Martin Eden by Jack London

morning had failed to publish his treasure-hunting article did not

dash his spirits. He was at too great a height for that, and

having been deaf to a twice-repeated summons, he went without the

heavy Sunday dinner with which Mr. Higginbotham invariably graced

his table. To Mr. Higginbotham such a dinner was advertisement of

his worldly achievement and prosperity, and he honored it by

delivering platitudinous sermonettes upon American institutions and

the opportunity said institutions gave to any hard-working man to

rise – the rise, in his case, which he pointed out unfailingly,

being from a grocer’s clerk to the ownership of Higginbotham’s Cash

Store.

Martin Eden looked with a sigh at his unfinished “Pearl-diving” on

Monday morning, and took the car down to Oakland to the high

school. And when, days later, he applied for the results of his

examinations, he learned that he had failed in everything save

grammar.

“Your grammar is excellent,” Professor Hilton informed him, staring

at him through heavy spectacles; “but you know nothing, positively

nothing, in the other branches, and your United States history is

abominable – there is no other word for it, abominable. I should

advise you – ”

Professor Hilton paused and glared at him, unsympathetic and

unimaginative as one of his own test-tubes. He was professor of

physics in the high school, possessor of a large family, a meagre

salary, and a select fund of parrot-learned knowledge.

“Yes, sir,” Martin said humbly, wishing somehow that the man at the

desk in the library was in Professor Hilton’s place just then.

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“And I should advise you to go back to the grammar school for at

least two years. Good day.”

Martin was not deeply affected by his failure, though he was

surprised at Ruth’s shocked expression when he told her Professor

Hilton’s advice. Her disappointment was so evident that he was

sorry he had failed, but chiefly so for her sake.

“You see I was right,” she said. “You know far more than any of

the students entering high school, and yet you can’t pass the

examinations. It is because what education you have is

fragmentary, sketchy. You need the discipline of study, such as

only skilled teachers can give you. You must be thoroughly

grounded. Professor Hilton is right, and if I were you, I’d go to

night school. A year and a half of it might enable you to catch up

that additional six months. Besides, that would leave you your

days in which to write, or, if you could not make your living by

your pen, you would have your days in which to work in some

position.”

But if my days are taken up with work and my nights with school,

when am I going to see you? – was Martin’s first thought, though he

refrained from uttering it. Instead, he said:-

“It seems so babyish for me to be going to night school. But I

wouldn’t mind that if I thought it would pay. But I don’t think it

will pay. I can do the work quicker than they can teach me. It

would be a loss of time – ” he thought of her and his desire to

have her – “and I can’t afford the time. I haven’t the time to

spare, in fact.”

“There is so much that is necessary.” She looked at him gently,

and he was a brute to oppose her. “Physics and chemistry – you

can’t do them without laboratory study; and you’ll find algebra and

geometry almost hopeless with instruction. You need the skilled

teachers, the specialists in the art of imparting knowledge.”

He was silent for a minute, casting about for the least

vainglorious way in which to express himself.

“Please don’t think I’m bragging,” he began. “I don’t intend it

that way at all. But I have a feeling that I am what I may call a

natural student. I can study by myself. I take to it kindly, like

a duck to water. You see yourself what I did with grammar. And

I’ve learned much of other things – you would never dream how much.

And I’m only getting started. Wait till I get – ” He hesitated

and assured himself of the pronunciation before he said “momentum.

I’m getting my first real feel of things now. I’m beginning to

size up the situation – ”

“Please don’t say ‘size up,'” she interrupted.

“To get a line on things,” he hastily amended.

“That doesn’t mean anything in correct English,” she objected.

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He floundered for a fresh start.

“What I’m driving at is that I’m beginning to get the lay of the

land.”

Out of pity she forebore, and he went on.

“Knowledge seems to me like a chart-room. Whenever I go into the

library, I am impressed that way. The part played by teachers is

to teach the student the contents of the chart-room in a systematic

way. The teachers are guides to the chart-room, that’s all. It’s

not something that they have in their own heads. They don’t make

it up, don’t create it. It’s all in the chart-room and they know

their way about in it, and it’s their business to show the place to

strangers who might else get lost. Now I don’t get lost easily. I

have the bump of location. I usually know where I’m at – What’s

wrong now?”

“Don’t say ‘where I’m at.'”

“That’s right,” he said gratefully, “where I am. But where am I at

– I mean, where am I? Oh, yes, in the chart-room. Well, some

people – ”

“Persons,” she corrected.

“Some persons need guides, most persons do; but I think I can get

along without them. I’ve spent a lot of time in the chart-room

now, and I’m on the edge of knowing my way about, what charts I

want to refer to, what coasts I want to explore. And from the way

I line it up, I’ll explore a whole lot more quickly by myself. The

speed of a fleet, you know, is the speed of the slowest ship, and

the speed of the teachers is affected the same way. They can’t go

any faster than the ruck of their scholars, and I can set a faster

pace for myself than they set for a whole schoolroom.”

“‘He travels the fastest who travels alone,'” she quoted at him.

But I’d travel faster with you just the same, was what he wanted to

blurt out, as he caught a vision of a world without end of sunlit

spaces and starry voids through which he drifted with her, his arm

around her, her pale gold hair blowing about his face. In the same

instant he was aware of the pitiful inadequacy of speech. God! If

he could so frame words that she could see what he then saw! And

he felt the stir in him, like a throe of yearning pain, of the

desire to paint these visions that flashed unsummoned on the mirror

of his mind. Ah, that was it! He caught at the hem of the secret.

It was the very thing that the great writers and master-poets did.

That was why they were giants. They knew how to express what they

thought, and felt, and saw. Dogs asleep in the sun often whined

and barked, but they were unable to tell what they saw that made

them whine and bark. He had often wondered what it was. And that

was all he was, a dog asleep in the sun. He saw noble and

beautiful visions, but he could only whine and bark at Ruth. But

he would cease sleeping in the sun. He would stand up, with open

eyes, and he would struggle and toil and learn until, with eyes

unblinded and tongue untied, he could share with her his visioned

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60

wealth. Other men had discovered the trick of expression, of

making words obedient servitors, and of making combinations of

words mean more than the sum of their separate meanings. He was

stirred profoundly by the passing glimpse at the secret, and he was

again caught up in the vision of sunlit spaces and starry voids –

until it came to him that it was very quiet, and he saw Ruth

regarding him with an amused expression and a smile in her eyes.

“I have had a great visioning,” he said, and at the sound of his

words in his own ears his heart gave a leap. Where had those words

come from? They had adequately expressed the pause his vision had

put in the conversation. It was a miracle. Never had he so

loftily framed a lofty thought. But never had he attempted to

frame lofty thoughts in words. That was it. That explained it.

He had never tried. But Swinburne had, and Tennyson, and Kipling,

and all the other poets. His mind flashed on to his “Pearl-

diving.” He had never dared the big things, the spirit of the

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