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diff --git a/862-h/862-h.htm b/862-h/862-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..52e1781 --- /dev/null +++ b/862-h/862-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2050 @@ +<?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> + Philosophy 4, by Owen Wister + </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> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Philosophy 4, by Owen Wister + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Philosophy 4 + A Story of Harvard University + +Author: Owen Wister + +Release Date: August 2, 2008 [EBook #862] +Last Updated: October 8, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILOSOPHY 4 *** + + + + +Produced by Daniel P. B. Smith, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PHILOSOPHY 4 + </h1> + <h1> + A STORY OF HARVARD UNIVERSITY + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Owen Wister + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> V </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + I + </h2> + <p> + Two frowning boys sat in their tennis flannels beneath the glare of lamp + and gas. Their leather belts were loosened, their soft pink shirts + unbuttoned at the collar. They were listening with gloomy voracity to the + instruction of a third. They sat at a table bared of its customary + sporting ornaments, and from time to time they questioned, sucked their + pencils, and scrawled vigorous, laconic notes. Their necks and faces shone + with the bloom of out-of-doors. Studious concentration was evidently a + painful novelty to their features. Drops of perspiration came one by one + from their matted hair, and their hands dampened the paper upon which they + wrote. The windows stood open wide to the May darkness, but nothing came + in save heat and insects; for spring, being behind time, was making up + with a sultry burst at the end, as a delayed train makes the last few + miles high above schedule speed. Thus it has been since eight o’clock. + Eleven was daintily striking now. Its diminutive sonority might have + belonged to some church-bell far distant across the Cambridge silence; but + it was on a shelf in the room,—a timepiece of Gallic design, + representing Mephistopheles, who caressed the world in his lap. And as the + little strokes boomed, eight—nine—ten—eleven, the voice + of the instructor steadily continued thus:— + </p> + <p> + “By starting from the Absolute Intelligence, the chief cravings of the + reason, after unity and spirituality, receive due satisfaction. Something + transcending the Objective becomes possible. In the Cogito the relation of + subject and object is implied as the primary condition of all knowledge. + Now, Plato never—” + </p> + <p> + “Skip Plato,” interrupted one of the boys. “You gave us his points + yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Yep,” assented the other, rattling through the back pages of his notes. + “Got Plato down cold somewhere,—oh, here. He never caught on to the + subjective, any more than the other Greek bucks. Go on to the next + chappie.” + </p> + <p> + “If you gentlemen have mastered the—the Grreek bucks,” observed the + instructor, with sleek intonation, “we—” + </p> + <p> + “Yep,” said the second tennis boy, running a rapid judicial eye over his + back notes, “you’ve put us on to their curves enough. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + The instructor turned a few pages forward in the thick book of his own + neat type-written notes and then resumed,— + </p> + <p> + “The self-knowledge of matter in motion.” + </p> + <p> + “Skip it,” put in the first tennis boy. + </p> + <p> + “We went to those lectures ourselves,” explained the second, whirling + through another dishevelled notebook. “Oh, yes. Hobbes and his gang. There + is only one substance, matter, but it doesn’t strictly exist. Bodies + exist. We’ve got Hobbes. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + The instructor went forward a few pages more in his exhaustive volume. He + had attended all the lectures but three throughout the year, taking them + down in short-hand. Laryngitis had kept him from those three, to which + however, he had sent a stenographic friend so that the chain was unbroken. + He now took up the next philosopher on the list; but his smooth discourse + was, after a short while, rudely shaken. It was the second tennis boy + questioning severely the doctrines imparted. + </p> + <p> + “So he says color is all your eye, and shape isn’t? and substance isn’t?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean he claims,” said the first boy, equally resentful, “that if + we were all extinguished the world would still be here, only there’d be no + difference between blue and pink, for instance?” + </p> + <p> + “The reason is clear,” responded the tutor, blandly. He adjusted his + eyeglasses, placed their elastic cord behind his ear, and referred to his + notes. “It is human sight that distinguishes between colors. If human + sight be eliminated from the universe, nothing remains to make the + distinction, and consequently there will be none. Thus also is it with + sounds. If the universe contains no ear to hear the sound, the sound has + no existence.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said both the tennis boys at once. + </p> + <p> + The tutor smiled. “Is it not clear,” said he, “that there can be no sound + if it is not heard!” + </p> + <p> + “No,” they both returned, “not in the least clear.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s clear enough what he’s driving at of course,” pursued the first boy. + “Until the waves of sound or light or what not hit us through our senses, + our brains don’t experience the sensations of sound or light or what not, + and so, of course, we can’t know about them—not until they reach + us.” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” said the tutor. He had a suave and slightly alien accent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, just tell me how that proves a thunder-storm in a desert island + makes no noise.” + </p> + <p> + “If a thing is inaudible—” began the tutor. + </p> + <p> + “That’s mere juggling!” vociferated the boy, “That’s merely the same kind + of toy-shop brain-trick you gave us out of Greek philosophy yesterday. + They said there was no such thing as motion because at every instant of + time the moving body had to be somewhere, so how could it get anywhere + else? Good Lord! I can make up foolishness like that myself. For instance: + A moving body can never stop. Why? Why, because at every instant of time + it must be going at a certain rate, so how can it ever get slower? Pooh!” + He stopped. He had been gesticulating with one hand, which he now jammed + wrathfully into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + The tutor must have derived great pleasure from his own smile, for he + prolonged and deepened and variously modified it while his shiny little + calculating eyes travelled from one to the other of his ruddy scholars. He + coughed, consulted his notes, and went through all the paces of + superiority. “I can find nothing about a body’s being unable to stop,” + said he, gently. “If logic makes no appeal to you, gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, bunch!” exclaimed the second tennis boy, in the slang of his period, + which was the early eighties. “Look here. Color has no existence outside + of our brain—that’s the idea?” + </p> + <p> + The tutor bowed. + </p> + <p> + “And sound hasn’t? and smell hasn’t? and taste hasn’t?” + </p> + <p> + The tutor had repeated his little bow after each. + </p> + <p> + “And that’s because they depend on our senses? Very well. But he claims + solidity and shape and distance do exist independently of us. If we all + died, they’d he here just the same, though the others wouldn’t. A flower + would go on growing, but it would stop smelling. Very well. Now you tell + me how we ascertain solidity. By the touch, don’t we? Then, if there was + nobody to touch an object, what then? Seems to me touch is just as much of + a sense as your nose is.” (He meant no personality, but the first boy + choked a giggle as the speaker hotly followed up his thought.) “Seems to + me by his reasoning that in a desert island there’d be nothing it all—smells + or shapes—not even an island. Seems to me that’s what you call + logic.” + </p> + <p> + The tutor directed his smile at the open window. “Berkeley—” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove!” said the other boy, not heeding him, “and here’s another point: + if color is entirely in my brain, why don’t that ink-bottle and this shirt + look alike to me? They ought to. And why don’t a Martini cocktail and a + cup of coffee taste the same to my tongue?” “Berkeley,” attempted the + tutor, “demonstrates—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say,” the boy rushed on, “that there is no eternal quality + in all these things which when it meets my perceptions compels me to see + differences?” + </p> + <p> + The tutor surveyed his notes. “I can discover no such suggestions here as + you are pleased to make” said he. “But your orriginal researches,” he + continued most obsequiously, “recall our next subject,—Berkeley and + the Idealists.” And he smoothed out his notes. