The second volume of "The Headsman" went like cakes and syrup on a coldmorning, for it was narrative, and then it was laid aside, because itwas dull. The four German books had their cuts almost examined out ofthem, and the encyclopedia book, from "Safety-lamps to Stranglers,"practically had its contents torn out and devoured. In after lifeAladdin could always speak with extraordinary fluency, feeling, andunderstanding on anything that began with S, such as Simeon Stylites andSenegambia. But the poems of Poe were what made his sickness worth whileand put the call upon all his after life. We learn of the critics andprofessors of English that there are greater lyric poets than Poe. Theywill base this on technicalities and theories of what poetry has beenand what poetry ought to be, and will not take into account the factthat of all of them--Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth when he is a poetat all, Heine, and the lyric body of Goethe and the rest--not one inproportion to the mass of his production so often leaves the ground andspreads wings as Poe,--
If I might dwell Where Israfel Hath dwelt, and he where I, He might not sing so wildly well A mortal melody, While a bolder note than his might swell From my lyre within the sky,--
and that where they have, they have perhaps risen a little higher, butnever have sung more hauntingly and clear. The wonderful sounds andthe unearthly purity--the purity of a little child that has died--tookAladdin by the throat and shook up the imagination and music that hadlain dormant within him; his father's bent for invention clarified intoa passion for creation. The first thing he read was three stanzas on theleft-hand page where the book opened to his uneager hands, and his eyes,expectant of disappointment,--for up to that time, never having readany, he hated poetry,--fell on one of the five or six perfect poems inthe world:
Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore That gently o'er a perfumed sea The weary, wayworn wanderer bore To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo, in yon brilliant window-niche How statue-like I see thee stand, The agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche! From the regions which Are holy land.
And he knew that he had read the most exquisite, the most insouciant,and the most universal account of every man's heart's desire--Margaretas she would be when she grew tall. He knew little of the glory that wasGreece or the grandeur that was Rome, but whatever they were, Margarethad all of them, and the hyacinth hair, very thick and clustery andbeautiful, and the naiad airs. Ah, Psyche!
And he read forward and back in the book, and after a little he knewthat he had a soul, and that the only beautiful thing in the world isbeauty, and the only sad thing, and that beauty is truth.
Open at the lines to Helen he laid the book face down upon his heart,with his hands clasped over it, and shut his eyes.
"Now I know what I've got to do," he said. "Now I know what I've got todo."
He dreamed away hours until suddenly the need of deeds set him boltupright in bed, and he called to Mrs. Brackett to bring him penciland paper. From that time on he was seldom without them, and, byturns reading and writing, entered with hope and fortitude into thechallenging field of literature. And from the first, however ignorantand unkempt the effort, he wrote a kind of literature, for he buckled tono work that he knew, and was forever striving after an ideal (nebulous,indescribable, and far) of his own, and that is literature. Go to thosewho have wrought for--forever (without, of course, knowing it) and thosewho have wrought earnestly for the day, and these things you will findmade the god in their machine: Raphael's sonnets and Dante's picture!Aladdin had no message, that he knew of, for the world, but the callof one of the arts was upon him; and he knew that willy-nilly he mustanswer that call as long as eyes could see, or hands hold pen, or tonguecall for pencil and paper, money buy them, or theft procure them. He sethimself stubbornly and courageously to the bitter-sweet task of learningto write.
"It must be like learning anything else," he said, his eyes on a sheetof seemingly uncorrectable misbalances, "and just because I'm rotten atit now doesn't prove that if I practise and practise, and try and try,and hope and hope, I won't be some good sometime."
He saw very clearly the squat dark tower itself in the midst of thechin-upon-hand hills, and the world and his friends sitting about tosee him fail. He saw them, and he knew them all, and yet, with ChildeRoland,
Dauntless the slughorn to his lips he set, And blew.
And incidentally, when he got well and returned to school, he enteredon a period of learning his lessons, for he thought that these might oneday be of use to him in his chosen line.
X
Senator St. John, for he was at heart democratic, and heard little ofAladdin that was not to Aladdin's credit, derigorized the taboo which hehad once placed on Aladdin's and Margaret's friendship, and allowed theyoung man to come occasionally to the house, and occasionally loanedhim books. Margaret was really at the bottom of this, but she stayedcomfortably at the bottom, and teased her father to do the needful, andhe, wrapped up in the great issues which were threatening to divide thecountry, complied. In those days the senator's interests extendedfar beyond his family, Margaret and the three powerful sons who werebuilding a reputation for the firm of John St. John & Brothers, lawyersin Portland. He gave Aladdin leave to come and go, even smiled grimlyas he did so, and, except at those moments when he met him face toface, forgot that Aladdin existed. Margaret enjoyed Aladdin hugely,and unconsciously sat for the heroine of every novel he began, andthe inspiration of every verse that he wrote. When Aladdin reached hiseighteenth year and Margaret her sixteenth there was such a delightfuland strong friendship between them that the other young people of thetown talked. Margaret in her heart of hearts was fonder of Aladdin thanof anybody else--when she was with him, or under the immediate influenceof having been with him, for nobody else had such extraordinary ideas,or such a fund of amusing vitality, or such fascinating moods. Likeevery one with a touch of the Celt in him, Aladdin was by turnsgloomiest and most unfortunate of all mortals upon whom the sunpositively would not shine, or the gayest of the gay. From his drollmanner of singing a song, to the seriousness with which he sometimesbore all the sufferings of all the world, he seemed to her a mostcomplex and unusual individual. But his spells were of the instant, andher thoughts were very often on that beautiful young man, Manners, who,having completed his course at the law school, was coming to spend amonth before he should begin to practise. Since his first visit yearsago, Manners, now a grown man of twenty, had spent much of many of hisvacations with the St. Johns. The senator was obliged, as well as hislimitations would allow, to take the place of a mother to Margaret, andthough it was barely guessable from his words or actions, he loved PeterManners like a son, and had resolved, almost since the beginning, to endby having him for one. And the last time that Manners had visited themin Washington, St. John had seen to it that he shook hands with all thegreat men who were making history. Once the senator and Margarethad visited the Manners in New York. That had been a bitter time forAladdin, for while all the others of his age were sniffing timidly atlove and life, he had found his grand passion early and stuck to it, andwas now blissful with hope and now acrid with jealousy. Peter Manners hehated with a green and jealous hatred. And if Peter Manners had any ofthe baser passions, he divined this, and hated Aladdin back, but rathercontemptuously. They met occasionally, and the meetings, always in thepresence of Margaret, were never very happy. She was woman enough torejoice at being a bone of contention, and angel enough to hate seeinggood times spoiled.
But it was hard on Aladdin. He could go to her house almost when heliked, and be welcomed by her, but to her father and the rest of thehousehold he was not especially welcome. They were always polite to him,and always considerate, and he felt--quite rightly--that he was merelytolerated, as a more or less presentable acquaintance of Margaret's.Manne
rs, on the other hand, and it took less intuition to know it, wasnot only greatly welcome to Margaret, but to all the others--fromthe gardener up to the senator. Manners' distinction of manner, hiswellbred, easy ways, his charmingly enunciative and gracious voice,together with his naive and simple nature, went far with people'shearts. Aladdin bitterly conceded every advantage to his rival exceptthat of mind. To this, for he knew even in his humble moments that hehimself had it, he clung tenaciously. Mrs. Brackett, with a sneakingadmiration for Peter Manners, whom she had once seen on the street, hadAladdin's interests well in heart, and the lay of the matter well inhand. She put it like this to a friendly gossip:
"I guess' Laddin O'Brien's 'bout smaht enough to go a long ways furtherthan fine clothes and money and a genealogical past will carry a body.He writes sometimes six and eight big sides of paper up in a day, andif he ain't content with that he just tears it up and goes at it again.There won't be anybody'll go further in this world than 'Laddin O'Brien,and you can say I said so--"
Here under oath of secrecy Mrs. Brackett lowered her voice and divulgeda secret:
"He got a letter this mornin' sayin' that the Portland'spy' is goin' toprint three poems he sent 'em, and enclosin' three dollars to pay for'em. I guess beginnin' right now he could go along at that rate and makemebbe five or six hundred dollars a year. Poetry's nothin' to him; hecan write it faster than you and I can baste."
At the very moment of this adoring act of divulgence Aladdin was inthe parlor, giving his first taste of success a musical soul, andwaiting--waiting--waiting until it should be late enough in the day forhim to climb the hill to the St. Johns' and hand over the Big News toMargaret. And as he sat before the piano, demipatient and wholly joyful,his fingers twinkled the yellowed and black keys into fits of merriment,or, after an abrupt pause, built heap upon heap of bass chords. Thenthe mood would change and, to a whanging accompaniment, he would chant,recitative fashion, the three poems which alone he had made.
The day waned, and it was time to go and tell Margaret. His way laypast the railway-station, under the "Look out for the locomotive" sign,across the track, and up the hill. In the air was the exhilaratingevening cool of June, and the fragrance of flowers, which in the northcountry, to make up for the shorter tale of their days, bloom biggerand smell sweeter than any other flowers in the world. Even in the dirtypaved square fronting the station was a smell of summer and flowers. Youcould see people's faces lighten and sniff it, as they got out of thehot, cindery coaches of the five-forty, which had just rolled in.
The St. Johns' fine pair of bays and their open carriage were drawn upbeside the station. The horses were entering a spirited, ground-pawingprotest against the vicinity of that alway inexplicable and snortingmonster on wheels. On the platform, evidently waiting for some one toget off the train, stood St. John and Margaret. She looked much fresherand sweeter than a rose, and Aladdin noted that she was wearing her hairup for the first time. Her dress was a floaty white affair with ablue ribbon round it, and her beautiful, gay young face flushed withexcitement and anticipation till it sparkled. There was a large crowdgetting off the train, at that aggravating rate of progression withwhich people habitually leave a crowded public conveyance or a theater,and Margaret and her father were looking through the windows of the carsto see if they could catch a glimpse of whom they sought. Suddenly thesenator broke into a smile and waved his cane. The action was so unusualfor him that it looked grotesque. Margaret stood on tiptoe and waved herhand, and a presentiment came to Aladdin and took away all his joy.
Peter Manners, looking fresh and clean in spite of his long, dusty ride,got off the train and made a hilarious rush for his friends. Heshook hands with Margaret, then with the senator, and turned again toMargaret. She was altogether too pretty, and much too glad to see him.In the excitement of the moment it couldn't be borne, and he kissed her.Then they both laughed, and the senator laughed, for he was glad. He puthis great hand on Manners' shoulder, and laughing and talking, the threewent to the carriage. Then the senator remembered that the checks hadbeen forgotten, and against a voluble protest he secured them fromManners, and went after an expressman. Having found the expressman--oneof his constituents and a power in the town,--he handed him the checks,a fifty-cent piece, and a ponderous joke as old as Xerxes, at which theexpressman roared. Manners stood by the carriage and looked at Margaret."Lord God," he thought, "it has come at last!" and they grinned at eachother.
"Mmm!" said Margaret, who stood for the glory that was Greece and thegrandeur that was Rome. She had not expected to be so glad to see him.
Meanwhile Aladdin had turned and was going home.
Margaret caught sight of his back, and the pitiful little droop in theusually erect shoulders, and she divined like a flash, and calledafter him. He pretended not to hear and went on. In his pocket was theeditor's letter which he had designed to show her. It had lain down anddied.
"Why does that man hate me so?" said Manners.
A little of the joy of meeting had gone. A cloud passed over the sun,and the earth was darkened. Many drops of rain began to fall, eachmaking a distinct splash as it struck. One began to smell the disturbeddust. But the flowers continued to send up their incense to heaven, andManners put his light overcoat about Margaret.
XI
Aladdin had a large acquaintance in the town among all sorts of men,and, as he went home sorrowfully in the rain, he met a youth, olderthan himself, who had an evil notoriety; for being born with brains, ofrespectable people, and propitiously launched on the world, he had begunin his early teens, and in the face of the most heartrending solicitude,to drink himself to death. The miserable part of it was that everybodyloved him when he was sober, and out of consideration to his familystill asked him to the best that the town could do in the way of partiesand entertainments. He was a good-looking young man with a big frame anda pale face. His real name was William Addison Larch, but he was betterknown as "Beau Larch." He had a nervous, engaging smile, of which hemade frequent use.
"My word, Aladdin," he said, "you look sick as a dog. Come with me andtake a snifter for it."
Aladdin hesitated a moment. And as soon as he had thoroughly made up hismind that it was wrong to say so, he said:
"I believe I will." The Celt in him was feeling suicidal. They went intothe ground-floor room of a house where liquor was sold.
"For me, whisky," said Beau Larch.
"The same for me," said Aladdin, with something suspiciously like agulp. The first drink which a man takes against his better judgment isa grisly epoch in his life. Aladdin realized this, and was at oncemiserable and willing that it should be so.
"To those that love us!" said Beau Larch.
Aladdin put down his liquor without grimace or gasp.
Beau Larch paid.
In Aladdin's pocket were three dollars, the first mile-post on the steeproad to his ideal. He felt, to be sure that they were there.
"Now you 'll have one with me," he said.
When the sudden rain-storm had rained and thundered and lightened itselfout, they went to another saloon, and from there to the Boat Club, ofwhich Beau Larch was a member and whither he asked Aladdin to supper.Fishes and lobsters and clams were the staple articles of Boat Clubsuppers, and over savory messes of these, helped down with much whiskyand water, Aladdin and Beau Larch made the evening spin. Aladdin,talking eagerly and with the naivete of a child, wondered why he hadnever liked this man so much before. And Larch told the somewhatabject story of his life three times with an introduction of much racyanecdote.
Aladdin's head held surprisingly well. Every now and then he would handhimself an inward congratulation on the alertness and clearness ofhis mind, and think what a fine constitution he must have. They got tosinging after a while, and reciting poems, of which each knew a quantityby heart. And, oddly enough, Aladdin, though he had been brought up tospeak sound American, developed in his cups, and afterward clung to,in moments of exhilaration or excitement, an indescribably faint butperfec
tly distinct Hibernian accent. It was the heritage to which hewas heir, and made his eager and earnest rendering of "Annabel Lee" sopathetic that Beau Larch wept, and knocked a glass off the table....
Men came and sat with them, and Aladdin discovered in himself whathe had hitherto never suspected--the power of becoming heart-to-heartfriends with strangers in two seconds.
Aladdin was never able to remember just how or when or with whom theyleft the Boat Club. He only remembered walking and walking and talkingand talking, and finally arguing a knotty question, on which alldefended the same side, and then sitting down on the steps of a housein a low quarter of the town, and pouring the ramifications of all histroubles into the thoroughly sympathetic if somewhat noncomprehendingears of Beau Larch. He talked long and became drunker as he talked,while Larch became soberer. Then Aladdin remembered that the door at thetop of the steps had opened, and a frowzy head had been stuck out, andthat a brassy voice, with something at once pathetic and wheedling init, had said:
"Aren't you coming in, boys?"
Then Aladdin remembered that Beau Larch and he had had angry words,and that Beau Larch had told him not to make an ass of himself, and forheaven's sake to go home. To which Aladdin had retorted that he was oldenough to know what was good for him, and hated the world and didn'tgive a damn who knew it, and wouldn't go home. Aladdin could swear thatafter that he only closed his eyes for a second to shut out something orother, and that when he opened them, the reverberation of a door closingwas in his ears. But for all that Beau Larch had gone, and was to beseen neither up the street nor down. Although his own was past mending,Beau Larch, drunk as he was, had done a good deed that night, for he hadguarded a precious innocence against the assaults of a drunken littleIrish boy who was feeling down about something--a girl named somethingor other, Beau Larch thought, and another boy named something or other.The next day Beau had forgotten even that much.
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