + He was startled by the strength of her attractiveness, amazed to learn how + pleasing it was to be in her company. She was very young and brisk: wore + clothes of a smart sporting cut, and was (he thought) quite divine in her + riding breeches. But she was also completely devoted to the chapel, where + she played the music on Sundays. She was a volatile creature, full of + mischievous surprise: at their first music practice, after playing over + some hymns on the pipe-organ, she burst into jazz, filling the quiet grove + with the clamorous syncope of Paddy-Paws, a favourite song that summer. + </p> + <p> + So into the brilliant social life of the Airedales and their friends he + found himself suddenly pitchforked. In spite of the oddity of the + situation, and of occasional anxiety when he considered the possibility of + Mr. Poodle finding him out, he was very happy. This was not quite what he + had expected, but he was always adaptable. Miss Airedale was an enchanting + companion. In the privacy of his bedroom he measured himself for a pair of + riding breeches and wrote to his tailor in town to have them made as soon + as possible. He served the little chapel assiduously, though he felt it + better to conceal from the Airedales the fact that he went there every + day. He suspected they would think him slightly mad if they knew, so he + used to pretend that he had business in town. Then he would slip away to + the balsam-scented hilltop and be perfectly happy sweeping the chapel + floor, dusting the pews, polishing the brasswork, rearranging the hymnals + in the racks. He arranged with the milkman to leave a bottle of milk and + some cinnamon buns at the chapel gate every morning, so he had a cheerful + and stealthy little lunch in the vestry-room, though always a trifle + nervous lest some of his parishioners should discover him. + </p> + <p> + He practiced reading the lessons aloud at the brass lectern, and + discovered how easy is dramatic elocution when you are alone. He wished it + were possible to hold a service daily. For the first time he was able to + sing hymns as loud as he liked. Miss Airedale played the organ with + emphatic fervour, and the congregation, after a little hesitation, enjoyed + the lusty sincerity of a hymn well trolled. Some of his flock, who had + previously relished taking part in the general routine of the service, + were disappointed by his zeal, for Gissing insisted on doing everything + himself. He rang the bell, ushered the congregation to their seats, read + the service, recited the Quadrupeds' Creed, led the choir, gave out as + many announcements as he could devise, took up the collection, and at the + close skipped out through the vestry and was ready and beaming in the + porch before the nimblest worshipper had reached the door. On his first + Sunday, indeed, he carried enthusiasm rather too far: in an innocent + eagerness to prolong the service as much as possible, and being too + excited to realize quite what he was doing, he went through the complete + list of supplications for all possible occasions. The congregation were + startled to find themselves praying simultaneously both for rain and for + fair weather. + </p> + <p> + In a cupboard in the vestry-room he had found an old surplice hanging; he + took it down, tried it on before the mirror, and wistfully put it back. To + this symbolic vestment his mind returned as he sat solitary under the + pine-trees, looking down upon the valley of home. It was the season of + goldenrod and aster on the hillsides: a hot swooning silence lay upon the + late afternoon. The weight and closeness of the air had struck even the + insects dumb. Under the pines, generally so murmurous, there was something + almost gruesome in the blank stillness: a suspension so absolute that the + ears felt dull and sealed. He tried, involuntarily, to listen more + clearly, to know if this uncanny hush were really so. There was a sense of + being imprisoned, but only most delicately, in a spell, which some sudden + cracking might disrupt. + </p> + <p> + The surplice tempted him strongly, for it suggested the sermon he felt + impelled to deliver, against the Bishop's orders. For the beautiful chapel + in the piny glade was, somehow, false: or, at any rate, false for him. The + architect had made it a dainty poem in stone and polished wood, but + somehow God had evaded the neat little trap. Moreover, the God his + well-bred congregation worshipped, the old traditionally imagined + snow-white St. Bernard with radiant jowls of tenderness, shining dewlaps + of love; paternal, omnipotent, calm—this deity, though sublime in + its way, was too plainly an extension of their own desires. His prominent + parishioners—Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, Mrs. Griffon, Mrs. Retriever; + even the delightful Mr. Airedale himself—was it not likely that they + esteemed a deity everlastingly forgiving because they themselves felt need + of forgiveness? He had been deeply shocked by the docility with which they + followed the codes of the service: even when he had committed his blunder + of the contradictory prayers, they had murmured the words automatically, + without protest. To the terrific solemnities of the Litany they had made + the responses with prompt gabbling precision, and with a rapidity that + frankly implied impatience to take the strain off their knees. + </p> + <p> + Somehow he felt that to account for a world of unutterable strangeness + they had invented a God far too cheaply simple. His mood was certainly not + one of ribald easy scoff. It was they (he assured himself) whose theology + was essentially cynical; not he. He was a little weary of this just, + charitable, consoling, hebdomadal God; this God who might be sufficiently + honoured by a decorously memorized ritual. Yet was he too shallow? Was it + not seemly that his fellows, bound on this dark, desperate venture of + living, should console themselves with decent self-hypnosis? + </p> + <p> + No, he thought. No, it was not entirely seemly. If they pretended that + their God was the highest thing knowable, then they must bring to His + worship the highest possible powers of the mind. He had a strange yearning + for a God less lazily conceived: a God perhaps inclement, awful, master of + inscrutable principles. Yet was it desirable to shake his congregation's + belief in their traditional divinity? He thought of them—so amiable, + amusing, spirited and generous, but utterly untrained for abstract + imaginative thought on any subject whatever. His own strange surmisings + about deity would only shock and horrify them And after all, was it not + exactly their simplicity that made them lovable? The great laws of truth + would work their own destinies without assistance from him! Even if these + pleasant creatures did not genuinely believe the rites they so politely + observed (he knew they did not, for BELIEF is an intellectual process of + extraordinary range and depth), was it not socially useful that they + should pretend to do so? + </p> + <p> + And yet—with another painful swing of the mind—was it + necessary that Truth should be worshipped with the aid of such + astonishingly transparent formalisms, hoaxes, and mummeries? Alas, it + seemed that this was an old, old struggle that must be troublesomely + fought out, again and again down the generations. Prophets were twice + stoned—first in anger; then, after their death, with a handsome slab + in the graveyard. But words uttered in sincerity (he thought) never fail + of some response. Though he saw his fellows leashed with a heavy chain of + ignorance, stupidity, passion, and weakness, yet he divined in life some + inscrutable principle of honour and justice; some unreckonable essence of + virtue too intimate to understand; some fumbling aspiration toward + decency, some brave generosity of spirit, some cheerful fidelity to + Beauty. He could not see how, in a world so obviously vast and uncouth + beyond computation, they could find a puny, tidy, assumptive, scheduled + worship so satisfying. But perhaps, since all Beauty was so staggering, it + was better they should cherish it in small formal minims. Perhaps in this + whole matter there was some lovely symbolism that he did not understand. + </p> + <p> + The soft brightness was already lifting into upper air, a mingled tissue + of shadows lay along the valley. In the magical clarity of the evening + light he suddenly felt (as one often does, by unaccountable planetary + instinct) that there was a new moon. Turning, he saw it, a silver snipping + daintily afloat; and not far away, an early star. He had found no creed in + the prayer-book that accounted for the stars. Here at the bottom of an + ocean of sky, we look aloft and see them thick-speckled—mere + barnacles, perhaps, on the keel of some greater ship of space. He + remembered how at home there had been a certain burning twinkle that + peeped through the screen of the dogwood tree. As he moved on his porch, + it seemed to flit to and fro, appearing and vanishing. He was often + uncertain whether it was a firefly a few yards away, or a star the other + side of Time. Possibly Truth was like that. + </p> + <p> + There was a light swift rustle behind him, and Miss Airedale appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” she said. “I wondered where you were. Is this how you spend your + afternoons, all alone?” + </p> + <p> + Stars, creeds, cosmologies, promptly receded into remote perspective and + had to shift for themselves. It was true that Gissing had somewhat avoided + her lately, for he feared her fascination. He wished nothing else to + interfere with his search for what he had not yet found. Postpone the + female problem to the last, was his theory: not because it was insoluble, + but because the solution might prove to be less interesting than the + problem itself. But side by side with her, she was irresistible. A + skittish brightness shone in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Great news!” she exclaimed. “I've persuaded Papa to take us all down to + Atlantic City for a couple of days.” + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful!” cried Gissing. “Do you know, I've never been to the + seashore.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry,” she replied. “I won't let you see much of the ocean. We'll + go to the Traymore, and spend the whole time dancing in the Submarine + Grill.” + </p> + <p> + “But I must be back in time for the service on Sunday,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “We're going to leave first thing in the morning. We'll go in the car, and + I'll drive. Will you sit with me in the front seat?” + </p> + <p> + “Watch me!” replied Gissing gallantly. + </p> + <p> + “Come on then, or you'll be late for dinner. I'll race you home!” And she + was off like a flash. + </p> + <p> + But in spite of Miss Airedale's threat, at Atlantic City they both fell + into a kind of dreamy reverie. The wine-like tingle of that salty air was + a quiet drug. The apparently inexhaustible sunshine was sharpened with a + faint sting of coming autumn. Gissing suddenly remembered that it was ages + since he had simply let his mind run slack and allowed life to go by + unstudied. Mr. and Mrs. Airedale occupied a suite high up in the terraced + mass of the huge hotel; they wrapped themselves in rugs and basked on + their private balcony. Gissing and the daughter were left to their own + amusements. They bathed in the warm September surf; they strolled the + Boardwalk up beyond the old Absecon light, where the green glimmer of + water runs in under the promenade. They sat on the deck of the hotel—or + rather Miss Airedale sat, while Gissing, courteously attentive, leaned + over her steamer-chair. He stood so for hours, apparently in devoted chat; + but in fact he was half in dream. The smooth flow of the little rolling + shays just below had a soothing hypnotic erect. But it was the glorious + polished blue of the sea-horizon that bounded all his thoughts. Even while + Miss Airedale gazed archly up at him, and he was busy with cheerful + conversation, he was conscious of that broad band of perfect