Part 19 (2/2)
By an act of volition I found myself back at college. I floated into my own room, which was empty. I went to the room of my two warmest friends, whose friends.h.i.+p I was and am yet a.s.sured of. As usual, half a dozen of our set were lounging there. A game of whist was just commencing. I perched on a bust of Dante on the top of the book-shelves, where I could see two of the hands and give a good guess at a third. My particular friend Timmins was just shuffling the cards.
”Be hanged if it is n't lonesome without old Starr. Did you cut? I should like to see him lounge in now with his pipe, and with feet on the mantel-piece proceed to expound on the duplex functions of the soul.”
”There--misdeal,” said his vis-a-vis. ”Hope there's been no misdeal for old Starr.”
”Spades, did you say?” the talk ran on, ”never knew Starr was sickly.”
”No more was he; stouter than you are, and as brave and plucky as he was strong. By George, fellows,--how we do get cut down! Last term little Stubbs, and now one of the best fellows in the cla.s.s.”
”How suddenly he did pop off,--one for game, honors easy,--he was good for the Spouts' Medal this year, too.”
”Remember the joke he played on Prof. A., freshman year?” asked another.
”Remember he borrowed ten dollars of me about that time,” said Timmins's partner, gathering the cards for a new deal.
”Guess he is the only one who ever did,” retorted some one.
And so the talk went on, mingled with whist-talk, reminiscent of me, not all exactly what I would have chosen to go into my biography, but on the whole kind and tender, after the fas.h.i.+on of the boys. At least I was in their thoughts, and I could see was a good deal regretted,--so I pa.s.sed a very pleasant evening. Most of those present were of my society, and wore c.r.a.pe on their badges, and all wore the usual c.r.a.pe on the left arm. I learned that the following afternoon a eulogy would be delivered on me in the chapel.
The eulogy was delivered before members of our society and others, the next afternoon, in the chapel. I need not say that I was present. Indeed, I was perched on the desk within reach of the speaker's hand. The apotheosis was p.r.o.nounced by my most intimate friend, Timmins, and I must say he did me ample justice. He never was accustomed to ”draw it very mild” (to use a vulgarism which I dislike) when he had his head, and on this occasion he entered into the matter with the zeal of a true friend, and a young man who never expected to have another occasion to sing a public ”In Memoriam.” It made my hair stand on end,--metaphorically, of course. From my childhood I had been extremely precocious. There were anecdotes of preternatural brightness, picked up, Heaven knows where, of my eagerness to learn, of my adventurous, chivalrous young soul, and of my arduous struggles with chill penury, which was not able (as it appeared) to repress my rage, until I entered this inst.i.tution, of which I had been ornament, pride, cynosure, and fair promising bud blasted while yet its fragrance was mingled with the dew of its youth. Once launched upon my college days, Timmins went on with all sails spread. I had, as it were, to hold on to the pulpit cus.h.i.+on.
Latin, Greek, the old literatures, I was perfect master of; all history was merely a light repast to me; mathematics I glanced at, and it disappeared; in the clouds of modern philosophy I was wrapped but not obscured; over the field of light literature I familiarly roamed as the honey-bee over the wide fields of clover which blossom white in the Junes of this world! My life was pure, my character spotless, my name was inscribed among the names of those deathless few who were not born to die!
It was a n.o.ble eulogy, and I felt before he finished, though I had misgivings at the beginning, that I deserved it all. The effect on the audience was a little different. They said it was a ”strong”
oration, and I think Timmins got more credit by it than I did. After the performance they stood about the chapel, talking in a subdued tone, and seemed to be a good deal impressed by what they had heard, or perhaps by thoughts of the departed. At least they all soon went over to Austin's and called for beer. My particular friends called for it twice. Then they all lit pipes. The old grocery keeper was good enough to say that I was no fool, if I did go off owing him four dollars. To the credit of human nature, let me here record that the fellows were touched by this remark reflecting upon my memory, and immediately made up a purse and paid the bill,--that is, they told the old man to charge it over to them. College boys are rich in credit and the possibilities of life.