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s see,” said the second boy, pondering; “I went to two or three + lectures about that time. Berkeley—Berkeley. Didn’t he—oh, + yes! he did. He went the whole hog. Nothing’s anywhere except in your + ideas. You think the table’s there, but it isn’t. There isn’t any table.” + </p> + <p> + The first boy slapped his leg and lighted a cigarette. “I remember,” said + he. “Amounts to this: If I were to stop thinking about you, you’d + evaporate.” + </p> + <p> + “Which is balls,” observed the second boy, judicially, again in the slang + of his period, “and can be proved so. For you’re not always thinking about + me, and I’ve never evaporated once.” + </p> + <p> + The first boy, after a slight wink at the second, addressed the tutor. + “Supposing you were to happen to forget yourself,” said he to that sleek + gentleman, “would you evaporate?” + </p> + <p> + The tutor turned his little eyes doubtfully upon the tennis boys, but + answered, reciting the language of his notes: “The idealistic theory does + not apply to the thinking ego, but to the world of external phenomena. The + world exists in our conception of it. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said the second boy, “when a thing is inconceivable?” + </p> + <p> + “It has no existence,” replied the tutor, complacently. + </p> + <p> + “But a billion dollars is inconceivable,” retorted the boy. “No mind can + take in a sum of that size; but it exists.” + </p> + <p> + “Put that down! put that down!” shrieked the other boy. “You’ve struck + something. If we get Berkeley on the paper, I’ll run that in.” He wrote + rapidly, and then took a turn around the room, frowning as he walked. “The + actuality of a thing,” said he, summing his clever thoughts up, “is not + disproved by its being inconceivable. Ideas alone depend upon thought for + their existence. There! Anybody can get off stuff like that by the yard.” + He picked up a cork and a foot-rule, tossed the cork, and sent it flying + out of the window with the foot-rule. + </p> + <p> + “Skip Berkeley,” said the other boy. + </p> + <p> + “How much more is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Necessary and accidental truths,” answered the tutor, reading the + subjects from his notes. “Hume and the causal law. The duality, or + multiplicity, of the ego.” + </p> + <p> + “The hard-boiled ego,” commented the boy the ruler; and he batted a + swooping June-bug into space. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, idiot,” said his sprightly mate. + </p> + <p> + Conversation ceased. Instruction went forward. Their pencils worked. The + causal law, etc., went into their condensed notes like Liebig’s extract of + beef, and drops of perspiration continued to trickle from their matted + hair. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II + </h2> + <p> + Bertie and Billy were sophomores. They had been alive for twenty years, + and were young. Their tutor was also a sophomore. He too had been alive + for twenty years, but never yet had become young. Bertie and Billy had + colonial names (Rogers, I think, and Schuyler), but the tutor’s name was + Oscar Maironi, and he was charging his pupils five dollars an hour each + for his instruction. Do not think this excessive. Oscar could have tutored + a whole class of irresponsibles, and by that arrangement have earned + probably more; but Bertie and Billy had preempted him on account of his + fame or high standing and accuracy, and they could well afford it. All + three sophomores alike had happened to choose Philosophy 4 as one of their + elective courses, and all alike were now face to face with the Day of + Judgment. The final examinations had begun. Oscar could lay his hand upon + his studious heart and await the Day of Judgment like—I had nearly + said a Christian! His notes were full: Three hundred pages about Zeno and + Parmenides and the rest, almost every word as it had come from the + professor’s lips. And his memory was full, too, flowing like a player’s + lines. With the right cue he could recite instantly: “An important + application of this principle, with obvious reference to Heracleitos, + occurs in Aristotle, who says—” He could do this with the notes + anywhere. I am sure you appreciate Oscar and his great power of acquiring + facts. So he was ready, like the wise virgins of parable. Bertie and Billy + did not put one in mind of virgins: although they had burned considerable + midnight oil, it had not been to throw light upon Philosophy 4. In them + the mere word Heracleitos had raised a chill no later than yesterday,—the + chill of the unknown. They had not attended the lectures on the “Greek + bucks.” Indeed, profiting by their privilege of voluntary recitations, + they had dropped in but seldom on Philosophy 4. These blithe grasshoppers + had danced and sung away the precious storing season, and now that the + bleak hour of examinations was upon them, their waked-up hearts had felt + aghast at the sudden vision of their ignorance. It was on a Monday noon + that this feeling came fully upon them, as they read over the names of the + philosophers. Thursday was the day of the examination. “Who’s Anaxagoras?” + Billy had inquired of Bertie. “I’ll tell you,” said Bertie, “if you’ll + tell me who Epicharmos of Kos was.” And upon this they embraced with + helpless laughter. Then they reckoned up the hours left for them to learn + Epicharmos of Kos in,—between Monday noon and Thursday morning at + nine,—and their quailing chill increased. A tutor must be called in + at once. So the grasshoppers, having money, sought out and quickly + purchased the ant. + </p> + <p> + Closeted with Oscar and his notes, they had, as Bertie put it, salted down + the early Greek bucks by seven on Monday evening. By the same midnight + they had, as Billy expressed it, called the turn on Plato. Tuesday was a + second day of concentrated swallowing. Oscar had taken them through the + thought of many centuries. There had been intermissions for lunch and + dinner only; and the weather was exceedingly hot. The pale-skinned Oscar + stood this strain better than the unaccustomed Bertie and Billy. Their + jovial eyes had grown hollow to-night, although their minds were going + gallantly, as you have probably noticed. Their criticisms, slangy and + abrupt, struck the scholastic Oscar as flippancies which he must indulge, + since the pay was handsome. That these idlers should jump in with doubts + and questions not contained in his sacred notes raised in him feelings + betrayed just once in that remark about “orriginal rresearch.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine—ten—eleven—twelve,” went the little timepiece; and + Oscar rose. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, closing the sacred notes, “we have finished the + causal law.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the whole business except the ego racket, isn’t it?” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “The duality, or multiplicity of the ego remains,” Oscar replied. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I know its name. It ought to be a soft snap after what we’ve had.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless it’s full of dates and names you’ve got to know,” said Bertie. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t believe it is,” Billy answered. “I heard him at it once.” (This + meant that Billy had gone to a lecture lately.) “It’s all about Who am I? + and How do I do it?” Billy added. + </p> + <p> + “Hm!” said Bertie. “Hm! Subjective and objective again, I suppose, only + applied to oneself. You see, that table is objective. I can stand off and + judge it. It’s outside of me; has nothing to do with me. That’s easy. But + my opinion of—well, my—well, anything in my nature—” + </p> + <p> + “Anger when it’s time to get up,” suggested Billy. + </p> + <p> + “An excellent illustration,” said Bertie. “That is subjective in me. + Similar to your dislike of water as a beverage. That is subjective in you. + But here comes the twist. I can think of my own anger and judge it, just + as if it were an outside thing, like a table. I can compare it with itself + on different mornings or with other people’s anger. And I trust that you + can do the same with your thirst.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Billy; “I recognize that it is greater at times and less at + others.