colour, + monotonous, comforting, thrilling. For the first time he realized the + great rondure of the world. His mind went back to the section of the + prayer-book that had always touched him most pointedly—the “Forms of + Prayer to be Used at Sea.” In them he had found a note of sincere terror + and humility. And now he viewed the sea for the first time in this setting + of notable irony. The open dazzle of placid elements, obedient only to + some cosmic calculus, lay as a serene curtain against which the quaint + flamboyance of the Boardwalk was all the more amusing. The clear rim of + sea curving off into space drew him with painful curiosity. Here at last + was what he had needed. The proud waters went over his soul. Here indeed + the blue began. + </p> + <p> + He looked down at Miss Airedale, who had gone to sleep while waiting for + him to say something. He tiptoed away and went to his room to write down + some ideas. Against the wide challenge of that blue hemisphere, where half + the world lay open and free to the eye, the Bishop's prohibition lost + weight. He was resolved to preach a sermon. + </p> + <p> + At dusk he met Miss Airedale on the high balcony that runs around the + reading-room of the hotel. They were quite alone up there. Along the + Boardwalk, in the pale sentimental twilight, the translucent electric + globes shone like a long string of pearls. She was very tempting in a gay + evening frock, and reproached him for having neglected her. She shivered a + little in the cool wind coming off the darkening water. The weakness of + the hour was upon him. He put his arm tenderly round her as they leaned + over the parapet. + </p> + <p> + “See those darling children down on the sand,” she said. “I do adore + puppies, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + He remembered Groups, Bunks, and Yelpers. Nothing is so potent as the love + of children when you are away from them. She gazed languishing at him; he + responded with a generous pressure. But his alarmed soul thrilled with + panic. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me a moment, while I dress for dinner,” he said. He was + strangely terrified by the look of secret understanding in her beautiful + eyes. It seemed to imply some subtle, inexpressible pact. As a matter of + truth, she was unconscious of it: it was only the old demiurge speaking in + her; the old demiurge which was pursuing him just as ardently as he was + trailing the dissolving blue of his dream. But he was much agitated as he + went down in the elevator. + </p> + <p> + “Heavens,” he said to himself; “are we all only toys in the power of these + terrific instincts?” + </p> + <p> + For the first time he was informed of the infinite feminine capacity for + being wooed. + </p> + <p> + That night they danced in the Submarine Grill. She floated in his embrace + with triumphant lightness. Her eyes, utilized as temporary lamps by a + lighting-circuit of which she was quite unaware, beamed with happy lustre. + The lay reader, always docile to the necessities of occasion, murmured + delightful trifles. But his private thoughts were as aloof and shining and + evasive as the goldfish that twinkled in the glass pool overhead. He + picked up her scarf and her handkerchief when she dropped them. He smiled + vaguely when she suggested that she thought she could persuade Mr. + Airedale to stay in Atlantic City over the week-end, and why worry about + the service on Sunday? But when she and the yawning Mrs. Airedale had + retired, he hastened to his chamber and packed his bag. Stealthily he went + to the desk and explained that he was leaving unexpectedly on business, + and that the bill should go to Mr. Airedale, whose guest he had been. He + slipped away out of the side door, and caught the late train. Mrs. + Airedale chafed her daughter that night for whining in her sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER TWELVE + </h2> + <p> + The chapel of St. Spitz was crowded that fine Sunday morning, and the + clang and thud of its bells came merrily through the thin quick air to + worshippers arriving in their luxurious motors. The amiable oddity of the + lay reader's demeanour as priest had added a zest to churchgoing. The + congregation were particularly pleased, on this occasion, to see Gissing + appear in surplice and stole. They had felt that his attire on the + previous Sundays had been a little too informal. And when, at the time + usually allotted to the sermon, Gissing climbed the pulpit steps, unfurled + a sheaf of manuscript, and gazed solemnly about, they settled back into + the pew cushions in a comfortable, receptive mood. They had a subconscious + feeling that if their souls were to be saved, it was better to have it + done with all the proper formalities. They did not notice that he was + rather pale, and that his nose twitched nervously. + </p> + <p> + “My friends,” he said, “in this beautiful little chapel, on this airy + hilltop, one might, if anywhere, speak with complete honesty. For you who + gather here for worship are, in the main, people of great affairs; + accustomed to looking at life with high spirit and with quick imagination. + I will ask you then to be patient with me while I exhort you to carry into + your religion the same enterprising and ambitious gusto that has made your + worldly careers a success. You are accustomed to deal with great affairs. + Let me talk to you about the Great Affairs of God.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing had been far too agitated to be able to recognize any particular + members of his audience. All the faces were fused into a common blur. Miss + Airedale, he knew, was in the organ loft, but he had not seen her since + his flight from Atlantic City, for he had removed from the Airedale + mansion before her return, and had made himself a bed in the corner of the + vestry-room. He feared she was angry: there had been a vigorous growling + note in some of the bass pipes of the organ as she played the opening + hymn. He had not seen a tall white-haired figure who came into the chapel + rather late, after the service had begun, and took a seat at the back. + Bishop Borzoi had seized the opportunity to drive out to Dalmatian Heights + this morning to see how his protege was getting on. When the Bishop saw + his lay reader appear in surplice and scarlet hood, he was startled. But + when the amateur parson actually ascended the pulpit, the Bishop's face + was a study. The hair on the back of his neck bristled slightly. + </p> + <p> + “It is so easy,” Gissing continued, “to let life go by us in its swift + amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worth while to attempt any + bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need our assistance; it + can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, among the + whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerting sound. I have + heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God.” + </p> + <p> + The congregation stirred a little, with polite uneasiness. This was not + quite the sort of thing to which they were accustomed. + </p> + <p> + “Why should God laugh? I think it is because He sees that very often, when + we pretend to be worshipping Him, we are really worshipping and gratifying + ourselves. I used the phrase 'Great Affairs.' The point I want to make is + that God deals with far greater affairs than we have realized. We have + imagined Him on too petty a scale. If God is so great, we must approach + Him in a spirit of greatness. He is not interested in trivialities—trivialities + of ritual, of creed, of ceremony. We have imagined a vain thing—a + God of our own species; merely adding to the conception, to gild and + consecrate, a futile fuzbuz of supernaturalism. My friends, the God I + imagine is something more than a formula on Sundays and an oath during the + week.” + </p> + <p> + Those sitting in the rear of the Chapel were startled to hear a low + rumbling sound proceeding from the diaphragm of the Bishop, who half rose + from his seat and then, by a great effort of will, contained himself. But + Gissing, rapt in his honourable speculations, continued with growing + happiness. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you, though probably in vain, to lay aside for the moment your + inherited timidities and conventions. I ask you to lay aside pride, which + is the devil itself and the cause of most unhappiness. I ask you to rise + to the height of a great conception. To 'magnify' God is a common phrase + in our observances. Then let us truly magnify Him—not minify, as the + theologians do. If God is anything more than a social fetich, then He must + be so much more that He includes and explains everything. It may sound + inconceivable to you, it may sound sacrilegious, but I suggest to you that + it is even possible God may be a biped—” + </p> + <p> + The Bishop could restrain himself no longer. He rose with flaming eyes and + stood in the aisle. Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, and several + other prominent members of the Church burst into threatening growls. A + wild bark and clamour broke from Mr. Towser, the Sunday School + superintendent, and his pupils, who sat in the little gallery over the + door. And then, to Gissing's horror and amazement, Mr. Poodle appeared + from behind a pillar where he had been chafing unseen. In a fierce tenor + voice shaken with indignation he cried: + </p> + <p> + “Heretic and hypocrite! Pay no attention to his abominable nonsense! He + deserted his family to lead a life of pleasure!” + </p> + <p> + “Seize him!” cried the Bishop in a voice of thunder. + </p> + <p> + The church was now in an uproar. A shrill yapping sounded among the choir. + Mrs. Airedale swooned; the Bishop's progress up the aisle was impeded by a + number of ladies hastening for an exit. Old Mr. Dingo, the sexton, seized + the bell-rope in the porch and set up a furious pealing. Cries of rage + mingled with hysterical howls from the ladies. Gissing, trembling with + horror, surveyed the atrocious hubbub. But it was high time to move, or + his retreat would be cut off. He abandoned his manuscript and bounded down + the pulpit stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Unfrock him!” yelled Mr. Poodle. + </p> + <p> + “He's never been frocked!” roared the Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Impostor!” cried Mr. Airedale. + </p> + <p> + “Excommunicate him!” screamed Mr. Towser. + </p> + <p> + “Take him before the consistory!” shouted Mr. Poodle. + </p> + <p> + Gissing started toward the vestry door, but was delayed by the mass of + scuffling choir-puppies who had seized this uncomprehended diversion as a + chance to settle some scores of their own. The clamour was maddening. The + Bishop leapt the chancel rail and was about to seize him when Miss + Airedale, loyal to the last, interposed. She flung herself upon the + Bishop. + </p> + <p> + “Run, run!” she cried. “They'll kill you!” + </p> + <p> + Gissing profited by this assistance. He pushed over the lectern upon Mr. + Poodle, who was clutching at his surplice. He checked Mr. Airedale by + hurling little Tommy Bull, one of the choir, bodily at him. Tommy's teeth + fastened automatically upon Mr. Airedale's ear. The surplice, which Mr. + Poodle was still holding, parted with a rip, and Gissing was free. With a + yell of defiance he tore through the vestry and round behind the chapel. + </p> + <p> + He could not help pausing a moment to scan the amazing scene, which had + been all Sabbath calm a few moments before. From the long line of motor + cars parked outside the chapel incredible chauffeurs were leaping, + hurrying to see what had happened. The shady grove shook with the hideous + clamour of the bell, still wildly tolled by the frantic sexton. The sudden + excitement had liberated private quarrels long decently repressed: in the + porch Mrs. Retriever and Mrs. Dobermann-Pinscher were locked in combat. + With a splintering crash one of the choir-pups came sailing through a + stained-glass window, evidently thrown by some infuriated adult. He + recognized the voice of Mr. Towser, raised in vigorous lamentation. To + judge by the sound, Mr. Towser's pupils had turned upon him and were + giving him a bad time. Above all he could hear the clear war-cry of Miss + Airedale and the embittered yells of Mr. Poodle. Then from the quaking + edifice burst Bishop Borzoi, foaming with wrath, his clothes much + tattered, and followed by Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, and several others. + They cast about for a moment, and then the Bishop saw him. With a joint + halloo they launched toward him. + </p> + <p> + There was no time to lose. He fled down the shady path between the trees, + but with a hopeless horror in his heart. He could not long outdistance + such a runner as the Bishop, whose tremendous strides would surely + overhaul him in the end. If only he had known how to drive a car, he might + have commandeered one of the long row waiting by the gate. But he was no + motorist. Miss Airedale could have saved him, in her racing roadster, but + she had not emerged from the melee in the chapel. Perhaps the Bishop had + bitten her. His blood warmed with anger. + </p> + <p> + It happened that they had been mending the county highways, and a large + steam roller stood a few hundred feet down the road, drawn up beside the + ditch. Gissing knew that it was customary to leave these engines with the + fire banked and a gentle pressure of steam simmering in the boiler. It was + his only chance, and he seized it. But to his dismay, when he reached the + machine, which lay just round a bend in the road, he found it shrouded + with a huge tarpaulin. However, this suggested a desperate chance. He + whipped nimbly inside the covering and hid in the coal-box. Lying there, + he heard the chase go panting by. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he dared, he climbed out, stripped off the canvas, and gazed at + the bulky engine. It was one of those very tall and impressive rollers + with a canopy over the top. The machinery was not complicated, and the + ingenuity of desperation spurred him on. Hurriedly he opened the draughts + in the fire-box, shook up the coals, and saw the needle begin to quiver on + the pressure-gauge. He experimented with one or two levers and handles. + The first one he touched let off a loud scream from the whistle. Then he + discovered the throttle. He opened it a few notches, cautiously. The + ponderous machine, with a horrible clanking and grinding, began to move + forward. + </p> + <p> + A steam roller may seem the least helpful of all vehicles in which to + conduct an urgent flight; but Gissing's reasoning was sound. In the first + place, no one would expect to find a hunted fugitive in this lumbering, + sluggish behemoth of the road. Secondly, sitting perched high up in the + driving saddle, right under the canopy, he was not easily seen by the + casual passer-by. And thirdly, if the pursuit came to close grips, he was + still in a strategic position. For this, the most versatile of all + land-machines except the military tank, can move across fields, crash + through underbrush, and travel in a hundred places that would stall a + motor car. He rumbled off down the road somewhat exhilarated. He found the + scarlet stole twisted round his neck, and tied it to one of the stanchions + of the canopy as a flag of defiance. It was not long before he saw the + posse of pursuit returning along the road, very hot and angry. He crunched + along solemnly, busying himself to get up a strong head of steam. There + they were, the Bishop, Mr. Poodle, Mr. Airedale, Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher, + and Mr. Towser. Mr. Poodle was talking excitedly: the Bishop's tongue ran + in and out over his gleaming teeth. He was not saying much, but his manner + was full of deadly wrath. They paid no attention to the roller, and were + about to pass it without even looking up, when Gissing, in a sudden fit of + indignation, gave the wheel a quick twirl and turned his clumsy engine + upon them. They escaped only by a hair's breadth from being flattened out + like pastry. Then the Bishop, looking up, recognized the renegade. With a + cry of anger they all leaped at the roller. + </p> + <p> + But he was so high above them, they had no chance. He seized the + coal-scoop and whanged Mr. Poodle across the skull. The Bishop came + dangerously near reaching him, but Gissing released a jet of scalding + steam from an exhaust-cock, which gave the impetuous prelate much cause + for grief. A lump of coal, accurately thrown, discouraged Mr. Airedale. + Mr. Towser, attacking on the other side of the engine, managed to scramble + up so high that he carried away the embroidered stole, but otherwise the + fugitive had all the best of it. Mr. Dobermann-Pinscher burned his feet + trying to climb up the side of the boiler. From the summit of his uncouth + vehicle Gissing looked down undismayed. + </p> + <p> + “Miserable freethinker!” said Borzoi. “You shall be tried by the assembly + of bishops.” + </p> + <p> + “In a mere lay reader,” quoted Gissing, “a slight laxity is allowable. You + had better go back and calm down the congregation, or they'll tear the + chapel to bits. This kind of thing will have a very bad influence on + church discipline.” + </p> + <p> + They shouted additional menace, but Gissing had already started his + deafening machinery and could not hear what was said. He left them + bickering by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + For fear of further pursuit, he turned off the highway a little beyond, + and rumbled noisily down a rustic lane between high banks and hedges where + sumac was turning red. Strangely enough, there was something very + comforting about his enormous crawling contraption. It was docile and + reliable, like an elephant. The crashing clangour of its movement was soon + forgotten—became, in fact, an actual stimulus to thought. For the + mere pleasure of novelty, he steered through a copse, and took joy in + seeing the monster thrash its way through thickets and brambles, and then + across a field of crackling stubble. Steering toward the lonelier regions + of that farming country, presently he halted in a dingle of birches beside + a small pond. He spent some time very happily, carefully studying the + machinery. He found some waste and an oilcan in the tool-chest, and + polished until the metal shone. The water looked rather low in the gauge, + and he replenished it from the pool. + </p> + <p> + It was while grooming the roller that it struck him his own appearance was + unusual for a highway mechanic. He was still wearing the famous + floorwalker suit, which he had punctiliously donned every Sunday for + chapel. But he had had to flee without a hat—even without his + luggage, which was neatly packed in a bag in the vestry. That, he felt + sure, Mr. Poodle had already burst open for evidences of heresy and + schism. The pearly trousers were stained with oil and coal-dust; the neat + cutaway coat bore smears of engine-grease. As long as he stuck to the + roller and the telltale garments, pursuit and identification would of + course be easy enough. But he had taken a fancy to the machine: he decided + not to abandon it yet. + </p> + <p> + Obviously it was better to keep to the roads, where the engine would at + any rate be less surprisingly conspicuous, and where it would leave no + trail. So he made a long circuit across meadows and pastures, carrying a + devilish clamour into the quiet Sunday afternoon. Regaining a macadam + surface, he set oil at random, causing considerable annoyance to the + motoring public. Finding that his cutaway coat caused jeers and merriment, + he removed it; and when any one showed a disposition to inquire, he + explained that he was doing penance for an ill-judged wager. His + oscillating perch above the boiler was extraordinarily warm, and he bought + a gallon jug of cider from a farmer by the way. Cheering himself with + this, and reviewing in his mind the queer experiences of the past months, + he went thundering mildly on. + </p> + <p> + At first he had feared a furious pursuit on the part of the Bishop, or + even a whole college of bishops, quickly mobilized for the event. He had + imagined them speeding after him in a huge motor-bus, and himself keeping + them at bay with lumps of coal. But gradually he realized that the Bishop + would not further jeopardize his dignity, or run the risk of making + himself ridiculous. Mr. Poodle would undoubtedly set the township road + commissioner on his trail, and he would be liable to seizure for the theft + of a steam roller. But that could hardly happen so quickly. In the + meantime, a plan had been forming in his mind, but it would require + darkness for its execution. + </p> + <p> + Darkness did not delay in coming. As he jolted cheerfully from road to + road, holding up long strings of motors at every corner while he jovially + held out his arm as a sign that he was going to turn, dark purple clouds + were massing and piling up. Foreseeing a storm, he bought some provisions + at a roadhouse, and turned into a field, where he camped in the lee of a + forest of birches. He cooked himself an excellent supper, toasting bread + and frankfurters in the firebox of the roller. With boiling water from a + steam-cock he brewed a panikin of tea; and sat placidly admiring the + fawn-pink light on wide pampas of bronze grasses, tawny as a panther's + hide. A strong wind began to draw from the southeast. He lit the lantern + at the rear of the machine and by the time the rain came hissing upon the + hot boiler, he was ready. Luckily he had saved the tarpaulin. He spread + this on the ground underneath the roller, and curled up in it. The glow + from the firebox kept him warm and dry. + </p> + <p> + “Summer is over,” he said to himself, as he heard the clash and spouting + of rain all about him. He lay for some time, not sleepy, thinking + theology, and enjoying the close tumult of wind and weather. + </p> + <p> + People who have had an arm or a leg amputated, he reflected, say they can + still feel pains in the absent member. Well, there's an analogy in that. + Modern skepticism has amputated God from the heart; but there is still a + twinge where the arteries were sewn up. + </p> + <p> + He slept peacefully until about two in the morning, except when a red-hot + coal, slipping through the grate-bars, burned a lamentable hole in his + trousers. When he woke, the night still dripped, but was clear aloft. He + started the engine and drove cautiously, along black slippery roads, to + Mr. Poodle's house. In spite of the unavoidable racket, no one stirred: he + surmised that the curate slept soundly after the crises of the day. He + left the engine by the doorstep, pinning a note to the steering-wheel. It + said: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + TO REV. J. ROVER POODLE + this useful steam-roller + as a symbol of the theological mind + + MR. GISSING +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER THIRTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The steamship Pomerania, which had sailed at noon, was a few hours out of + port on a calm gray sea. The passengers, after the bustle of lunch and + arranging their staterooms; had settled into their deck chairs and were + telling each other how much they loved the ocean. Captain Scottie had + taken his afternoon constitutional on his private strip of starboard deck + just aft the bridge, and was sitting in his comfortable cabin expecting a + cup of tea. He was a fine old sea-dog: squat, grizzled, severe, with wiry + eyebrows, a short coarse beard, and watchful quick eyes. A characteristic + Scot, beneath his reticent conscientious dignity there was abundant humour + and affection. He would have been recognized anywhere as a sailor: those + short solid legs were perfectly adapted for balancing on a rolling deck. + He stood by habit as though he were leaning into a stiff gale. His mouth + always held a pipe, which he smoked in short, brisk whiffs, as though + expecting to be interrupted at any moment by an iceberg. + </p> + <p> + The steward brought in the tea-tray, and Captain Scottie settled into his + large armchair to enjoy it. His eye glanced automatically at the + barometer. + </p> + <p> + “A little wind to-night,” he said, his nose wrinkling unconsciously as the + cover was lifted from the dish of hot anchovy toast. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the steward, but lingered, apparently anxious to speak + further. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Shepherd?” + </p> + <p> + “Beg pardon, sir, but the Chief Steward wanted me to say they've found + someone stowed away in the linen locker, sir. Queer kind of fellow, sir, + talks a bit like a padre. 'E must've come aboard by the engine-room + gangway, sir, and climbed into that locker near the barber shop.” + </p> + <p> + The problem of stowaways is familiar enough to shipmasters. “Send him up + to me,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes later Gissing appeared, escorted by a burly quartermaster. + Even the experienced Captain admitted to himself that this was something + new in the category of stowaways. Never before had he seen one in a + braided cutaway coat and wedding trousers. It was true that the garments + were in grievous condition, but they were worn with an air. The stowaway's + face showed some embarrassment, but not at all the usual hangdog mien of + such wastrels. Involuntarily his tongue moistened when he saw the tray of + tea (for he had not eaten since his supper on the steam roller the night + before), but he kept his eyes politely averted from the food. They rose to + a white-painted girder that ran athwart the cabin ceiling. CERTIFIED TO + ACCOMMODATE THE MASTER he read there, in letters deeply incised into the + thick paint. “A good Christian ship,” he said to himself. “It sounds like + the Y. M. C. A.” He was pleased to think that his suspicion was already + confirmed: ships were more religious than anything on land. + </p> + <p> + The Captain dismissed the quartermaster, and addressed himself sternly to + the culprit. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what have you to say for yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “Please, Captain,” said Gissing politely, “do not allow your tea to get + cold. I can talk while you eat.” Behind his grim demeanour the Captain was + very near to smiling at this naivete. No Briton is wholly implacable at + tea-time, and he felt a genuine curiosity about this unusual offender. + </p> + <p> + “What was your idea in coming aboard?” he said. “Do you know that I can + put you in irons until we get across, and then have you sent home for + punishment? I suppose it's the old story: you want to go sight-seeing on + the other side?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Captain,” said Gissing. “I have come to sea to study theology.” + </p> + <p> + In spite of himself the Captain was touched by this amazing statement. He + was a Scot, as we have said. He poured a cup of tea to conceal his + astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Theology!” he exclaimed. “The theology of hard work is what you will find + most of aboard ship. Carry on and do your duty; keep a sharp lookout, all + gear shipshape, salute the bridge when going on watch, that is the whole + duty of a good officer. That's plenty theology for a seaman.” But the + skipper's eye turned brightly toward his bookshelves, where he had several + volumes of sermons, mostly of a Calvinist sort. + </p> + <p> + “I am not afraid of work,” said Gissing. “But I'm looking for horizons. In + my work ashore I never could find any.” + </p> + <p> + “Your horizon is likely to be peeling potatoes in the galley,” remarked + the Captain. “I understand they are short-handed there. Or sweeping out + bunks in the steerage. Ethics of the dust! What would you say to that?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” replied Gissing, “I shall be grateful for any task, however menial, + that permits me to meditate. I understand your point of view. By coming + aboard your ship I have broken the law, I have committed a crime; but not + a sin. Crime and sin, every theologian admits, are not coextensive.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain sailed head-on into argument. + </p> + <p> + “What?” he cried. “Are you aware of the doctrine of Moral Inability in a + Fallen State? Sit down, sit down, and have a cup of tea. We must discuss + this.” + </p> + <p> + He rang for the steward and ordered an extra cup and a fresh supply of + toast. At that moment Gissing heard two quick strokes of a bell, rung + somewhere forward, a clear, musical, melancholy tone, echoed promptly in + other parts of the ship. “What is that, Captain?” he asked anxiously. “An + accident?” + </p> + <p> + “Two bells in the first dog-watch,” said the Captain. “I fear you are as + much a lubber at sea as you are in theology.” + </p> + <p> + The next two hours passed like a flash. Gissing found the skipper, in + spite of his occasional moods of austerity, a delicious companion. They + discussed Theosophy, Spiritualism, and Christian Science, all of which the + Captain, with sturdy but rather troubled vehemence, linked with Primitive + Magic. Gissing, seeing that his only hope of establishing himself in the + sailor's regard was to disagree and keep the argument going, plunged into + psycho-analysis and the philosophy of the unconscious. Rather unwarily he + ventured to introduce a nautical illustration into the talk. + </p> + <p> + “Your compass needle,” he said, “points to the North Pole, and although it + has never been to the Pole, and cannot even conceive of it, yet it + testifies irresistibly to the existence of such a place.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you navigate your soul more skilfully than you would navigate + this vessel,” retorted the Captain. “In the first place, the needle does + not point to the North Pole at all, but to the magnetic pole. Furthermore, + it has to be adjusted by magnets to counteract deviation. Mr. Gissing, you + may be a sincere student of theology, but you have not allowed for your + own temperamental deviation. Why, even the gyro compass has to be adjusted + for latitude error. You landsmen think that a ship is simply a floating + hotel. I should like to have the Bishop you spoke of study a little + navigation. That would put into him a healthy respect for the marvels of + science. On board ship, sir, the binnacle is kept locked and the key is on + the watch-chain of the master. It should be so in all intellectual + matters. Confide them to those capable of understanding.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that the Captain greatly relished his sense of superiority, so + he made a remark of intentional simplicity. + </p> + <p> + “The binnacle?” he said. “I thought that was the little shellfish that + clings to the bottom of the boat?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you dare call my ship a BOAT!” said the Captain. “At sea, a boat + means only a lifeboat or some other small vagabond craft. Come out on the + bridge and I'll show you a thing or two.” + </p> + <p> + The evening had closed in hazy, and the Pomerania swung steadily in a long + plunging roll. At the weather wing of the bridge, gazing sharply over the + canvas dodger, was Mr. Pointer, the vigilant Chief Officer, peering off + rigidly, as though mesmerized, but saying nothing. He gave the Captain a + courteous salute, but kept silence. At the large mahogany wheel, gently + steadying it to the quarterly roll of the sea, stood Dane, a tall, solemn + quartermaster. In spite of a little uneasiness, due to the unfamiliar + motion, Gissing was greatly elated by the wheelhouse, which seemed even + more thrillingly romantic than any pulpit. Uncomprehendingly, but with + admiration, he examined the binnacle, the engine-room telegraphs, the + telephones, the rack of signal-flags, the buttons for closing the + bulkheads, and the rotating clear-view screen for lookout in thick + weather. Aloft he could see the masthead light, gently soaring in slow + arcs. + </p> + <p> + “I'll show you my particular pride,” said the Captain, evidently pleased + by his visitor's delighted enthusiasm. + </p> + <p> + Gissing wondered what ingenious device of science this might be. + </p> + <p> + Captain Scottie stepped to the weather gunwale of the bridge. He pointed + to the smoke, which was rolling rapidly from the funnels. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” he said, “there's quite a strong breeze blowing. But look + here.” + </p> + <p> + He lit a match and held it unshielded above the canvas screen which was + lashed along the front of the bridge. To Gissing's surprise it burned + steadily, without blowing out. + </p> + <p> + “I've invented a convex wind-shield which splits the air just forward of + the bridge. I can stand here and light my pipe in the stiffest gale, + without any trouble.” + </p> + <p> + On the decks below Gissing heard a bugle blowing gaily, a bright, + persuasive sound. + </p> + <p> + “Six bells,” the Captain said. “I must dress for dinner. Before I start + you potato-peeling, I should like to clear up that little discussion of + ours about Free Will. One or two things you said interested me.” + </p> + <p> + He paced the bridge for a minute, thinking hard. + </p> + <p> + “I'll test your sincerity,” he said. “To-night you can bunk in the + chart-room. I'll have some dinner sent up to you. I wish you would write + me an essay of, say, two thousand words on the subject of Necessity.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment Gissing pondered whether it would not be better to be put in + irons and rationed with bread and water. The wind was freshening, and the + Pomerania's sharp bow slid heavily into broad hills of sea, crashing them + into crumbling rollers of suds which fell outward and hissed along her + steep sides. The silent Mr. Pointer escorted him into the chart-room, a + bare, businesslike place with a large table, a map-cabinet, and a settee. + Here, presently, a steward appeared with excellent viands, and a pen, ink, + and notepaper. After a cautious meal, Gissing felt more comfortable. There + is something about a wet, windy evening at sea that turns the mind + naturally toward metaphysics. He pushed away the dishes and began to + write. + </p> + <p> + Later in the evening the Captain reappeared. He looked pleased when he saw + a number of sheets already covered with script. + </p> + <p> + “Rum lot of passengers this trip,” he said. “I don't seem to see any who + look interesting. All Big Business and that sort of thing. I must say it's + nice to have someone who can talk about books, and so on, once in a + while.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing realized that sometimes a shipmaster's life must be a lonely one. + The weight of responsibility is always upon him; etiquette prevents his + becoming familiar with his officers; small wonder if he pines occasionally + for a little congenial talk to relieve his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Big Business, did you say?” Gissing remarked. “Ah, I could write you + quite an essay about that. I used to be General Manager of Beagle and + Company.” + </p> + <p> + “Come into my cabin and have a liqueur,” said the skipper. “Let the essay + go until to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain turned on the electric stove in his cabin, for the night was + cold. It was a snug sanctum: at the portholes were little chintz curtains; + over the bunk was a convenient reading lamp. On the wall a brass pendulum + swung slowly, registering the roll of the ship. The ruddy shine of the + stove lit up the orderly desk and the photographs of the Captain's family. + </p> + <p> + “Yours?” said Gissing, looking at a group of three puppies with droll + Scottish faces. “Aye,” said the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “I've three of my own,” said Gissing, with a private pang of homesickness. + The skipper's cosy quarters were the most truly domestic he had seen since + the evening he first fled from responsibility. + </p> + <p> + Captain Scottie was surprised. Certainly this eccentric stranger in the + badly damaged wedding garments had not given the impression of a family + head. Just then the steward entered with a decanter of Benedictine and + small glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Brew days and bonny!” said the Captain, raising his crystal. + </p> + <p> + “Secure amidst perils!” replied Gissing courteously. It was the phrase + engraved upon the ship's notepaper, on which he had been writing, and it + had impressed itself on his mind. + </p> + <p> + “You said you had been a General Manager.