Journal of Arthur Stirling | Page 8

for the magazines.
It has been a shrine that I have kept in the corner of my heart, and tended there. I have never gone near it, except upon my knees. There were days when I did not go near it at all, when I was weak, or distraught. But I knew that every day I was closer to the task, that every day my heart was more full of it. It was like wild music--it came to a climax that swept me away in spite of myself.
To get the mastery of your soul, to hold it here, in your hands, at your bidding, to consecrate your life to that, to watch and pray and toil for that, to rouse yourself and goad yourself day and night for that; to thrill with the memory of great consecrations, of heroic sufferings and aspirations; to have the power of the stars in your heart, of nature, of history and the soul of man; that is your "practise."
* * * * *
April 17th.
It is true that my whole life has been a practise for the writing of this book, that this book is the climax of my whole life. I have toiled--learned--built up a mind--found a conviction; but I have never written anything, or tried to write anything, to be published. I have said, "Wait; it is not time." And now it is time. If there is anything of use in all that I have done, it is in this book.
Yes; and also it is a climax in another way. It is my goal and my salvation.--Ah, how I have toiled for it!
* * * * *
April 19th.
I saw my soul to-day. It was a bubble, blown large, palpitating, whirling over a stormy sea; glorious with the rainbow hues it was, but perilous, abandoned.--Do you catch the feeling of my soul?
Something perilous--I do not much care what. A traveler scaling the mountains, leaping upon dizzy heights; a gambler staking his fortune, his freedom, his life--upon a cast!
I will tell you about it.
It began when I was fifteen. My great-uncle, my guardian, is a wholesale grocer in Chicago; he has a large palace and a large waistcoat.
"Will you be a wholesale grocer?" said he.
"No," said I, "I will not."
I might have been a partner by this time, had I said Yes, and had a palace and a large waistcoat too.
"Then what will you be?" asked the great-uncle.
"I will be a poet," said I.
"You mean you will be a loafer?" said he.
"Yes," said I--disliking argument--"I will be a loafer."
And so I went away, and while I went I was thinking, far down in my soul. And I said: "It must be everything or nothing; either I am a poet or I am not. I will act as if I were; I will burn my bridges behind me. If I am, I will win--for you can not kill a poet; and if I am not, I will die."
Thus is it perilous.
I fight the fight with all my soul; I give every ounce of my strength, my will, my hope, to the making of myself a poet. And when the time comes I write my poem. Then if I win, I win empires; and if I lose--
"You put all your eggs into one basket," some one once said to me.
"Yes," I replied, "I put all my eggs into one basket--and then I carry the basket myself."
Now I have come to the last stage of the journey--the "one fight more, and the last." And can I give any idea of what is back of me, to nerve me to that fight? I will try to tell you.
For seven years I have borne poverty and meanness, sickness, heat, cold, toil--that I might make myself an artist. The indignities, the degradations--I could not tell them, if I spent all the time I have in writing a journal. I have lived in garrets--among dirty people--vulgar people--vile people; I have worn rags and unclean things; I have lived upon bread and water and things that I have cooked myself; I have seen my time and my strength wasted by a thousand hateful impertinences--I have been driven half mad with pain and rage; I have gone without friends--I have been hated by every one; I have worked at all kinds of vile drudgery--or starved myself sick that I might avoid working.
But I have said, "I will be an artist!"
Day and night I have dreamed it; day and night I have fought for it. I have plotted and planned--I have plotted to save a minute. I have done menial work that I might have my brain free--all the languages that I know I have worked at at such times. I have calculated the cost of foods--I have lived on a third of the pittance I