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high ceiling； with its long windows that reached almost to the rococo
cornice； with its cold marble mantelpiece that reminded me of a
tombstone； with its interminable book shelves filled with yellow
bindings。 On the centre table； in addition to a ponderous Bible； was one
of those old…fashioned carafes of red glass tipped with blue surmounted
by a tumbler of blue tipped with red。 Behind this table Mr。 Durrett sat
reading a volume of sermons； a really handsome old man in his black tie
and pleated shirt； tall and spare； straight as a ramrod； with a finely
moulded head and straight nose and sinewy hands the colour of mulberry
stain。 He called my father by his first name； an immense compliment；
considering how few dared to do so。
〃Well； Matthew；〃 the old man would remark； after they had discussed Dr。
Pound's latest flight on the nature of the Trinity or the depravity of
man； or horticulture； or the Republican Party； 〃do you have any better
news of Hugh at school？〃
〃I regret to say； Mr。 Durrett；〃 my father would reply； 〃that he does not
yet seem to be aroused to a sense of his opportunities。〃
Whereupon Mr。 Durrett would gimble me with a blue eye that lurked beneath
grizzled brows； quite as painful a proceeding as if he used an iron tool。
I almost pity myself when I think of what a forlorn stranger I was in
their company。 They two； indeed； were of one kind； and I of another sort
who could never understand them；nor they me。 To what depths of despair
they reduced me they never knew； and yet they were doing it all for my
good！ They only managed to convince me that my love of folly was
ineradicable； and that I was on my way head first for perdition。 I
always looked； during these excruciating and personal moments； at the
coloured glass bottle。
〃It grieves me to hear it； Hugh；〃 Mr。 Durrett invariably declared。
〃You'll never come to any good without study。 Now when I was your
age。。。〃
I knew his history by heart； a common one in this country； although he
made an honourable name instead of a dishonourable one。 And when I
contrast him with those of his successors whom I was to know later。。。！
But I shall not anticipate。 American genius had not then evolved the
false entry method of overcapitalization。 A thrilling history； Mr。
Durrett's； could I but have entered into it。 I did not reflect then that
this stern old man must have throbbed once； nay； fire and energy still
remained in his bowels； else he could not have continued to dominate a
city。 Nor did it occur to me that the great steel…works that lighted the
southern sky were the result of a passion； of dreams similar to those
possessing me； but which I could not express。 He had founded a family
whose position was virtually hereditary； gained riches which for those
days were great； compelled men to speak his name with a certain awe。 But
of what use were such riches as his when his religion and morality
compelled him to banish from him all the joys in the power of riches to
bring？
No； I didn't want to be an iron…master。 But it may have been about this
time that I began to be impressed with the power of wealth； the adulation
and reverence it commanded； the importance in which it clothed all who
shared in it。。。。
The private school I attended in the company of other boys with whom I
was brought up was called Densmore Academy； a large； square building of a
then hideous modernity； built of smooth； orange…red bricks with threads
of black mortar between them。 One reads of happy school days； yet I fail
to recall any really happy hours spent there； even in the yard； which was
covered with black cinders that cut you when you fell。 I think of it as
a penitentiary； and the memory of the barred lower windows gives
substance to this impression。
I suppose I learned something during the seven years of my incarceration。
All of value； had its teachers known anything of youthful psychology； of
natural bent； could have been put into me in three。 At least four
criminally wasted years； to say nothing of the benumbing and desiccating
effect of that old system of education！ Chalk and chalk…dust！ The
Mediterranean a tinted portion of the map； Italy a man's boot which I
drew painfully； with many yawns； history no glorious epic revealing as it
unrolls the Meaning of Things； no revelation of that wondrous
distillation of the Spirit of man； but an endless marching and counter…
marching up and down the map； weary columns of figures to be learned by
rote instantly to be forgotten again。 〃On June the 7th General So…and…so
proceeded with his whole army〃 where？ What does it matter？ One little
chapter of Carlyle； illuminated by a teacher of understanding； were worth
a million such text…books。 Alas； for the hatred of Virgil！ 〃Paret〃 （a
shiver）； 〃begin at the one hundred and thirtieth line and translate！〃 I
can hear myself droning out in detestable English a meaningless portion
of that endless journey of the pious AEneas； can see Gene Hollister； with
heart…rending glances of despair； stumbling through Cornelius Nepos in an
unventilated room with chalk…rubbed blackboards and heavy odours of ink
and stale lunch。 And I graduated from Densmore Academy； the best school
in our city； in the 80's； without having been taught even the rudiments
of citizenship。
Knowledge was presented to us as a corpse； which bit by bit we painfully
dissected。 We never glimpsed the living； growing thing； never
experienced the Spirit； the same spirit that was able magically to waft
me from a wintry Lyme Street to the South Seas； the energizing；
electrifying Spirit of true achievement； of life； of God himself。 Little
by little its flames were smothered until in manhood there seemed no
spark of it left alive。 Many years were to pass ere it was to revive
again； as by a miracle。 I travelled。 Awakening at dawn； I saw； framed
in a port…hole； rose…red Seriphos set in a living blue that paled the
sapphire； the seas Ulysses had sailed； and the company of the Argonauts。
My soul was steeped in unimagined colour； and in the memory of one
rapturous instant is gathered what I was soon to see of Greece； is
focussed the meaning of history； poetry and art。 I was to stand one
evening in spring on the mound where heroes sleep and gaze upon the plain
of Marathon between darkening mountains and the blue thread of the strait
peaceful now； flushed with pink and white blossoms of fruit and almond
trees； to sit on the cliff…throne whence a Persian King had looked down
upon a Salamis fought and lost。。。。 In that port…hole glimpse a
Themistocles was revealed； a Socrates； a Homer and a Phidias； an
AEschylus； and a Pericles； yes； and a John brooding Revelations on his
sea…girt rock as twilight falls over the waters。。。。
I saw the Roman Empire； that Scarlet Woman whose sands were dyed crimson
with blood to appease her harlotry； whose ships were laden with treasures
from the immutable East； grain from the valley of the Nile； spices from
Arabia； precious purple stuffs from Tyre； tribute and spoil； slaves and
jewels from conquered nations she absorbed； and yet whose very emperors
were the unconscious instruments of a Progress they wot not o