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing told, with some vivacity, of his experiences in the world of + trade. The Captain poured another small liqueur. + </p> + <p> + “They're fine halesome liquor,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Sincerely yours,” said Gissing, nodding over the glass. He was beginning + to feel quite at home in the navigating quarters of the ship, and hoped + the potato-peeling might be postponed as long as possible. + </p> + <p> + “How far had you got in your essay?” asked the Captain. + </p> + <p> + “Not very far, I fear. I was beginning by laying down a few psychological + fundamentals.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! Will you read it to me?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing went to get his manuscript, and read it aloud. The Captain + listened attentively, puffing clouds of smoke. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry this is such a short voyage,” he said when Gissing finished. + “You have approached the matter from an entirely naif and instinctive + standpoint, and it will take some time to show you your errors. Before I + demolish your arguments I should like to turn them over in my mind. I will + reduce my ideas to writing and then read them to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like nothing better,” said Gissing. “And I can think over the + subject more carefully while I peel the potatoes.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense,” said the Captain. “I do not often get a chance to discuss + theology. I will tell you my idea. You spoke of your experience as General + Manager, when you had charge of a thousand employees. One of the things we + need on this ship is a staff-captain, to take over the management of the + personnel. That would permit me to concentrate entirely on navigation. In + a vessel of this size it is wrong that the master should have to carry the + entire responsibility.” + </p> + <p> + He rang for the steward. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments to Mr. Pointer, and tell him to come here.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer appeared shortly in oilskins, saluted, and gazed fixedly at + his superior, with one foot raised upon the brass door-sill. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pointer,” said Captain Scottie, “I have appointed Captain Gissing + staff-captain. Take orders from him as you would from me. He will have + complete charge of the ship's discipline.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said Mr. Pointer, stood a moment intently to see if there + were further orders, saluted again, and withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “Now you had better turn in,” said the skipper. “Of course you must wear + uniform. I'll send the tailor up to you at once. He can remodel one of my + suits overnight. The trousers will have to be lengthened.” + </p> + <p> + On the chart-room sofa, Gissing dozed and waked and dozed again. On the + bridge near by he heard the steady tread of feet, the mysterious words of + the officer on watch passing the course to his relief. Bells rang with + sharp double clang. Through the open port he could hear the alternate boom + and hiss of the sea under the bows. With the stately lift and lean of the + ship there mingled a faint driving vibration. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FOURTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The first morning in any new environment is always the most exciting. + Gissing was already awake, and watching the novel sight of a patch of + sunshine sliding to and fro on the deck of the chart-room, when there was + a gentle tap at the door. The Captain's steward entered, carrying a + handsome uniform. + </p> + <p> + “Six bells, sir,” he said. “Your bath is laid on.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was not very sure just what time it was, but the steward held out + a dressing gown for him to slip on, so he took the hint, and followed him + to the Captain's private bathroom where he plunged gaily into warm salt + water. He was hardly dressed before breakfast was laid for him in the + chart-room. It was a breakfast greatly to his liking—porridge, + scrambled eggs, grilled kidneys and bacon, coffee, toast, and marmalade. + Evidently the hardships of sea life had been greatly exaggerated by + fiction writers. + </p> + <p> + He was a trifle bashful about appearing on the bridge in his blue and + brass formality, and waited a while thinking Captain Scottie might come. + But no one disturbed him, so by and bye he went out. It was a brisk + morning with a fresh breeze and plenty of whitecaps. Dancing rainbows + hovered about the bow when an occasional explosion of spray burst up into + sunlight. Mr. Pointer was on the bridge, still gazing steadily into the + distance. He saluted Gissing, but said nothing. The quartermaster at the + wheel also saluted in silence. A seaman wiping down the paintwork on the + deckhouse saluted. Gissing returned these gestures punctiliously, and + began to pace the bridge from side to side. He soon grew accustomed to the + varying slant of the deck, and felt that his footing showed a nautical + assurance. + </p> + <p> + Now for the first time he enjoyed an untrammelled horizon on all sides. + The sea, he observed, was not really blue—not at any rate the blue + he had supposed. Where it seethed flatly along the hull, laced with swirls + of milky foam, it was almost black. Farther away, it was green, or darkly + violet. A ladder led to the top of the charthouse, and from this + commanding height the whole body of the ship lay below him. How alive she + seemed, how full of personality! The strong funnels, the tall masts that + moved so delicately against the pale open sky, the distant stern that now + dipped low in a comfortable hollow, and now soared and threshed onward + with a swimming thrust, the whole vital organism spoke to the eye and the + imagination. In the centre of this vast circle she moved, royal and + serene. She was more beautiful than the element she rode on, for perhaps + there was something meaningless in that pure vacant round of sea and sky. + Once its immense azure was grasped and noted, it brought nothing to the + mind. Reason was indignant to conceive it, sloping endlessly away. + </p> + <p> + The placid, beautifully planned routine of shipboard passed on its + accustomed course, and he began to suspect that his staff-captaincy was a + sinecure. Down below he could see the passengers briskly promenading, or + drowsing under their rugs. On the hurricane deck, aft, a sailor was + chalking a shuffleboard court. It occurred to him that all this might + become monotonous unless he found some actual part in it. Just then + Captain Scottie appeared on the bridge, took a quick look round, and + joined him on top of the charthouse. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning!” he said. “You won't think me rude if you don't see much of + me? Thinking about those ideas of yours, I have come upon some rather + puzzling stuff. I must work the whole thing out more clearly. Your + suggestion that Conscience points the way to an integration of personality + into a higher type of divinity, seems to me off the track; but I haven't + quite downed it yet. I'm going to shut myself up to-day and consider the + matter. I leave you in charge.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be perfectly happy,” said Gissing. “Please don't worry about me.” + </p> + <p> + “You suggest that all the conditions of life at sea, our mastery of the + forces of Nature, and so on, seem to show that we have perfect freedom of + will, and adapt everything to our desires. I believe just the contrary. + The forces of Nature compel us to approach them in their own way, + otherwise we are shipwrecked. It is in the conditions of Nature that this + ship should reach port in eight days, otherwise we should get nowhere. We + do it because it is our destiny.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so sure of that,” said Gissing. But the Captain had already + departed with a clouded brow. + </p> + <p> + On the chart-room roof Gissing had discovered an alluring instrument, the + exact use of which he did not know. It seemed to be some kind of steering + control. The dial was lettered, from left to right, as follows HARD A + PORT, PORT, STEADY, COURSE, STEADY, STARBD, HARD A STARBD. At present the + handle stood upon the section marked COURSE. After a careful study of the + whole seascape, it seemed to Gissing that off to the south the ocean + looked more blue and more interesting. After some hesitation he moved the + handle to the PORT mark, and waited to see what would happen. To his + delight he saw the bow swing slowly round, and the Pomerania's gleaming + wake spread behind her in a whitened curve. He descended to the bridge, a + little nervous as to what Mr. Pointer might say, but he found the Mate + gazing across the water with the same fierce and unwearying attention. + </p> + <p> + “I have changed the course,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer saluted, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Having succeeded so far, Gissing ventured upon another innovation. He had + been greatly tempted by the wheel, and envied the stolid quartermaster who + was steering. So, assuming an air of calm certainty, he entered the + wheelhouse. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take her for a while,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said the quartermaster, and surrendered the wheel to him. + </p> + <p> + “You might string out a few flags,” Gissing said. He had been noticing the + bright signal buntings in the rack, and thought it a pity not to use them. + </p> + <p> + “I like to see a ship well dressed,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, sir,” said Dane. “Any choice, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing picked out a string of flags which were particularly lively in + colour-scheme, and had them hoisted. Then he gave his attention to the + wheel. He found it quite an art, and was surprised to learn that a big + ship requires so much helm. But it was very pleasant. He took care to + steer toward patches of sea that looked interesting, and to cut into any + particular waves that took his fancy. After an hour or so, he sighted a + fishing schooner, and gave chase. He found it so much fun to run close + beside her (taking care to pass to leeward, so as not to cut off her wind) + that a mile farther on he turned and steered a neat circle about the + bewildered craft. The Pomerania's passengers were greatly interested, and + lined the rails trying to make out what the fishermen were shouting. The + captain of the schooner seemed particularly agitated, kept waving at the + signal flags and barking through a megaphone. During these manoeuvres Mr. + Pointer gazed so hard at the horizon that Gissing felt a bit embarrassed. + </p> + <p> + “I thought it wise to find out exactly what our turning-circle is,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pointer saluted. He was a well-trained officer. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon the Captain reappeared, looking more cheerful. + Gissing was still at the helm, which he found so fascinating he would not + relinquish it. He had ordered his tea served on a little stand beside the + wheel so that he could drink it while he steered. “Hullo!” said the + Captain. “I see you've changed the course.” + </p> + <p> + “It seemed best to do so,” said Gissing firmly. He felt that to show any + weakness at this point would be fatal. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, probably it doesn't matter. I'm coming round to some of your + ideas.