Kitabı oku: «Anthony The Absolute», sayfa 13
Same date
I GOT Hindmann to help me out with the notes and the assignment of her interest in the estate.
He knows all about these things. He got blank note forms from the manager of the hotel. And he himself dictated the assignment paper to a Japanese stenographer. It was astonishing to me to hear him do this; on matters of legal phraseology, and where precise statement of fact is required, he is very clear-headed. But then, I suppose that my peculiar faculties would be equally surprising and interesting to him.
The document worried me a good deal. It is quite long; and it makes over to me, in the most unequivocal language, Heloise’s entire interest in the property. It is worded harshly and sharply. Just reading it, I had the unpleasant feeling that I was forcing her to sign away to me everything she may possess in the world as security for a paltry loan.
“What’s the matter with it?” asked Hindmann, watching my face.
“It has such a horribly ironclad look,” said I. “Then why make her sign it?”
“Because she’d never in the world accept the money, any other way.”
“Oh,” said he, very thoughtful.
“Look here,” I suggested, “could n’t you modify it a little? Make it not quite so strong?”
He shook his head. “It’s the regular legal form, Eckhart. I’ve had to do this sort of thing half a dozen times.” He smoked a little. “I suppose you know it is n’t worth a hang.”
“Not worth anything?”
“Poorest security in the world. It won’t be even partly binding until the executor of the estate has pledged himself to you to execute the agreement, and to accept personal responsibility in the matter. Full of holes, that thing is.”
I did n’t dare let him know how my heart jumped at this. I am glad it is n’t binding. I only wish it did n’t look so ugly. I can’t bear to think of watching her face when she reads it. I fear it will depress her. And she will have to struggle to conceal her depression.
I have figured it out that I can spare a thousand dollars from my letter of credit now. So that all she will have to do is to sign that document and one note for a thousand dollars. Then when I send her the next draft I need only enclose a new note for her signature. At Hindmann’s suggestion I am going to draw each note to run a relatively short time – a year, say. Then I can look after the renewing of them myself, from time to time.
The thousand dollars that I let her have now will of course have to come out of my research money, which is really not mine at all. But at the same time that I write Harbury, of the Foundation, to sell my real estate bonds and the two railway bonds that are at the Trust Company, I shall ask him to notify the Committee that I have diverted this amount for personal use and request him to hold back an equal amount from this money of my own that he will be sending me, against the draft on my letter of credit. Hindmann has drawn up just the paper for me to send Harbury, giving him complete power to dispose of the properties for me. Really, I don’t know what I should have done in all these financial complications without that fat man.
One thing I am very glad of. It is n’t going to pinch me at all to do this for Heloise. My salary will go right on, of course; and the research fund will be there as before. I shan’t even have to skimp on hotels and small purchases. To tell the truth, I was worried, a little, when I made that offer to her the other day. I did n’t realize, at the moment, how much money I have, and how easy it is to get at. This way, I can look right into her eyes and tell her that I shall not be the less comfortable for one single hour; and I can tell her with such conviction that she will know it for the truth. It won’t be nearly so hard for her.
Same date
I CAN’T take those papers over. I just can’t. I’m going to send them by messenger.
I’m sending the money too – in gold – in a bag. A thousand dollars. The messenger will have instructions to remain with her, and carry the money to the Hongkong bank for her in order that she may convert the greater part of it into traveler’s checks or a letter of credit. It will be best for me not to appear in this transaction, of course.
I am sending it to-day because surely she will have little purchases to make, and I know how irritating it is to a person of spirit to be dependent on another for small sums of money.
I did not foresee how deeply it would stir me to do this little thing. It has roused unfamiliar, haunting thoughts and feelings and day dreams. I have been thinking of children, and of the wonderful pleasure of doing for them and making them happy…
This will not do.
I am going over to the Legation now for tea.
I got out my black cutaway coat and had it pressed, And the China boy has smoothed down my silk hat, after a fashion. I shall carry the gold-headed cane that was given me by my seminar students six years ago, lacking two months. It was a curious thing for them to do. But pleasing. Hindmann had the right idea, as usual.
I will not be licked by a book.
And I shall say exactly what I know to be true. Not in a quarrelsome spirit, of course; but straight out. It is nothing to me that he is the American Minister.
Still the 19th. Very late
I HAVE been greatly surprised.
When I was shown into the drawing-room at the Legation residence, the Minister himself greeted me. He is a not unattractive man – past middle life, rather stout, with many of the familiar mannerisms of the prosperous man of business who has reached a point in life where he feels he can afford to indulge and, perhaps, educate the gentler side of his nature.
I suppose his present position is a reward for generous contributions to the expenses of his party. Though I should personally regard it as a punishment.
He and his lady (a person of some real charm) have surrounded themselves with attractive objects of Oriental art. The large rug in the drawing-room is as fine an example of Chinese blue and white weaving as I remember having seen. I had an opportunity – when the Minister stepped out of the room for a moment, and before the ladies came in – of turning back a corner and counting the threads. They ran twenty and twenty-one to the inch, using my thumb-joint as a rough measurement; which is pretty close weaving, especially when you consider that the rug is at least sixteen feet by twenty-four in size.
The chairs and tables were all of carved blackwood and teak stained black, very elaborate, and pleasing in an ornate way. One nest of tables, in the corner, was far and away the finest example of Chinese carving I have seen, barring small objects of ivory and such, where the work is all on a minute scale and therefore more delicate in design and workmanship. There were two exquisitely carved wooden screens, and a great number of small vases, each on its wooden stand. The most beautiful objects in the room were two immense blue and white vases, standing all of seven to eight feet high on their pedestals. The Minister says they are of the Ming period. And while he did not exactly speak of them in terms of money value, as we Americans are prone to do, he did refer casually to another pair, similar to these except that the glaze was distinctly inferior, that sold in New York for sixteen thousand dollars.
I mean to give more time to the study of Chinese porcelains later on, when settled down in my work, as well as to the history of their painting and draw ing. The early musical forms of a people are so inextricably linked with all their other folk-habits that one must understand something of all of them in order to arrive at a really thorough knowledge of any one. Otherwise one would be a mere narrow-rut scientist, like an oculist who git es no thought to the general health of a patient or the stomach specialist who has no regard for the condition of the teeth.
I fear I was a little stiff at first, even severe, when tea was served. The talk was general. But I could not forget that somewhere on that nan’s shelves stood von Westfall’s work. Of course though, the Minister is the merest dilettante. I saw that right away. The sort of man who uses his money to build up an atmosphere of understanding and refinement about himself, without being altogether successful at it.
Some other outsiders had come in, ladies from the hotel, and officers of the Legation Guard; and when these rose to go, and of course I with them, the Minister asked me to stay. He led me to his office, seated me comfortably, and gave me a cigar – the best cigar, in fact, I have smoked since landing at Yokohama. Out here, it is impossible to get much besides the rather rank Manila article that comes wrapped in tinfoil. This was a real Havana, however, carefully preserved in a humidor. Then he said:
“I have known for some time of the work your Foundation is doing in the study of primitive music, Dr. Eckhart. And it is, I may say, a subject that greatly interests me.”
I would not speak what was in my mind. Not yet – for he had not yet thrown that book at my head. It was not yet the time to insult him. It would be distinctly unreasonable to insult him at this stage. So I inclined my head, and waited.
“I have read some of the older works on the subject of Chinese music – Van Haalst, Elton, Avard, Pegrew, and so on – and have looked forward rather eagerly to the more complete results of modern research. A book was recommended to me when I was home last year – a book by von Westfall, of Bonn.”
I smoked hard and fast. He went on:
“It was recommended as an authoritative work. But I find it, in certain respects, quite unsatisfactory.”
I sat right up in my chair and stared at him. He continued, rather apologetically —
“Of course, I am an utter amateur in these matters, Dr. Eckhart. But it is disturbing to me to find this supposed authority referring to the twelve liis as giving the twelve equal semitones of the octave. Why, that is Van Haalst’s old error. I know better than that myself. I have sounded the liis in the Confucian temple, and they give out very uneven intervals, ranging over an octave and a half, at least.”
I jumped to my feet and waved my cigar at him. And my voice rang out shrilly. I could n’t help this; my surprise was so sudden and so complete.
“An octave and three quarters, very nearly,” I cried. “From about our a to the f of the second octave above.” And I added, “von Westfall is a faker – a cheap scoundrel masquerading in the robes of the scholar – a man who rushes his guesses into print before the honestly prepared work can be completed. He is not an authority. He never was. It is I who am the authority. I, and perhaps von Stumbostel, of Berlin. Ask Boag! Ask Ramel, Fourmont, de Musseau! Ask Sir Frederick Rhodes, of Cambridge!” And I laughed.
The Minister was impressed. I will say that for him. He got up too, and seized my hand.
“I am delighted,” he said. “You confirm my own rough conclusions. Come with me. I have something here that will interest you. At least, I should be glad to have your opinion of it.”
He led the way into a small room across the hall, unlocking the door with a key from his pocket. I followed him in. He raised the window shades, then turned with a gesture.
There, against the wall, stood an object the precise like of which I had never expected to see outside of the Imperial palace and possibly a temple or two at Peking or Nanking.
It was one of the old stone chimes. The very first glance assured me that it was authentic. The stones were all of the same size, shaped roughly like the letter L. They hung in a double row, in a carved frame of wood, each separate stone suspended by a metal ring – gold, I think – that pierced the stone at the angle. They were all the same size, of course, for the difference of pitch is accounted for by the varying thickness of the stones. I counted them; there were sixteen – the notes of the twelve liis, and the first four notes of the grave series.
And each of these large stones was a perfect piece of green, translucent jade!
“The Pien Ch’ing!” I cried.
He bowed.
I stepped forward and examined the stones. They were very old; hard as jade is, the corners and edges were worn down here and there. I tapped them softly. I simply could not believe my eyes.
The Minister handed me the little wooden mallet that lay at the base. This too was very old, though of course a thing of this week as compared with the stones. My mind was racing back into dim periods of Chinese history. It would be interesting to know where those jade stones have been – in what old royal palaces of Peking, Nanking, Hangchau, Sian-fu – through what wars they have lain buried or have passed from one conquering hand to another – in what stately caravans they may have been transported across a swarming, prostrate land. From their appearance they must have been in existence long before the destructive hand of the old Emperor Che Huang-ti was raised against every book and every instrument of art or music in the land.
I struck the stones, slowly, one after the other But first I said —
“The intervals will not be perfect.”
“No,” said he, “for the stones are worn.”
I struck that old sixteen-note scale again and again. I tested the close intervals of the middle section. I listened with my delicate aural nerves strained to the uttermost.
We talked excitedly. I fear it was I who said the most. But that was natural enough. For I know my subject, and he does not. I told him the legend that thousands of years ago a perfect stone chime was found in a pool, and that it has since been used to give the correct pitch to all Chinese instruments. The known history of the twelve liis gives the lie to this, of course; but the legend is quaint. I think I must have given him also a rough history of the liis, and of their semimythical origin in the life of the prehistoric king who measured off a length of bamboo tube with millet grains and produced a tone by sucking air through it, and then got his complete scale by cutting other tubes of half the size, a quarter the size, and so on. I remember giving him a minute explanation of the relation of our piano octave and of the Chinese octave to the fixed acoustic laws; and I told him why the Chinese octave is flat… It got dark while we stood there.
Finally we returned to his study.
He got this Pien Ch’ing, it appears, from a Mandarin shortly after the revolution of 1912. He did not give me the details, and of course I did not press him; though it would mean a good deal to me to know from what palace they were taken, and as much as could be discovered of their history. And, for a wonder, he gave me no idea at all of their cost to him. Quite apart from their historical value, the jade alone – sixteen very large pieces, of an even green color without a streak or flaw that my eye could detect – is worth a fortune in any market from Peking to London.
It must have been his dinner-time.
He said:
“I am exceedingly glad, Dr. Eckhart, that you approve of my purchase. I had to use my own judgment, you see. Now let me ask you – Is not your Foundation establishing a museum of ancient musical instruments?”
“Decidedly we are!” I cried.
My pulse was racing like mad; and I know my forehead was sweating, for every few minutes, it seems to me, I was wiping my spectacles. Indeed, my handkerchief became quite useless for the purpose, and I had to borrow his.
All the possibilities of this most unexpected situation were dancing in my mind at once. What if he should give this treasure to the Foundation… a perfect specimen of the basic musical scale of the Eastern World! I could not be insensible to the fact that some credit would attach to me, should he make the benefaction through me. For this sort of activity is precisely the sort that financial directors are peculiarly fitted to understand. Scholarship and research worry them a little; they are eager for what they call “results.” And if any man in the entire field of musical research has ever produced so tangible and valuable a “result” as this ancient and perfect Pien Ch’ing, I have yet to learn of it.
And I was thinking of flattering ways in which his name could be identified with the gift. For we men of science may be what is called “impractical,” but we early learn the proper methods of managing our benefactors.
He went on, studying me with his eyes:
“You think, Dr. Eckhart, that the Foundation would regard these stones as an acceptable gift?”
“So acceptable,” said I, “that I should consider it one of the great opportunities of my life to act as their representative in the transaction.”
“Suppose then,” he concluded, “you write me a letter embodying a request for the gift, and suggesting the best method of arranging the matter.”
I meant to return to the hotel. But it proved quite impossible. I was altogether too excited for that. Instead, I hailed a rickshaw and drove straight for the little hotel near the German glacis. I rushed up to Heloise’s room, and knocked.
She was within, eating a solitary dinner off a tray.
I told her of my find. I did n’t feel like sitting down, but walked about the room as I talked. I described the stones to her. I imitated, as nearly as I could with my strident voice, the sound of the stones – singing the scale for her, “Poom! – poom! – poom! – poom-m-m!”
Heloise sipped her coffee, and followed me with her eyes. She did n’t smile very much. To be quite candid, I don’t believe she is much interested in Pien Ch’ings. Though I realize now that I did break in on her abruptly, all full of my triumph, without a thought as to what her mood might be.
Come to think of it, I did n’t even ask her if she got her traveler’s checks all right.
I went away rather crestfallen. She suggested that I sit, but I did n’t. I could n’t adjust myself, for some reason. All my life I have dreamed of seeing even an incomplete Pien Ch’ing. It was one of my goals in this journey. And I don’t believe I am altogether to be blamed if the sight of a perfect one, the opportunity to tap it with these very hands – coupled with the thought that I am to be the means of bringing it to America and placing it within the walls of the institution to which I am devoting these best years of my life —
I am not to be blamed if this experience has stirred me into some excitement. It does n’t mean that I have forgotten any of the other things.
Why, von Stumbostel himself may have to come to New York to see it!
But to-night I am upset. God knows I don’t want to disturb Heloise! God knows I don’t want to give her a moment’s extra unhappiness! I would gladly bear all her sorrows, if I could.
Hindmann is helping me draft the letter.
When I told him about it, he just sat back in his chair and grinned, and grinned, and grinned.
I think he knew about the Pien Ch’ing, all the time.
April 20th
HER train leaves to-morrow morning.
This morning, before my breakfast, I went into the booth to call her up, and found that she was at the telephone trying to get me.
She said:
“I was n’t very nice about your work, yesterday, Anthony. But I didn’t quite understand at the moment. And you rushed off before I could think.”
I protested. I told her how I have been blaming myself for that.
“But you are wrong, dear,” she said. “I’m proud and happy for you. I shall be expecting a great deal of you, Anthony, when I am away off there in Paris.”
“I shall expect more of you,” I replied doggedly. Then I broke out – “I want to see you.”
“I know,” she breathed.
“But we must n’t, Heloise. It’s only one day more. Fortunately, we shall both be busy.”
She did n’t reply at once. I thought the central operator had cut us off. I called, “Hello,” two or three times, and was about to ring for central when her voice floated again to my ear —
“Yes, Anthony, I’m here. It is fortunate, of course… You’ll come – at least – in the morning to help me get away?”
“Yes,” said I, “I’ll come in the morning.” That was all. We said good-by then.
I have sent over a Japanese maid to help with her packing.
For myself, I have followed up the business of the stones all day. I feel that I should like to settle this affair before she goes. I want her to know that my work is starting so wonderfully well. And doubtless I shall hear from the Minister in the morning, the first thing. He has no reason to delay. The suggestion came from him, not from me.
I am proposing to call the Pien Ch’ing by his name. There are a few other perfect or nearly perfect specimens in existence, and a special name is desirable. His will do as well as any for the purpose of identifying ours.
I am very nervous to-night. Hindmann observed it before I was fully aware of it myself. He tried to make me drink some whisky. But I don’t see what good that would do.
These last few days, as I look back on them, seem quite unreal. I walk about. I eat. I even sleep. I talk with Hindmann about one thing and another, naturally enough. I laugh, I become heated, angry. I even think intently of many workaday things. Why, to-day after tiffin, when Hindmann made his curious proposal that Heloise and I go into vaudeville under his management, I discussed the thing quite rationally before declining – particularly as to the possibility of making her gift of close-interval singing intelligible to the ordinary audience… And yet, nothing is really so. Back of it all there is a nervous pressure, a tension…
Well, it is all over, this strange drama. It has changed me vitally. I shall never again be the self-centered – no, not self-centered, either —work-centered recluse that I have been. Life has seized upon me and whirled me into its main current. I have felt passion and jealousy. I have loved. I have hated. I have fought. I have held in my arms – close, close – the one woman whose eyes have the magic power to unlock my heart and flood it with the radiant music of love.
And now we go our ways – because it is life. I had her large trunk conveyed to the station this afternoon. To-morrow morning I shall call for her. We shall step into our separate rickshaws; quiet-seeming folk; I a thin man in spectacles and an overcoat and a soft hat; she a slim, graceful woman, wearing a simple black suit, slightly pale for want of the outdoor air, and with a touch of perplexity and mystery in her shadowy blue eyes.
We shall ride to the East Station. I will see that she is comfortably settled on the train; and wish her a not too unpleasant journey, and stand there in the station until the train shall have disappeared beyond the end of the Chinese city wall.
That will be the end.