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, There you are. Duality of the ego.” + </p> + <p> + “Subject and object,” said Billy. “Perfectly true, and very queer when you + try to think of it. Wonder how far it goes? Of course, one can explain the + body’s being an object to the brain inside it. That’s mind and matter over + again. But when my own mind and thought, can become objects to themselves—I + wonder how far that does go?” he broke off musingly. “What useless stuff!” + he ended. + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” said Oscar, who had been listening to them with patient, + Oriental diversion, “I—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” said Bertie, remembering him. “Look here. We mustn’t keep you up. + We’re awfully obliged for the way you are putting us on to this. You’re + saving our lives. Ten to-morrow for a grand review of the whole course.” + </p> + <p> + “And the multiplicity of the ego?” inquired Oscar. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I forgot. Well, it’s too late tonight. Is it much? Are there many + dates and names and things?” + </p> + <p> + “It is more of a general inquiry and analysis,” replied Oscar. “But it is + forty pages of my notes.” And he smiled. + </p> + <p> + “Well, look here. It would be nice to have to-morrow clear for review. + We’re not tired. You leave us your notes and go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar’s hand almost moved to cover and hold his precious property, for + this instinct was the deepest in him. But it did not so move, because his + intelligence controlled his instinct nearly, though not quite, always. His + shiny little eyes, however, became furtive and antagonistic—something + the boys did not at first make out. + </p> + <p> + Oscar gave himself a moment of silence. “I could not brreak my rule,” said + he then. “I do not ever leave my notes with anybody. Mr. Woodridge asked + for my History 3 notes, and Mr. Bailey wanted my notes for Fine Arts 1, + and I could not let them have them. If Mr. Woodridge was to hear—” + </p> + <p> + “But what in the dickens are you afraid of?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, gentlemen, I would rather not. You would take good care, I know, + but there are sometimes things which happen that we cannot help. One time + a fire—” + </p> + <p> + At this racial suggestion both boys made the room joyous with mirth. Oscar + stood uneasily contemplating them. He would never be able to understand + them, not as long as he lived, nor they him. When their mirth Was over he + did somewhat better, but it was tardy. You see, he was not a specimen of + the first rank, or he would have said at once what he said now: “I wish to + study my notes a little myself, gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + “Go along, Oscar, with your inflammable notes, go along!” said Bertie, in + supreme good-humor. “And we’ll meet to-morrow at ten—if there hasn’t + been a fire—Better keep your notes in the bath, Oscar.” + </p> + <p> + In as much haste as could be made with a good appearance, Oscar buckled + his volume in its leather cover, gathered his hat and pencil, and, bidding + his pupils a very good night, sped smoothly out of the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III + </h2> + <p> + Oscar Maironi was very poor. His thin gray suit in summer resembled his + thick gray suit in winter. It does not seem that he had more than two; but + he had a black coat and waistcoat, and a narrow-brimmed, shiny hat to go + with these, and one pair of patent-leather shoes that laced, and whose + long soles curved upward at the toe like the rockers of a summer-hotel + chair. These holiday garments served him in all seasons; and when you saw + him dressed in them, and seated in a car bound for Park Square, you knew + he was going into Boston, where he would read manuscript essays on + Botticelli or Pico della Mirandola, or manuscript translations of Armenian + folksongs; read these to ecstatic, dim-eyed ladies in Newbury Street, who + would pour him cups of tea when it was over, and speak of his earnestness + after he was gone. It did not do the ladies any harm; but I am not sure + that it was the best thing for Oscar. It helped him feel every day, as he + stepped along to recitations with his elbow clamping his books against his + ribs and his heavy black curls bulging down from his gray slouch hat to + his collar, how meritorious he was compared with Bertie and Billy—with + all Berties and Billies. He may have been. Who shall say? But I will say + at once that chewing the cud of one’s own virtue gives a sour stomach. + </p> + <p> + Bertie’s and Billy’s parents owned town and country houses in New York. + The parents of Oscar had come over in the steerage. Money filled the + pockets of Bertie and Billy; therefore were their heads empty of money and + full of less cramping thoughts. Oscar had fallen upon the reverse of this + fate. Calculation was his second nature. He had given his education to + himself; he had for its sake toiled, traded, outwitted, and saved. He had + sent himself to college, where most of the hours not given to education + and more education, went to toiling and more toiling, that he might pay + his meagre way through the college world. He had a cheaper room and ate + cheaper meals than was necessary. He tutored, and he wrote college + specials for several newspapers. His chief relaxation was the praise of + the ladies in Newbury Street. These told him of the future which awaited + him, and when they gazed upon his features were put in mind of the dying + Keats. Not that Oscar was going to die in the least. Life burned strong in + him. There were sly times when he took what he had saved by his cheap + meals and room and went to Boston with it, and for a few hours thoroughly + ceased being ascetic. Yet Oscar felt meritorious when he considered Bertie + and Billy; for, like the socialists, merit with him meant not being able + to live as well as your neighbor. You will think that I have given to + Oscar what is familiarly termed a black eye. But I was once inclined to + applaud his struggle for knowledge, until I studied him close and + perceived that his love was not for the education he was getting. Bertie + and Billy loved play for play’s own sake, and in play forgot themselves, + like the wholesome young creatures that they were. Oscar had one love + only: through all his days whatever he might forget, he would remember + himself; through all his days he would make knowledge show that self off. + Thank heaven, all the poor students in Harvard College were not Oscars! I + loved some of them as much as I loved Bertie and Billy. So there is no + black eye about it. Pity Oscar, if you like; but don’t be so mushy as to + admire him as he stepped along in the night, holding his notes, full of + his knowledge, thinking of Bertie and Billy, conscious of virtue, and + smiling his smile. They were not conscious of any virtue, were Bertie and + Billy, nor were they smiling. They were solemnly eating up together a box + of handsome strawberries and sucking the juice from their reddened thumbs. + </p> + <p> + “Rather mean not to make him wait and have some of these after his hard + work on us,” said Bertie. “I’d forgotten about them—” + </p> + <p> + “He ran out before you could remember, anyway,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Wasn’t he absurd about his old notes? “Bertie went on, a new strawberry + in his mouth. “We don’t need them, though. With to-morrow we’ll get this + course down cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to-morrow,” sighed Billy. “It’s awful to think of another day of + this kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Horrible,” assented Bertie. + </p> + <p> + “He knows a lot. He’s extraordinary,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is. He can talk the actual words of the notes. Probably he could + teach the course himself. I don’t suppose he buys any strawberries, even + when they get ripe and cheap here. What’s the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + Billy had broken suddenly into merriment. “I don’t believe Oscar owns a + bath,” he explained. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! so his notes will burn in spite of everything!” And both of the + tennis boys shrieked foolishly. + </p> + <p> + Then Billy began taking his clothes off, strewing them in the window-seat, + or anywhere that they happened to drop; and Bertie, after hitting another + cork or two out of the window with the tennis racket, departed to his own + room on another floor and left Billy to immediate and deep slumber. This + was broken for a few moments when Billy’s room-mate returned happy from an + excursion which had begun in the morning. + </p> + <p> + The room-mate sat on Billy’s feet until that gentleman showed + consciousness. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve done it, said the room-mate, then. + </p> + <p> + “The hell you have!” + </p> + <p> + “You couldn’t do it.” + </p> + <p> + “The hell I couldn’t!” + </p> + <p> + “Great dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “The hell it was!” + </p> + <p> + “Soft-shell crabs, broiled live lobster, salmon, grass-plover, + dough-birds, rum omelette. Bet you five dollars you can’t find it.” + </p> + <p> + “Take you. Got to bed.” And Billy fell again into deep, immediate slumber. + </p> + <p> + The room-mate went out into the sitting room, and noting the signs there + of the hard work which had gone on during his absence, was glad that he + did not take Philosophy 4. He was soon asleep also. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV + </h2> + <p> + Billy got up early. As he plunged into his cold bath he envied his + room-mate, who could remain at rest indefinitely, while his own hard lot + was hurrying him to prayers and breakfast and Oscar’s inexorable notes. He + sighed once more as he looked at the beauty of the new morning and felt + its air upon his cheeks. He and Bertie belonged to the same club-table, + and they met there mournfully over the oatmeal. This very hour to-morrow + would see them eating their last before the examination in Philosophy 4. + And nothing pleasant was going to happen between,—nothing that they + could dwell upon with the slightest satisfaction. Nor had their sleep + entirely refreshed them. Their eyes were not quite right, and their hair, + though it was brushed, showed fatigue of the nerves in a certain + inclination to limpness and disorder. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Epicharmos of Kos + Was covered with moss,” + </pre> + <p> + remarked Billy. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Thales and Zeno + Were duffers at keno,” + </pre> + <p> + added Bertie. + </p> + <p> + In the hours of trial they would often express their education thus. + </p> + <p> + “Philosophers I have met,” murmured Billy, with scorn And they ate + silently for some time. + </p> + <p> + “There’s one thing that’s valuable,” said Bertie next. “When they spring + those tricks on you about the flying arrow not moving, and all the rest, + and prove it all right by logic, you learn what pure logic amounts to when + it cuts loose from common sense. And Oscar thinks it’s immense. We shocked + him.” + </p> + <p> + “He’s found the Bird-in-Hand!” cried Billy, quite suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Oscar?” said Bertie, with an equal shout. + </p> + <p> + “No, John. John has. Came home last night and waked me up and told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good for John,” remarked Bertie, pensively. + </p> + <p> + Now, to the undergraduate mind of that day the Bird-in-Hand tavern was + what the golden fleece used to be to the Greeks,—a sort of shining, + remote, miraculous thing, difficult though not impossible to find, for + which expeditions were fitted out. It was reported to be somewhere in the + direction of Quincy, and in one respect it resembled a ghost: you never + saw a man who had seen it himself; it was always his cousin, or his elder + brother in ‘79. But for the successful explorer a dinner and wines were + waiting at the Bird-in-Hand more delicious than anything outside of + Paradise. You will realize, therefore, what a thing it was to have a + room-mate who had attained. If Billy had not been so dog-tired last night, + he would have sat up and made John tell him everything from beginning to + end. + </p> + <p> + “Soft-shell crabs, broiled live lobster, salmon, grass-plover, + dough-birds, and rum omelette,” he was now reciting to Bertie. + </p> + <p> + “They say the rum there is old Jamaica brought in slave-ships,” said + Bertie, reverently. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve heard he has white port of 1820,” said Billy; “and claret and + champagne.” + </p> + <p> + Bertie looked out of the window. “This is the finest day there’s been,” + said he. Then he looked at his watch. It was twenty-five minutes before + Oscar. Then he looked Billy hard in the eye. “Have you any sand?” he + inquired. + </p> + <p> + It was a challenge to Billy’s manhood. “Sand!” he yelled, sitting up. + </p> + <p> + Both of them in an instant had left the table and bounded out of the + house. “I’ll meet you at Pike’s,” said Billy to Bertie. “Make him give us + the black gelding.” + </p> + <p> + “Might as well bring our notes along,” Bertie called after his rushing + friend; “and get John to tell you the road.” + </p> + <p> + To see their haste, as the two fled in opposite directions upon their + errands, you would have supposed them under some crying call of + obligation, or else to be escaping from justice. + </p> + <p> + Twenty minutes later they were seated behind the black gelding and bound + on their journey in search of the bird-in-Hand. Their notes in Philosophy + 4 were stowed under the buggy-seat. + </p> + <p> + “Did Oscar see you?” Bertie inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Not he,” cried Billy, joyously. + </p> + <p> + “Oscar will wonder,” said Bertie; and he gave the black gelding a + triumphant touch with the whip. + </p> + <p> + You see, it was Oscar that had made them run go; or, rather, it was Duty + and Fate walking in Oscar’s displeasing likeness. Nothing easier, nothing + more reasonable, than to see the tutor and tell him they should not need + him to-day. But that would have spoiled everything. They did not know it, + but deep in their childlike hearts was a delicious sense that in thus + unaccountably disappearing they had won a great game, had got away ahead + of Duty and Fate. After all it did bear some resemblance to an escape from + justice. . + </p> + <p> + Could he have known this, Oscar would have felt more superior than ever. + Punctually at the hour agreed, ten o’clock he rapped at Billy’s door and + stood waiting, his leather wallet of notes nipped safe between elbow and + ribs. Then he knocked again. Then he tried the door, and as it was open, + he walked deferentially into the sitting room. Sonorous snores came from + one of the bedrooms. Oscar peered in and saw John; but he saw no Billy in + the other bed. Then, always deferential, he sat down in the sitting room + and watched a couple of prettily striped coats hanging in a half-open + closet. + </p> + <p> + At that moment the black gelding was flirtatiously crossing the drawbridge + over the Charles on the Allston Road. The gelding knew the clank of those + suspending chains and the slight unsteadiness of the meeting halves of the + bridge as well as it knew oats. But it could not enjoy its own entirely + premeditated surprise quite so much as Bertie and Billy were enjoying + their entirely unpremeditated flight from Oscar. The wind rippled on the + water; down at the boat-house Smith was helping some one embark in a + single scull; they saw the green meadows toward Brighton; their foreheads + felt cool and unvexed, and each new minute had the savor of fresh + forbidden fruit. + </p> + <p> + “How do we go?” said Bertie. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot I had a bet with John until I had waked him,” said Billy. “He + bet me five last night I couldn’t find it, and I took him. Of course, + after that I had no right to ask him anything, and he thought I was funny. + He said I couldn’t find out if the landlady’s hair was her own. I went him + another five on that.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you say we ought to go?” said Bertie, presently. + </p> + <p> + “Quincy, I’m sure.” + </p> + <p> + They were now crossing the Albany tracks at Allston. “We’re going to get + there,” said Bertie; and he turned the black gelding toward Brookline and + Jamaica Plain. + </p> + <p> + The enchanting day surrounded them. The suburban houses, even the suburban + street-cars, seemed part of one great universal plan of enjoyment. + Pleasantness so radiated from the boys’ faces and from their general + appearance of clean white flannel trousers and soft clean shirts of pink + and blue that a driver on a passing car leaned to look after them with a + smile and a butcher hailed them with loud brotherhood from his cart. They + turned a corner, and from a long way off came the sight of the tower of + Memorial Hall. Plain above all intervening tenements and foliage it rose. + Over there beneath its shadow were examinations and Oscar. It caught + Billy’s roving eye, and he nudged Bertie, pointing silently to it. “Ha, + ha!” sang Bertie. And beneath his light whip the gelding sprang forward + into its stride. + </p> + <p> + The clocks of Massachusetts struck eleven. Oscar rose doubtfully from his + chair in Billy’s study. Again he looked into Billy’s bedroom and at the + empty bed. Then he went for a moment and watched the still forcibly + sleeping John. He turned his eyes this way and that, and after standing + for a while moved quietly back to his chair and sat down with the leather + wallet of notes on his lap, his knees together, and his unblocked shoes + touching. In due time the clocks of Massachusetts struck noon. + </p> + <p> + In a meadow where a brown amber stream ran, lay Bertie and Billy on the + grass. Their summer coats were off, their belts loosened. They watched + with eyes half closed the long water-weeds moving gently as the current + waved and twined them. The black gelding, brought along a farm road and + through a gate, waited at its ease in the field beside a stone wall. Now + and then it stretched and cropped a young leaf from a vine that grew over + the wall, and now and then the want wind brought down the fruit blossoms + all over the meadow. They fell from the tree where Bertie and Billy lay, + and the boys brushed them from their faces. Not very far away was Blue + Hill, softly shining; and crows high up in the air came from it + occasionally across here. + </p> + <p> + By one o’clock a change had come in Billy’s room. Oscar during that hour + had opened his satchel of philosophy upon his lap and read his notes + attentively. Being almost word perfect in many parts of them, he now spent + his unexpected leisure in acquiring accurately the language of still + further paragraphs. “The sharp line of demarcation which Descartes drew + between consciousness and the material world,” whispered Oscar with + satisfaction, and knew that if Descartes were on the examination paper he + could start with this and go on for nearly twenty lines before he would + have to use any words of his own. As he memorized, the chambermaid, who + had come to do the bedrooms three times already and had gone away again, + now returned and no longer restrained her indignation. “Get up Mr. Blake!” + she vociferated to the sleeping John; “you ought to be ashamed!” And she + shook the bedstead. Thus John had come to rise and discover Oscar. The + patient tutor explained himself as John listened in his pyjamas. + </p> + <p> + “Why, I’m sorry,” said he, “but I don’t believe they’ll get back very + soon.” + </p> + <p> + “They have gone away?” asked Oscar, sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Ah—yes,” returned the reticent John. “An unexpected matter of + importance.” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir, those gentlemen know nothing! Philosophy 4 is tomorrow, + and they know nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “They’ll have to stand it, then,” said John, with a grin. + </p> + <p> + “And my time. I am waiting here. I am engaged to teach them. I have been + waiting here since ten. They engaged me all day and this evening. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe there’s the slightest use in your waiting now, you know. + They’ll probably let you know when they come back.” + </p> + <p> + “Probably! But they have engaged my time. The girl knows I was here ready + at ten. I call you to witness that you found me waiting, ready at any + time.” + </p> + <p> + John in his pyjamas stared at Oscar. “Why, of course they’ll pay you the + whole thing,” said he, coldly; “stay here if you prefer.” And he went into + the bathroom and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + The tutor stood awhile, holding his notes and turning his little eyes this + way and that. His young days had been dedicated to getting the better of + his neighbor, because otherwise his neighbor would get the better of him. + Oscar had never suspected the existence of boys like John and Bertie and + Billy. He stood holding his notes, and then, buckling them up once more, + he left the room with evidently reluctant steps. It was at this time that + the clocks struck one. + </p> + <p> + In their field among the soft new grass sat Bertie and Billy some ten + yards apart, each with his back against an apple tree. Each had his notes + and took his turn at questioning the other. Thus the names of the Greek + philosophers with their dates and doctrines were shouted gayly in the + meadow. The foreheads of the boys were damp to-day, as they had been last + night, and their shirts were opened to the air; but it was the sun that + made them hot now, and no lamp or gas; and already they looked twice as + alive as they had looked at breakfast. There they sat, while their + memories gripped the summarized list of facts essential, facts to be known + accurately; the simple, solid, raw facts, which, should they happen to + come on the examination paper, no skill could evade nor any imagination + supply. But this study was no longer dry and dreadful to them: they had + turned it to a sporting event. “What about Heracleitos?” Billy as + catechist would put at Bertie. “Eternal flux,” Bertie would correctly snap + back at Billy. Or, if he got it mixed up, and replied, “Everything is + water,” which was the doctrine of another Greek, then Billy would credit + himself with twenty-five cents on a piece of paper. Each ran a memorandum + of this kind; and you can readily see how spirited a character metaphysics + would assume under such conditions. + </p> + <p> + “I’m going in,” said Bertie, suddenly, as Billy was crediting himself with + a fifty-cent gain. “What’s your score?” + </p> + <p> + “Two seventy-five, counting your break on Parmenides. It’ll be cold.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it won’t. Well, I’m only a quarter behind you.” And Bertie puffed off + his shoes. Soon he splashed into the stream where the bend made a hole of + some depth. + </p> + <p> + “Cold?” inquired Billy on the bank. Bertie closed his eyes dreamily. + “Delicious,” said he, and sank luxuriously beneath the surface with slow + strokes. + </p> + <p> + Billy had his clothes off in a moment, and, taking the plunge, screamed + loudly “You liar!” he yelled, as he came up. And he made for Bertie. + </p> + <p> + Delight rendered Bertie weak and helpless; he was caught and ducked; and + after some vigorous wrestling both came out of the icy water. + </p> + <p> + “Now we’ve got no towels, you fool,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Use your notes,” said Bertie, and he rolled in the grass. Then they + chased each other round the apple trees, and the black gelding watched + them by the wall, its ears well forward. + </p> + <p> + While they were dressing they discovered it was half-past one, and became + instantly famished. “We should have brought lunch along,” they told each + other. But they forgot that no such thing as lunch could have induced them + to delay their escape from Cambridge for a moment this morning. “What do + you suppose Oscar is doing now?” Billy inquired of Bertie, as they led the + black gelding back to the road; and Bertie laughed like an infant. + “Gentlemen,” said he, in Oscar’s manner, “we now approach the multiplicity + of the ego.” The black gelding must have thought it had humorists to deal + with this day. + </p> + <p> + Oscar, as a matter of fact, was eating his cheap lunch away over in + Cambridge. There was cold mutton, and boiled potatoes with hard brown + spots in them, and large picked cucumbers; and the salt was damp and would + not shake out through the holes in the top of the bottle. But Oscar ate + two helps of everything with a good appetite, and between whiles looked at + his notes, which lay open beside him on the table. At the stroke of two he + was again knocking at his pupils’ door. But no answer came. John had gone + away somewhere for indefinite hours and the door was locked. So Oscar + wrote: “Called, two p.m.,” on a scrap of envelope, signed his name, and + put it through the letter-slit. It crossed his mind to hunt other pupils + for his vacant time, but he decided against this at once, and returned to + his own room. Three o’clock found him back at the door, knocking + scrupulously, The idea of performing his side of the contract, of + tendering his goods and standing ready at all times to deliver them, was + in his commercially mature mind. This time he had brought a neat piece of + paper with him, and wrote upon it, “Called, three P.M.,” and signed it as + before, and departed to his room with a sense of fulfilled obligations. + </p> + <p> + Bertie and Billy had lunched at Mattapan quite happily on cold ham, cold + pie, and doughnuts. Mattapan, not being accustomed to such lilies of the + field, stared at their clothes and general glory, but observed that they + could eat the native bill-of-fare as well as anybody. They found some + good, cool beer, moreover, and spoke to several people of the + Bird-in-Hand, and got several answers: for instance, that the Bird-in-Hand + was at Hingham; that it was at Nantasket; that they had better inquire for + it at South Braintree; that they had passed it a mile back; and that there + was no such place. If you would gauge the intelligence of our population, + inquire your way in a rural neighborhood. With these directions they took + up their journey after an hour and a half,—a halt made chiefly for + the benefit of the black gelding, whom they looked after as much as they + did themselves. For a while they discussed club matters seriously, as both + of them were officers of certain organizations, chosen so on account of + their recognized executive gifts. These questions settled, they resumed + the lighter theme of philosophy, and made it (as Billy observed) a near + thing for the Causal law. But as they drove along, their minds left this + topic on the abrupt discovery that the sun was getting down out of the + sky, and they asked each other where they were and what they should do. + They pulled up at some cross-roads and debated this with growing + uneasiness. Behind them lay the way to Cambridge,—not very clear, to + be sure; but you could always go where you had come from, Billy seemed to + think. He asked, “How about Cambridge and a little Oscar to finish off + with?” Bertie frowned. This would be failure. Was Billy willing to go back + and face John the successful? + </p> + <p> + “It would only cost me five dollars,” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “Ten,” Bertie corrected. He recalled to Billy the matter about the + landlady’s hair. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove, that’s so!” cried Billy, brightening. It seemed conclusive. But + he grew cloudy again the next moment. He was of opinion that one could go + too far in a thing. + </p> + <p> + “Where’s your sand?” said Bertie. + </p> + <p> + Billy made an unseemly rejoinder, but even in the making was visited by + inspiration. He saw the whole thing as it really was. “By Jove!” said he, + “we couldn’t get back in time for dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s my bonny boy!” said Bertie, with pride; and he touched up the + black gelding. Uneasiness had left both of them. Cambridge was manifestly + impossible; an error in judgment; food compelled them to seek the + Bird-in-Hand. “We’ll try Quincy, anyhow,” Bertie said. Billy suggested + that they inquire of people on the road. This provided a new sporting + event: they could bet upon the answers. Now, the roads, not populous at + noon, had grown solitary in the sweetness of the long twilight. Voices of + birds there were; and little, black, quick brooks, full to the margin + grass, shot under the roadway through low bridges. Through the web of + young foliage the sky shone saffron, and frogs piped in the meadow swamps. + No cart or carriage appeared, however, and the bets languished. Bertie, + driving with one hand, was buttoning his coat with the other, when the + black gelding leaped from the middle of the road to the turf and took to + backing. The buggy reeled; but the driver was skilful, and fifteen seconds + of whip and presence of mind brought it out smoothly. Then the cause of + all this spoke to them from a gate. + </p> + <p> + “Come as near spillin’ as you boys wanted, I guess,” remarked the cause. + </p> + <p> + They looked, and saw him in huge white shirt-sleeves, shaking with + joviality. “If you kep’ at it long enough you might a-most learn to drive + a horse,” he continued, eying Bertie. This came as near direct praise as + the true son of our soil—Northern or Southern—often thinks + well of. Bertie was pleased, but made a modest observation, and “Are we + near the tavern?” he asked. “Bird-in-Hand!” the son of the soil echoed; + and he contemplated them from his gate. “That’s me,” he stated, with + complacence. “Bill Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand has been me since April, + ‘65.” His massy hair had been yellow, his broad body must have weighed two + hundred and fifty pounds, his face was canny, red, and somewhat clerical, + resembling Henry Ward Beecher’s. + </p> + <p> + “Trout,” he said, pointing to a basket by the gate. “For your dinner. + “Then he climbed heavily but skilfully down and picked up the basket and a + rod. “Folks round here say,” said he, “that there ain’t no more trout up + them meadows. They’ve been a-sayin’ that since ‘74; and I’ve been a-sayin’ + it myself, when judicious.” Here he shook slightly and opened the basket. + “Twelve,” he said. “Sixteen yesterday. Now you go along and turn in the + first right-hand turn, and I’ll be up with you soon. Maybe you might make + room for the trout.” Room for him as well, they assured him; they were in + luck to find him, they explained. “Well, I guess I’ll trust my neck with + you,” he said to Bertie, the skillful driver; “‘tain’t five minutes’ + risk.” The buggy leaned, and its springs bent as he climbed in, wedging + his mature bulk between their slim shapes. The gelding looked round the + shaft at them. “Protestin’, are you?” he said to it. “These light-weight + stoodents spile you!” So the gelding went on, expressing, however, by + every line of its body, a sense of outraged justice. The boys related + their difficult search, and learned that any mention of the name of Diggs + would have brought them straight. “Bill Higgs of the Bird-in-Hand was my + father, and my grandf’ther, and his father; and has been me sence I come + back from the war and took the business in ‘65. I’m not commonly to be met + out this late. About fifteen minutes earlier is my time for gettin’ back, + unless I’m plannin’ for a jamboree. But to-night I got to settin’ and + watchin’ that sunset, and listenin’ to a darned red-winged blackbird, and + I guess Mrs. Higgs has decided to expect me somewheres about noon + to-morrow or Friday. Say, did Johnnie send you? “When he found that John + had in a measure been responsible for their journey, he filled with + gayety. “Oh, Johnnie’s a bird!” said he. “He’s that demure on first + appearance. Walked in last evening and wanted dinner. Did he tell you what + he ate? Guess he left out what he drank. Yes, he’s demure.” + </p> + <p> + You might suppose that upon their landlord’s safe and sober return fifteen + minutes late, instead of on the expected noon of Thursday or Friday, their + landlady would show signs of pleasure; but Mrs. Diggs from the porch threw + an uncordial eye at the three arriving in the buggy. Here were two more + like Johnnie of last night. She knew them by the clothes they wore and by + the confidential tones of her husband’s voice as he chatted to them. He + had been old enough to know better for twenty years. But for twenty years + he had taken the same extreme joy in the company of Johnnies, and they + were bad for his health. Her final proof that they belonged to this hated + breed was when Mr. Diggs thumped the trout down on the porch, and after + briefly remarking, “Half of ‘em boiled, and half broiled with bacon,” + himself led away the gelding to the stable instead of intrusting it to his + man Silas. + </p> + <p> + “You may set in the parlor,” said Mrs. Diggs, and departed stiffly with + the basket of trout. + </p> + <p> + “It’s false,” said Billy, at once. + </p> + <p> + Bertie did not grasp his thought. + </p> + <p> + “Her hair,” said Billy. And certainly it was an unusual-looking + arrangement. + </p> + <p> + Presently, as they sat near a parlor organ in the presence of earnest + family portraits, Bertie made a new poem for Billy,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Said Aristotle unto Plato, + ‘Have another sweet potato? ‘” + </pre> + <p> + And Billy responded,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Said Plato unto Aristotle, + ‘Thank you, I prefer the bottle.’” + </pre> + <p> + “In here, are you?” said their beaming host at the door. “Now, I think + you’d find my department of the premises cosier, so to speak.” He nudged + Bertie. “Do you boys guess it’s too early in the season for a + silver-fizz?” + </p> + <p> + We must not wholly forget Oscar in Cambridge. During the afternoon he had + not failed in his punctuality; two more neat witnesses to this lay on the + door-mat beneath the letter-slit of Billy’s room, And at the appointed + hour after dinner a third joined them, making five. John found these cards + when he came home to go to bed, and picked them up and stuck them + ornamentally in Billy’s looking-glass, as a greeting when Billy should + return, The eight o’clock visit was the last that Oscar paid to the locked + door, He remained through the evening in his own room, studious, + contented, unventilated, indulging in his thick notes, and also in the + thought of Billy’s and Bertie’s eleventh-hour scholarship, “Even with + another day,” he told himself, “those young men could not have got fifty + per cent,” In those times this was the passing mark. To-day I believe you + get an A, or a B, or some other letter denoting your rank. In due time + Oscar turned out his gas and got into his bed; and the clocks of + Massachusetts struck midnight. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand had retired at eleven, furious with rage, + but firm in dignity in spite of a sudden misadventure. Her hair, being the + subject of a sporting event, had remained steadily fixed in Billy’s mind,—steadily + fixed throughout an entertainment which began at an early hour to assume + the features of a celebration. One silver-fizz before dinner is nothing; + but dinner did not come at once, and the boys were thirsty. The hair of + Mrs. Diggs had caught Billy’s eye again immediately upon her entrance to + inform them that the meal was ready; and whenever she reentered with a new + course from the kitchen, Billy’s eye wandered back to it, although Mr. + Diggs had become full of anecdotes about the Civil War. It was partly + Grecian: a knot stood out behind to a considerable distance. But this was + not the whole plan. From front to back ran a parting, clear and severe, + and curls fell from this to the temples in a manner called, I believe, by + the enlightened, a l’Anne d’Autriche. The color was gray, to be sure; but + this propriety did not save the structure from Billy’s increasing + observation. As bottles came to stand on the table in greater numbers, the + closer and the more solemnly did Billy continue to follow the movements of + Mrs. Diggs. They would without doubt have noticed him and his foreboding + gravity but for Mr. Diggs’s experiences in the Civil War. + </p> + <p> + The repast was finished—so far as eating went. Mrs. Diggs with + changeless dudgeon was removing and washing the dishes. At the revellers’ + elbows stood the 1820 port in its fine, fat, old, dingy bottle, going + pretty fast. Mr. Diggs was nearing the end of Antietam. “That morning of + the 18th, while McClellan was holdin’ us squattin’ and cussin’,” he was + saying to Bertie, when some sort of shuffling sound in the corner caught + their attention. We can never know how it happened. Billy ought to know, + but does not, and Mrs. Diggs allowed no subsequent reference to the + casualty. But there she stood with her entire hair at right angles. The + Grecian knot extended above her left ear, and her nose stuck through one + set of Anne d’Autriche. Beside her Billy stood, solemn as a stone, yet + with a sort of relief glazed upon his face. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diggs sat straight up at the vision of his spouse. “Flouncing + Florence!” was his exclamation. “Gee-whittaker, Mary, if you ain’t the + most unmitigated sight!” And wind then left him. + </p> + <p> + Mary’s reply arrived in tones like a hornet stinging slowly and often. + “Mr. Diggs, I have put up with many things, and am expecting to put up + with many more. But you’d behave better if you consorted with gentlemen.” + </p> + <p> + The door slammed and she was gone. Not a word to either of the boys, not + even any notice of them. It was thorough, and silence consequently held + them for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “He didn’t mean anything,” said Bertie, growing partially responsible. + </p> + <p> + “Didn’t mean anything,” repeated Billy, like a lesson. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll take him and he’ll apologize,” Bertie pursued, walking over to + Billy. + </p> + <p> + “He’ll apologize,” went Billy, like a cheerful piece of mechanism. + Responsibility was still quite distant from him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Diggs got his wind back. “Better not,” he advised in something near a + whisper. “Better not go after her. Her father was a fightin’ preacher, and + she’s—well, begosh! she’s a chip of the old pulpit.” And he rolled + his eye towards the door. Another door slammed somewhere above, and they + gazed at each other, did Bertie and Mr. Diggs. Then Mr. Diggs, still + gazing at Bertie, beckoned to him with a speaking eye and a crooked + finger; and as he beckoned, Bertie approached like a conspirator and sat + down close to him. “Begosh!” whispered Mr. Diggs. “Unmitigated.” And at + this he and Bertie laid their heads down on the table and rolled about in + spasms. + </p> + <p> + Billy from his corner seemed to become aware of them. With his eye fixed + upon them like a statue, he came across the room, and, sitting down near + them with formal politeness, observed, “Was you ever to the battle of + Antietam?” This sent them beyond the limit; and they rocked their heads on + the table and wept as if they would expire. + </p> + <p> + Thus the three remained, during what space of time is not known: the two + upon the table, convalescent with relapses, and Billy like a seated idol, + unrelaxed at his vigil. The party was seen through the windows by Silas, + coming from the stable to inquire if the gelding should not be harnessed. + Silas leaned his face to the pane, and envy spoke plainly in it. “O my! O + my!” he mentioned aloud to himself. So we have the whole household: Mrs. + Diggs reposing scornfully in an upper chamber; all parts of the tavern + darkened, save the one lighted room; the three inside that among their + bottles, with the one outside looking covetously in at them; and the + gelding stamping in the stable. + </p> + <p> + But Silas, since he could not share, was presently of opinion that this + was enough for one sitting, and he tramped heavily upon the porch. This + brought Bertie back to the world of reality, and word was given to fetch + the gelding. The host was in no mood to part with them, and spoke of + comfortable beds and breakfast as early as they liked; but Bertie had + become entirely responsible. Billy was helped in, Silas was liberally + thanked, and they drove away beneath the stars, leaving behind them golden + opinions, and a host who decided not to disturb his helpmate by retiring + to rest in their conjugal bed. + </p> + <p> + Bertie had forgotten, but the playful gelding had not. When they came + abreast of that gate where Diggs of the Bird-in-Hand had met them at + sunset, Bertie was only aware that a number of things had happened at + once, and that he had stopped the horse after about twenty yards of + battle. Pride filled him, but emptied away in the same instant, for a + voice on the road behind him spoke inquiringly through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “Did any one fall out?” said the voice. “Who fell out?” + </p> + <p> + “Billy!” shrieked Bertie, cold all over. “Billy, are you hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Did Billy fall out?” said the voice, with plaintive cadence. “Poor + Billy!” + </p> + <p> + “He can’t be,” muttered Bertie. “Are you?” he loudly repeated. + </p> + <p> + There was no answer: but steps came along the road as Bertie checked and + pacified the gelding. Then Billy appeared by the wheel. “Poor Billy fell + out,” he said mildly. He held something up, which Bertie took. It had been + Billy’s straw hat, now a brimless fabric of ruin. Except for smirches and + one inexpressible rent which dawn revealed to Bertie a little later, there + were no further injuries, and Billy got in and took his seat quite + competently. + </p> + <p> + Bertie drove the gelding with a firm hand after this. They passed through + the cool of the unseen meadow swamps, and heard the sound of the hollow + bridges as they crossed them, and now and then the gulp of some pouring + brook. They went by the few lights of Mattapan, seeing from some points on + their way the beacons of the harbor, and again the curving line of lamps + that drew the outline of some village built upon a hill. Dawn showed them + Jamaica Pond, smooth and breezeless, and encircled with green skeins of + foliage, delicate and new. Here multitudinous birds were chirping their + tiny, overwhelming chorus. When at length, across the flat suburban + spaces, they again sighted Memorial tower, small in the distance, the sun + was lighting it. + </p> + <p> + Confronted by this, thoughts of hitherto banished care, and of the morrow + that was now to-day, and of Philosophy 4 coming in a very few hours, might + naturally have arisen and darkened the end of their pleasant excursion. + Not so, however. Memorial tower suggested another line of argument. It was + Billy who spoke, as his eyes first rested upon that eminent pinnacle of + Academe. + </p> + <p> + “Well, John owes me five dollars.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Ten? How?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, her hair. And it was easily worth twenty.” + </p> + <p> + Billy turned his head and looked suspiciously at Bertie. “What did I do?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Do! Don’t you know?” + </p> + <p> + Billy in all truth did not. + </p> + <p> + “Phew!” went Bertie. “Well, I don’t, either. Didn’t see it. Saw the + consequences, though. Don’t you remember being ready to apologize? What do + you remember, anyhow?” + </p> + <p> + Billy consulted his recollections with care: they seemed to break off at + the champagne. That was early. Bertie was astonished. Did not Billy + remember singing “Brace up and dress the Countess,” and “A noble lord the + Earl of Leicester”? He had sung them quite in his usual manner, conversing + freely between whiles. In fact, to see and hear him, no one would have + suspected—“It must have been that extra silver-fizz you took before + dinner,” said Bertie. “Yes,” said Billy; “that’s what it must have been.” + Bertie supplied the gap in his memory,—a matter of several hours, it + seemed. During most of this time Billy had met the demands of each moment + quite like his usual agreeable self—a sleep-walking state. It was + only when the hair incident was reached that his conduct had noticeably + crossed the line. He listened to all this with interest intense. + </p> + <p> + “John does owe me ten, I think,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I say so,” declared Bertie. “When do you begin to remember again?” + </p> + <p> + “After I got in again at the gate. Why did I get out?” + </p> + <p> + “You fell out, man.” + </p> + <p> + Billy was incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “You did. You tore your clothes wide open.” + </p> + <p> + Billy, looking at his trousers, did not see it. + </p> + <p> + “Rise, and I’ll show you,” said Bertie. + </p> + <p> + “Goodness gracious!” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + Thus discoursing, they reached Harvard Square. Not your Harvard Square, + gentle reader, that place populous with careless youths and careful + maidens and reticent persons with books, but one of sleeping windows and + clear, cool air and few sounds; a Harvard Square of emptiness and + conspicuous sparrows and milk wagons and early street-car conductors in + long coats going to their breakfast; and over all this the sweetness of + the arching elms. + </p> + <p> + As the gelding turned down toward Pike’s, the thin old church clock + struck. “Always sounds,” said Billy, “like cambric tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Cambridge tea,” said Bertie. + </p> + <p> + “Walk close behind me,” said Billy, as they came away from the livery + stable. “Then they won’t see the hole.” + </p> + <p> + Bertie did so; but the hole was seen by the street-car conductors and the + milkmen, and these sympathetic hearts smiled at the sight of the marching + boys, and loved them without knowing any more of them than this. They + reached their building and separated. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V + </h2> + <p> + One hour later they met. Shaving and a cold bath and summer flannels, not + only clean but beautiful, invested them with the radiant innocence of + flowers. It was still too early for their regular breakfast, and they sat + down to eggs and coffee at the Holly Tree. + </p> + <p> + “I waked John up,” said Billy. “He is satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “Let’s have another order,” said Bertie. “These eggs are delicious.” Each + of them accordingly ate four eggs and drank two cups of coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Oscar called five times,” said Billy; and he threw down those cards which + Oscar had so neatly written. + </p> + <p> + “There’s multiplicity of the ego for you!” said Bertie. + </p> + <p> + Now, inspiration is a strange thing, and less obedient even than love to + the will of man. It will decline to come when you prepare for it with the + loftiest intentions, and, lo! at an accidental word it will suddenly fill + you, as at this moment it filled Billy. + </p> + <p> + “By gum!” said he, laying his fork down. “Multiplicity of the ego. Look + here. I fall out of a buggy and ask—” + </p> + <p> + “By gum!” said Bertie, now also visited by inspiration. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you see?” said Billy. + </p> + <p> + “I see a whole lot more,” said Bertie, with excitement. “I had to tell you + about your singing.” And the two burst into a flare of talk. To hear such + words as cognition, attention, retention, entity, and identity, freely + mingled with such other words as silver-fizz and false hair, brought John, + the egg-and-coffee man, as near surprise as his impregnable nature + permitted. Thus they finished their large breakfast, and hastened to their + notes for a last good bout at memorizing Epicharmos of Kos and his various + brethren. The appointed hour found them crossing the college yard toward a + door inside which Philosophy 4 awaited them: three hours of written + examination! But they looked more roseate and healthy than most of the + anxious band whose steps were converging to that same gate of judgment. + Oscar, meeting them on the way, gave them his deferential “Good morning,” + and trusted that the gentlemen felt easy. Quite so, they told him, and + bade him feel easy about his pay, for which they were, of course, + responsible. Oscar wished them good luck and watched them go to their + desks with his little eyes, smiling in his particular manner. Then he + dismissed them from his mind, and sat with a faint remnant of his smile, + fluently writing his perfectly accurate answer to the first question upon + the examination paper. + </p> + <p> + Here is that paper. You will not be able to answer all the questions, + probably, but you may be glad to know what such things are like. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + PHILOSOPHY 4 +</pre> + <p> + 1. Thales, Zeno, Parmenides, Heracleitos, Anaxagoras. State briefly the + doctrine of each. + </p> + <p> + 2. Phenomenon, noumenon. Discuss these terms. Name their modern + descendants. + </p> + <p> + 3. Thought=Being. Assuming this, state the difference, if any, between (1) + memory and anticipation; (2) sleep and waking. + </p> + <p> + 4. Democritus, Pythagoras, Bacon. State the relation between them. In what + terms must the objective world ultimately be stated? Why? + </p> + <p> + 5. Experience is the result of time and space being included in the nature + of mind. Discuss this. + </p> + <p> + 6. Nihil est in intellectu quod non prius fuerit in sensibus. Whose + doctrine? Discuss it. + </p> + <p> + 7. What is the inherent limitation in all ancient philosophy? Who first + removed it? + </p> + <p> + 8. Mind is expressed through what? Matter through what? Is speech the + result or the cause of thought? + </p> + <p> + 9. Discuss the nature of the ego. + </p> + <p> + 10. According to Plato, Locke, Berkeley, where would the sweetness of a + honeycomb reside? Where would its shape? its weight? Where do you think + these properties reside? + </p> + <p> + Ten questions, and no Epicharmos of Kos. But no examination paper asks + everything, and this one did ask a good deal. Bertie and Billy wrote the + full time allotted, and found that they could have filled an hour more + without coming to the end of their thoughts. Comparing notes at lunch, + their information was discovered to have been lacking here and there. + Nevertheless, it was no failure; their inner convictions were sure of + fifty per cent at least, and this was all they asked of the gods. “I was + ripping about the ego,” said Bertie. “I was rather splendid myself,” said + Billy, “when I got going. And I gave him a huge steer about memory.” After + lunch both retired to their beds and fell into sweet oblivion until seven + o’clock, when they rose and dined, and after playing a little poker went + to bed again pretty early. + </p> + <p> + Some six mornings later, when the Professor returned their papers to them, + their minds were washed almost as clear of Plato and Thales as were their + bodies of yesterday’s dust. The dates and doctrines, hastily memorized to + rattle off upon the great occasion, lay only upon the surface of their + minds, and after use they quickly evaporated. To their pleasure and most + genuine astonishment, the Professor paid them high compliments. Bertie’s + discussion of the double personality had been the most intelligent which + had come in from any of the class. The illustration of the intoxicated + hack-driver who had fallen from his hack and inquired who it was that had + fallen, and then had pitied himself, was, said the Professor, as original + and perfect an illustration of our subjective-objectivity as he had met + with in all his researches. And Billy’s suggestions concerning the + inherency of time and space in the mind the Professor had also found very + striking and independent, particularly his reasoning based upon the + well-known distortions of time and space which hashish and other drugs + produce in us. This was the sort of thing which the Professor had wanted + from his students: free comment and discussions, the spirit of the course, + rather than any strict adherence to the letter. He had constructed his + questions to elicit as much individual discussion as possible and had been + somewhat disappointed in his hopes. + </p> + <p> + Yes, Bertie and Billy were astonished. But their astonishment did not + equal that of Oscar, who had answered many of the questions in the + Professor’s own language. Oscar received seventy-five per cent for this + achievement—a good mark. But Billy’s mark was eighty-six and + Bertie’s ninety. “There is some mistake,” said Oscar to them when they + told him; and he hastened to the Professor with his tale. “There is no + mistake,” said the Professor. Oscar smiled with increased deference. + “But,” he urged, “I assure you, sir, those young men knew absolutely + nothing. I was their tutor, and they knew nothing at all. I taught them + all their information myself.” “In that case,” replied the Professor, not + pleased with Oscar’s tale-bearing, “you must have given them more than you + could spare. Good morning.” + </p> + <p> + Oscar never understood. But he graduated considerably higher than Bertie + and Billy, who were not able to discover many other courses so favorable + to “orriginal rresearch” as was Philosophy 4. That is twenty years ago, + To-day Bertie is treasurer of the New Amsterdam Trust Company, in Wall + Street; Billy is superintendent of passenger traffic of the New York and + Chicago Air Line. Oscar is successful too. He has acquired a lot of + information. His smile is unchanged. He has published a careful work + entitled “The Minor Poets of Cinquecento,” and he writes book reviews for + the Evening Post. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Philosophy 4, by Owen Wister + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PHILOSOPHY 4 *** + +***** This file should be named 862-h.htm or 862-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/6/862/ + +Produced by Daniel P. B. 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