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing saw that this would never do. Unless he could keep the master + disturbed by philosophic doubts, Scottie would expect to resume command of + the ship. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “I've been thinking about it, too. I believe I went a bit + too far. But what do you think about this? Do you believe that Conscience + is inherited or acquired? You sea how important that is. If Conscience is + a kind of automatic oracle, infallible and perfect, what becomes of free + will? And if, on the other hand, Conscience is only a laboriously trained + perception of moral and social utilities, where does your deity come in?” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was aware that this dilemma would not hold water very long, and + was painfully impromptu; but it hit the Captain amidships. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove,” he said, “that's terrible, isn't it? It's no use trying to + carry on until I've got that under the hatch. Look here, would you mind, + just as a favour, keep things going while I wrestle with that question?—I + know it's asking a lot, but perhaps—” + </p> + <p> + “It's quite all right,” Gissing replied. “Naturally you want to work these + things out.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain started to leave the bridge, but by old seafaring habit he + cast a keen glance at the sky. He saw the bright string of code flags + fluttering. He seemed startled. + </p> + <p> + “Are you signalling any one?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags + about.” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. + They're rather confusing.” + </p> + <p> + “Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up.” + </p> + <p> + “You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a + wide berth. Am coming to your assistance.” + </p> + <p> + Toward dinner time, when Gissing had left the wheel and was humming a tune + as he walked the bridge, the steward came to him. + </p> + <p> + “The Captain's compliments, sir, and would you take his place in the + saloon to-night? He says he's very busy writing, sir, and would take it as + a favour.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was always obliging. There was just a hint of conscious sternness + in his manner as he entered the Pomerania's beautiful dining saloon, for + he wished the passengers to realize that their lives depended upon his + prudence and sea-lore. Twice during the meal he instructed the steward to + bring him the latest barometer reading; and after the dessert he scribbled + a note on the back of a menu-card and had it sent to the Chief Engineer. + It said:— + </p> + <p> + Dear Chief: Please keep up a good head of steam to-night. I am expecting + dirty weather. + </p> + <p> + MR. GISSING, + </p> + <p> + (Staff-Captain) + </p> + <p> + What the Chief said when he received the message is not included in the + story. + </p> + <p> + But the same social aplomb that had made Gissing successful as a + floorwalker now came to his rescue as mariner. The passengers at the + Captain's table were amazed at his genial charm. His anecdotes of sea life + were heartily applauded. After dinner he circulated gracefully in the + ladies' lounge, and took coffee there surrounded by a chattering bevy. He + organized a little impromptu concert in the music room, and when that was + well started, slipped away to the smoke-room. Here he found a pool being + organized as to the exact day and hour when the Pomerania would reach + port. Appealed to for his opinion, he advised caution. On all sides he was + in demand, for dancing, for bridge, for a recitation. At length he slipped + away, pleading that he must keep himself fit in case of fog. The + passengers were loud in his praise, asserting that they had never met so + agreeable a sea-captain. One elderly lady said she remembered crossing + with him in the old Caninia, years ago, and that he was just the same + then. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER FIFTEEN + </h2> + <p> + And so the voyage went on. Gissing was quite content to do a two-hour + trick at the wheel both morning and afternoon, and worked out some new + principles of steering which gave him pleasure. In the first place, he + noticed that the shuffle-board and quoit players, on the boat deck aft, + were occasionally annoyed by cinders from the stacks, so he made it a + general plan to steer so that the smoke blew at right angles to the ship's + course. As the wind was prevailingly west, this meant that his general + trend was southerly. Whenever he saw another vessel, a mass of floating + sea-weed, a porpoise, or even a sea-gull, he steered directly for it, and + passed as close as possible, to have a good look at it. Even Mr. Pointer + admitted (in the mates' mess) that he had never experienced so eventful a + voyage. To keep the quartermasters from being idle, Gissing had them knit + him a rope hammock to be slung in the chart-room. He felt that this would + be more nautical than a plush settee. + </p> + <p> + There was a marvellous sense of power in standing at the wheel and feeling + the great hull reply to his touch. Occasionally Captain Scottie would + emerge from his cabin, look round with a faint surprise, and come to the + bridge to see what was happening. Mr. Pointer would salute mutely, and + continue to study the skyline with indignant absorption. The Captain would + approach the wheel, where Gissing was deep in thought. Rubbing his hands, + the Captain would say heartily, “Well, I think I've got it all clear now.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing sighed. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” the Captain inquired anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “I'm bothered about the subconscious. They tell us nowadays that it's the + subconscious mind that is really important. The more mental operations we + can turn over to the subconscious realm, the happier we will be, and the + more efficient. Morality, theology, and everything really worth while, as + I understand it, spring from the subconscious.” + </p> + <p> + The Captain's look of cheer would vanish. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe there's something in that.” + </p> + <p> + “If so,” Gissing continued, “then perhaps consciousness is entirely + spurious. It seems to me that before we can get anywhere at all, we've got + to draw the line between the conscious and the subconscious. What bothers + me is, am I conscious of having a subconscious, or not? Sometimes I think + I am, and then again I'm doubtful. But if I'm aware of my subconscious, + then it isn't a genuine subconscious, and the whole thing's just another + delusion—” + </p> + <p> + The Captain would knit his weather-beaten brow and again retire anxiously + to his quarters, after begging Gissing to be generous and carry on a while + longer. Occasionally, pacing the starboard bridge-deck, sacred to + captains, Gissing would glance through the port and see the metaphysical + commander bent over sheets of foolscap and thickly wreathed in pipe-smoke. + </p> + <p> + He himself had fallen into a kind of tranced felicity, in which these + questions no longer had other than an ingenious interest. His heart was + drowned in the engulfing blue. As they made their southing, wind and + weather seemed to fall astern, the sun poured with a more golden candour. + He stood at the wheel in a tranquil reverie, blithely steering toward some + bright belly of cloud that had caught his fancy. Mr. Pointer shook his + head when he glanced surreptitiously at the steering recorder, a device + that noted graphically every movement of the rudder with a view to + promoting economical helmsmanship. Indeed Gissing's course, as logged on + the chart, surprised even himself, so that he forbade the officers taking + their noon observations. When Mr. Pointer said something about isobars, + the staff-captain replied serenely that he did not expect to find any + polar bears in these latitudes. + </p> + <p> + He had hoped privately for an occasional pirate, and scanned the sea-rim + sharply for suspicious topsails. But the ocean, as he remarked, is not + crowded. They proceeded, day after day, in a solitary wideness of + unblemished colour. The ship, travelling always in the centre of this + infinite disk, seemed strangely identified with his own itinerant spirit, + watchful at the gist of things, alert at the point which was necessarily, + for him, the nub of all existence. He wandered about the Pomerania's + sagely ordered passages and found her more and more magical. She went on + and on, with some strange urgent vitality of her own. Through the fiddleys + on the boat deck came a hot oily breath and the steady drumming of her + burning heart. From outer to hawse-hole, from shaft-tunnel to crow's-nest, + he explored and loved her. In the whole of her proud, faithful, obedient + fabric he divined honour and exultation. Poised upon uncertainty, she was + sure. The camber of her white-scrubbed decks, the long, clean sheer of her + hull, the concave flare of her bows—what was the amazing joy and + rightness of these things? And yet the grotesque passengers regarded her + only as a vehicle, to carry them sedatively to some clamouring dock. + Fools! She was more lovely than anything they would ever see again! He + yearned to drive her endlessly toward that unreachable perimeter of sky. + </p> + <p> + On land there had been definite horizons, even if disappointing when + reached and examined; but here there was no horizon at all. Every hour it + slid and slid over the dark orb of sea. He lost count of time. The + tremulous cradling of the Pomerania, steadily climbing the long leagues; + her noble forecastle solemnly lifting against heaven, then descending with + grave beauty into a spread of foaming beryl and snowdrift, seemed one with + the rhythm of his pulse and heart. Perhaps there had been more than mere + ingenuity in his last riddle for the theological skipper. Truly the + subconscious had usurped him. Here he was almost happy, for he was almost + unaware of life. It was all blue vacancy and suspension. The sea is the + great answer and consoler, for it means either nothing or everything, and + so need not tease the brain. + </p> + <p> + But the passengers, though unobservant, began to murmur; especially those + who had wagered that the Pomerania would dock on the eighth day. The world + itself, they complained, was created in seven days, and why should so fine + a ship take longer to cross a comparatively small ocean? Urbanely, over + coffee and petite fours, Gissing argued with them. They were well on their + way, he protested; and then, as a hypothetical case, he asked why one + destination was more worth visiting than another? He even quoted + Shakespeare on this point—something about “ports and happy havens”—and + succeeded in turning the tide of conversation for a while. The mention of + Shakespeare suggested to some of the ladies that it would be pleasant, now + they all knew each other so well, to put on some amateur theatricals. They + compromised by playing charades in the saloon. Another evening Gissing + kept them amused by fireworks, which were very lovely against the dark + sky. For this purpose he used the emergency rockets, star-shells and + coloured flares, much to the distress of Dane, the quartermaster, who had + charge of these supplies. + </p> + <p> + Little by little, however, the querulous protests of the passengers began + to weary him. Also, he had been receiving terse memoranda from the Chief + Engineer that the coal was getting low in the bunkers and that something + must be queer in the navigating department. This seemed very unreasonable. + The fixed gaze of Mr. Pointer, perpetually examining the horizon as though + he wanted to make sure he would recognize it if they met again, was + trying. Even Captain Scottie complained one day that the supply of fresh + meat had given out and that the steward had been bringing him tinned beef. + Gissing determined upon resolute measures. + </p> + <p> + He had