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certain overflow of sentimental fermentation。 I could do so with a
good conscience； for all this trepidation filled me with a great
friendliness。
〃It's nearly fifteen years； as you say；〃 he began； 〃since you used to
call me 'butter…fingers' for always missing the ball。 That's a long
time to give an account of； and yet they have been； for me； such
eventless； monotonous years； that I could almost tell their history
in ten words。 You； I suppose； have had all kinds of adventures and
travelled over half the world。 I remember you had a turn for deeds
of daring； I used to think you a little Captain Cook in roundabouts；
for climbing the garden fence to get the ball when I had let it fly
over。 I climbed no fences then or since。 You remember my father； I
suppose； and the great care he took of me？ I lost him some five
months ago。 From those boyish days up to his death we were always
together。 I don't think that in fifteen years we spent half a dozen
hours apart。 We lived in the country； winter and summer； seeing but
three or four people。 I had a succession of tutors； and a library to
browse about in； I assure you I am a tremendous scholar。 It was a
dull life for a growing boy； and a duller life for a young man grown；
but I never knew it。 I was perfectly happy。〃 He spoke of his father
at some length； and with a respect which I privately declined to
emulate。 Mr。 Pickering had been； to my sense； a frigid egotist；
unable to conceive of any larger vocation for his son than to strive
to reproduce so irreproachable a model。 〃I know I have been
strangely brought up；〃 said my friend； 〃and that the result is
something grotesque； but my education； piece by piece； in detail；
became one of my father's personal habits； as it were。 He took a
fancy to it at first through his intense affection for my mother and
the sort of worship he paid her memory。 She died at my birth； and as
I grew up； it seems that I bore an extraordinary likeness to her。
Besides； my father had a great many theories； he prided himself on
his conservative opinions； he thought the usual American laisser…
aller in education was a very vulgar practice； and that children were
not to grow up like dusty thorns by the wayside。 〃So you see；〃
Pickering went on； smiling and blushing； and yet with something of
the irony of vain regret； 〃I am a regular garden plant。 I have been
watched and watered and pruned； and if there is any virtue in tending
I ought to take the prize at a flower show。 Some three years ago my
father's health broke down； and he was kept very much within doors。
So； although I was a man grown； I lived altogether at home。 If I was
out of his sight for a quarter of an hour he sent some one after me。
He had severe attacks of neuralgia； and he used to sit at his window；
basking in the sun。 He kept an opera…glass at hand； and when I was
out in the garden he used to watch me with it。 A few days before his
death I was twenty…seven years old； and the most innocent youth； I
suppose； on the continent。 After he died I missed him greatly；〃
Pickering continued； evidently with no intention of making an
epigram。 〃I stayed at home； in a sort of dull stupor。 It seemed as
if life offered itself to me for the first time； and yet as if I
didn't know how to take hold of it。〃
He uttered all this with a frank eagerness which increased as he
talked； and there was a singular contrast between the meagre
experience he described and a certain radiant intelligence which I
seemed to perceive in his glance and tone。 Evidently he was a clever
fellow； and his natural faculties were excellent。 I imagined he had
read a great deal； and recovered； in some degree； in restless
intellectual conjecture； the freedom he was condemned to ignore in
practice。 Opportunity was now offering a meaning to the empty forms
with which his imagination was stored； but it appeared to him dimly；
through the veil of his personal diffidence。
〃I have not sailed round the world； as you suppose；〃 I said； 〃but I
confess I envy you the novelties you are going to behold。 Coming to
Homburg you have plunged in medias res。〃
He glanced at me to see if my remark contained an allusion； and
hesitated a moment。 〃Yes； I know it。 I came to Bremen in the
steamer with a very friendly German； who undertook to initiate me
into the glories and mysteries of the Fatherland。 At this season； he
