Silas Timberman Read Online Free PDF Page B

was the first, and in a certain sense the last as well, to criticize our way of life savagely, pointedly, and directly, his love turned into hate, his understanding into rancor and bitterness—yet never separating his hate from love, his bitterness from understanding. This sounds like a paradox, and indeed the man was a paradox; but the paradox was unified in one heart and one soul, a great heart and a great soul. After him, there were many who appeared to criticize, but their criticism was mockery and disdain, a childish listing of dirty words and dirty scenes, and there were others who appeared to love, but their love was compounded out of copybook patriotism and Chamber of Commerce sermons—”
    Were they with him, or a long way from him? He told them in closing, “I want you to read, for two weeks from today, a short but very wonderful novelette by Mark Twain. It’s not very well known, but I think we can find a good deal in it. It is called, The Man That Corrupted Hadleyberg . You will find it in the library.”
    They were filing out and he was putting his papers together, when a tall, sandy-haired young man stopped at his desk and said,
    â€œExcuse me, Professor Timberman.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI was troubled by something you said before. I thought I’d ask you.”
    â€œGo right ahead.” He realized that a few other students had stopped by his desk.
    â€œWell, that remark about the Chamber of Commerce—well, it didn’t sound right. At home, my father is the president of the local Chamber of Commerce. I think he leaves preaching to the preacher. When he talks, he talks sense.”
    Silas stared at the boy for a moment; then he nodded. “I’m sure he does, Brockman. My remark was not directed at any personality.”
    â€œThen why choose the Chamber of Commerce, sir?”
    Silas noticed that a couple of the students were grinning, whether at the question or at his discomfiture, he did not know. The others were soberly listening, and it was difficult to know what they felt. Another time, perhaps, the whole thing would have meant nothing and would have been easily passed off as nothing. Today, it could not be passed off, and he had to think about his reply carefully and cautiously.
    â€œBecause, Brockman, it has been widely held that the usual Chamber of Commerce statement is not a model of sincerity or deep concern for our well being.”
    â€œI can’t agree with that,” the boy said stubbornly. “Isn’t that just what the communists say?”
    â€œWhat!” The other students were grinning, but Silas felt that his own smile was rather foolish. The boy stood his ground, and Silas found himself saying, “Come now, Brockman—let’s not be foolish about this. I haven’t the vaguest notion of what the communists say, nor do I particularly care—”
    But that didn’t do it, and Silas left the lecture room irritated with himself, angry with himself, feeling foolish, childish, and in some new, strange way, a little afraid.
    * * *
    He shared an office with two other members of the department, a rather plain, ancient office with three desks, green-shaded lamps, old chairs and framed steel engravings of Shakespeare, Browning and George Bernard Shaw; but as he entered it now, it was a place of refuge, warm and comforting, and he himself was very tired. The only other person present was Lawrence Kaplin, who held the Whittier Seat in Anglo-Saxon and Chaucerian literature, a mild-mannered, soft-spoken and scholarly man in his middle fifties. He looked up from the paper he was reading as Silas entered, nodded hello and then studied Silas rather quizzically. Silas sat down at his desk and sighed.
    â€œHow is the family?” Kaplin asked him.
    â€œAll right, I suppose, Lawrence. Yours?”
    Kaplin nodded, continuing his interested inspection of Silas, who had begun to open his mail. It was the general run of