notice served that on account of possible danger from pirates there + would be a general boat drill on the following day—not merely for + the crew, but for everyone. He gave a little talk about it in the saloon + after dinner, and worked his audience up to quite a pitch of enthusiasm. + This would be better than any amateur theatricals, he insisted. Everyone + was to act exactly as though in a sudden calamity. They might make up the + boat-parties on the basis of congeniality if they wished; five minutes + would be given for reaching the stations, without panic or disorder. They + should prepare themselves as though they were actually going to leave a + sinking ship. + </p> + <p> + The passengers were delighted with the idea of this novel entertainment. + Every soul on board—with the exception of Captain Scottie, who had + locked himself in and refused to be disturbed—was properly + advertised of the event. + </p> + <p> + The following day, fortunately, was clear and calm. At noon Gissing blew + the syren, fired a rocket from the bridge, and swung the engine telegraph + to STOP. The ship's orchestra, by his orders, struck up a rollicking air. + Quickly and without confusion, amid cries of Women and children first! the + passengers filed to their allotted places. The crew and officers were all + at their stations. + </p> + <p> + Gissing knocked at Captain Scottie's cabin. + </p> + <p> + “We are taking to the boats,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Goad!” cried the skipper. “Wull it be a colleesion?” + </p> + <p> + “All's clear and the davits are outboard,” said Gissing. He had been + studying the manual of boat handling in one of the nautical volumes in the + chart-room. + </p> + <p> + “Auld Hornie!” ejaculated the skipper. “We'll no can salve the specie! + Make note of her poseetion, Mr. Gissing!” He hastened to gather his + papers, the log, a chronometer, and a large canister of tobacco. + </p> + <p> + “The Deil's intil't,” he said as he hastened to his boat. “I had yon + pragmateesm of yours on a lee shore. Two-three hours, I'd have careened + ye.” + </p> + <p> + Gissing was ready with his megaphone. From the wing of the bridge he gave + the orders. + </p> + <p> + “Lower away!” and the boats dropped to the passenger rail. + </p> + <p> + “Avast lowering!” Each boat took in her roster of passengers, who were in + high spirits at this unusual excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Mind your painters! Lower handsomely!” + </p> + <p> + The boats took the water in orderly fashion, and were cast off. Remaining + members of the crew swarmed down the falls. The bandsmen had a boat to + themselves, and resumed their tune as soon as they were settled. + </p> + <p> + Gissing, left alone on the ship, waved for silence. + </p> + <p> + “Look sharp, man!” cried Captain Scottie. “Honour's satisfied! Take your + place in the boat!” + </p> + <p> + The passengers applauded, and there was quite a clatter of camera shutters + as they snapped the Pomerania looming grandly above them. + </p> + <p> + “Boats are all provisioned and equipped,” shouted Gissing. “I've + broadcasted your position by radio. The barometer's at Fixed Fair. Pull + off now, and 'ware the screw.” + </p> + <p> + He moved the telegraph handle to DEAD SLOW, and the Pomerania began to + slip forward gently. The boats dropped aft amid a loud miscellaneous + outcry. Mr. Pointer was already examining the horizon. Captain Scottie, + awakened to the situation, was uttering the language of theology but not + the purport. + </p> + <p> + “Don't stand up in the boats,” megaphoned Gissing. “You're quite all + right, there's a ship on the way already. I wirelessed last night.” + </p> + <p> + He slid the telegraph to slow, half, and then full. Once more the ship + creamed through the lifting purple swells. The little flock of boats was + soon out of sight. + </p> + <p> + Alone at the wheel, he realized that a great weight was off his mind. The + responsibility of his position had burdened him more than he knew. Now a + strange eagerness and joy possessed him. His bubbling wake cut straight + and milky across the glittering afternoon. In a ruddy sunset glow, the sea + darkened through all tints of violet, amethyst, indigo. The horizon line + sharpened so clearly that he could distinguish the tossing profile of + waves wetting the sky. “A red sky at night is the sailor's delight,” he + said to himself. He switched on the port and starboard lights and the + masthead lanterns, then lashed the wheel while he went below for supper. + He did not know exactly where he was, for he seemed to have steamed clean + off the chart; but as he conned the helm that evening, and leaned over the + lighted binnacle, he had a feeling that he was not far from some destiny. + With cheerful assurance he lashed the wheel again, and turned in. He woke + once in the night, and leaped from the hammock with a start. He thought he + had heard a sound of barking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SIXTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The next morning he sighted land. Coming out on the bridge, the whole face + of things was changed. The sea-colour had lightened to a tawny green; + gulls dipped and hovered; away on the horizon lay a soft blue contour. + “Land Ho!” he shouted superbly, and wondered what new country he had + discovered. He ran up a hoist of red and yellow signal flags, and steered + gaily toward the shore. + </p> + <p> + It had grown suddenly cold: he had to fetch Captain Scottie's pea-jacket + to wear at the wheel. On the long spilling crests, that crumbled and + spread running layers of froth in their hurry shoreward, the Pomerania + rode home. She knew her landfall and seemed to quicken. Steadily swinging + on the jade-green surges, she buried her nose almost to the hawse-pipes, + then lifted until her streaming forefoot gleamed out of a frilled ruffle + of foam. + </p> + <p> + Gissing, too, was eager. A tingling buoyancy and impatience took hold of + him: he fidgeted with sheer eagerness for life. Land, the beloved + stability of our dear and only earth, drew and charmed him. Behind was the + senseless, heartbreaking sea. Now he could discern hills rising in a + gilded opaline light. In the volatile thin air was a quick sense of + strangeness. A new world was close about him: a world that he could see, + and feel, and inhale, and yet knew nothing of. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a great humility possessed him. He had been froward and silly and + vain. He had shouted arrogantly at Beauty, like a noisy tourist in a + canyon; and the only answer, after long waiting, had been the paltry + diminished echo of his own voice. He thought shamefully of his follies. + What matter how you name God or in what words you praise Him? In this new + foreign land he would quietly accept things as he found them. The laughter + of God was too strange to understand. + </p> + <p> + No, there was no answer. He was doubly damned, for he had made truth a + mere sport of intellectual riddling. The mind, like a spinning flywheel of + fatigued steel, was gradually racked to bursting by the conflict of + stresses. And yet: every equilibrium was an opposure of forces. Rotation, + if swift enough, creates amazing stability: he had seen how the gyroscope + can balance at apparently impossible angles. Perhaps it was so of the + mind. If it twirls at high speed it can lean right out over the abyss + without collapse. But the stationary mind—he thought of Bishop + Borzoi—must keep away from the edge. Try to force it to the edge, it + raves in panic. Every mind, very likely, knows its own frailties, and does + well to safeguard them. At any rate, that was the most generous + interpretation. Most minds, undoubtedly, were uneasy in high places. They + doubted their ability to refrain from jumping off. How many bones of fine + intellects lay whitening at the foot of the theological cliff—It + seemed to be a lonely coast, and wintry. Patches of snow lay upon the + hills, the woods were bare and brown. A bottle-necked harbour opened out + before him. He reduced the engines to Dead Slow and glided gaily through + the strait. He had been anxious lest his navigation might not be equal to + the occasion: he did not want to disgrace himself at this final test. But + all seemed to arrange itself with enchanted ease. A steep ledge of ground + offered a natural pier, with tree-stumps for bollards. He let her come + gently beyond the spot; reversed the propellers just at the right time, + and backed neatly alongside. He moved the telegraph handle to FINISHED + WITH ENGINES; ran out the gangplank smartly, and stepped ashore. He moored + the vessel fore and aft, and hung out fenders to prevent chafing. + </p> + <p> + The first thing to do, he said to himself, is to get the lie of the land, + and find out whether it is inhabited. + </p> + <p> + A hillside rising above the water promised a clear view. The stubble grass + was dry and frosty, after the warm days at sea the chill was nipping; but + what an elixir of air! If this is a desert island, he thought, it will be + a glorious discovery. His heart was jocund with anticipation. A curious + foreign look in the landscape, he thought; quite unlike anything—Suddenly, + where the hill arched against pearly sky, he saw narrow thread of smoke + rising. He halted in alarm. Who might this be, friend or foe? But eager + agitation pushed him on. Burning to know, he hurried up to the brow of the + hill. + </p> + <p> + The smoke mounted from a small bonfire of sticks in a sheltered thicket, + where a miraculous being—who was, as a matter of fact, a rather + ragged and dingy vagabond—was cooking a tin of stew over the blaze. + </p> + <p> + Gissing stood, quivering with emotion. Joy such as he had never known + darted through all the cords of his body. He ran, shouting, in mirth and + terror. In fear, in a passion of love and knowledge and understanding, he + abased himself and yearned before this marvel. Impossible to have + conceived, yet, once seen, utterly satisfying and the fulfilment of all + needs. He laughed and leaped and worshipped. When the first transport was + over, he laid his head against this being's knee, he nestled there and was + content. This was the inscrutable perfect answer. + </p> + <p> + “Cripes!” said the puzzled tramp, as he caressed the nuzzling head. “The + purp's loco. Maybe he's been lost. You might think he'd never seen a man + before.” + </p> + <p> + He was right. + </p> + <p> + And Gissing sat quietly, his throat resting upon the soiled knee of a very + old and spicy trouser. + </p> + <p> + “I have found God,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Presently he thought of the ship. It would not do to leave her so + insecurely moored. Reluctantly, with many a backward glance and a heart + full of glory, he left the Presence. He ran to the edge of the hill to + look down upon the harbour. + </p> + <p> + The outlook was puzzlingly altered. He gazed in astonishment. What were + those poplars, rising naked into the bright air?—there was something + familiar about them. And that little house beyond... he stared bewildered. + </p> + <p> + The great shining breadth of the ocean had shrunk to the roundness of a + tiny pond. And the Pomerania? He leaned over, shaken with questions. + There, beside the bank, was a little plank of wood, a child's plaything, + roughly fashioned shipshape: two chips for funnels; red and yellow frosted + leaves for flags; a withered dogwood blossom for propeller. He leaned + closer, with whirling mind. In the clear cool surface of the pond he could + see the sky mirrored, deeper than any ocean, pellucid, infinite, blue. + </p> + <p> + He ran up the path to the house. The scuffled ragged garden lay naked and + hard. At the windows, he saw with surprise, were holly wreaths tied with + broad red ribbon. On the porch, some battered toys. He opened the door. + </p> + <p> + A fluttering rosy light filled the room. By the fireplace the puppies—how + big they were!