said； I must begin with Homburg。 I landed but a fortnight ago； and
here I am。〃 Again he hesitated； as if he were going to add something
about the scene at the Kursaal but suddenly； nervously； he took up
the letter which was lying beside him； looked hard at the seal with a
troubled frown； and then flung it back on the grass with a sigh。
〃How long do you expect to be in Europe？〃 I asked。
〃Six months I supposed when I came。 But not so longnow！〃 And he
let his eyes wander to the letter again。
〃And where shall you gowhat shall you do？〃
〃Everywhere； everything； I should have said yesterday。 But now it is
different。〃
I glanced at the letterinterrogatively； and he gravely picked it up
and put it into his pocket。 We talked for a while longer； but I saw
that he had suddenly become preoccupied； that he was apparently
weighing an impulse to break some last barrier of reserve。 At last
he suddenly laid his hand on my arm； looked at me a moment
appealingly； and cried； 〃Upon my word； I should like to tell you
everything！〃
〃Tell me everything； by all means；〃 I answered； smiling。 〃I desire
nothing better than to lie here in the shade and hear everything。〃
〃Ah； but the question is； will you understand it？ No matter； you
think me a queer fellow already。 It's not easy； either； to tell you
what I feelnot easy for so queer a fellow as I to tell you in how
many ways he is queer！〃 He got up and walked away a moment； passing
his hand over his eyes； then came back rapidly and flung himself on
the grass again。 〃I said just now I always supposed I was happy；
it's true； but now that my eyes are open； I see I was only
stultified。 I was like a poodle…dog that is led about by a blue
ribbon； and scoured and combed and fed on slops。 It was not life；
life is learning to know one's self； and in that sense I have lived
more in the past six weeks than in all the years that preceded them。
I am filled with this feverish sense of liberation； it keeps rising
to my head like the fumes of strong wine。 I find I am an active；
sentient； intelligent creature； with desires； with passions； with
possible convictionseven with what I never dreamed of； a possible
will of my own！ I find there is a world to know； a life to lead； men
and women to form a thousand relations with。 It all lies there like
a great surging sea； where we must plunge and dive and feel the
breeze and breast the waves。 I stand shivering here on the brink；
staring； longing； wondering； charmed by the smell of the brine and
yet afraid of the water。 The world beckons and smiles and calls； but
a nameless influence from the past； that I can neither wholly obey
nor wholly resist； seems to hold me back。 I am full of impulses；
but； somehow； I am not full of strength。 Life seems inspiring at
certain moments； but it seems terrible and unsafe； and I ask myself
why I should wantonly measure myself with merciless forces； when I
have learned so well how to stand aside and let them pass。 Why
shouldn't I turn my back upon it all and go home towhat awaits me？…
…to that sightless； soundless country life； and long days spent among
old books？ But if a man IS weak； he doesn't want to assent
beforehand to his weakness； he wants to taste whatever sweetness
there may be in paying for the knowledge。 So it is that it comes
backthis irresistible impulse to take my plungeto let myself
swing； to go where liberty leads me。〃 He paused a moment； fixing me
with his excited eyes； and perhaps perceived in my own an
irrepressible smile at his perplexity。 〃'Swing ahead； in Heaven's
name；' you want to say； 'and much good may it do you。' I don't know
whether you are laughing at my scruples or at what possibly strikes
you as my depravity。 I doubt；〃 he went on gravely； 〃whether I have
an inclination toward wrong…doing； if I have； I am sure I shall not
prosper in it。 I honestly believe I may safely take out a license to
amuse myself。 But it isn't that I think of； any more than I dream
of； playing with suffering。 Pleasure and pain are empty words to me；
what I long for is knowledgesome other knowledge than comes to us
in formal； colourless； impersonal precept。 You would understand all
this better if you could breathe for an hour the musty in…door
atmosphere in which I have always lived。 To break a window and let
in light and airI feel as if at last I must ACT！〃
〃Act； by all means； now and always； when you have a chance；〃 I
answered。 〃But don't take things too hard； now or ever。 Your long
con