It is needless to dwell upon the days I pa.s.sed at college during this probation. So far as I could see, everything went on as if I were there, or had never been there. I could not even see the place where I had dropped out of the ranks. Occasionally I heard my name, but I must say that four weeks was quite long enough to stay in a world that had pretty much forgotten me. There is no great satisfaction in being dragged up to light now and then, like an old letter. The case was somewhat different with the people with whom I had boarded. They were relations of mine, and I often saw them weep, and they talked of me a good deal at twilight and Sunday nights, especially the youngest one, Carrie, who was handsomer than any one I knew, and not much older than I. I never used to imagine that she cared particularly for me, nor would she have done so, if I had lived, but death brought with it a sort of sentimental regret, which, with the help of a daguerreotype, she nursed into quite a little pa.s.sion. I spent most of my time there, for it was more congenial than the college.
But time hastened. The last sand of probation leaked out of the gla.s.s. One day, while Carrie played (for me, though she knew it not) one of Mendelssohn's ”songs without words,” I suddenly, yet gently, without self-effort or volition, moved from the house, floated in the air, rose higher, higher, by an easy, delicious, exultant, yet inconceivably rapid motion. The ecstasy of that triumphant flight!
Groves, trees, houses, the landscape, dimmed, faded, fled away beneath me. Upward mounting, as on angels' wings, with no effort, till the earth hung beneath me a round black ball swinging, remote, in the universal ether. Upward mounting, till the earth, no longer bathed in the sun's rays, went out to my sight, disappeared in the blank. Constellations, before seen from afar, I sailed among.
Stars, too remote for s.h.i.+ning on earth, I neared, and found to be round globes flying through s.p.a.ce with a velocity only equaled by my own. New worlds continually opened on my sight; newfields of everlasting s.p.a.ce opened and closed behind me.
For days and days--it seemed a mortal forever--I mounted up the great heavens, whose everlasting doors swung wide. How the worlds and systems, stars, constellations, neared me, blazed and flashed in splendor, and fled away! At length,--was it not a thousand years?--I saw before me, yet afar off, a wall, the rocky bourn of that country whence travelers come not back, a battlement wider than I could guess, the height of which I could not see, the depth of which was infinite. As I approached, it shone with a splendor never yet beheld on earth. Its solid substance was built of jewels the rarest, and stones of priceless value. It seemed like one solid stone, and yet all the colors of the rainbow were contained in it. The ruby, the diamond, the emerald, the carbuncle, the topaz, the amethyst, the sapphire; of them the wall was built up in harmonious combination.
So brilliant was it that all the s.p.a.ce I floated in was full of the splendor. So mild was it and so translucent, that I could look for miles into its clear depths.
Rapidly nearing this heavenly battlement, an immense niche was disclosed in its solid face. The floor was one large ruby. Its sloping sides were of pearl. Before I was aware I stood within the brilliant recess. I say I stood there, for I was there bodily, in my habit as I lived; how, I cannot explain. Was it the resurrection of the body? Before me rose, a thousand feet in height, a wonderful gate of flas.h.i.+ng diamond. Beside it sat a venerable man, with long white beard, a robe of light gray, ancient sandals, and a golden key hanging by a cord from his waist. In the serene beauty of his n.o.ble features I saw justice and mercy had met and were reconciled. I cannot describe the majesty of his bearing or the benignity of his appearance. It is needless to say that I stood before St. Peter, who sits at the Celestial Gate.
I humbly approached, and begged admission. St. Peter arose, and regarded me kindly, yet inquiringly.
”What is your name?” asked he, ”and from what place do you come?”
I answered, and, wis.h.i.+ng to give a name well known, said I was from Was.h.i.+ngton, United States. He looked doubtful, as if he had never heard the name before.
”Give me,” said he, ”a full account of your whole life.”
I felt instantaneously that there was no concealment possible; all disguise fell away, and an unknown power forced me to speak absolute and exact truth. I detailed the events of my life as well as I could, and the good man was not a little affected by the recital of my early trials, poverty, and temptation. It did not seem a very good life when spread out in that presence, and I trembled as I proceeded; but I plead youth, inexperience, and bad examples.
”Have you been accustomed,” he said, after a time, rather sadly, ”to break the Sabbath?”
I told him frankly that I had been rather lax in that matter, especially at college. I often went to sleep in the chapel on Sunday, when I was not reading some entertaining book. He then asked who the preacher was, and when I told him, he remarked that I was not so much to blame as he had supposed.
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