—were sitting with Mrs. Spaniel. Joyous uproar greeted + him: they flung themselves upon him. Shouts of “Daddy! Daddy!” filled the + house, while the young Spaniels stood by more bashfully. + </p> + <p> + Good Mrs. Spaniel was gratefully moved. Her moist eyes shone brightly in + the firelight. + </p> + <p> + “I knew you'd be home for Christmas, Mr. Gissing,” she said. “I've been + telling them so all afternoon. Now, children, be still a moment and let me + speak. I've been telling you your Daddy would be home in time for a + Christmas Eve story. I've got to go and fix that plum pudding.” + </p> + <p> + In her excitement a clear bubble dripped from the tip of her tongue. She + caught it in her apron, and hurried to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER SEVENTEEN + </h2> + <p> + The children insisted on leading him all through the house to show how + nicely they had taken care of things. And in every room Gissing saw the + marks of riot and wreckage. There were tooth-scars on all furniture-legs; + the fringes of rugs were chewed off; there were prints of mud, ink, + paints, and whatnot, on curtains and wallpapers and coverlets. Poor Mrs. + Spaniel kept running anxiously from the kitchen to renew apologies. + </p> + <p> + “I DID try to keep 'em in order,” she said, “but they seem to bash things + when you're not looking.” + </p> + <p> + But Gissing was too happy to stew about such trifles. When the inspection + was over, they all sat down by the chimney and he piled on more logs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, chilluns,” he said, “what do you want Santa Claus to bring you for + Christmas?” + </p> + <p> + “An aunbile!” exclaimed Groups + </p> + <p> + “An elphunt!” exclaimed Bunks + </p> + <p> + “A little train with hammers!” exclaimed Yelpers + </p> + <p> + “A little train with hammers?” asked Gissing. “What does he mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Groups and Bunks, with condescending pity, “he means a + typewriter. He calls it a little train because it moves on a track when + you hit it.” + </p> + <p> + A painful apprehension seized him, and he went hastily to his study. He + had not noticed the typewriter, which Mrs. Spaniel had—too late—put + out of reach. Half the keys were sticking upright, jammed together and + tangled in a whirl of ribbon; the carriage was strangely dislocated. And + yet even this mischance, which would once have horrified him, left him + unperturbed. It's my own fault, he thought: I shouldn't have left it where + they could play with it. Perhaps God thinks the same when His creatures + make a mess of the dangerous laws of life. + </p> + <p> + “A Christmas story!” the children were clamouring. + </p> + <p> + Can it really be Christmas Eve? Gissing thought. Christmas seems to have + come very suddenly this year, I haven't really adjusted my mind to it yet. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he said. “Now sit still and keep quiet. Bunks, give Yelpers a + little more room. If there's any bickering Santa Claus might hear it.” + </p> + <p> + He sat in the big chair by the fire, and the three looked upward + expectantly from the hearthrug. + </p> + <p> + “Once upon a time there were three little puppies, who lived in a house in + the country in the Canine Estates. And their names were Groups, Bunks, and + Yelpers.” + </p> + <p> + The three tails thumped in turn as the names were mentioned, but the + children were too excitedly absorbed to interrupt. + </p> + <p> + “And one year, just before Christmas, they heard a dreadful rumour.” + </p> + <p> + “What's a rumour?” cried Yelpers, alarmed. + </p> + <p> + This was rather difficult to explain, so Gissing did not attempt it. He + began again. + </p> + <p> + “They heard that Santa Claus might not be able to come because he was so + behind with his housework. You see, Santa Claus is a great big + Newfoundland dog with a white beard, and he lives in a frosty kennel at + the North Pole, all shining with icicles round the roof and windows. But + it's so far away from everywhere that poor Santa couldn't get a servant. + All the maids who went there refused to stay because it was so cold and + lonely, and so far from the movies. Santa Claus was busy in his workshop, + making toys; he was busy taking care of the reindeer in their + snow-stables; and he didn't have time to wash his dishes. So all summer he + just let them pile up and pile up in the kitchen. And when Christmas came + near, there was his lovely house in a dreadful state of untidiness. He + couldn't go away and leave it like that. And so, if he didn't get his + dishes washed and the house cleaned up for Christmas, all the puppies all + over the world would have to go without toys. When Groups and Bunks and + Yelpers heard this, they were very much worried.” + </p> + <p> + “How did they hear it?” asked Bunks, who was the analytical member of the + trio. + </p> + <p> + “A very sensible question,” said Gissing, approvingly. “They heard it from + the chipmunk who lives in the wood behind the house. The chipmunk heard it + underground.” + </p> + <p> + “In his chipmonastery?” cried Groups. It was a family joke to call the + chipmunk's burrow by that name, and though the puppies did not understand + the pun they relished the long word. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” continued Gissing. “The reindeer in Santa Claus's stable were so + unhappy about the dishes not being washed, and the chance of missing their + Christmas frolic, that they broadcasted a radio message. Their horns are + very fine for sending radio, and the chipmunk, sitting at his little + wireless outfit, with the receivers over his ears, heard it. And Chippy + told Groups and Bunks and Yelpers. + </p> + <p> + “So these puppies decided to help Santa Claus. They didn't know exactly + where to find him, but the chipmunk told them the direction, and off they + went. They travelled and travelled, and when they came to the ocean they + begged a ride from the seagulls, and each one sat on a seagull's back just + as though he was on a little airplane. They flew and flew, and at last + they came to Santa Claus's house. Through the stable-walls, which were + made of clear ice, they could see the reindeer stamping in their stalls. + In the big workshop, where Santa Claus was busy making toys, they could + hear a lively sound of hammering. The big red sleigh was standing outside + the stables, all ready to be hitched up to the reindeer. + </p> + <p> + “They slipped into Santa Claus's house quickly and quietly, so no one + would see or hear them. The house was in a terrible state, but they set to + work to clean up. Groups found the vacuum cleaner and sucked up all the + crumbs from the dining-room rug. Bunks ran upstairs and made Santa Claus's + bed for him and swept the floors and put clean towels in the bathroom. And + Yelpers hurried into the kitchen and washed the dishes, and scrubbed the + pots, and polished the egg-stains off the silver spoons, and emptied the + ice-box pan. All working hard, they got through very soon, and made Santa + Claus's house as clean as any house could be. They fixed the window-shades + so that they would all hang level, not just anyhow, as poor Santa had + them. Then, when everything was spick and span, they ran outdoors again + and beckoned the seagulls. They climbed on the gulls' backs, and away they + flew homeward.” + </p> + <p> + “Was Santa Claus pleased?” asked Bunks. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed he was, when he came back from his workshop, very tired after + making toys all day.” + </p> + <p> + “What kind of toys did he make?” exclaimed Yelpers anxiously. “Did he make + a typewriter?” + </p> + <p> + “He made every kind of toy. And when he saw how his house had been cleaned + up, he thought the fairies must have done it. He lit his pipe, and filled + a thermos bottle with hot cocoa to keep him warm on his long journey. Then + he put on his red coat, and his long boots, and his fur cap, and went out + to harness the reindeer. That very night he drove off with his sleigh + packed full of toys for all the puppies in the world. In fact, he was so + pleased that he loaded his big bag with more toys than he had ever carried + before. And that was how a queer thing happened.” + </p> + <p> + They waited in eager suspense. + </p> + <p> + “You know, Santa Claus always drives into the Canine Estates by the little + back road through the woods, where the chipmunk lives. You know the + gateway, at the bend in the lane: well, it's rather narrow, and Santa + Claus's sleigh is very wide. And this time, because his bag had so many + toys in it, the bag bulged over the edge of the sleigh, and one corner of + the bag caught on the gatepost as he drove by. Three toys fell out, and + what do you suppose they were?” + </p> + <p> + “An aunbile!” + </p> + <p> + “An elphunt!” + </p> + <p> + “A typewriter!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's quite right. And it happened that the chipmunk was out that + night, digging up some nuts for his Christmas dinner, a little sad because + he had no presents to give his children; and he found the three toys. He + took them home to the little chipmunks, and they were tremendously + pleased. That was only fair, because if it hadn't been for the chipmunk + and his radio set, no one would have had any toys that Christmas.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Santa Claus have any more typewriters in his bag?” asked Yelpers + gravely. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, he had plenty more of everything. And when he got to the house + where Groups and Bunks and Yelpers lived, he slid down the chimney and + took a look round. He didn't see any crumbs on the floor, or any toys + lying about not put away, so he filled the stockings with all kinds of + lovely things, and an aunbile and an elphunt and a typewriter.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the puppies say?” they inquired. + </p> + <p> + “They were sound asleep upstairs, and didn't know anything about it until + Christmas morning. Come on now, it's time for bed.” + </p> + <p> + “We can undress ourselves now,” said Groups. + </p> + <p> + “Will you tuck me in?” said Bunks. + </p> + <p> + “You're sure he had another typewriter in his bag?” said Yelpers. + </p> + <p> + They scrambled upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Later, when the house was quiet, Gissing went out to the kitchen to see + Mrs. Spaniel. She was diligently rolling pastry, and her nose was white + with flour. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir, I'm glad you got home in time for Christmas,” she said. “The + children were counting on it. Did you have a successful trip, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Every trip is successful when you get home again,” said Gissing. “I + suppose the shops will be open late to-night, won't they? I'm going to run + down to the village to get some toys.” + </p> + <p> + Before leaving the house, he went down to the cellar to see if the furnace + was all right. He was amazed to see how naturally and cheerfully he had + slipped back into the old sense of responsibility. Where was the illusory + freedom he had dreamed of? Even the epiphany on the hilltop now seemed a + distant miracle. That fearful happiness might never come again. And yet + here, among the familiar difficult minutiae of home, what a lightness he + felt. A great phrase from the prayer-book came to his mind—“Whose + service is perfect freedom.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, he said to himself, it is all very well to wear a crown of thorns, and + indeed every sensitive creature carries one in secret. But there are times + when it ought to be worn cocked over one ear. + </p> + <p> + He opened the furnace door. A bright glow filled the fire-box: he could + hear a stir and singing in the boiler, and the rustle of warm pipes that + chuckled quietly through winter nights of storm. Over the coals hovered a + magic evasive flicker, the very soul of fire. It was a Pentecostal flame, + perfect and heavenly in tint, the essence of pure colour, a clear immortal + blue. + </p> + <p> + THE END <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1402 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |