by Frank Harris
«What am I to read?» «Have you read any of that?» she replied, pointing to Bohn's edition of Emerson in two volumes. «He's good!»
«I saw him in Concord,» I said, «but he was deaf and made little impression on me.» «He's the greatest American thinker,» she retorted, «and you ought to read him.» Automatically I took down the volume and it opened of itself at the last page of Emerson's advice to the scholars of Dartmouth College. Every word is still printed on my memory: I can see the left-hand page and read again that divine message. I make no excuse for quoting it almost word for word:
Gentlemen, I have ventured to offer you these considerations upon the scholar's place and hope, because I thought that standing, as many of you now do, on the threshold of this College, girt and ready to go and assume tasks, public and private, in your country, you would not be sorry to be admonished of those primary duties of the intellect whereof you will seldom hear from the lips of your new companions. You will hear every day the maxims of a low prudence. You will hear that the first duty is to get land and money, place and name. 'What is this Truth you seek? What is this beauty?' men will ask, with derision. If nevertheless God have called any of you to explore truth and beauty, be bold, be firm, be true. When you shall say, 'As others do, so will I: I renounce, I am sorry for it, my early visions: I must eat the good of the land and let learning and romantic expectations go, until a more convenient season»; -then dies the man in you; then once more perish the buds of art, and poetry, and science, as they have died already in a thousand thousand men. The hour of that choice is the crisis of your history, and see that you hold yourself fast by the intellect. It is this domineering temper of the sensual world that creates the extreme need of the priests of science… Be content with a little light, so it be your own.
Explore and explore. Be neither chided nor flattered out of your position of perpetual inquiry. Neither dogmatize nor accept another's dogmatism. Why should you renounce your right to traverse the star-lit deserts of truth, for the premature comforts of an acre, house, and barn? Truth also has its roof, and bed, and board. Make yourself necessary to the world, and mankind will give you bread, and if not store of it, yet such as shall not take away your property in all men's affections, in art, in nature, and in hope. The truth of it shocked me: «Then perish the buds of art and poetry and science in you as they have perished already in a thousand thousand men!» That explained why it was that there was no Shakespeare, no Bacon, no Swinburne in America, where, according to population and wealth, there should be dozens. There flashed on me the realization of the truth, that just because wealth was easy to get here, it exercised an incomparable attraction and in its pursuit «perished a thousand thousand» gifted spirits who might have steered humanity to new and nobler accomplishment. The question imposed itself: «Was I too to sink to fatness, wallow in sensuality, degrade myself for a nerve-thrill?» «No!» I cried to myself, «ten thousand times, no! No! I'll go and seek the star-lit deserts of Truth or die on the way!» I closed the book, and with it and the second volume of it in my hand, went to Mrs. Trask. «I want to buy this book,» I said. «It has a message for me that I must never forget!»
«I'm glad,» said the little lady smiling. «What is it?» I read her a part of the passage. «I see,» she exclaimed, «but why do you want the books?» «I want to take them with me,» I said. «I mean to leave Lawrence at once and go to Germany to study!» «Good gracious!» she cried. «How can you do that? I thought you were a partner of Sommerfeld's; you can't go at once!» «I must,» I said.
«The ground burns under my feet. If I don't go now, I shall never go.
I'll be out of Lawrence tomorrow!» Mrs. Trask threw up her hands and remonstrated with me: such quick decisions were dangerous; «why should I be in such a hurry?» I repeated time and again. «If I don't go at once, I shall never go. The ignoble pleasure will grow sweeter and sweeter to me and I shall sink gradually and drown in the mud-honey of life.» Finally seeing I was adamant and my mind fixed, she sold me the books at full price and, with some demur, then she added, «I almost wish I had never recommended Emerson to you!» and the dear lady looked distressed. «Never regret that!» I cried. «I shall remember you as long as I live because of that and always be grateful to you. Professor Smith told me I ought to go, but it needed the word of Emerson to give me the last push! The buds of poetry and science and art shall not perish in me as they have 'perished already in a thousand thousand men!' Thanks to you!» I added warmly, «all my best heart-thanks: you have been to me the messenger of high fortune.» I clasped her hands, wished to kiss her, foolishly feared to hurt her, and so contented myself with a long kiss on her hand and went out at once to find Sommerfeld. He was in the office and forthwith I told him the whole story, how Smith had tried to persuade me and how I had resisted till this page of Emerson had convinced me. «I am sorry to leave you in the lurch,» I explained,
«but I must go and go at once.» He told me it was madness: I could study German right there in Lawrence; he would help me with it gladly. «You mustn't throw away a livelihood just for a word,» he cried. «It is madness. I never heard a more insane decision!» We argued for hours: I couldn't convince him any more than he could persuade me. He tried his best to get me to stay two years, at any rate, and then go with full pockets. «You can easily spare two years,» he cried; but I retorted, «Not even two days: I'm frightened of myself.» When he found that I wanted the money to go round the world with first, he saw a chance of delay, and said I must give him some time to find out what was coming to me. I told him I trusted him utterly (as indeed I did) and could only give him the Saturday and Sunday, for I'd go on the Monday at the latest. He gave in at last and was very kind. I got a dress and a little hat for Lily, and lots of books besides a chinchilla cape for Rose, and broke the news to Lily next morning, keeping the afternoon for Rose. To my astonishment I had most trouble with Lily: she would not hear any reason. «There is no reason in it,» she cried again and again, and then she broke down in a storm of tears. «What will become of me?» she sobbed. «I always hoped you'd marry me,» she confessed at last, «and now you go away for nothing, nothing-on a wild-goose chase-to study,» she added, in a tone of absolute disdain, «just as if you couldn't study here!» «I'm too young to marry, Lily,» I said, «and-» «You were not too young to make me love you,» she broke in, «and now what shall I do? Even mamma said that we ought to be engaged, and I want you so-oh, oh-» and again the tears fell in a shower. I could not help saying at last that I would think it all over and let her know, and away I went to Rose. Rose heard me out in complete silence, and then with her eyes on mine in lingering affection, she said, «Do you know, I've been afraid often of some decision like this. I said to myself a dozen times: 'Why should he stay here? The wider world calls him,' and if I feel inclined to hate my work because it prevents my studying, what must it be for him in that horrible court, fighting day after day? I always knew I should lose you, dear!» she added, «but you were the first to help me to think and read, so I must not complain. Do you go soon?»
«On Monday,» I replied, and her dear eyes grew sombre and her lips quivered. «You'll write?» she asked. «Please do, Frank! No matter what happens, I shall never forget you: you've helped me, encouraged me more than I can say. Did I tell you, I've got a place in Crew's bookstore? When I said I had learned to love books from you, he was glad and said, 'If you get to know them as well as he did, or half as well, you'll be invaluable'; so you see, I am following in your footsteps, as you are following in Smith's.» «If you knew how glad I am that I've really helped and not hurt you, Rose!» I said sadly, for Lily's accusing voice was still in my ears. «You couldn't hurt anyone,» she exclaimed, almost as if she divined my remorse. «You are so gentle and kind and understanding.» Her words were balm to me and she walked with me to the bridge, where I told her she would hear from me on the morrow. I wanted to know what she would think of the books and cape. The last thing I saw of her was her hand raised, as if in benediction. I kept the
Sunday morning for Sommerfeld and my friend Will Thomson and the rest of the day for Sophy. Sommerfeld came to the offices before nine and told me the firm owed me three thousand dollars. I didn't wish to take it. Could not believe he had meant to go halves with me, but he insisted and paid me. «I don't agree with your sudden determination,» he said,
«perhaps because it was sudden, but I've no doubt you'll do well at anything you take up. Let me hear from you now and again, and if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me!» As we shook hands I realized that parting could be as painful as the tearing asunder of flesh. Will Thomson, I found, was eager to take over the boardings and my position in Liberty Hall. He had brought his father with him, and after much bargaining I conveyed everything I could over to him for three thousand five hundred dollars; and so after four years' work I had just the money I had had in Chicago four years earlier! I dined in the Eldridge House and then went back to the office to meet Sophy, who was destined to surprise me more even than Lily or Rose; «I'm coming with you,» she announced coolly, «if you're not ashamed to have me along; you goin' Frisco-so far away-» she pleaded, divining my surprise and unwillingness. «Of course, I'll be delighted,» I said, «but-» I simply could not refuse her. She gurgled with joy and drew out her purse. «I've four hundred dollars,» she said proudly, «and that'll take this child a long way.» I made her put her money away and promise me she wouldn't spend a cent of her money while we were together; and then I told her how I wished to dress her when we got to Denver, for I wanted to stop there for a couple of days to see Smith, who had written approving of everything I did and adding, to my heart's joy, that he was much better. On the Monday morning Sophy and I started westwards. She had had the tact to go to the depot first so that no one in Lawrence ever coupled our names. Sommerfeld and Judge Bassett saw me off at the depot and wished me «All luck!» And so the second stage of my life came to an end.
Sophy was a lively sweet companion; after leaving Topeka, she came boldly into my compartment and did not leave me again. May I confess it? I'd rather she had stayed in Lawrence, I wanted the adventure of being alone, and there was a girl in the train whose long eyes held mine as I passed her seat, and I passed it often. I'd have spoken to her if Sophy had not been with me. When we got to Denver, I called on Smith, leaving Sophy in the hotel. I found him better but divined that the cursed disease was only taking breath, so to speak, before the final assault. He came back with me to my hotel, and as soon as he saw Sophy he declared I must go back with him: he had forgotten to give me something I must have. I smiled at Sophy, to whom Smith was very courteous-kind, and accompanied him. As soon as we were in the street, Smith began in horror, «Frank, she's a colored girl: you must leave her at once or you'll make dreadful trouble for yourself later.» «How did you know she was colored?» I asked.
«Look at her nails,» he cried, «and her eyes: no Southerner would be in doubt for a moment. You must leave her at once, please!»
«We are going to part at Frisco,» I said. And when he pressed me to send her back at once, I refused. I would not put such shame upon her, and even now I'm sure I was right in that resolve. Smith was sorry but kind to me and so we parted forever. He had done more for me than any other man, and now after fifty years I can only confess my incommensurable debt to him, and the hot tears come into my eyes now, as they came when our hands met for the last time. He was the dearest, sweetest, noblest spirit of a man I have met in this earthly pilgrimage. Ave atque vale. As the time drew on to the day when the boat was to start, Sophy grew thoughtful. I got her a pretty corn-colored dress than set off her beauty as golden sunlight a lovely woodland, and when she thanked and hugged me, I wanted to put my hand up her clothes, for she made a mischievous, naughty remark that amused me and reminded me we had driven all the previous day and I had not had her. To my surprise she stopped me. «I've not washed since we came in,» she explained. «Do you wash so often?»
«Shuah,» she replied, fixing me. «Why?» I asked, searching her regard. «Because I'm afraid of nigger-smell,» she flung out passionately. «What nonsense!» I exclaimed. «Tain't either,» she contradicted me angrily. «My mother took me once to Negro-church, and I near choked. I never went again, I just couldn't. When they get hot, they stink-pah!» and she shook her head and made a face in utter disgust and contempt. «That's why you goin' to leave me,» she added after a long pause, with tears in her voice. «If it wasn't for that damned nigger blood in me, I'd never leave you: I'd just go on with you as servant or anything. Ah God, how I love you and how lonely this Topsy'll be,» and the tears ran down her quivering face. «If I were only all white or all black,» she sobbed. «I'm so unhappy!» My heart bled for her. If it had not been for the memory of Smith's disdain, I would have given in and taken her with me. As it was, I could only do my best to console her by saying, «A couple of years, Sophy, and I'll return; they'll pass quickly. I'll write you often, dear!» But Sophy knew better and when the last night came, she surpassed herself. It was warm and we went early to bed. «It's my night dear!» she said. «You just let me show you, you dear! I didn't want you to go after any whitish girl in those islands till you get to China and you won't go with those yellow, slit-eyed girls-that's why I love you so, because you keep yourself for those you like-but you're naughty to like so many, ma man!» -and she kissed me with passion. She let me have her almost without response but, after the first orgasm, she gripped my sex and milked me, and, afterwards, mounting me made me thrill again and again till I was speechless and, like children, we fell asleep in each other's arms, weeping for the parting on the morrow. I said «Good-bye!» at the hotel and went on board the steamer by myself, my eyes set on the Golden Gate into the great Pacific and the hopes and hazards of the new life. At length I was to see the world: what would I find in it? I had no idea then that I should find little or much in exact measure to what I brought, and it is now the saddest part of these confessions that on this first trip round the world I was so untutored, so thoughtless, that I got practically nothing out of my long journeying. Like Odysseus, I saw many cities of men; but scenes seldom enrich the spirit. Yet one or two places made a distinct impression on me, young and hard though I was: Sydney Bay and Heights, Hong Kong, too, but above all, the old Chinese gate leading into the Chinese city of Shanghai so close to the European town and so astonishingly different. Kioto, too, imprinted itself on my memory, and the Japanese men and girls that ran naked out of their hot baths in order to see whether I was really white all over. I learned nothing worth recalling till I came to Table Bay and saw the long line of Table Mountain four thousand feet above me, a cliff cutting the sky with an incomparable effect of dignity and grandeur. I stayed in Cape Town a month or so, and by good luck I got to know Jan Hofmeyr there, who taught me what good fellows the Boers really were and how highly the English Premier Gladstone was esteemed for giving freedom to them after Majuba. «We look on him with reverence,» said my friend Hofmeyr, «as the embodied conscience of England.» But alas! England could not stomach Majuba and had to spend blood and treasure later to demonstrate the manhood of the Boers to the world. But thank God, England then gave freedom and self-government again to South Africa and so atoned for her shameful «concentration camps.» Thanks to Jan Hofmeyr, I got to know and esteem the South African Boer even on this first short acquaintance.
When I went round the world for the second time twenty years later, I tried to find the Hofmeyrs of every country and so learned all manner of things worthful and strange that I shall tell of, I hope, at the end of my next volume. The only short cut to knowledge is through intercourse with wise and gifted men. Now I must confess something of my first six months of madness and pleasure in Paris, and then speak of England again and Thomas Carlyle and his incomparable influence upon me, and so lead you, gentle reader, to my later 'prentice years in Germany and Greece. There in Athens I learned new sex-secrets which may perchance interest even the Philistines, though they can be learned in Paris as well, and will be set forth simply in the
second volume of these «confessions,» which will tell the whole «art of love,» as understood in Europe, and perhaps contain my second voyage round the world and the further instruction in the great art which I received from the adepts of the East-unimaginable refinements, for they have studied the body as deeply as the soul.
Chapter XV. Europe and the Carlyles
I returned to Europe, touching at Bombay and getting just a whiff of the intoxicating perfume of that wonderland with its noble, though sad, spiritual teaching, which is now beginning, through the Rig Veda, to inform the best European thought.
I stopped also at Alexandria and ran up to Cairo for a week to see the great Mosques. I admired their splendid rhetoric, but fell in love with the desert and its pyramids, and above all the sphinx and her eternal questioning of sense and outward things. Thus by easy, memorable stages that included Genoa and Florence and their storied palaces and churches and galleries, I came at length to Paris. I distrust first impressions of great places or events or men. Who could describe the deathless fascination of the mere name and first view of Paris to the young student or artist of another race! If he has read and thought, he will be in a fever; tears in his eyes, heart thrilling with joyful expectancy, he will wander into that world of wonders!
I got to the station early one summer morning and sent my baggage by fiacre to the Hotel Meurice in the rue Rivoli, the same old hotel that Lever the novelist has praised, and then I got into a little Victoria and drove to the Place de la Bastille. The obvious cafe life of the people did not appeal to me, but when I saw the glory springing from the Column of July, tears flooded my eyes, for I recalled Carlyle's description of the taking of the prison. I paid the cocker and wandered up the rue Rivoli, past the Louvre, past the blackened walls with the sightless windows of the Tuileries palace-a regret in their desolate appeal, and so to the Place de la Greve with its memories of the guillotine and the great revolution, now merged in the Place de la Concorde. Just opposite I could distinguish the gilt dome of the Church of the Invalides where the body of Napoleon lies as he desired: «On the banks of the Seine, in the midst of that French people I have loved so passionately!» And there were the horses of Marly champing at the entrance to the Champs Elysees and at the far end of the long hill, the Arch! The words came to my lips:
